#but still. visual aid for the Vibes you know

[silascody]

tattoo masterpost.

‘aka fuck knows he has too many and this is gonna be hell to explain from a mun standpoint without a frame of reference i can link to’

‘why are we here’ – back of his right thigh.

die young + skull in a whiskey glass – front of his right forearm.

‘it’s all a blur’ – back of right arm, just above the elbow.

large snake – wrapping around his left forearm with the head finishing on his left hand. 

1991 – on his abs just below his pecs, @jordanmitchell's birth year.

‘why not?’ – just below his right v-line. 

a rose – beside the crease of his index finger and thumb of his left hand. commemorating his 2 week post prison bender with a woman called rose raleigh.

D-I-C-E –  tattooed on his fingers from index to pinky on his left hand dice is the name he uses for dealing. loves to keep that ring finger bent to his palm so he’s throwing up a D-I-E, signature picture pose.

‘bulletproof’ – back of his right hand where it meets his wrist.

‘k’ – right wrist, matches the q tattoo @jordanmitchell has.

large geometric lion – on the inside of his right bicep for his dead brother jack who was a leo. 

skull in a panama hat – left pec. previously hatless but he had the panama added as a tribute to his best friend jasper and their misadventures.

large cannabis leaf – front of his left knee. 

large realistic red knife slash wound – on the left side of his chest, just below his heart. got it 17 when his mother told him the wrong son died to signify that she ripped his heart out. 

503 – top of his left arm. oregon area code. 

hands reaching out from the gates of hell – covering the entire back of his neck to the bottom of his hairline. 

eye in the centre of a spider web – front of his right knee. 

wall of text – near his right ribs. paragraphed collection of various texts @jordanmitchell sent him that he never wanted to lose pre-prison. only legible if he lets you close enough to read them. 

large compass dripping down his spine with red watercolors – his says ‘no-one, nowhere’ in typescript where reference pic says wanderlust.

feather – right shoulder. he doesn’t remember much of his paternal grandmother but she always said falling features brought luck and that stuck with him. 

LUCK in black lettering changed to FUCK! (F + ! in red lettering) – right pec. the red was done in the time that elapsed between his arrest and being sent to prison. he thought it was funny. 

stick and poke knife tattoo – just above the scar on his right shoulder blade from where he was stabbed during his second year in prison. he wanted it to look like he was being stabbed again but his cellmate wasn’t very artistically inclined. he’s glad he doesn’t have to look at it much. 

anarchist symbol on red brick wall – on his stomach. 

dragon – covers most of his right hand.

‘strange boy’ – just above his left heel.

oscar the grouch – inside of his right thigh. got called trash once and said bet. 

forked lightning strike – left ribs.

falling man – just below his left elbow.

born with horns – side of his right forearm. gets drunk and tells people it says born horny.

ak-47 – side of his right calf.

‘dead man walking’ – left shoulder blade. 

skeleton giving two middle fingers – back of his left calf. he likes to be permanently flipping people off when wearing shorts. 

1990 – just above his right foot.

skeleton climbing out of a coffin to do coke – back of his left thigh. 

‘SMOKE WEED DRINK BEER STAY HIGH DON’T THINK’ in black lettering with D, I and E specifically in red – left hip.

a pair of lips – left collarbone. an impression of @jordanmitchell's

‘fuck off!’ – along the side of his right hand. flashes at people in the form of a salute when he’s too tired or high to actually say it. 

[silascodyarch]

tattoo masterpost.

‘aka fuck knows he has too many and this is gonna be hell to explain from a mun standpoint without a frame of reference i can link to’

‘why are we here’ – back of his right thigh. 

die young + skull in a whiskey glass – front of his right forearm.

‘it’s all a blur’ – back of right arm, just above the elbow.

large snake – wrapping around his left forearm with the head finishing on his left hand. 

1991 – on his abs just below his pecks, @jamesmitchel birth year.

‘why not?’ – just below his right v-line. 

a rose – beside the crease of his index finger and thumb of his left hand. commemorating his 2 week post prison bender with @chefraleigh.

D-I-C-E –  tattooed on his fingers from index to pinky on his left hand dice is the name he uses for dealing. loves to keep that ring finger bent to his palm so he’s throwing up a D-I-E, signature picture pose.

‘bulletproof’ – back of his right hand where it meets his wrist.

‘k’ – right wrist, matches the q tattoo @jamesmitchel has.

large geometric lion – on the inside of his right bicep for his dead brother jack who was a leo. 

skull in a panama hat – left pec. previously hatless but he had the panama added as a tribute to his best friend jasper and their misadventures.

large cannabis leaf – front of his left knee. 

large realistic red knife slash wound – on the left side of his chest, just below his heart. got it 17 when his mother told him the wrong son died to signify that she ripped his heart out. 

503 – top of his left arm. oregon area code. 

hands reaching out from the gates of hell – covering the entire back of his neck to the bottom of his hairline. 

eye in the centre of a spider web – front of his right knee. 

wall of text – near his right ribs. paragraphed collection of various texts @jamesmitchel sent him that he never wanted to lose pre-prison. only legible if he lets you close enough to read them. 

large compass dripping down his spine with red watercolors – his says ‘no-one, nowhere’ in typescript where reference pic says wanderlust.

feather – right shoulder. he doesn’t remember much of his paternal grandmother but she always said falling features brought luck and that stuck with him. 

LUCK in black lettering changed to FUCK! (F + ! in red lettering) – right pec. the red was done in the time that elapsed between his arrest and being sent to prison. he thought it was funny. 

stick and poke knife tattoo – just above the scar on his right shoulder blade from where he was stabbed during his second year in prison. he wanted it to look like he was being stabbed again but his cellmate wasn’t very artistically inclined. he’s glad he doesn’t have to look at it much. 

anarchist symbol on red brick wall – on his stomach. 

dragon – covers most of his right hand.

‘strange boy’ – just above his left heel.

oscar the grouch – inside of his right thigh. got called trash once and said bet. 

forked lightning strike – left ribs.

falling man – just below his left elbow.

born with horns – side of his right forearm. gets drunk and tells people it says born horny.

ak-47 – side of his right calf.

‘dead man walking’ – left shoulder blade. 

skeleton giving two middle fingers – back of his left calf. he likes to be permanently flipping people off when wearing shorts. 

1990 – just above his right foot.

skeleton climbing out of a coffin to do coke – back of his left thigh. 

‘SMOKE WEED DRINK BEER STAY HIGH DON’T THINK’ in black lettering with D, I and E specifically in red – left hip.

a pair of lips – left collarbone. an impression of @jamesmitchel

‘fuck off!’ – along the side of his right hand. flashes at people in the form of a salute when he’s too tired or high to actually say it. 

[velnna]

I'm curious to know how you mastered anatomy? I mean, look at the subtle shadows around Roy's shoulder or the details along Staeve's arms or even the ups and creases on Astarion's face, I am truly amazed and see it and it makes your art style so good but I can't understand how you do that...

I know I lack that specific little details in my own art style but idk how to comprehend it, so did you actually study anatomy? Or did you like, vibe around? Or try to feel and visualize while drawing what the body feels like?

Amazing amazing artist you are mate, love you for sharing this with us!

It's honestly just been a matter of actively trying/learning to recognise muscle groups and joints over the years (plus a lot of my biggest artstyle inspirations are HEAVY on anatomical lines and accuracy). Also, as I've mentioned a bunch of times, I've always been involved or interested in high performance sports, acrobatics in particular, which made me pay a lot of attention to people's bodies from very early on (in a purely artistic way lmao)

These days a lot of it comes intuitively, but if I'm ever struggling or need a fullbody/more dynamic pose my first step is to outline the muscles in the sketch to see if anything's out of place. To aid me in this I sometimes have écorché (skinless) references either as pictures or in 3D. This sort of thing:

There's a lot of online resources for this as well! I personally love this one

In my head things get converted to a puzzle of sorts, kinda like what these study notes look like (not mine, artist handle in the pictures):

And then it's a matter of weighing in how thick a character's skin is (indicator of a bunch of things including age) and what the fat-muscle ratio looks like, to decide which structural lines stay and which ones go or become less prominent.

And yes this also explains why I have so many fit/lean characters. I get a kick out of drawing muscle groups lmao

All that being said! I'm still very far from my anatomy goals haha it's a work in process for all of us. Hope this helps!

[agentgrange]

I saw this post and couldn't stop thinking about it, so here is the answer I gave after some consideration-- I'll tell you when I find out. Sometimes it really feels like it depends on your Agents, and what they're accustomed to. I have two groups that I play with, one is mostly serious with a handful of gallows humor quips while the other one is absolutely clown-shoes-goof-goof-times. You could lovingly craft a deeply unsettling body-horror scene or run a tried-and-true encounter straight out of an established campaign and your mileage will greatly vary depending on your audience. That's not *necessarily* a bad thing, a handlers job is to guide a narrative in a way that's first and foremost fun for the players. If they want to take it seriously and buy into the horror they will, but if they want a bit of levity then there's nothing wrong with playing to the crowd. But I do really, really empathize with struggling to convey the awesome and terrible might of some cosmic horror with nothing but your words in a group of people that (hopefully) instinctively feel at ease and jovial while fooling around playing games with their buddies. Here's a few practical pieces of advice I can give you.

Try to cultivate an unsettling environment for your players. This one seems obvious but is actually really hard to get down right, especially when people mostly play online these days. But you’d be surprised how much regularly providing good visual aids, a Discord bot playing ambient music, and a good playlist can really set the tone for your session. Don’t just provide visual aids for the money shots of alien greys and deep ones either, running a campaign based on The Conspiracy era gives you ample opportunity to post a ton of weird, liminal 90s photographs to set the vibe for everyone even during otherwise mundane scenes.

Make a point of explaining to your players the difference between what they are experiencing and what their characters are experiencing. Yes, facing off against a 8ft tall fish man with a crossbow is inherently ridiculous as a fictional abstract. Its an entirely different experiencing actually being there, face to face under an incredible amount of stress seeing something that should not exist. In a lot of ways your players aren’t their characters so much as they are mad gods guiding their characters’ fates. THEY can laugh from the safety of this higher dimension we all exist in, that’s part of the fun. Hell their characters might even have a passing thought or two about how absurd the situation might be—but that entire time they’re fighting their lizard-brained instincts just to stop from mentally imploding. Let them laugh, but then tell them how their characters' hands might be shaking, or how any clever quip they wanted to say just comes out as a mumble as their body betrays whatever thoughts their rational mind tries to convey.

Know the rules of comedy. Comedy usually needs a straight-man, so if your players are goofing around don’t be afraid to give them a straight-man NPC to react to their antics in a way that makes it feel like you’re in on the bit but keeps the narrative going. Better yet, try to get ahead of it. Set up designated low-stakes areas in your story that are designed to add a bit of levity. They say comedy comes in threes, so you should structure these segments to let your agents to do some dumb shit about three times before they get all the sillies out and are ready to move on. And the emotional highs during these side quests will just make the crushing lows in the main plot feel that much more horrifying.

Building off that last one I have one more secret, forbidden technique. Buyer beware on this one honestly, but I cannot overstress just how much. Players. Love. Silly. Characters. And as David Lynch has proven, you can have silly characters that are still deeply unsettling. Try adding a few characters in that flip the script on your players and make *them*  want to play the role of the straight-man reacting to what your NPCs are doing every once in a while. If done right, it can kind of trick them into taking things seriously or feel like the eerie out of place comedy is at their character’s expense even if the players are in on it.

I hope some of this was at least partially useful. Good luck out there.

[ireadwithmyears]

Looking Out For You: (Part 2)

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem reader 

Part 1 | Part 3|Visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: 3.8 K

Tags/warnings: visually impaired reader, light angst, mild hurt/comfort, implied/referenced abduction’s(not pertaining to the reader personally), discussion of disability/service dog related discrimination, referenced ableism, don’t worry there’s still fluff

Tagging: @tazmbc1

Summary: After a gruelling overnight shift at the Senate building, all you want to do is get home and curl up in bed. The galaxy, in combination with the shitty selection of rideshare drivers, conspire and work against your much desired plans. But hey, you end up treating the grumpy but also soft clone commander Fox to breakfast, on what is most certainly not a date. Or at least, that’s what you both tell yourselves. Hell, you’re so sleep deprived, you might actually believe it.

