#cause is fitted them better then the first design

[shadowrichu]

Shiro's major life events timeline;

-Is a cool wolf demon

-Kills a few people (not important)

- Finds someone who they share a deep connection with. Them and Him have been through thick and thin together and will always be there for each other no matter what. They can't even imagine a life without each other, The thought alone is almost too painful to bear. No words could ever hope to come close to describing there relationship, the only word that comes ever so close is soulmates.

- Kills some more people

- Gets cursed or something I dunno

- Finds out real happiness and healing was the friends we made along the way

- Accidentally adopts a catboy (Xea's fault)

- Beats the shit out of catboy's abusive dad

-????

- Profit

[as-rare-as-trees]

Queer books/movies recommendations

Hi!! Dear friends, I need your help. Could you drop in the comments any queer book/movie titles you can think of? It can be any genres, fiction, nonfiction, educational literature etc

We're making a bibliography at the library I work at for pride, and tho I have already researched and gathered a lot of titles, I want to put as many as possible, so I thought of asking here

(Note: I know I have some italian mutuals, so if any of you knows the titles in italian that'd be even better)

Thanks in advance!!

*edit: queer books/movies meaning both things that have being queer as their main topic, and also in general media with queer characters

[cutetanuki-chan]

sometimes I see people being confused where alectostasia ship came from so here's a little bit of run down

I'm not really good with words so it might be clunky

what we know from the text

Anastasia tries to achieve 'perfect lyctorhood', something goes wrong during her ascension, John kills Samael, Anastasia fails her attempt

Anastasia moves to the ninth, continues working on the house or only founding it at that time

John asks Anastasia to help build the tomb 'I built that tomb with Anastasia, designed every inch of it.'

somewhere between working on it and Alecto's entombment, Alecto and Anastasia make a vow where Alecto basically swears as a cavalier to her 'Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.'

as John leading Alecto to the tomb, she asks to see Anastasia 'She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. Where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia.'

presumable Anastasia is the one to inflict to the ninth house importance of keeping her bloodline and worshiping of the tomb through all of those years

Anastasia's bones are in the tomb 'She looked back beyond, and she saw Anastasia, tucked where nobody would find her: Anastasia, all bones. Not really Anastasia. But Anastasia’s body without the meat on it, snuggled right into the curve of the rock, ready to close the door whenever it was opened. She remembered Anastasia.'

Alecto immediately getting chill after tasting Harrow's blood 'The child was silent; but her blood was on Alecto’s lips, and through that blood Alecto was made to understand what it was, and was astonished exceedingly. Alecto put away wrath and said: Thou art the blood of the tomb-keeper.'

Alecto saying sorry for Samael

the implications

the vow on itself is very interesting, at first we all know how usually normal cavalier and necromancer relationships are. then for Alecto to comply to that, indicates she should be pretty trusting of Anastasia, and their relationships at least somehow better than with other lyctors who were terrified of her

then there's also the tombkeeper blood thing, what serves as a check note for Alecto after waking up, and means the initial purpose of the ninth house was actually waiting for rock to roll away

and one part of the vow seems to imply 'if anyone beside a tombkeeper wake you, slay them as they came to hurt you', as could hinted on a protection from other lyctors who wanted to kill Alecto? (Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her.)

then the matter of Anastasia's bones laying in the tomb next to the rock. not sure if it's just her skeleton or she made herself a some construct mechanism from her bones. and not clear if she got entombed on her own volition or John closed them both there, but being entombed together five feet apart cause we are not gay

there's also some oddness in Alecto immediately after waking saying she's sorry for Samael, but I won't go into that here, anyway Anastasia was trying to find a better way to lyctorhood and I think in her more close relationships with Alecto she figured out something that John wasn't telling them, before or after her ascension

and some theories

I think I first heard this theory from @/mayasaura, that ninth house tradition of telling secrets while submerged in the salt water could've corelate with Anastasia trying to have a talk like that with Alecto since she feels the most at ease in the salt water, so means pool time for alectostasia too

another one that I really like but not sure how much legs it actually would have in canon, one of the reasons Nona was so enamored with her body cause Harrow is a spitting image of Anastasia, first saw @/corvophobia talking about it

coming back to Harrow, could there be anything more to her taking immediate affection to the Body a la some fuckery with Anastasia's spirt/tombkeeper's blood

more people explained it better, I try to reblog most of the theories in my side blog, you can check it out there but some of it explicit just in case

anyway in conclusion, as I keep procrastinating with my work, I don't think they were making out 24/7 in Canaan house in canon but something for sure happened there between them