Authors note: we’re back, and though this one still contains a handful of angst, my hope is that it also contains the cosy coffee shop vibes that we are all craving this time of year. If you enjoy, please consider dropping a reblog, as they really help boost engagement more than notes do, though all are appreciated around here😁

The second time it happens, you’re so tired that Fox nearly scares you out of your skin when he appears behind you, helmet tucked beneath his arm.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be out here on your own right now.

His voice is dry, tone slightly bemused as he raises an eyebrow and looks down at you. Okay, so, he’s right. A memo had been sent out late last week to warn staff of certain abductions that had been taking place near and around the Senate buildings, often targeting younger, less experienced senatorial staff to be held as hostages or to be used as bargaining chips. You weren’t totally clear on the details.

But what you did know was that these abductions seemed to be occurring in close proximity to Senator Organa’s faction, and though you and the rest of his staff had never been targeted directly, you had heard of aides from both Mothma and Amidala’s staff having experienced certain disquieting encounters that seemed to be linked. It was disconcerting, you had thought. The risk of being taken as some Separatist sympathizer’s hostage was becoming an increasingly normal risk of your job, and admittedly you should have been more worried about it happening to you than you actually were.

But it was late. Well, late or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. Senator Organa had been dragged into an overtime meeting with a subsection of his committee, and, from your vantage point typing up notes from where you sat perched in a corner, you could tell that it was both urgent and tense. By the end of it, everyone was snappy, tired, and desperately wanted to go home.

You didn’t want to delay that for any of the colleagues who you would usually ask to wait with you outside, so, sleep deprived and good decision-making skills severely depleted, you had ventured out on your own. 

And, of course—because the Coruscant Guard had increased patrols in hopes of neutralizing the threat—you had been caught.

“Trooper?” You spin to face him, your voice exiting your lips in a rather undignified squeak. Easily startled, you think—a very common side effect of ingesting too much caffeine. Not that it can be helped now. Mandalore, who seems to possess an endless amount of energy, probably because she was fortunate enough to be able to curl up and sleep at your feet through the entire committee meeting, gets to her feet as well, turning with you and wagging her tail in recognition.

“It’s Fox,” he says, voice softening slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re good. It’s fine. I mean, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be out here. It’s just been, well—” you wave your hand in front of your face, unsure of why you keep rambling.

To your surprise, he lets out a low chuckle as he steps forward, gently touching your arm and silencing you before you can dig yourself into a deeper hole of embarrassment. 

“Rough night?” he asks, tilting his head, and you nod, letting out a soft breath.

“Yeah,” you mutter, ducking your head. If you close your eyes, you can still hear the sounds of Senators Pamlo and Mothma speaking in increasingly sharp and clipped tones as the long night wore on and the committee drifted further and further away from reaching any kind of solution or accord. “You could say that.”

“Well, if you’re waiting for a ride, given the present circumstances, I think it’s best if I wait with you, just in case,” Fox says, and you nod, wondering if he’s suddenly thinking of the same scenario that’s been quietly plaguing—and repeatedly pushing with increasing force—to the back of your head for the past two weeks. 

If a bounty hunter, for whatever reason, wanted to get to you, disguising themselves as your driver—with you having no way to verify their license plates—would make it a pretty easy job for them to fulfill, and you shiver, subconsciously stepping closer to Fox, unable to deny the way you feel just a bit safer when he’s within reaching distance.

“Are you cold?” he asks, glancing down at you with concern. “We can wait inside.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, brushing away the small ripple of anxiety, knowing that your sleep-deprived brain would probably feast on the dark line of thoughts your mind wants to take, thriving on your worries and making your ability to actually rest before you have to return to the Senate next to impossible. “My ride should be here soon. It would have been here sooner, but the first driver canceled.”

“Oh, well, can I see the details so I know what to look out for?” he asks and you oblige, showing him, and Fox turns his eyes to the parking lot, watchful of any speeders that peel by that match the one that’s pictured on your comm.

When the first speeder drives by without stopping, he raises an eyebrow but shrugs it off, wondering if there was some last-minute emergency that caused them to cancel on you.

When it happens a second time, after the next speeder slows, approaches, and then abruptly accelerates and disappears back into the flow of air traffic despite the fact that he’s waving to get their attention, he becomes suspicious.

“I don’t understand,” Fox murmurs to you, after he observes this happen a third time. When he turns to you, his expression is perplexed, with a deep furrow between his eyebrows and a tone reading genuine confusion. “You seem to be having bad luck with last-minute cancellations tonight.”

“That’s not it,” you say, letting out an exhausted sigh as you slump back against the wall. “Well, not totally, anyways.”

“What do you mean?” He frowns, both suspicious and concerned by your sudden change in demeanor. When he gets a good look at your face, you look both knowing and defeated, and he instantly doesn’t like it.

“Some people don’t like taking people who travel with service dogs,” you say, glancing down at Mandalore who’s laying on the ground and staring intently at a fly as it cautiously makes its way towards her. “So they cancel and drive away so they don’t have to deal with confronting me about it.” 

You grimace adding, “It helps that I can’t get a good look at their speeder until they’re up close, so a lot of the time I won’t know they’ve cancelled until they’ve driven off and Speedershare notifies me about it.”

“But that’s illegal,” Fox says, his voice an indignant burst of frustration. “They can’t do that. There are certain laws that have been put into place to protect you. They can be sued.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you snap before you can stop yourself, your fatigue and frustration at this whole situation rising to the surface, not truly directed at him but needing somewhere to go. You’re too far beyond tired to put a tether on it, so it just comes flooding out. “Fox, it doesn’t matter. I don’t have anything that would actually prove it. And even if I did, the most I’ve seen any of these apps hand down as far as consequences go is little more than a slap on the wrist. I-I just want to go home.”

You’re both embarrassed and ashamed to find that your voice breaks and your lip begins to tremble. Fox, undeterred by your raised voice and outburst of frustration, takes in a long, controlled breath before seeming to soften all at once as he steps towards you. 

“Hey,” he says, voice both quiet and carrying a note of urgency as he sees the glimmer of tears in your eyes. He dips his head, trying to catch your gaze, but stubbornly, your head remains lowered, too ashamed by your impulsive urge to take your frustration out on him to meet his eyes. You turn away, trying to extricate yourself from his space.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, eyes still trained on the ground. “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have. I know it’s not your fault I’m just—”

“You’re tired,” he states, easily turning you to face him once more as a gloved hand gently presses against your cheek. 

“Yeah,” you get out in barely a whisper, your throat suddenly tight. You have no energy to fight the urge to lean into the touch, and you can feel the warmth of his hand through the material of his glove.

Being disabled just means that you are, in one way or another, tired all the time. Tired of having to be an advocate, of having to educate others on a daily basis. You’re tired of having to summon the extra energy it takes to exist in a world that is not made for you and tired of constantly having to push at each of those barriers with all of your weight to even see the smallest bit of change.

“Come on,” Fox murmurs, voice quiet and seeming to be non-judgmental of your tears as he gently wipes them away before offering out an arm. He smoothly guides your hand through to rest at the crook of his elbow. “It’s already cold, and it’s going to start snowing. Let’s get you inside, and then we’ll figure something out.”

His free hand remains lightly rested over yours as he walks, and despite this being a standard position for you to be in when being guided by a sighted person, with Fox this feels more intimate. The press of his hand is warm, keeping your own secure against the plastoid that covers his forearm, and he keeps you close, tucked just at his side as he steers the two of you, your other hand loosely holding your guide dog’s leash as she trots beside you at a heel.

You tell yourself that the reason you don’t object is because, quite frankly, you’re too tired to—the unexpected overtime and working a full night shift with barely any breaks having finally caught up and taken its toll on you. But secretly, as he guides you back into the Senate building and you feel the warm air hit your skin as you step through the door, you think you would let him take you anywhere.

So, despite the fact that you have no idea where you’re going, that’s exactly what you do. 

*

“I know that caffeine is probably the last thing you actually need right now.”

Fox says this as he carefully sets a steaming mug of caf down on the table in front of you, sliding it closer to you as he sits down.

“But I’d also wager it’s probably the one thing that you want.”

You snort, lips tilting upward into a barely perceptible smile as you instinctively reach for the mug, because he’s right. He’s absolutely right. As soon as he had guided you into the quiet and out of the way caf shop somewhere on the lower levels of the Senate building, the smell of freshly brewed caf had your mouth watering against your will. And well, if he wants to indulge in this particular line of poor decision making when instead you should hypothetically be making wiser preparations before heading off to bed and getting some sleep before your next shift, this time you decide to let him without comment.

“Careful,” he says, laying a hand over top of yours before it can snatch the handle of the mug and lift it from the table to your lips. “It’s still pretty hot.”

There’s a moment—quiet and filled with the distant noises of dishes clanking together as they’re cleaned, server droids whizzing around behind counters, and the soft, ambient music of the shop—where you just sit there feeling the slightly rough warm material of his glove over your hand lightly pinned against the table.

Then the spell is broken, and he belatedly pulls his hand away. 

“I’m sorry,” you both manage to say at the same time before identical eyebrows are raised and you both lean back, surveying each other with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, voice stronger this time as you shake your head frowning. “I was rude when I spoke to you outside, and I shouldn’t have reacted…” you wave a hand at the faint, mostly dry tear tracks on your cheeks. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know it’s just something that happens, and I’ve been blind my whole life. So, I should be used to it by now and should be able to deal with it with grace but sometimes, I—”

“Now, hold on,” Fox cuts in, his voice subdued. He glances down, finds that your fingers are tapping against the table in a nervous rhythm, probably to mask the shaking, and his heart twists. He hates this. He hates that you think you have to handle the discrimination and ignorance of others by playing nice, that the challenges you face do to them is just something you have to “get over and deal with,” all with a smile and an “it could be a lot worse” outlook on it all. 

He reaches out, lightly taking your hand in his before gently resting it against the side of the mug, wrapping your fingers around it and gently, in a manner that he hopes to be comforting, he presses his fingers against yours, looking into your eyes before letting his hand fall away, observing as you pull the mug closer, cradling it in both hands, eyes closing as the heat seeps into your fingertips.

“I am the one who should be apologizing,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable in a way that you haven’t heard before. “I’m ashamed of how little I actually know, and you had every right to call me out for my ignorance.”

“Still, I could have been nicer about it,” you mutter, eyes resolutely fixed on the table.

“Maybe I liked how you didn’t feel the need to be,” he counters, a soft chuckle in his voice as he leans back, giving his head a small shake.

“I’m still sorry,” you say stubbornly and he huffs, resting his folded arms against the table

“And I’m telling you, you don’t have to be,” he says, enunciating each word. “What will it take for you to let it go?”

You tilt your head, considering as your stomach begins to growl, the lack of a full meal since yesterday‘s lunch finally prompting it to protest. 

“You could let me get you breakfast,” you decide, already rising to your feet, tapping your leg to summon Mandalore to stand.

“I shouldn’t,” Fox says hesitantly, glancing away. “I’m still technically on shift and—”

But his own traitorous stomach, much louder in its protestations and clearly not sated by the ration bar he had scarfed down last night, can be heard over the quiet din of noise and you turn, hands resolutely placed on your hips.

“And you’re hungry,” you state, exasperated as you point at him before pointing back to yourself. “I’m also hungry, and I would feel even more guilty if I just got food for myself and you had to sit there and watch me eat it. So, if you want to make me feel better, you’ll be good and let me buy you breakfast.”

Your cheeks begin to prickle with a blush as soon as the words leave your mouth. You hadn’t really meant to say them and certainly hadn’t intended for your tone to come out so bold, but here you were, scolding and pointing fingers at a highly competent clone commander who’s at least a full head taller than you, so hey, might as well fully commit to the bit or go home.

There’s a beat of silence. Fox, eyes widening as his jaw goes momentarily slack, is quiet before slowly getting to his feet and tucking his helmet beneath an arm, looking down. When he speaks, his voice is slightly gravelly, and he looks to be trying his best but failing to hide the amusement that’s laced within his tone.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, soft, warm, and with a teasing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he gazes down at you.

You have to preoccupy yourself with kneeling down and pretending to untangle Mandalore’s leash from around her foot so that he doesn’t see how easily he’s turned your cheeks into nothing but blushing, heated flame.

*

“Oh.”

Fox sighs in surprised delight as he gets his first mouthful of crêpe. The batter is warm and gooey, the maple spread that’s folded inside sweet and combined with the savory topped bits of meat so complementary that it’s almost overwhelming to his underexposed taste buds.

“Have you never had a crêpe before?” you ask with curiosity, your voice pitched upward with amusement as you watch him take his first bite.

He shakes his head, glancing down. It’s sweet to see you smiling again, especially when that look is directed his way when he feels it is undeserved. Even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to apologize, he knows in his bones that this guilt is justified. His line of questioning had been well-meant, but it was ignorant at best and had done nothing to help you when you had already displayed signs of exhaustion and emotional fatigue. 

All he can do now is try and do his best to make up for it, and he vows to start educating himself on issues that disabled Coruscanti citizens face, because that at least might be something he can attempt to minimize, even just a little from his position in the Guard.

“I’ve never had any of this before,” he admits, and at your surprised silence, he elaborates. “Clones are raised on strictly regulated ration cubes. They taste about as good as dirt but give you just enough required nutrients to keep yourself going for long periods of time.”

“No way,” you say, genuinely sounding baffled as you set your napkin down. “You’re telling me that the finest troopers—who are out on the front lines or here defending us every day—only have access to food that hasn’t even been altered to taste appealing?”

“It isn’t so bad,” he says with a small shake of his head, even as he savors the next bite of his food.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know what you’ve been missing,” you counter, pausing to take a bite as your mind already begins planning. “Feel free to take what I can’t finish,” you continue. Sensing his protest before it can even escape, you raise a hand, cutting him off. “I assure you, restaurants always give you more than you can actually eat, and it never tastes as good reheated. So please, if you still have room after you’re finished with your portion, eat what’s left of mine, because I can promise you right now that I won’t.”

You look down at your own crêpes and sausage links, your stomach feeling so certain right now that you’ll be able to devour every bite, but your brain logically knowing that you won’t. Time passes, and you both eat in companionable silence. When Fox next speaks, it’s both quiet and hesitant.

“When you said earlier that whenever you report drivers, they usually get away with a slap on the wrist, what did you mean?” Fox asks cautiously, glancing up at you as he lays down his fork. “Does anything happen to them?”

“Not really,” you admit, picking at your food. “The few times I’ve actually had the energy to report them, I’ve had to go through a customer service call where I had to explain the specifics of the access denial, and the only thing I’ve seen come about it is the service will send a warning to the driver not to do it again.”

Fox barely stifles a snort, rolling his eyes in disgust. Unbeknownst to you, he’s memorized the plates of the last three drivers who cancelled on you, recording them approaching then backing out and quickly speeding away through his HUD, and he’ll make sure that they receive more than just a simple warning.

“Like that will ever actually deter anyone,” Fox grumbles, leaning against the table. 

“It really doesn’t,” you agree, nodding your head. “Even just a small fine, or a short operating suspension of their account would at least be some form of actual consequence, to show that this kind of behaviour won’t be tolerated.”

Fox nods in agreement, already thinking along similar veins. He watches you as you’re eating slows and your cheek eventually drifts to your hand, elbow propped against the table as you let it rest there.

All the steam you had summoned to keep going through the long night was gone, the caffeine only giving you a short burst of prolonged energy. That, combined with the food now settling in your stomach, has made your exhaustion hit you—only this time, it’s 10 times harder than before, and your eyes are closed when you feel a gentle hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. You look behind you to find Fox standing there, expression softened and voice quiet as he offers an arm out.

“Come on,” he says quietly, helping you to your feet and quickly swiping what’s left on your plate to enjoy for himself. “Let’s get you home before you faceplant into the table.”

“I’ll book the ride,” you say around a yawn, and when he moves from guiding you by the elbow to his arm loosely drifting around your shoulder as you lean against him, you don’t object.

“It’s already taken care of,” he says smoothly, bending down to pick up Mandalore’s leash, guiding it between your fingers before straightening. “I called in a favor with a senator who owes me. One of their drivers is waiting to take you home whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, finding that you lack the energy to protest this arrangement as you lean against him while he walks with you. “Alright then.”

Fox leads you outside, and sure enough, there’s a polished, clean black speeder waiting out front for you. Fox speaks with the driver, exchanging some sort of security code to verify who it is before he opens the door for you, helping you climb into the back. Before the door closes, he says something to you. His voice is soft, the words seeming to come almost without conscious thought. They also don’t fully register in your mind until you’ve regained your energy. Several hours later, you’re making a fresh cup of caf, when all of a sudden, his parting words hit you out of the blue, and you pause, thrown completely for a loop.

“Sleep well, Cyar’ika.”

“Huh...you’re only now realizing that you have absolutely no idea what that last word even means. But, curiosity now sparked, you fully intend to find out.

•Thank you to @strangergraphics-archive for these adorable puppy dividers

[the-grand-gemini]

More Gortash Analysis

I've seen lots of posts going over Enver Gortash's appearance and what story telling elements that gives us and I have more thoughts that won't leave me alone.

Gauntlet and Rings

Asthetic:

Aesthetically speaking they're obviously pretty (or gaudy depending on how you feel about an all gold arm piece), but also I can't not think that his whole look is to hide himself and make himself look more dangerous/compensate any of his perceived shortcomings (especially those he experienced in the hells).

His rings mimic claws like Raphael and other devilkin he may have dealt with in the hells. A basic weapon available to most deziens of the hells

Aids:

I imagin that the gauntlet, plus the rings on his other hand, hide and correct crooked fingers while also possibly help with pain. Acting like wrist and finger bracers.

As far as finger braces go even if he wasn't injured reparative writing and working with them (building machines etc) can lead to pain.

But personally I feel like the repeated breaking of fingers is something Raphael and/or Nubalidn may have done to punish him. This could have left lasting pain and possible disfigurement.

Disguise:

A disfigurement he wouldn't want the upper class to see or bother him about constantly. Again even if it wasn't from injury the hands of a builder or fighter (arms dealer/crime lord) will have changes that someone from a softer occupation or a life of leisure won't have. Duke Ravengard as a swordsman probably has hands that show past injury/work, but he's known for and revered for it. While Enver is trying to distance himself from anyone looking into his dodgy past.

ALSO... If anyone wants to write a fic where Tav (or Durge) massages his hands tag me please 👀👀👀 (I'm totally not projecting my own wrist/hand pain here what are you talking about).

The two mainly free fingers... We all know why 👀💦 but also it's probably so he can pick up a pen and write easily/do Archduke paperwork.

The Flame Shirt:

I've seen other posts talking about the flames and how he's laced his shirt and I don't have anything else to add other than ~ Guy Fieri vibes that I can't unsee 🔥🔥🔥

Coat Collar:

Again the coat has been discussed by lots of others in great detail and I love every analysis! However, I do want to talk about his collar specifically.

It's meant to be intimidating, but it also covers all of his neck and a good portion of his head. A very vulnerable location both physically and mentally. It screams I am hiding/anxious to me. He can't wear an all out hood without looking (even more) shady, but the high collar probably still acts as some kind of security. I don't think anyone else in game has a hood like this? There's the odd ruffled collar, but nothing like this outside of armour.

Also! Even though most coats are meant to (in fashion) elongate the figure) I feel that his collar makes him appear shorter. Does it darken his figure and make him stand out? Yes, but I feel like it falls short on making him look larger and more intimidating then it could if it cut off at the neck like a normal collar or continued into a full hood.

IF his coat was gifted to him by Bane (see man who prays to a god of tyranny and fear but his coat prevents him from experiencing the fear spell) I think it actually visually demonstrates how he isn't in charge at all.

Visually it makes him shorter and swallows his head a bit. It seems almost like there is a shadow behind him. Is the coat Bane visually oppressing Gortash? I think it's two fold, Gortash will never escape Raphael's shadow and he is within Bane's controll.

Idk this is probably too meta but the ideas wouldn't leave me alone until I screamed them into the void.

I want to talk about Orin's outfit next ahhhh

[actionmemeplay]

AMP-GUIDES: GETTING STARTED WITH RPing OCs IN THE RPC

Pointers for new or first-time OC players looking to get the ball rolling with writing original characters on Tumblr.

► First off: why make a post like this?

...Because original characters in the RPC (particularly ones who AREN'T fandom OCs, who instead belong to their own original universe) don't have the starting boost of having an existing fandom behind them. They don't set out already recognisable to other players, so it can sometimes be a little tougher to drum up engagement.

► Tip #1: Make your OC easy to know

Two things to keep in mind when trying to get an OC blog out there: 1: nobody knows your character except you. Ergo, 2: ...it's your number one objective to make your OC knowable and interesting to your hopefully-future-RP partners! People visiting your blog should have a way to quickly find out the basics of your character and what makes them tick. Keep in mind that having too much information can sometimes be as big of a roadblock to interaction as not having enough. Long bios documenting your OC's entire life-story can be useful to have around, but may be better to have in addition to a shorter and more succinct bio that neatly introduces the core concept of your muse. When you go hunting for a new book at the library or bookshop, do you dive into every book you pick up straight from page 1? Or do you check out the blurb first, to see if the plot even sounds interesting to you? Your muse doesn't need fancy powers or tragic backstory to be interesting, but regardless of if your OC is the plainest everyman or a secret superhero, you still have to let us see what makes it worth getting to know them. Make sure your pages contain the most basic of basics, such as name, gender (or just pronouns), age, and basic physical details, as well as where your muse comes from/what their world is like, a cursory introduction to their personality, and what they're up to at this point in their life. Establishing a setting and any goals can offer hooks for interactions with other muses. Other things that can be helpful are rundowns of their likes and dislikes, their positive/negative/neutral traits, and information on their strengths or weaknesses, or even the places you'd be most likely to find them.

► Tip #2: Consider visuals

Faceclaims, icons, and fancy graphics are NOT mandatory to finding your OC's niche and having a good time in the tumblr RPC...but they can be nice to have around, and some players feel they can connect easier to OCs when they have a visual aid to help visualise your character. Even if you don't plan on using icons, having just one good quality image for your OC's bio can go a long way. But again: it's optional, so don't sweat it too much.

► Tip #3: Shop around for fandoms with themes or settings similar to your OC's

Is your OC is from a fantasy background? Sci-fi? From a version of our own world? When you're getting started trying to find writing partners, you may find you're most likely to be successful reaching out to muses from canons that fit together well with what you're going for with your own OC. This doesn't mean you can't also shoot for cross-genre interactions, of course, but seeking out muses from fictional worlds similar to your own can be a good place to start.

► Tip #4: Showcase your OC in action

Even if you're not writing threads just yet, in-character posts, open starters or short drabbles can all be a good indicator for newcomers of how your character interacts with others and with the world. Remember: nobody knows your character yet, so something that gives others a hint of your character's vibe can be useful for sparking interest in them. Writing short headcanon posts can be used to the same effect, as they can be a helpful and fun way to both flesh our who your muse is as a person, and to introduce tidbits about your character that don't necessarily come up in a bio section...which can offer more interesting lore about your muse and help other players identify things your characters might either bond or bicker over.

► Tip #5: Don't forget about your fellow OCs

Don't be a stranger! If you know what a slog it can be to build traction for an OC blog then it makes sense to extend a little energy to your fellow OCs in the community. Take the time to check over other OC players' blogs, see if you might find their character interesting, or maybe even take a chance if you're on the fence...you can always unfollow later if you decide your play styles or your muses don't gel.