[skeltnwrites]

Break the Bed In— ⋆₊˚⌂

The first morning in your new home is slow and soft, spent tangled up in bed with Steve.

mdni 18+ fem/afab reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), switch!steve/reader, the fluffiest sweetest smut you'll ever read | 4k

a/n: this is dedicated to all my single ladies. happy valentine’s day you freaks! coincidentally i also moved houses yesterday so this feels extra fitting

── .✦

You wake well-rested; like every inch of you was unraveled and woven back together while you dreamt. Your wrist hangs off the side of the mattress, fingernails brushing the carpet. Your bed frame is a heap of wooden slats across the room, as is most of the furniture currently in your house. 

Steve’s arm is warm under your neck, his breath a steady string behind you. You flip over, your ear landing in the crease of his elbow. 

He’s softer in sleep. Cheek squished to his shoulder, lips pressed to a pout. He’s boyish in a lot of ways still, but growing less so the longer you know him. He’s got stubble and sun spots and smile lines. And you love each of those things, swearing he’s getting more and more handsome with them every day. Blame it on the lingering moving high but today the feeling triples. 

There’s a unique kind of joy in buying your first home together. It’s perpetual surprise, popping up in the most mundane of moments. It’s picking taupe over eggshell for the living room and it’s paying extra for matching key designs and it’s waking up beside your favorite person on a mattress on the floor. 

You stamp your lips into his skin in good morning, and again because it’s a satisfying warmth on your mouth. He smells sweet, like your new body wash since he couldn’t find his last night. You decide you like the scent on his skin better than yours. 

The quiet is strange but the farthest thing from unwelcome. No neighbors or roommates or parents to wake to. Just the soft hush of rain against the roof and the swish of your ankles underneath the blankets. 

Your fingers chase the hair from Steve’s eye socket, your thumb perching behind his ear. His pupils shift under his eyelids and he sighs the softest little sound you’ve ever heard. 

It’s cruel to wake him, certainly. He did most of the heavy lifting yesterday and was up organizing later than you were. But you’re feeling especially selfish this morning, tickling him awake with a swarm of several more arm kisses. 

There are worse things to wake up to, you reason with yourself as Steve hums, his fingers curling against the sheet. He’s quiet for a long beat and you decide maybe it's better to let him rest. 

But his lips part and he rasps out, “Mornin’.” 

“Mornin’,” you parrot. Your grin is immediate, spanning ear to ear with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

He smushes your face to his bare collar, the heel of his free hand climbing up his cheek. 

You turn to watch his eyes unstick themselves of sleep and continue to wonder how you got so lucky. You press another kiss to his chin. Another to the coarse thatch of hair on his chest. Another to his shoulder. You just can’t help yourself today. 

“It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, hand crawling under your shirt in a long splay up your spine. 

You beam, weaving a leg under his heavy one. “I know.” 

“We have a house.” 

“I know.” You sound as excited as you can be without yelling. 

He hums, the corners of his smile creeping wider, a hand steady on your back. 

Your finger twists a curl at his nape idly. “What’re you thinking?” 

Steve’s gaze flickers from the ceiling to you, eyes like old pennies under the clouds coloring your room a gloomy shade of gray. “Nothin’,” he whispers, lips skimming the corner crease of your eye. “Just happy.” 

You hum, one part agreement, two parts delight. “Can we get a dog now?” 

He huffs out a chuckle, vibrating the place where your chests kiss. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.” 

“‘Cause you always say no.” 

“‘Cause it didn’t make sense before.”

���So, we can?” 

He has a hard time pretending to hate the look you show him. Your jutted lip and raised brows show no mercy. He wants to say yes, of course he does, but he’s not as impulsive as he used to be. He’s a homeowner. His responsibilities extend beyond just himself now. 

“Can we unpack the house first? Then we’ll talk about it.”

You flick his collarbone. “Excuses. Excuses.” 

If there’s a fond way to roll your eyes at someone, he’s figured out how to do it. Steve knows you’re all drama. And he knows you’re over the moon with or without the promise of a dog. 

You bend out of his embrace and regret sitting the second you’re up. Your back aches twice its weight, muscles sore with yesterday's labor. 

But Steve relishes his view. You're in nothing but underwear and one of his shirts, the dip of your lower back exposed where the hem has scrunched up. He might buy you new pajamas if he thought you’d actually wear them or if he didn’t adore just how lovely his clothes look on you. 