► Tip #6: Don't get discouraged

OCs can have a harder time in fandom heavy RPCs. It's just a natural expectation of not having the "brand recognition" and pre-existing affection that canon muses frequently do. Some OCs have an easier time taking off than others, but don't give up if yours comes up on a slow start. If you're passionate about your muse and are willing to be a little patient, you'll find your crowd! If you ARE struggling to find people to write with, maybe shop around different promo tags and fandoms, and audit your OC's pages again to make sure that there's enough to draw folks in and that you're selling what makes them unique and engaging. OCs can sometimes take a little more work than canon muses to get out there, but don't listen to anyone who tells you the RPC doesn't like OCs or that they can't be really successful out here. It's true that writing an OC often necessitates being the one to reach out first, but it's a rewarding experience, and you'll be surprised how many people will be enthusiastic to get to know your muse and will grow to love them in time.

[hausofmamadas]

SE LA ARRANCA A MORDIDAS | mystery of Amado's anonymous lady-hustlers, solved

⁂

Holy father who art in heaven, do I have some fucking cracked ass head-canon nonsense for us to👏🏽 day👏🏽 …………….. let’s get to it shall we??

so idk if anyone anyone being the largely nonexistent narcos fandom aka the void Im speaking into remembers that one scene from Narcos in S3 where sleazy!OG!Amado told that one story about those sex workers who robbed him blind, mid-mamadita?

anyone ..... no?

dwdwdw that's okay bc I brought some visual aids to assist in our collective remembrance of this glorious occasion

⁂

The scene starts like this: 👇

Okay, yeah, right? legendary? legendary. just truly legendary behavior skfjskj on all fronts. but the identities of these social justice warriors— no wait activists— no wait, crusad— er no, patriarchy demolishers? iconic crimies with a penchant for for mid-fellatic felonies like armed robbery have been completely anonymous thus far.

…………… until now.

Bc as always, Narcoverse papis Doug Miro, Andrés Baiz, and Carlo Bernard, never fail to fill in the blanks except when they do cause Griselda left a lot to be desired and this is arguably the best ep of the show which, yeah. it’s never ideal when the best ep of a 6ep limited series is the 2nd one si me entiendes😬😬😬 but we digress because im 99.99999999999999% sure if these two sex workers from Griselda aren’t also the two legends who hustled Amado’s dick money out his pants pockets without having to fire so much as a single shot, I’m fairly certain they’re at least inspired by and carrying the torch aka bottling and distilling that Big Dick Energy to perfection of those brave women.

What gave me this idea? So glad you asked dear reader you didn’t but we’ll just pretend you did cause this my haus KEKW…. No like even I rolled my eyes at my own self for that but i couldn’t refrain either.

It all happened when I was nursing my new obsession with a one, Mr. Darío Sepúlveda a name I would most certainly believe to be fucking fake were he not an irl human bean.

👇👇 THIS slice of sweet, cherry pie right tf here

And I stumbled upon this one specific part, where the look on this chick’s face is SO FUCKINGKDHDHDGWVE SIMILAR to Amado’s face, when he’s explaining 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇how the burgling commences when the gurgling is interrupted by with an uncomfortable silence, as this chick proceeds to, hog still in mouth, cease any and all throat activity and fuckingskdfjskl just stare. up. at. him.

all 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

Like tell me homegirl’s face here👇👇 👇👇 doesn’t look just like it????????????

YOU CANTSJSHSJSHWUS YOU cANT. EVIDENCE IS IRREFUTABLE.

Anyway. Movingright along.

So, if aforementioned homegirl is the 🙇🏻‍♀️ from la historia del grande señor de los cielos, then that makes this ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️ ... homegirl’s accomplice

with the👇👇sidearm

and like the general only slightly subtle "I eat dicks like urs for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack" vibes that this duo is serving throughout but esp below bc never will I ever not refer to a fuckboy as mancito from now until I'm in my grave alsdkjfa like MANCITO. THE WAY SHE SAYS IT WITH SUCH ALSKDJFKS CONTEMPT, CAN YOU STAND IT????? makes it so clear in my mind's eye how they could 100000000000%% be the unnamed heroes thieves from Amado's little story

also full 180 just on the low but can we all moment of silence for this 👇👇 FUCKINGSDLDFJ LOOK ON DARIO'S FACE WHEN SHE CORRECTS HIM, "quien te dijo eso? ... un mancito?" LIKE HE FUCKIGNSLDFKJSLKJ KNOWS, HE KNOWS HE HAS ERRED ON THIS PATH, HE KNOWS HE CANNOT PASS GO, CANNOT COLLECT 200 DOLLARS AND HE HAS THE GOOD SENSE TO BE GRACIOUS ABOUT IT AND IMAS;DFLIJA;LWEJF;KAJWE;FAKJ; SFUCKINGS DFKLJSLDF JA;K CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP, INCONSOLABLE. LIKE LOOK. AT THIS. OKAY, THAT A MAN, NO MANCITO

*smacks own face, jiggles head back and forth, takes deep breath* anyway.... back to the story

and this is where this prob super unhinged really solidifies bc let's join hands class and pledge alliegance to the most impressive and noteworthy alpha but in the most non-cringe way assertion of dominance I have ever fucking witnessed in all my days. Like, legit the next time i'm into a dude the way i say this like it's not an 'if' bc RIP to my love life lbr fuck all that playing coy, fuck all that flirting. We just gonna get right to the point bc imma climb all over his lap, purr in his face, and ask about his hobbies like it's the 1978 equivalent of a Hinge profile SKSKKSK

and the next time I am spurned I will absolutely grab his junk in a naked hahahaksdjfk grab for a proper leash power to gain the upper hand in the situation and shame any and all menfolk who claim to not like me bc I'm not their 'type.' which like sksjsjsjs admittedly poor Dario just said that as a pretense to get the chisme from the chick who hates Grislenda bc the look of unconcealed regret on his face when Mistress Mamma Crotch Snatcher Morton gets up seems like a good indicator he would've paid to play with his balls

BUT LIKE SIDE BY SIDE WITH AMADO GETTING TO THE metaphorical CLIMAX bc I sincerely doubt they let him bust, mid-robbery OF HIS STORY, CAN WE NOT SEE HOW CLEARLY THESE TWO WOMEN WERE THE ONES WHO JACKED AMADO OFF– NO WAIT THEY DECIDEDLY DID NOT DO THAT ALL OF AMADO’S SHIT, LIKE CAUGHT PAPI WITH HIS ACTUAL PANTS DOWN SKSJSB

and lest any of us were convinced that Lady "Hijueputa Mandona Esa" who hates Griselda wasn't the one holding the gun on Toque, telling Amado she's gonna have her friend chew clear through his disco stick like some froot by the foot, please refer to exhibit B here ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️where she's manspreading for jesus in these fucking hot pants. I mean try to tell me that ain't power. c'mon

AND THEN THE WAY SHE FUCKINGSLDFKJSL HUSTLES DARIO FOR EXTRA CASH, ALL "you gotta pay me more than that pittance bc yeah, she were a mouthy bitch but I didn't hate her that bad" ensuring he had no choice but to leave a tip, just like our pobre mujeriego, himbo extraordinaire, Sleazy!OG!Amado

And if this isn't the most iconic reminder to tip your servers, folks which everyone should be doing already I truly don't know what is.

═

taglist: @ashlingnarcos @tofuwildcard @narcolini @drabbles-mc

[xf-cases-solved]

S2E9: Firewalker

Case: After eight long episodes, Mulder and Scully are finally back where they belong—together as partners on the X-Files. Safe in the knowledge that they definitely, for sure, will certainly never have to face losing the X-Files or each other ever again, the two of them take on their first new case. Dr. Pierce has arrived at our beloved basement office with an ominous home movie of his dead coworker and an unexplainable shadow moving inside a volcano, where a team of scientists are doing volcano experiments in what Wikipedia tells me is Oregon, or maybe Washington (unclear). Pierce explains that he used to do volcano experiments too, but he left after he got into it with his project partner/Mozart to his Salieri, Daniel Trepkos, who had been, evidently, "slipping into madness." 

Mulder—a man with a deep appreciation for visual aids—agrees to investigate the mysterious murder volcano. Despite Mulder's concern that she should maybe take more time to heal up after the whole "kidnapped from her home, shoved into the trunk of a car, abducted by ???, had ??? done to her body, and returned under mysterious circumstances on the brink of death and several months of her life missing" thing, Scully insists that she has lost enough time already, and is ready to get back to work, because the alternative would be processing her trauma, and that is just not something these characters know how to do.

So our heroes make their way to the research site, and when they suddenly don their Adventuring Gear™️, it soon becomes clear that we have been thrust inside a "we dug too deep and unleashed something deadly" episode, after we learn that the research team dug too deep and unleashed something deadly. While the episode itself is not as cool as "Ice" or "Darkness Falls," the "Alien"-esque way the overgrown spores burst out of peoples' throats is fairly delightful, and so although I often forget this episode even exists, it does get points for that. 

Trepkos has either made a terrifying discovery down in the volcano that is a threat to all humankind, or he hasn't taken his lithium—one of the two; The X-Files fulfills its duty as a science fiction show by discussing the possibility of a silicon-based lifeform (I'm partial to Star Trek TOS's "The Horta" myself); I am aware that it's bc everyone is full of evil spore parasites, but the vibes on the research base are Rancid, and I dislike every NPC we're introduced to, with the exception of maybe Dr. Pierce, but he and his beautiful mustache unfortunately get murdered, which, given the other deaths in this episode, is actually not the worst way to go; Scully, who has repressed all her emotions and is ready to take life by the horns now that she's not on her deathbed, is almost once again on her deathbed when one of the NPCs purposefully tries to infect her with the exploding neck spores, meanwhile Mulder is trying to get information from Trepkos, who looks like a hotdog you dropped into a firepit and won't stop talking like the know-it-all white boy in your philosophy 101 class; and Mr. and Mrs. Spooky take a his & hers quarantine for A MONTH, because time in this show makes less sense than the episodes themselves.

Does someone die in the cold open: I believe they are already dead.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: No, but we still got visual aids.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Nope! Mulder says at the end that his report is the literal only record of what happened, lmfao.

Whodunit: Silicon fungus spores? I think?

Convictions: Trepkos should have been arrested for murder, but since everyone else already exploded, Mulder let him go tell lava rocks about the parable of the Blind Men and the Elephant or whatever until he beefs it. 

Did they solve it: I'm torn between "yes" and "yes, but." If I use "Ice" rules, like I did for "Darkness Falls," then technically I should give it to them, but also in those episodes there were other surviving witnesses, and in this one, Mulder did just sort of... let a known murderer go. Like, I get that Trepkos wasn't going to offer anything substantial, and also Trepkos was trying not to infect the entire human population, so I don't blame him necessarily, but from a legal point of view I think that's like, ill-advised... Yeah, man, as much as I want to give them a win on their first case back on the X-Files together, I think I'm gonna have to go with—yes, but they let a murderer loose and Mulder lied about it in his case report, and also there's no physical evidence and no other witnesses, so while they probably can close the case and be chill about it, going by my scale, they didn't pass the test this time around. 

(I legit am sitting here being like, "okay, but should I give this one to them??" but I think that if you have to lie on your official report about stuff, then you didn't solve the crime in a way the justice system would be down with. So. That's my ruling, and I'm sticking to it. It be like that sometimes. Or like, a lot of times, if you work for the X-Files division.)

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Time meaning nothing. Do you often find yourself watching, let's say, a popular 90s sci-fi television show, only to begin questioning how the timeline works out if you're using like, linear time as your metric? Well, this is a public service announcement to let you know that in all things, but ESPECIALLY in popular 90s sci-fi television shows (definitely not naming names), time means nothing. How long has it been since a particular event? Doesn't matter. What year is it? How could it still be that year? How have that many things happened in that short amount of time? Don't worry about it!  Remember — time means nothing, and also nothing matters at all!