And he doesn’t give you a chance to ask, his fingers automatically massaging a path up your aching shoulder. You squirm but you love it. You kiss his hand in thank you and carry it around your waist to play with. 

“Don’t get up,” he says. Pleads, practically.

You face him. “But we have sooo much to unpack.” 

“It can wait,” he argues. He steals your entwined hands for a persuasive set of kisses. One to each knuckle and then a flurry up your arm. And his hands are an equally convincing force, coercing you right back onto his chest. 

You’re putty, melting into his hot hands like candle wax. You throw a leg over his waist and settle down in a more comfortable straddle. The possibility of you falling back asleep jumps an alarming percentage. 

You bolster your chin on his sternum and meet his eyes. “But I really want that dog.” 

“More than me?” 

You hum debatably into his puckered lips.

He smiles hard and forgets about kissing you, pinching your side until you yelp. Your giggles spill through twin smiles, overlapping each other in layers. “Might have to put the house back on the market if you keep being so mean to me," he says.

“I’ll be nicer if we go look at the shelter today.” 

“Mm. Not letting this go are we?” 

You shake your head.

He pecks the corner of your mouth. “We’ll go–”

You see the shift in his expression before he even says anything. Your eyebrows jump in excitement. 

“If,” he tacks on quickly, “we finish downstairs today. Hmm?” 

“Mhmm. Easy.” 

“Easy,” he repeats. But not one lick of him believes you. It wasn’t easy carrying so many of your boxes yesterday and it certainly wasn’t easy getting you to pack everything up in the first place. 

But ultimately he’s amused. And he thinks you’re especially pretty when you’re confident. So Steve kisses you like he has something to prove. 

He gropes the swell of your ass mid-kiss and while it’s not unusual for him to do so playfully, you can’t perceive it in any way innocent when you’re pressed up against his morning wood. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly. 

He hums against your mouth, a faux sound of innocence. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You break apart with a wet smack. “Gotta unpack.”

“Have all day,” he says, words all smushed together so he can sew his lips right back to yours. 

“Mm-mmm.” You turn your cheek, but the hands on your waist don’t let you go far. “‘S, like, ten-thirty already.” 

He works a slow line past your jaw, spending extra time on the sensitive skin around your throat. Devious. 

“Steve.” 

“Hmm?” 

You push off his chest until you're sitting upright on his thighs.

His heart tick tick ticks under the flat of your palm. His pupils are wide, mouth kiss-bruised a bright shade of red. He’s so, so dreamy, all flushed and starry-eyed like this. He’s got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you’ve strung him with yours.  

You sigh. “Why do I let you win?” 

He smirks that stupid victorious smirk you love so much. “‘Cause you love me.”

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Me?” he laughs. 

“Mhmm. And a hypocrite.” 

The hand clasping your hip pressures you back down, the other cradling one side of your jaw. “A hypocrite?” he whispers. 

“Mhmm.” 

He fills the tiny space between you, half-lidded and heavy-handed in a fervent kiss. He’s not rough but he is eager. Open-mouthed and persistent like he’s trying to weld his face to yours. 

You meet him with the same intensity. It’s instinctual. The push-pull of your bodies, like you’re more one entity than two. You’ve been dating Steve long enough to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’ve made out more times than you can count. And he’s a simple man. You’ve got him hard, properly hard, in a matter of minutes. 

His bottom lip is pinned between your teeth, your chests rising and falling in sync. You grind back on his crotch and his breath hitches. 

“Ahh,” he pants. “Can I…” 

You don’t know what he’s trying to ask but you nod anyway. It’s not hard to piece together, though; not when he’s fisting the fabric of your shirt like it’s causing him physical pain to see you wear it. 

You help him hitch it up your back and down your arms to be tossed out of the way. Steve quickly stops you from lying back down. His large palms spread wide against your tummy, thumbs kneading either side of your belly button. He roves up your ribs attentively, studying how your skin pulls and dips beneath his fingers. 

You swear you feel him down to the divots in his fingerprints, the slow speed of his hands tantalizing. 

His thumbs pause at your breastbone, sweeping up and around your nipples as if he’s never played with them before. They perk up easily, to Steve's obvious enjoyment. 

He’s told you a thousand times how pretty you are, naked and not. And he doesn’t have to say it now for you to know he’s thinking it. 

He stares at your chest, your tummy, the soft stretch of your thighs, each like they’ve been carved from marble, destined to end up behind a glass at some museum he’s never been to. 