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 15 (I'M SORRY, BUT HE LET A MURDERER GO, OK??)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 9

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6 (no, but there was fun dramatic irony of us knowing she was stuck with an infected jesse while she didn't)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 13 (even if trepkos didn't hold him at gunpoint, being at risk of exposure to the spores is instant mortal danger imo) 

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 13 (i mean, yeah)

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 18 (i actually wasn't going to up this stat, bc i didn't think anything mulder said was really over the line in terms of how you would speak to a coworker/good friend, but then i rewatched the scene where he tells scully he's counting on her to save their lives, and the intensity of his heart eyes was overpowering. between that and him gently cupping her chin at the end, i feel justified in upping the stat)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 5 (wasn't on screen, unfortunately, but at least she's able to do autopsies again!)

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2 (reminder that this stat is for when she gets pulled into a hospital to help or starts treating someone's wounds or something) 

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 21

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3 

Total Number of (Plot Relevant) Nosebleeds: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 3 

Total Number of Times People Fight in a Parking Garage: 1

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 4 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2 

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 16 

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 3

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 3

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 3 (no more krycek for right now 😔. but like mulder's projector, i want to believe he will return)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 12½ (could not have even began to guess)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 6

[cylleona]

5 Favorite Characters!

rules: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's favorites

Tagged by: my foreverbae @arisatominakos !!

Tagging: @cassandra-allegra, @tsukinoxiv, @astralogian, @sileniadream, @myreia

I really tried not to have them all be from FF so I threw some wild cards in there. (I'm sorry Yuna babygirl I still love you 🥺)

If you don't know any of these characters (understandable) I have provided visual aids for your vibe checking convenience ⬇️

[korolife]

Blog No.003🍊　24年5月10日

「Let's Talk About Coloring+Rendering!!」

～ The Chaos of Akehhh-style Layering w/ Colors & Values ～

ArtStreet recently released some weekly coloring contests and as someone who likes joining 'em + colorwork being the absolute joyous part in drawing for me, I got really into it!! One of them somehow won and I still have the raw .mdp file of it with most of the layers unmerged... so, I thought there might be some value in sharing my chaotic coloring progress with it. There may never be an opportunity like this again...

CONTENTS:

Preface・・・・・・・・・

The Linework・・・・・・

Composition + Planning・

The Render・・・・・・・

Additional FX Tips・・・・

The Layers of Dread・・・

1. Preface

I use the free software MediBang Paint, which is made by the same folks who made the aforementioned art-sharing website, Artstreet. Although its file type extension is .mdp, it can also save as and open .psd files all the same.

If interested, you can download it on their website here! I believe it's available in both PC, Apple, iOs, and Android (also on the PlayStore). ☞And here is my google drive link of my fully rendered entry's raw .mdp file. I also included a .psd version that should be accessible with most other softwares like Photoshop, Clipstudio, etc.

NOTE: Not sure how some layer effects will be displayed apart from MediBang though (either in name or function) . But I think "multiply" and "overlay" is fair game on most drawing/photo-editing softwares with layer systems.

Either way, ↑this is just a bonus thing if you wish to see for yourself how much my MediBang cries everytime I work on something, since visuals of the rough step-by-step will be provided here as well!

At the end of this post, all of the layers' purposes will be explained...y-you'll see...

■And just as a disclaimer: I'm an instinctively self-taught illustrator who is a heavy visual learner, so there are certain methods I do that I cannot readily explain with back-up studies on color theories or formally taught techniques in art schools and the like/certain made-up terminologies that may or may not exist as something else. I mostly operate on instinct, observation, subjective preferences, and vibes, so this would just be me trying to verbalize my process (with visual aid) as a means of share-rambling, rather than actually directly "teaching" anything, I think haha You can take it as a cautionary tale too, honestly-

※I will also be going through this with the assumption that the reader has some background knowledge on digital illustration and general drawing basics + lingo. If you have any questions or needed clarifications, please feel free to let me know!

Although art can be fundamentally "wrong" when it comes to achieving certain specific styles, structures (especially when involving realism as the standard), or general executions of intentions/themes, I am of belief that there is generally no wrong or right 'way' for drawing anything; or for doing ANY type of artistic endeavor for that matter. This might be perceived as a "bad anatomy defender" / "no need to improve, then" stance on my part, but it is absolutely not the case! An artwork is never finished, there's always room for improvementsーa galaxy's size of a room especially for myselfーbut I just think anything at all that brings you an expressive or creative outlet, joy, or peace of mind is worth pursuing, regardless of your own skill or tact and there's no shame in that. I do not wish anyone, especially people starting out with drawing to be discouraged for having their own different approaches in comparison to other people's works by misconception of, "oh, am I doing it wrong?". Sometimes having different or an uncommon worldview is not always a 'bad' thing, I think. Heaven forbid artists actually start getting creative and unique―

What I will be presenting here is simply my one way out of thousands of thousands of different possibilities. So, let's start★

2. The Linework

Equally lengthy talk of lineart is probably for a later discussion, but here is the template provided by ArtStreet for the contest + what will be colored in for today.

☞The contest has since ended, but you can still download the lineart template here if you'd like!

3. Composition + Planning

The contest rules said it's "OK to draw backgrounds", so let's go!!

I had already decided on how I want to color it early on: It will be more scenic in nature, rather than stylistic. So, there will be more focus on looking 'real' than 'aesthetically stylish'! Just so it doesn't look disconnected or too out of place, I tried to draw my additions similarly to how Mr. archerman's linework looked as much as possible.

This how I visually define "scenic" VS "stylistic" illustrations (in my head)

I like experimenting and mixing different rendering techniques with varying linework styles and tend to think about my approach with the rendering long before the coloring process, even waaay before I line my final sketch, usually. But for this, I'm simply working with what was given to me.

At first, I just wanted a "cool breeze w/ leaves flying away ahhhh refreshing~~" mood, but the space at the side of his head looked rather empty as is, even with Nessie. So I thought about putting him inside a vague...darkly-lit abandoned ruins-setting to eat up some of that space.

And with that, it's time for colors.

4. The Render

My coloring process is the lengthiest and often makes people who see me color in real-time scream in horror, but I think it's actually fairly simple and can be summarized into three nutshelled stages:

①Fill in the colors with a finalized palette of your choice,

②cry Continuously render until your arms fall off you're satisfied.

③ cry even HARDER (optional) Adjust accordingly to fit in better with other elements of the illustration, such as with the focus/subject to background. *will be explained later.

oh and btw, the usage of the words 'render(ing)' tends to be confusing with its association with other mediums like 3D models, but when it comes to drawing I like to think of it this way:

🎨Coloring is the planned/intentional selection of your color range, tints, tones, and palette to use in a drawing, ☀Rendering is the act (or product) of the set of techniques (including effects, filters, etc.) you use with the colors/values to create the illusions of depth, shadows and light, movement, warmth/cold atmospheres, etc in a 2D illustration.

But that's just how I define it with my own step-by-steps. Otherwise, I think either term is pretty much interchangeable.

Anyhoo, what do you think should this man's hair, skin, eye, and clothing's colors be?

here are some of the variations on the color picks of his outfit that rotted my brain for about 3 hours straight, like it's a 2000s dress-and-match flash game

The many submissions for the contest had many fun color combinations and interesting interpretations I personally think should've won. I saw a lot of blonde archer-princes wearing greens, browns, and blues, as a lot also went for the "forest hunter boi" vibe. But I was saddened by the lack of my favorite colors being used as the primary colorーorange and yellow. So, let's use those!!

The start of my coloring/rendering journey is never at Layer '1'.........

―Starting with what I've always referred to as "environment prep":

The purpose here is to 'set' the base colors so they match with the environment or general atmosphere. Get ready to see this over and over

This could mean adjusting the saturation, or spraying gradients of the BG's most prominent color on parts that...gives me anxiety the most-

As someone who tends to work with very, very bright color schemes with character designs, trying to blend in when the illustration is meant to be scenic or 'serious' in tone without it being a distracting eyesore can be a challenge. So, this is what I do to counter it.

Shading is usually an early step for me as well, even though I think it's a lot of other artists' near-to-final step. I tend to lean towards an abomination mix of soft shade and cel shadeーthe strokes are sharp enough to trace where the shadows start and end, but softened around the edges for effect.

I also tend to apply an additional spray of subtly darker shade on top of the first one? It's usually on spots where I think the light source won't be hitting as much. I wouldn't do this for simple styles (stylized illustrations like with a chibi style), but for scenic illustrations I find it's necessary to achieve that depth against a fully-rendered environment.

※Just a side note: You may see multiple things changing around, but in real time I'm most definitely working on one part at a time lol. These visual aids were ripped off the raw .mdp by hiding some of the layers, so that's why different areas seem to progress together all at once, even if that's a bit idealistic in actuality.

Apart from the previous adding of shades with a multiply-mode layer for the preliminary shadows, I add one more layer of shadow on there for objects or other characters that can cast distinct shadows on the subject. In here, it's the bow and the hovering strap across his chest.

Lighting is also starting to be added as well.

One direct alteration I did with the lineart template was change the line's colors. I find it really softens them to mix better with their filled-in colors + as well as not stand out too harshly against a light-colored scenic background.

I think you now have a good idea over my hyperfixation on making sure colors are 'vibing' well against the BG lol A lot of these steps are basically just doing the same thing over and over with new layers for the sake of this purpose, really.

And after that, just repeating all the stuff we did with the character onto everything else (background, foreground, objects, etc.) until you're satisfied with it!

A lot of these changes are very subtle on their own, but makes all the difference in the bigger picture, I think!

Just maybe some additional finishing touches for some boom shakalaka and...that's pretty much it! You will notice that throughout the entire process, there's a lot of random little things that suddenly appear or change with seemingly not much purpose or meaning on its own. I unfortunately have always drawn in this sort of vague, quickly impulsive, directionless way since I was a child and I don't think even I will ever understand it, logically. It's mostly a... continuous string of instinctive feelings of "HEY let's do it this way, if not there's like 10 other things we can try next", is the closest I can get to an explanation of how it feels.

I don't know if it's common for other artists to think or function this way, but I do know for a fact that many people seem to be surprised and confused when they see me drawing in real time this way. Everytime I get asked 'how' I draw certain things, I say things like 'I turn my brain off and vibe with many, many layers with a broken back.' and people think it's just a dismissive joke. I-it's really not, it's literally what happens, I don't have any secret shortcuts for you-

Hopefully this very lengthy post + visual aids can help demystify some misconceptions on what "really" goes on when I'm drawing! It's also a bit of an update of my tutorials made for friendos starting out with digital drawing back in 2015!

Anyway, the rendering stage is where the simplified steps ② and optional step ③ branch out like a fork in the road for me; I don't think one is any "better" than the other, I think doing either is simply a matter of personal preference and artistic choice;

➋being leaving all that 100++ layers rendering that we just did alone and calling it a day,

➌being a little bit more extra w/ additional shadows/lighting that corresponds with the environment the character is in.

I removed the walls to see the whole figure better in a side-by-side comparison. I like the unadjusted (L) without the wall, but with the walls in the final illustration, I think adjusted (R) felt 'right'. What do you think?

There are some things, although realistic, don't look that good as a visual aesthetic and are just downright excessive/unnecessary to add to certain types of illustrations.

Then there's things that aren't possible in real life, but artistically? Looks really dang cool. Being biased for either ends of the hyperrealism and hyperstylized spectrums of styles is fine; only as long as no discrimination is involved towards people who don't share your opinions, in my opinion-

and to conclude this section, I say,

『 You go render however you wantーhellーno colors even necessary if you wish!

Simple ≠ laziness, just as much as complexity ≠ skill。』

I will never stop yapping about how a lot of minimalist styles require so much more amounts of planning and effort to make sure everything is nice and clean, especially compared to mindless rendering loops like these. Mine's a maximalist hell and I wouldn't have it any other way, but I greatly envy minimalist artists that can render with just something like my step ① with so much grace and tact; not a single stray or wasted stroke!! Anyone who dismisses these types as "lazy" I will violently stuff inside a couchーwithout any potato snacks to snack on!!!

5. Additional FX Tips

Just a shorter section for some optional finishing touches tips'n'tricks used in this I frequently (ab)use☆

◆ From the very beginning, even before I understood how to draw, it's always been a tradition to doodle around sparkles all around the place. I usually do it with MediBang's sparkle brush if I want it to look polished, or simply draw it manually using either the pen or airbrush tool for a cruder charm.

◆ Motion blur is great, and MediBang in particular also has different types of blur effects like Gaussian and regular blurs. If your software doesn't have these effects / if you're working traditionally but still want to achieve the illusion of motion in a still drawing, you can still achieve the same effect through your linework! Try looking into incorporating action lines (commonly seen in manga and comics) into it. Otherwise, purposefully drawing something blurily to begin with oughta work as well.

◆ Apart from changing the lineart's colors, there's also this little effect that is achieved by duplicating the lineart and blurring it. It gives something like a...'dreamy' quality to it? The higher the blurred copy's opacity is, the more emphasized it makes everything look.

6. The Layers of Dread

At long last we've arrived... at my MediBang's repeating demise for all of eternity...

Here's a preview of what the .mdp/.psd file of this colored entry's unhingedmerged layers looks like + how I try to validate their existence. When I work on full-sized illustrations, I tend to merge layers as I go, so this is probably one of the rare times I can show something like this without either mine or your PC dying. If you'd like to see, play around with, and toggle them for yourself in all of its............glory, feel free to download it here.

Yes

we're starting at Layer 611. Enjoy.

I will now delete my PC's copy because jfc that's one too many MBs ...and it's still eons lighter than what I usually work with on my own full illustrations from sketch to finish......。 (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) thank you for reading this far and making it out alive, goodbye for now...

・・・ホームページALL LINKS・・・

・Art Gallery・Commission Info・Ko-fi shop・

[versegm]

What is Fate/Stay Night?

Fate/Stay Night is a visual novel that came out in 2004. It features three routes: Fate, Unlimited Blade Works, and Heaven's Feel. It is also the first installment of the Fate serie.

If you are familiar with that serie (and if you follow me I think I can safely bet you do,) it's the one game all the other games keep referencing.

If you are not familiar with that serie, it's the game this blonde anime chick you can see everywhere since 2005 is from.

Oooh nifty. What's it about?

The story follows SHIROU EMIYA, a perfectly ordinary teenager with small magic abilities, as he gets dragged in a mage battle royale where the winner gets to fulfill one of their wish. During that battle royale, mages are aided by Heroic Spirits, aka historical and/or mythological figures as summons to fight. As you can imagine, the question of what makes a hero? is a major one in the story, along with What makes a villain? What makes a victim? How does one uphold their ideals?

Cool. Should I play it?

Well that depends on what you're looking for in a story, but if you enjoy strong thematic writing, balls to the wall concepts, and commitment to any worldbuilding implications (be they really silly or deeply horrifying) then yeah you should def go for it! Also, as a visual novel, it is extremely well-made and it fucks with the medium in ways I have rarely seen before.

I'm already familiar with other Fate games and I know the tl;dr of the plot. Do I really need to play it?

Yeah you should!! As I said in the intro, every Fate entry out there references fsn in some way, be in directly by making references to plot elements, or indirectly by echoing and building on its themes. Trust me no amount of knowing what would happen could have prepared me from actually reading it.

Isn't it a porn game?

The original is an eroge, yes, so it did contain sex scenes. The remake, Fate/Stay Night: Realta Nua, replaced the sex scenes with sfw ones. I can give you my personal opinion on which version of these scenes is best if you need me but really it's up to you as to which one you'd rather read.

I tried playing the game a while back but I thought the protag was a cunt.

Yeah I getcha the first route is a bit clumsy by today's standards and it's easy to read the protagonist as a bitchy chauvinist at first. Still he gets better (and in fact never acts even remotely like that in the other routes) so I would ask you to grind your teeth and keep going.

"The first route"? Is there an order to the routes?

There is! In the original game you had to go Fate route -> UBW route -> HF route. Iirc you can play them in any order in the remake, but I strongly advise you to play these routes in this order regardless, because they were very much built with the assumption that this is the way you'd experience things. (A very basic exemple is that the Fate route has a lot more explanations on the worldbuilding and the rules of the battle royales, while the other routes assume you already know this shit and ellipses it up.)

Ohhh. Ok I'm kinda interested. Where can I play it?

Well funny story! This game is like, the ONE fate game that never got any official release in the West whatsoever! So you're gonna have to go with fantranslations. You can play the sfw remake over here, or you can download the og eroge over there.

I'm gonna be real with you bestie I am not committing to a 70 hours-long vn when I don't even know if I'll like it.

Understandable! Perhaps you'd be interested in the anime adaptation of one of the routes then? I'm told the Unlimited Blade Works anime is a good introduction to the Fate serie, its vibes, and therefore whether it might be your thing or not. That being said disclaimer that I have not watched it (<- not an anime watcher) so I can't personally back it up.

Hey why are there like twenty versions of that blonde anime chick

That would require me to make a separate 2k long post king.

Anyways.

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

fuck it. ethan hair ranking

it's saturday im bored i don't want to practice mozart anymore. let's go

I'm gonna rank bottom to top this time and include visual aids. none of my choices are going to be much of a surprise to anyone who knows my particular tastes I think.

7. Dead Reckoning Part 1

Ethan is just gorgeous in this movie but his hair doesn’t do it for me. It’s short enough that it can’t have the same personality as it does at Fallout or MI1 length. It looks good on him! But it’s kinda flat. It's just fine. Also it doesn’t strike me as being a character choice so much as a “McQ likes TC’s hair better short” choice

6. Fallout

I would like to formally apologize to arc @callmearcturus i am sorry for slandering your boy like this. I love him too. fallout ethan is objectively the finest look that ethan has ever had I love him even above my dearly beloved MI1 ethan. He's deeply beautiful and i love him so much my heart hurts. but for me it's not the hair it's the Vibes. the vibes are here but the hair is just. it's a haircut. It's just normal to me, it’s floofy which I appreciate but. still. It’s a nice looking cut. Good for cosplaying a man. Utilitarian. It works well on Ethan but it doesn't capture my fascination.

5. MI3

it might also be time for me to formally apologize to mar @malewifebillcage for slandering her boy.......mi3 ethan's hair is also just a cut to me. and objectively i think the fallout cut even looks better on him. but I love MI3 hair dearly and deeply for character reasons because it’s such an aggressively rom com cut it really feels like Ethan googled “house husband” for reference pics. so i like it better cause it amuses me

4. MI1

I'd like to formally apologize to myself for slandering my own boy. (Also Luther in the back hi Luther I love you.) Ethan's hair in this movie is also excellent characterization and provides a perfect baseline for all my Ethan Hunt hair meta thoughts. And it’s so expressive! I love how spiky it is! That being said while it has a lot of personality it is simply not as aesthetically gorgeous to me as some of the cuts I ranked higher. MI1 Ethan I’m sorry

3. Rogue Nation

rogue nation Ethan literally takes my breath away at times with how beautiful he is. I am obsessed with the subtle length and swoop and the way it falls over his forehead. It’s the kind of hair that says “I had my gender crisis years ago and decided my gender was Gorgeous”. And yet it isn’t Character Driven enough for me to have it at the top

2. MI2

mi2 hair i think about you all the time.

both rich in Character Implication and mind-blowingly pretty. This is his hot girl summer hair his cherry bomb by the runaways hair it’s his ‘blew up my dad who wants me’ hair. It’s so far from the MI1 ingenue that it leaves manwhore in the dust and wraps back around to ingenue again. This is the hair of a man (????) who is trying so very hard to be absolutely anything other than what he is that he becomes exactly what he doesn’t like being. Every single image of him with this hair is like a masterclass in gender and rebellion and trauma and self discovery. and I Want To Run My Hands Through It.

But! there is something about the MI2 hair that feels. Styled and calculated and superficial. Hair for an Effect. Which is part of what I love about it! It’s also why this hair isn’t my absolute favorite. That title goes to:

Ghost Protocol

Ghost Protocol hair my absolute fucking beloved. What tips this hair over the edge for me is the way it looks when he’s tired and disheveled, in the prison breakout scene, in the car after the Kremlin, etc. This hair feels so natural for him, it’s a bit wild and floppy and makes him look kinda like a Creature instead of a man (I mean this in the most flattering way possible). He’s not trying to claim gender the way he is in MI2 or MI3, he’s…doing his own thing. It’s somehow both a utilitarianism and an indulgence. He’s not trying to fit in anywhere, he’s not trying to be anything, he’s in his base state and it’s fucking gorgeous. I guess for me this is the thing—MI4 is the movie where Ethan doesn’t have to function as a member of society, and has been free of functioning as a member of society for a while now. And this is the result. I could stare at him forever<3

[genericpuff]

Sooo does anyone know this artist?

Back to my reminiscing over RMD, there's one artist specifically from that site who was very popular on the platform and most well known for their 'animated stories' - not literally animated, but utilizing the flash replay tool to draw a scene, cover it over with the background canvas color, and then draw the next scene, making these little comics that you could watch being drawn from start to finish scene by scene.

And that artist was Sadik.

(CW: blood, violence, and old mid 2000's era art ahead!)

Anyone who reads my original works might recognize this name. Well, that's because Sadik is (or potentially was) a real person.

I got to know Sadik during my time on the site, they were an active part of the community and were peak mid 2000's "I made you a cookie but I eated it" emo culture. They eventually migrated to DeviantArt where they became more active there (this was something that happened to a lot of artists who evolved past the flash and Java tools of RMD) but eventually they sort of just fell off the face of the Earth.

Obviously I can't really show the animated works they did because those were constrained entirely to the flash software which no longer works (and thus can't be replayed via Wayback) but here are some of their standalone art pieces that give off exactly the vibe I just described (so if you didn't know what I was talking about before, this should help give you a visual aid):

I adored their work, as did many people at the time. Granted, RMD was a much smaller site, but the Internet as a whole was smaller back then. We spent a lot of time talking through PM's, I told them about Time Gate, and that's how Sadik - the character - was born.

We both sort of drifted away from RMD as time went on, and naturally didn't talk as often as a result. I don't know where Sadik is today. I don't know if they're still creating art or even still alive. Their RMD page is long gone, the few artists who have managed to reconnect through the RMD Discord have no idea who I'm talking about or where they would be today, and even their DA is long since deactivated. I don't even remember how I was able to preserve those older art pieces that were unique to them, but I hope they're still out there creating art. They were good at it and it brought a lot of people joy. I still have the drawings they created for Time Gate back in the day, when it was still just a silly little self-insert Zelda fanfiction. I didn't find these ones by happenstance before the site shut down or via Wayback after - I kept them, and have always made sure to back them up every single time I've switched PC's because I don't ever want to lose them.

So I guess in a way this series of posts about RMD isn't just a eulogy for my past self, old art, and a site that no longer exists - it's also for the artists who nurtured my work back when very few people were, my first fans, who created art that stuck with me through the years, and, in Sadik's case, even became a part of Time Gate's history, still a part of it today. Thank you for being there, Sadik. I hope our paths cross again some day ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[inventors-fair]

Trigger Happy Casters: Winners! ~

Congratulations to @corporalotherbear, @izzet-always-r-versus-u and @wildcardgamez for winning this week's contest!

@corporalotherbear — Keranos's Conduit

I was really hoping for weird cards like this, and boy howdy is this card weird without actually being weird. I think that because I get exactly how the name, setting and ability come together, this is one of those cards where the mood presupposes the vibe even without a visual. Kinda funny because you're using stormless storm with the God of Storms, right? Heh. Anyway, though, this card can swing games like nobody's business. Limited means your Auras and "heroic" triggers—and also Constellation triggers!—become that much more radical. It makes having a lot of bodies and limited Auras so much better.