You get shy eventually, needling past his hold to hide in the slope of his neck. Your mouth peppers lazy kisses where it can reach. Soft ones, not nearly as greedy as before. You work your way up, suckling long enough to leave a couple of red rings in your wake. 

Steve's hips shift under yours as you arrive back at his mouth. He’s getting antsy, the finger fidgeting with the hem of your panties no longer satisfied. So maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he holds your hips down and bucks up into your clothed cunt. 

Your jaw slackens, a broken moan dampened against his mouth. 

“Can be loud ‘s you want now,” he assures. His hands roam, around your ass and back up your sides. Soothing, but so feather-light you shudder. 

“Still have neighbors.” 

He hums in half agreement. Yes, you have neighbors, but their bedroom wall isn’t attached to yours. He imagines you’d have to scream bloody murder for the neighbors to hear you here. 

You slink back up to sit and Steve’s fingers fall to your hips. Your pelvis rolls into his. Again when he shudders. 

“Shit,” he sighs. 

“Feel good?”

His eyes disappear behind his lashes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mhmm.” 

You continue to work him through his briefs, a slow back and forth forming a hot puddle between your own legs. With one hand propped against his sternum, you force your eyes over to the stacks upon stacks of moving boxes in the room. 

“Condoms… condoms.” 

Steve almost misses your mumbling– and to his credit, you’re talking more to yourself than him– but he blinks out of his daze and sighs vaguely at the nearest box. “Fuck. Bathroom, maybe.” 

Not ideal. 

“Think I have one in my purse,” you remember, swaying heavily to the side to scan the floor beside the mattress. 

Steve’s hands fly to your waist to balance you as he huffs. “You mean your bottomless pit?” 

“Don’t shame me. It comes in handy.” The bottomless pit in question is spotted, half buried under yesterday’s clothes across the room. “One sec’.”

Steve grumbles as you climb off of him. But his heart turns in his chest as you saunter off. His love for you is always there. It’s the shape of you as you crouch, how you tip your purse upside down and fan the contents out across the floor with a hum. 

“Aha.” You pop up, waving a glossy, square packet as you skip your way back. “My trusty bottomless pit saves the day.”

You clamber back on top of him clumsily, planting yourself in his lap like he’s no more fragile than the kitchen barstool. 

Steve groans under his breath. You’ve got him really wound up and his patience is thinning. 

Your hips roll into his again, the curve of his cock a strong silhouette through two sticky layers of fabric. You scoot back on his thighs and palm him with modest pressure. 

“Babe,” he shudders, thumbs pawing the sides of your underwear again. “Please.” 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

You watch him intently. How his nostrils flare the second you break the seal between his hot skin and the band of his underwear. How his eyebrows crinkle together as you push the cotton down his thighs. 

His cock bobs free before you take it gently by the base. Steve’s not just a pretty face, and he’s not cocky for no reason. He’s well-endowed, a dusty shade of pink blended tan into the dark curls at his hilt. 

“Fuck, baby.” 

He shifts his gaze past you because he’s certain if you make eye contact with him this’ll be the shortest sex of his life. And even the half-blurry blob of you in his peripherals is still too fucking enticing. He forces his eyes up at the popcorn ceiling and traces the shapes in his mind. 

You spread the pearl of precum down a vein on the side of his cock, using the slip to tug him a handful of times. The slick dissolves, and your hand catches twice before you’re getting ready to spit in it.  

But Steve whines, “Need to feel you.” 

Your hand stops but the pad of your pinky trails a sneaky line from tip to base. “My hands not enough for you, Stevie?” 

“Not gonna– mm– last.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

You mean it rhetorically but he quickly shakes his head no. You forget how much you enjoy being in charge until you have Steve squirming under you. 

You stabilize yourself on his chest, hiking one leg up at a time until you’re underwear have been flung to the floor. The slick between your folds is more palpable as you sit back on his thighs, hot skin to hot skin. 

His eyelids flutter closed as you roll the condom on. He’s flushed up to his ears, breath nimble off his open mouth. 

“Ready?” 

He nods like you’ve asked something outrageously silly. 

You guide the head of his cock up to your folds, sinking down in one tedious stride. It’s a good kind of ache, scratching the deepest part of your tummy. 

His hips jerk involuntarily as you release your full weight onto them, his nails leaving crescents on your skin. “‘M not gonna last,” he warns again. 

“I’ll go slow.” 

It’s not much consolation. No matter what you do to him, he’s not gonna last. You’re too damn irresistible for your own good. 