In terms of random constructed thoughts, can you imagine this with something like Etali's Favor? Because it's a cast trigger, you'll discover so much that you can hit and cast all the smaller Auras, which will get all of those other triggers if they got 'em, and so on and so forth. Sage of Mysteries, major mill? Wicked Visitor end step triggers? There are lots of ways to make this card fun and brewable and I'm really impressed by how much this card can be fun at the helm of its own deck. What a rockin' card and what a cool idea.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — The Cozen, Syndicate Enforcer

PUNISHMENT. I love punishment! I love punishing people for their crimes of free-casting! Being symmetrical is kinda funny but at the same time reasonable for the colors. I'm thinking of cost reductions, Omniscience punishing, Force punishing, Elemental punishing—hm. I do actually wish this wasn't fully symmetrical but it don't matter because hnnnnng. Having this be so situational probably means that it's not going to have a massive effect on the various limited formats. Are there any common ways to reduce costs? Hm... Affinity, Convoke, Cascade and Discover, Cipher, Delve... Heh heh heh. Okay, it's environment-dependent, but still. Oh gosh, and Plot too.

I was also shocked that this specific flavor text hasn't been used because I could have SWORN that I've read it before. But you know, taking a character from flavor text and turning them into an actual card is one of my personal favorite things that people pull out from time to time—if done properly—and a debt collector punishing people for not paying their costs is pretty perfect. I honestly think this card is missing flash, though, and I don't know if that's negligible. It would make such a massive difference, and yeah, the body or cost would have to change, but having that kind of interaction almost feels necessary for the environment in which this card needs to be. Almost. I'm willing to hear arguments against it, though, so you know—invitation to discussion and all that.

@wildcardgamez — Galazeth's Whelp

You know, what I like about this card is that functionally you can pay the mana and get a Treasure regardless of whether or not the spell resolves, and that works similarly to the pitch cards from Prismari that would help you get to those massive spells eventually. People...definitely cast those. For sure. Anyway. I'm curious about if the dragons on Arcavios actually could have offspring, but I guess this card is the answer to that, right? Or maybe this is just a manifestation, or a dragon in the same clan, or whatever. Doesn't matter—this card is a functional card that does a LOT of work. I absolutely love how well this card functions in a spellslinging deck.

My Magical Christmas Land scenario would be to chain together spells like Sudden Breakthrough and Ancestor's Aid, deal an insane amount of damage, draw cards if you have cards like Flick a Coin, etc. I think it might be too slow for prowess-style decks but in terms of just Izzet Spells, this card's a limited bomb and a constructed possibility. Magecraft to damage is an awesome combo and this card does all those little pieces right. Sometimes the right combination can make some wonderful work happen. Flavorfully, too, it's all the best parts of artifacts and spellslinging together. Great job overall, I'd say! ... Just capitalize "Treasure" in the future, comrade.

Runners comin' up soon. @abelzumi

[ireadwithmyears]

first snow

pairing: Hardcase/fem Reader

|Visually impaired reader masterlist

Requested by: @sunshinesdaydream

Word count: 4.4 K

Tags/warnings: Visually impaired reader, domestic fluff, soft winter vibes, dumb decisions, but they turn out okay, very light suggestiveness/reader being in an implied state of Undress

Summary:After a successful mission, you and Hardcase get to experience a series of firsts together. First snow, first toboggan ride, first near death experience, at least for you. But it’s fine, because the two of you have each other and really, what’s life without doing things a little bit on the edge from time to time

Authors note: I have very much been looking forward to the winter season when it comes to writing. I love the vibes. I love the holidays, and as a canadian, it’s something I feel like I have quite a lot of personal experience with☃️ speaking of personal experience, a particular incident that’s described in this story is almost exactly what happened to me a few years ago, after a series of stupid decisions that my family will never let me live down and which, I figured, would one day make for an entertaining story to tell. So here it is

“You can use mine.”

The little Iktotchi girl looked up at you with a wide-eyed, toothy smile, a strand of rope tied to the end of a toboggan held out in her hand in offering.

t’s rare, you know, to find these small moments of joy and fun in the midst of war. But days after this planet was liberated, the 501st still, miraculously, hadn’t been recalled to Coruscant, nor had you been rushed off to complete another mission in a nearby sector. So the people, overjoyed to find that they were now free from the Separatist stronghold that had taken so much of their planet as well as their spirits, wanted to celebrate. 

Excitable troopers, bridge officers, and admirals, almost all of whom had declined—you’re convinced because most of them get all-too-easily bent out of shape at any mention of fun—and even people like you, personal secretaries, and aides had been invited in a show of gratitude to join in their annual winter festivities.

“You should go,” your boss—an admiral who had graciously declined the offer herself but adamantly encouraged the opportunity to her staff so they could get off the ship—had suggested. “Spend some time with your trooper. Go see the snow.”

You had blushed bright red, wondering how she had pieced together that you and Hardcase were in a relationship. But in the end, the temptation of getting to experience snow for the first time was too strong, and you had obliged with promises to bring her back some sweets from the many street vendors.

“Are you sure?” you ask the child, tilting your head with curiosity. 

Your vision is dwindling these days, but the shape of the toboggan stands in sharp contrast against the white snow, the bright color allowing you to notice that it’s quite small and looks to be made of some type of wood. You have no idea how one adult could plausibly fit in it, let alone two, but feeling Hardcase practically vibrating with excitement beside you at the prospect of being able to fly down a giant, snow-covered hill, you’re not about to outright refuse. When she nods her head enthusiastically, you turn, looking up at your partner.

“What do you think, Hardcase?” you ask, shooting him a grin.

“I think,” he says, grinning at you in equal measure, “that we’ll have to do some gymnastics to get ourselves situated on it. But don’t worry, I have a plan.”

He bumps your shoulder, and you laugh, because of course he does. You trust him though, and looping your arm through his, he takes the toboggan string from the child with a quiet, “Thank you, little one. That was so thoughtful of you,” which makes her duck her head with a suddenly shy blush, and he guides you away to the top of the hill. 

Minutes later, you’ve mostly figured it out. Hardcase has situated himself into the toboggan, his legs looking slightly crammed, feet pushed into the holder for them at the bottom so that he stays in securely. And you, with absolutely no complaints at all about this arrangement, are situated in his lap. His arms are around your waist, and he takes the opportunity to hold onto you tightly, his chin resting against your shoulder, occasionally tilting his head to nuzzle against your neck, causing you to shiver. You can feel the coolness of his skin against yours, and he seems to delight in pressing against your contrasting warmth. You both hear and feel the chuckle he lets out, rumbling within his chest behind you.

This is nothing in comparison to the peals of laughter that fall from both of you as you're sent flying down the hill. Your shrieks combine with Hardcase’s bellows of delight as you pick up speed and seem to fly, his arms remaining secure, holding you tightly.

When you finally reach the bottom, he’s still beaming, but you’re slightly more breathless, turning your face against his chest.

“How was that, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice much softer as he presses a light kiss to your hair.

It was fun,” you say with a smile, your voice high and enthusiastic and conveying all the excitement that you do—you honestly do—feel.

But this is Hardcase, and he knows you. He really knows you, so he knows whenever you’re putting up a cheerful front so as not to voice your discomfort—to not disrupt the fun of your sighted peers—and he is having none of it.

“But?” he prompts, playfully giving you a light tap against your nose to indicate that he’ll wait all day for you to give him a full, openly honest answer if he has to.

“I enjoyed it,” you say in both defense and reassurance, but you let out a small sigh. “But I really didn’t like how it felt when we hit the jump in the middle. It startled me, is all.”

Startled, you silently concede, is a relatively mild way of putting it. You hadn’t been able to anticipate or see it coming, quickly finding that the snow that blankets the world in uniform white—and which you presume sighted people find beautiful—is not the most ideal environment for you. Everything is white, and it’s so bright, so overwhelming that small details become lost, foggy, and hard to pick out, similar to how it feels when you’re walking with the sun shining directly down on your face.

Your vision loses any of its limited ability to be useful, and your other senses do their best to compensate.

It makes you uncomfortable, if you’re honest. But it gives you an excuse to hold onto your partner, to let him guide you around and stay close to him, so for the most part, you haven’t raised any objection to the circumstance. 

But not being able to fully brace yourself for the jump made it rather jarring when you unexpectedly hit it, and it seemed to rattle every single bone in your body when the toboggan had heavily thumped back down into the snow, knocking every bit of air from your lungs and convincing you for a second that you would never breathe again.

It was fleeting, but all in all it was a sensation that had broken you free of your joy and made you feel jarringly on edge for the remainder of the ride down, and it was one that you’d rather not repeat if you could avoid it. 

Hardcase nods his head vehemently as if, of course, this is obvious, a “why didn’t I think of it,” self-deprecating kind of smile on his face.

“Well, that’s alright,” he says, his arms around you giving you a small squeeze as if to reassure you that really, it is. “No bumps, got it.”

He helps you to your feet, wriggling slightly to get himself free of the toboggan and the foot holders that seem to be trying to hold his boots hostage, which makes you laugh. 

“Come on,” he says, offering you an arm as he untangles the toboggan’s rope with his other hand. “Let’s go find a better hill.”

*

The better hill you end up finding has its own set of problems. 

Namely, there’s a frozen river that lies in wait at the bottom of it, which is probably your sign that you should stay away at all costs. 

Unfortunately though, you’ve always been good at turning a blind eye—pun absolutely intended—to seeing signs. What can you say? You can be quite the stubborn bastard when it comes to not holding back from trying new things. So you shrug it off, or at least, make a valiant effort and do your best to.

“It’s fine,” Jesse, seeing your trepidation, grins as he throws down a crazy carpet at the top. “Just make sure to roll off before you hit the bottom, and you’ll clear it.”

With that, he hurls himself down on top of the carpet, Fives giving it a helpful kick to start it moving, and it spins down the slope to the sounds of his brothers’ cheers and his own joyful whoop.

“What do you think?” Hardcase asks, tempering his eagerness with caution, only wanting to participate if it’ll be fun for the both of you and never wanting to push you into doing something that makes you feel unsafe. “We can walk to the town and get you some hot chocolate if you’re not sure. There are some light displays that I think you’d still be able to appreciate because of how bright and colorful they are.”

He gives your hand a warm squeeze, the press of gloved fingers against your own gentle, leaving it up to you. 

“Well,” you say after a moment, contemplative as you watch Jesse haul the carpet back up the hill. “As long as you tell me when to ditch, let’s do it.”

The smile on your face tells him that you know you’re about to do something slightly reckless, but also that you trust him, and you’re going to have fun doing it anyways. He laughs, briefly throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You got it,” he says, giving you a gentle squeeze. “You really are a girl after my own heart.”

And that’s that, really. All is fine, actually going completely swimmingly as you both repeatedly send yourselves down the snowy hill with much laughter and shrieks of joy. At the last minute, Hardcase will call a warning that you’re about to abort, neatly rolling to get out before you make it to the bottom, one hand reaching out to catch on the string of the toboggan, the other maneuvering you to the side. He almost always ends up rolled on top of you with you gasping and giggling beneath him. He eagerly takes the opportunity to lean down and press his lips to yours, gazing down at you with an expression of fond contentment.

“You look beautiful like this, cyar,” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft as the light wind blows around you.

“Really?” you ask, raising an amused eyebrow. “When I’m all covered in snow?”

“Yeah,” he nods, unfazed as he lightly brushes away some snow that’s landed in your hair. “You’re like my little snow angel.”

“Oh, stop,” you groan, reaching for a handful of snow to launch at him just to hide your blush.

This only makes him chuckle, burying his face against the warmth of your shoulder before he gets to his feet, offering a hand to help you up.

*

“I wish my family could see this.”

The snow is lightly falling around you, and you’re happily snuggled against Hardcase’s side as you both take a break to watch it fall. The flakes are small, glittering things as they glide, settling on and around you. You can’t really see them. But you can feel them brushing against your lashes, shoulders, and hair, and the touch of them is so delicate and soft that you can quite easily understand why snow is viewed so widely as beautiful.

“They’ve never seen snow,” he says, a quiet realization as he looks down at you.

“Nope,” you say with a small shake of your head. “My homeworld is all hot sun with the occasional hurricane season. They’ve never seen snow or really any of this,” you say, gesturing to a group of kids who are pushing at each other, vying for the front spot in a long, family-sized toboggan.