You rock your hips forward and back in a continuous cycle. The pace is indulgent, just slow enough to make things last. Your eyes unfocus, your head tipping back. Every drag squeezes the coil in your stomach tighter. 

Steve’s eyes flick to yours, his voice wavering as he mumbles, “Tease me too much.”

“I do?”

“Mhmm.”

You smile softly at him and his eyes jump away. He’s drawing loopy patterns into the meat of your thigh to distract himself. And it doesn’t help when you cover his hand and sweep your thumb across every digit. He’s so focused on not blowing his load that he can’t even speak. 

You pause your rhythm and hum to yourself before continuing. “Know what I just realized.”

“Hmm?”

“Forgot the shower curtain.”

Steve exhales hard, words sticking to his teeth.“We’ll get a new one.” 

“I really liked that one.”

He can’t think straight long enough to tell if you’re purposely trying to distract him or not and he doesn’t care all that much either way. He just needs you to be the same level of fucked that he is. 

His hand trembles over to your pubic bone, thumb snaking right up to your clit. 

You nod as he presses. Right there. 

He rubs slow circles, a spark of pleasure each time he closes a loop. 

“Fuck,” you drawl simultaneously. 

You laugh, blissfully unaware as your muscles clamp around his cock. 

But Steve’s fingers pause on your clit, his other hand tense at your hip. “Don’t,” he shudders out. 

You close your mouth, a soft little apology grin that sends Steve’s stomach flipping. He’s so fucking in love it’s not even funny. 

“Sit on my face.”

You hum, so high on cloud nine you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“Let me taste you.”

Your breath stutters. He’s serious. 

“Come here,” he’s pushing you up and off him before you have much of a chance to process it. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Your cheeks burn a hot shade of embarrassment, your tongue suddenly too heavy in your mouth. You wriggle up his body, guided by the relentless hands on the backs of your thighs. Steve’s eaten you out, but not like this. 

“Steve,” you manage. 

“What?” He knows you better than he’s known anyone in his life. He feels your shaking and he hears the rampant doubts coursing your mind. “I want to,” he promises, pressing a long, love-packed kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You’re unconvinced. You’re certain you’ll break his face the second you sit down. You’ll be so mortified you’ll have to break up with him if he doesn’t first. You’ll have to sell the house before you’ve even unpacked–

“Please?”

He’s not trying to be pushy or even funny as he bats his eyes. He just so genuinely craves to see you unravel in the same way you’ve spun him around. And yeah, he has a sweet set of brown eyes. Sue him. He loves you too much to look at you with any less adoration. 

You nod emphatically. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this nervous about sex with Steve, but you’ve learned just about everything there is to know about him since. You trust him in every capacity, especially in bed.   

He nips his way up your thigh, pulling you lower and lower until his breath is hot on your cunt. Steve licks a wide stripe up to your clit, sucking before swirling his tongue around the sensitive hood. And then his mouth starts lapping you like you’re his last meal. 

Your fist jerks, fingers knotted through the hair on his scalp, and he moans. You don’t hear it over the wet smacking as much as you feel it, the vibrations sending pleasure through you like a pulse. 

His tongue drives you to a mess. He’d push you completely over the edge if you didn’t stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, pushing up onto your knees. “We’re even.” 

He smirks and strokes down the backs of your calves. “Are we competing?” 

“You seem to think so.” 

He shimmies to a sit with an arm around your waist and bestows you with a fleeting kiss, lips washed with the taste of your juices. “Lay down.”

How the fuck could you say no to such a pretty face? 

You scooch down, face up on the sheets. Steve parts you by the ankles and crawls up your body, planting kisses like seeds. His teeth graze the inside of your wrist before he stretches it up and flat against the mattress above your head. 

Your fingers thread through his, his other hand steadying his cock at your entrance. He swipes the head up and down your wet folds before sliding in with a groan. There’s less resistance this time, a fluid in and out to his hips. 

His thrusts are languid. He indulges more closely in the taste of your mouth and the balmy feel of your waist. 

The winding in your tummy resumes, your fingers naturally finding your clit while Steve rocks into you. A heavier thrust and your lips detach, Steve’s rehoming to the skin beneath your jaw. He picks up his pace, puffing and panting into your neck in short bursts. 

Your legs wrap around his, the heel of your foot digging into his lower back. “Mm– Steve.”

“Yeah?” he huffs. 

“Mhmm.”

If the sounds you’re making are anything to go by, Steve thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. And you know he’s just as close to cumming. You know his little sounds and twisty little expressions like the back of your hand. How his stomach tenses and his breath catches. 