“I have an idea,” Hardcase perks up, and you straighten, looking up at him curiously. “We can send a holovid of you going down the hill on our toboggan. I can record it from my HUD.”

“How will I know when to roll off?” you ask, unable to hide the appeal of the idea but still wanting to remain cautious. “We still have the river to contend with at the bottom.”

“No problem,” Hardcase says with enthusiasm. “I can just yell out to you when you need to abort, if you’re comfortable with that, I mean.”

Well, you think, that’s that covered. He’s certainly thought this through.

“Why not,” you grin, meeting his enthusiasm with your own. “Let’s do it.”

*

You quickly realize as you speed down the snow-covered slope, that there was one small but crucial thing that you both hadn’t thought of. 

It’s loud. 

The toboggan careening against the snow combined with the pounding of your heart, alive with adrenaline and beating in your ears, drowns out any other noise. You just barely hear Hardcase cheering you on as soon as you begin to move, quickly whizzing away from his vantage point at the top.

Then, you’re speeding.

Then, you’re flying. 

Then, with a sudden and foreboding jolt, you register that he’s shouting. 

Frantic and futile, you struggle to make out his words beneath the woosh of the toboggan as it glides against the snow. But you can’t hear him. Quickly, you decide that it doesn’t matter, that this must be his warning to roll off, so you do.

Or at least, you try. 

You’re stuck, you realize, your heart skipping one, maybe even two beats as you scramble. Your boots, much larger than the child’s shoes this toboggan is suited for, are stuck, caught in the foot holes that you had wedged them into. You squint, unable to see the river below as the world blends into a vast, blurry expanse of white and the sled continues to speed dangerously downward. 

You can’t see the glistening, ice-covered surface. But you can feel that it’s coming, and for some reason, that makes it all the more terrifying, your stomach doing a flip as you continue to struggle against the foot holders that persistently grasp onto your boots, keeping you perilously trapped on this path.

Panic seizes you, your brain fighting and struggling to work through it, but your body, pushed into survival mode, is still flailing, uselessly tugging against the sled until one, then finally two, boots release from the foot holders with a pop.

But it’s too late. 

Your heart sinks, plummeting into the pit of your stomach as you continue to slide down the hill, unable to stop yourself from sliding directly into the ice-covered river. Your hands scrabble against the frosty ground, feeling the bite as your gloves tear against the rough patches of ice, the sting as shallow cuts break the delicate skin of your hands, not that you’re really given much time to truly feel the pain of them. You feel it crack, fracture, and break beneath you, tendrils of ice cold water rising up to meet your feet, your ankles, and your knees. 

You think you might be crying out in horror, but you can’t really hear anything past your heart frantically thudding in your ears so you’re not sure, and then you feel it.

There’s suddenly a weight, a pull as something connects with the hood of your coat, a sharp yank as it harshly tugs you back, reeling you back in and pulling you back up the hill until you’re at the top before you can even blink. 

You glance up, catching your breath as you register that you’re no longer flying through the air, up or down, and are instead on the ground, barely able to feel your knees beneath you. 

Standing above you—gun with the other end of a grappling cable in hand—is Hardcase, his eyes big and looking to be just as shocked and winded as you are. 

“What,” he says, trying to feign an air of nonchalance to shake off his concern. He bends down, carefully shifting your hair to disconnect the other end of the grappling hook from your coat's hood. “You didn’t think I’d send you down there without a Plan B in place, did you?”

“I-I think,” you gasp and shiver, slumping forward and bringing your chest to your trembling knees, your hands clenching into freezing, icy fists within your waterlogged gloves, “that Kix is going to have both of our heads for this.”

“Yeah,” Hardcase agrees quietly, his own adrenaline fading, the air escaping his lungs in a drawn out sigh as his face falls. “I think you’re right.”

*

“How do they feel now?”

You wrinkle your nose; the feeling of sopping wet socks, resistant as they cling to your skin as Hardcase works to tug them off is unpleasant, to say the least, but beyond that...

“Numb,” you admit, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch him play tug-of-war with the last of your remaining wet clothing, your jeans putting up quite the valiant fight as he pulls them off. He triumphantly tosses them up in the air, grinning when they’re finally free of your legs, before beginning to bundle you in blankets, the texture of which you can barely feel beneath the detached raw numbness of your skin.

“I think that’s the hardest you’ve had to work to get me naked,” you tease, causing him to snort as he slips a hot water bottle wrapped within a towel beneath the blankets, placing it over your stomach.

“Always worth it, though,” he hums, unable to resist appreciatively skimming his fingers along the bare skin of your hip before retreating, settling back down in front of you at the end of the couch.

“How do they look?” you ask as he gingerly takes one of your feet in his hands, inspecting it carefully.

“Not too bad,” he says, biting his lip. But there’s a concentrated furrow between his eyebrows as he lifts it, holding it between his hands as he slowly, but with firm pressure, begins to massage to stimulate blood flow back down towards your toes.

Soon enough, your hands and feet are prickling as circulation rushes to return to them.

“Ow, please, stop,” you get out through gritted teeth, squirming to get away and actually managing to kick him in the face as he adjusts his grip on your ankle. “My foot feels like it’s on fire.”

“Now that is music to my ears,” a voice pipes up cheerfully from the doorway as Kix enters. “It means no frostbite, so no taking off any of your toes today.”

“You called him?” you ask, glaring at Hardcase with accusation.

“You think we could’ve kept him from finding out?” he defends, throwing up a hand. 

Well, on second thought, that at least was true. You weren’t one to give stock to many rumors. But if the one about the Kaminoans having engineered clone medics with some sixth sense to detect injury or illness was true, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

“Is this the part where you tell us how reckless we are and that we need to use our heads before making dumb decisions like that?” you ask, stifling a groan.

“Though I am flattered that you’ve memorized the speech,” Kix says dryly, drawing one of your hands from beneath the blankets so that he can examine it critically. “I’ve decided not to waste my breath when it comes to the two of you.”

He shakes his head, letting out a sigh as he reaches for something in his medkit, while you and Hardcase attempt to stifle smiles, exchanging a half-guilty, half-amused glance.

“I am going to recommend bacta patches for the cuts on your hands, though,” he continues, and you hear the sound of an adhesive being peeled off. “Might feel a bit cold, but it shouldn’t sting. I’m just starting with your right hand.”

He narrates as he works so that you’re not caught unaware by anything he does, and soon enough, your hands have been plastered with patches that are blissfully cool, if not slightly slimy, against your skin, your adrenaline draining out of you and giving way to tiredness. 

Before you know it, the burning within your extremities has faded into nothingness, and with that relief, you find, as Hardcase escorts Kix to the door, that your eyes are beginning to droop.

Kix leaves with instructions to change out your heat packs every 30 minutes for the next few hours to keep them hot, for you to rest and, if possible, for you to drink some warm fluids or soup.

“She shouldn’t even catch cold,” Kix says softly, taking Hardcase—who despite his good-natured appearance in an attempt to conceal it from you, looks visibly worried and maybe even a little bit guilty—aside, anxiously bouncing his leg as he watches over you with concern, ready to jump up to do something, anything that you might ask of him at a moment’s notice. 

Any previous  signs of reproach and brotherly scolding are gone, and Kix’s words are gentle as he gives Hardcase’s shoulder a squeeze. “You did good, vod. You did exactly what you’re supposed to do. You got her warm and out of her wet clothes, and those little things make all the difference.”

*

You had mumbled something about still having some hot chocolate mix left in your kitchen, which Hardcase knew you were fond of, before you had turned on an audiobook and quietly began to read, before promptly falling asleep five minutes into it.

Hardcase had stifled a laugh, picking up the device in his hands. Just for fun, you had taught him and a few of his brothers how to use your assistive technology. You showed him how the screen readers changed the fundamental gestures that they were used to, and out of all of them, he was the only one who could competently navigate the changes without a struggle. One thing he still didn’t understand though, was how you were able to read audiobooks at seemingly breakneck speed. Seriously, he contemplates, maneuvering to skip back to the beginning of the chapter that he had taken note you had begun to read from when you had turned it on. The speed of the reader made it sound like some sort of demon exorcism. But nonetheless, he marks your previous position, and sets it aside with a smile.

After taking one last look to observe your sleeping form, still bundled and wrapped in warm and fluffy blankets, he shuffles into your kitchenette and quietly begins to search.

To his disappointment, he doesn’t find the wanted hot chocolate mix, just an empty tin with a couple of grains that rattle uselessly at the bottom.

Dejected, he lets out a sigh and is seriously considering making the trek from the Resolute’s landing pad back to the town square so that he can get you some. And then, his eyes land on the small jar tucked behind the empty tin.

He holds it up in his hand, suddenly thoughtful.

“Not exactly the same,” he mutters, unscrewing the lid and inhaling the scent. “But in principle...it might just be close enough.”

He frowns contemplatively before setting it down on the counter, giving his head a small shake as he turns to open the fridge, pulling out the milk. 

Fuck it, he thinks, unsure of if this will work but willing to give it a damn good try anyways.

Let’s just see what happens. 

*

You wake to the gentle brush of fingers through your hair and soft, all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you.

“Good nap?” Hardcase asks, his fingers tracing along your cheek as your eyes flutter open to look up at him.

“Umhm,” you hum in soft agreement, leaning into the touch.

“I’m glad,” he beams, his eyes soft. “I, uh,” he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, looking somewhat self-conscious. “I made something for you.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, intrigued as you push up onto your elbows. He helps you sit upright, settling in behind you on the couch and pulling you against his chest. He’s so warm, and as he cuddles you, your back pressed flush against him, you have to stifle the shiver of pure relief that hits you. He ducks his head, his chin dropping to rest on your shoulder as his hands, slow and soft, trace up and down your sides, and it’s easy for you to relax, going limp against him.

You’re not cold anymore, and with him so close and right here, it’s impossible to imagine that you ever will be again.

“It’s hot chocolate,” he says quickly, carefully passing you a mug. “But, well, you were actually out of mix, so I had to improvise a bit.”

“Improvise?” you ask, eagerly taking the mug. “Now I am definitely intrigued.”

You gingerly raise the mug to your lips, and indulge yourself in taking a small sip, your eyes immediately closing as the warm, sweet tastes of chocolate and something else—almost nutty, familiar but not enough for you to immediately place—roll onto your tongue. You smile, looking up at him with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

“Mm,” you sigh contentedly, fingers curling around the mug to absorb the heat. “That’s delicious. Do tell, what’s your secret, Master Chef?”

He laughs, ducking his head as his cheeks go pink, looking slightly relieved that his experiment turned out okay.

“Well, I figured that since it’s partially made of chocolate, Nutella might be an okay substitute for hot chocolate mix since ya know, it’s like, still a chocolate spread an all,” he says, giving you a smile.

The mug pauses halfway to your lips and your eyes widen, looking up at him. 

“Hardcase, you’re a genius,” you say, your voice filled with both surprise and joy. “I never would’ve thought of that, and it tastes wonderful.”

“I-it was nothing,” he stammers, his blush deepening. “I still had to use the Holonet to get the correct measurements and stuff.”

“I still say you’re a genius,” you declare enthusiastically, taking another sip and catching his hand in yours. “You’re my genius, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

You grin, and because your sense of humor has always been self-deprecating and you can’t help yourself, you give him a small nudge. 

“Probably at the bottom of a river,” you add, which causes him to falter and come up short for a moment, his mouth falling open in surprise.

Then, because he can be just as self-deprecating as you are, and that’s what drew the two of you together in the first place, he throws his head back and laughs, his amusement infectious, easily pulling your own lips upward into a smile and causing you to follow in bright, genuine peals of laughter that only he manages to draw from you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his eyes bright as he holds you close, leaning down to drop a light kiss to the top of your head before lightly tilting your chin so that he can tenderly claim your lips, only pulling back so that he can breathe his own soft, heartfelt confession that warms you from the tips of your toes all the way up to the top of your head.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you, either, Cyar’ika, and I’m glad I don’t have to find out.”

Thank you to @sweetmelodygraphics for such pretty and wintery themed dividers. If you’ve made it here, thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please consider dropping a reblog.💕