You burn the entirety of this to your brain, rubbing yourself faster, more in time with his movements. 

“‘M close,” he says, desperate and hopeful that you are too. 

You nod, focused on the high climbing higher each second. 

His hips stutter when you clench around him. The coil releases and you come undone simultaneously. 

“Fuck, ah– fuck,” he whines, sharp but breathy in your ear.  

Your fingers slow and his thrusts wane and the pleasure softens. Steve wobbles down onto you as gently as he can, taking your interlaced hand between your bodies. Your hearts kiss with each rise and fall of your chests. Steve mouths over the most accessible bit of skin under your ear, thumb sweeping the gentlest curves around your face. 

You exhale into his crown, raking a hand through the dark mop of curls damp at his nape. Your other eases down his back, savoring the contraction of his muscles as he breathes. You travel down the curve of his ass and give him a firm squeeze. “How’s your ass? Still sore?” 

He huffs at you, nose crushed to your neck. “I fall down one flight of stairs and I never hear the end of it.” 

“I told you to be careful.” 

“I was being– whatever.” His thumb continues to caress your jaw, his lips idle on your neck. 

This is Steve’s favorite part of sex. To hold and to be held, easing off a high that’s miles better than a good smoke. There’s nothing greater. 

“Should I check for bruises?” 

“If you kiss ‘em better.” 

Your chest aches with the sweet swell of laughter. Steve’s your person. You realize it time and time again. 

He peels himself off like you're double-sided tape. His hair’s still crazy despite your finger-combing and his eyes are just as heavy as they were when he woke up. He slides out of you with a hiss, sitting back to knot the condom and toss it toward a pile of bubble wrap. 

He looks back at you fondly. “Shower?” 

You shake your head. “Just lay with me.” 

“Downstairs isn’t gonna unpack itself, you know.”

“Shut up.” You palm his chest until he lays and you throw an arm across his middle. “This was your evil plan all along.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand to massage between both of his. “I’m just the worst aren’t I?” 

[reasonsforhope]

"The first satellite in a constellation designed specifically to locate wildfires early and precisely anywhere on the planet has now reached Earth's orbit, and it could forever change how we tackle unplanned infernos.

The FireSat constellation, which will consist of more than 50 satellites when it goes live, is the first of its kind that's purpose-built to detect and track fires. It's an initiative launched by nonprofit Earth Fire Alliance, which includes Google and Silicon Valley-based space services startup Muon Space as partners, among others.

According to Google, current satellite systems rely on low-resolution imagery and cover a particular area only once every 12 hours to spot significantly large wildfires spanning a couple of acres. FireSat, on the other hand, will be able to detect wildfires as small as 270 sq ft (25 sq m) – the size of a classroom – and deliver high-resolution visual updates every 20 minutes.

The FireSat project has only been in the works for less than a year and a half. The satellites are fitted with custom six-band multispectral infrared cameras, designed to capture imagery suitable for machine learning algorithms to accurately identify wildfires – differentiating them from misleading objects like smokestacks.

These algorithms look at an image from a particular location, and compare it with the last 1,000 times it was captured by the satellite's camera to determine if what it's seeing is indeed a wildfire. AI technology in the FireSat system also helps predict how a fire might spread; that can help firefighters make better decisions about how to control the flames safely and effectively.

This could go a long way towards preventing the immense destruction of forest habitats and urban areas, and the displacement of residents caused by wildfires each year. For reference, the deadly wildfires that raged across Los Angeles in January were estimated to have cuased more than $250 billion in damages.

Muon is currently developing three more satellites, which are set to launch next year. The entire constellation should be in orbit by 2030.

The FireSat effort isn't the only project to watch for wildfires from orbit. OroraTech launched its first wildfire-detection satellite – FOREST-1 – in 2022, followed by one more in 2023 and another earlier this year. The company tells us that another eight are due to go up toward the end of March."

-via March 18, 2025

[nerdygirlramblings]

Ren gets something of Soap's (finally)

previous

This is by far the strangest field training you've ever experienced. And it's definitely not something you ever would have predicted. The pub is busy, even for the early weeknight hour. You stand against the wall trying to be as unassuming as possible while you wait for Price's voice in your ear to tell you your objective.

Earlier in the day, he'd said field training would be off base and to wear civvies appropriate for going out with friends. His eyes had giving you a quick once over, lingering on the patches at your neck, amending, "Nothing that would put your omega in danger, but nothing that screams military either."

You'd shown up at their barracks at 2000 in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and loosely-fitted floral top, pretty pink heels on your feet. Walking into the rec room, your teammates gave you the kind of appraising looks you usually shunned. Your omega preened at their attention. There was more in their glances than you received during other trainings, and your omega reminded you that when Price invited you into the team, he said the pack would be open to courting you.

Before your racing heart could cause any problems, Price cut the tension. "Sometimes our intelligence recovery is finding things, like ya did in the hanger. But sometimes it's more personal subterfuge. Gettin' close to someone and gettin' them ta talk, takin' somethin' off 'em, distractin' their attention while someone else does the diggin'. I know ya've never done interrogation trainin', and we'll get ya some 'a tha' eventually, but tonight we're gunna practice some real world interrogation. How ya can get all people an' all designations ta open up."

Then Ghost dropped a leather jacket on your shoulders, muttering, "'S gunna be cold in th' pub." The brown leather shifted like butter; it was worn, not stiff, but smelled a little musty, like it'd been sitting around outside. Still, there was something familiar about its weight on your shoulders, and you felt safer about venturing out for this training.

Now here you are trying to guess who Price will make your target and for what. There's a pop of static in ear followed by his warm honey tone. "Right, Ren, the group by the pool table. There's one with a wedding ring. Get his mate's name." One glance across the bar shows your team in the corner booth at the back where they have a view of the entire room.

You wander over to the game and for fifteen painful minutes you try to get the man to share the information Price asked for. You try playing pool, talking about the footie on the telly. You try to look enticing then non-threatening. You play up the innocent omega bit. His friends are happy to entertain you, chat, teach you to play, get you a drink. After twenty minutes, Price calls it. "Head to the booth, Ren." Shame creeps down your spine. You heard the barely constrained laughter and hate that you failed.

You expect teasing when you get to the table and avoid eye contact with the others as you slide into an open chair. "Hey," Gaz calls softly, raising his voice just above the din of the pub. Your eyes flick to him momentarily before skittering off again, but from the glance, he doesn't look upset or amused. "That was a good first try, Ren."

"Sergeant's right," Price adds. "Didn't give ya an easy mark to start because I wanted to see yer gut reaction. Ya have good instincts. Ya didn't barrel in, weren't blunt. Ya tried several different angles. Now we're gunna teach you a few tricks, an' we'll try again wi' someone else."

You sit and listen as they give you some tactical pointers: how to read a mark's body language, how to use your body language, the impact of light touches, how verbal repetition can get someone to open up. The whole thing reminds you of the old show Leverage and how the con artist taught the others to be better con artists. Which leads you to the realization that this is all improv: put on your part, run your scene, work towards an established outcome.

You try to remember as much as possible, not wanting to disappoint Price or the team. Finally, he slides you a pack of cigarettes. When you wrinkle your nose and grimace, he says, "They're fer you but not." He jerks his head to the bar's far end, and you track the long walnut top down to a small gaggle of women by the bar. Based on how they're dressed and how they're behaving, they're here for a good time and have been at it for a while. After giving them a once-over, you turn back, clearly confused. Price looks you square in the eye and says, "Get one of them to go out for a smoke break with you."

You nod, mission focused, and snag the cigarettes off the table. Standing, you wind your way through the increasingly noisy pub. A tall man bumps into you, nearly spilling his beer on you, his retort about "watch it!" dying as he really looks at you. Sidestepping him, you squeeze past a few tables, accidentally brushing against the people standing there. The stares you receive remind you why you don't like coming out like this. By the time you get to the bar, near the women but not intruding, you feel like you could use a cigarette.

You lean on the bar, not quite obviously waiting on a drink. The group beside you opens slightly, the woman at your shoulder taking a half-step back as she laughs at her companion. You lean forward a bit, now edging into their bubble briefly, and point at the blue drink on the bar top. Just loud enough so the woman who was sipping from it can hear, you say, "That looks fun! What's it called?"

She shifts at your voice before turning her attention fully on you. You'd left the jacket on your chair, easier to seem unimposing. Her gaze is a little predatory but not as hungry as some of the men you've seen. There's no scent blockers or mating marks on her neck, so she's either an alpha or a beta. She must quickly deem you're not a threat because she smiles wide, leans close, and says, "'S a tipsy mermaid."

You tell her thanks and flag the bartender down. "One of those, please," you say, pointing at the concoction. A quick nod and he's sliding your card before heading to another well for the alcohol he needs. When you have the drink on hand, you turn to the woman and say, "Cheers!"

She watches you drink and smiles again, a little less appraisingly. "'S good, yeah?"

You return her smile. "Yeah. Thanks for that." You make to turn back to the bar and drink alone, but she's stepped a full length back and motions you to join her and her friends. You shift closer with grin, introducing yourself and thanking her again for the hospitality. They women introduce themselves in turn. You quickly learn Molly, a beta, is getting married soon, so her sisters, Annabel and your new friend Casey, brought her and her new pack's omega, Sydney, out for drinks.

Their conversation washes over you, but you make sure to leave gentle touches on Casey when you can, a hand on her shoulder when you lean in with a question, arm brushing against hers when you stand with your drink. Little things she can write off as innocuous or flirty. Either interpretation would suit your objective. When you slide your empty glass onto the bar, Casey is eager to buy you another. You decline, citing the need for a cigarette break. She loops her arm around yours and drags Annabel along, claiming the break is to give Molly and Sydney some "pack bonding time." You snicker with Annabel as Casey drags you out front. As the pub door closes behind you, Price's voice growls, "Nicely done, Ren. Make your exit and meet us at the truck. I've got yer jacket."

You want to protest it isn't your jacket, but right now the desire to be wrapped in its soft comfort has you devising all sorts of ways to leave. Not for the first time, you wish conversations had the same mission exfils, though you startle to realize that's exactly what this is. "Thank you for the lovely night, Casey, Annabel," you say, turning to them while you snub out your mostly unused cigarette. "I've got an early shift and need to get home." Before you can take more than two steps away, Casey grabs your wrist and tugs you in, dropping a kiss on your cheek. You feel pressure on your forearm and look down to see Annabel writing two numbers with hearts. One number has an A and a beta symbol, the other has a C and an alpha symbol.

"If you ever want company pub hopping," Casey says, "call us, yeah?"

They walk inside; you're too stunned to move for a solid minute. You don't have to meet the team at the truck because when they pour out from the door, you're still standing there. None of them could see you outside, but Price could hear everything. You feel like you should be embarrassed or ashamed, but your omega reminds you this was a job, a mission, and since you aren't part of any pack, entertaining an alpha isn't shameful.

Ghost puts the leather jacket around your shoulders, and that first deep inhale of the jacket's scent is immediately soothing. It warms you quickly and snaps you out of your stupor. Ghost's hand hovers behind you, like a sheepdog helping herd you to their vehicle. You climb into the back between Soap and Gaz, who both give you proud smiles. The drive to base is quiet, the only debrief was Price, again, telling you you'd done a good job.

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed

[soulcaketuesday]

Eight of Pentacles 🌤️

Eight of Pentacles symbolises diligence, self improvement and learning new skills. Miki sits peacefully in an overgrown sunlit garden, having spent all day painting birdhouses. Instead of chasing his nostalgia, he's honouring it by creating something practical and new. Sometimes you need to let go of perfectionism and just enjoy the act of creating - it might not be a masterpiece that perfectly captures the magic of childhood, but putting a lot of effort and sincerity into a project will always be worth your time.

this is one of my pieces for a zine that was unfortunately cancelled. the other piece is here, go look at this kid winning the cycle of violence. drafts and notes below

will you guys make fun of me if i over-explain this to death 🥺👉👈 so um the inspiration for this is the start and end of ep26: starting with kozue trying to save a birds nest as a tree is being cut down, and ending with miki putting up a bird house to replace the tree. the bird house doesn't repair their relationship - they don't speak in the moment except to insult each other - but when we see them next in the finale they're a lot more comfortable with each other! is miki's birdhouse an empty gesture or is it the first shaky step to finding an understanding? idk 😊 i think its neat

i thought itd be nice if he was approaching art and creativity in a more relaxed way, just enjoying learning a new skill. repeating the same song over and over will only get you so far <3 i think this boy needs a new hobby <3

some things:

the designs of the birdhouses are based off the twins' bedroom. they start off a bit more messy and simple but get more detailed towards the bottom. he's getting better thru practice! and the last pentacle is still a work in progress

the fireflies were originally going to be flowers, and i think i spent like 20 minutes googling native japanese wildflowers that would grow in a setting like this and also had the right flower symbolism i needed 🫠 but anyway in one of the early check-ins someone said they liked the fireflies and i thought sure!!!! sounds good lmao :D imo they imply a late summers evening and a long day of outdoor work which probably works better than me struggling with flower symbolism lol

the shoes looks good as hell before i remembered i had to cover them up with grass and the frame. now they just blend in to the piano a bit. sad!

for some reason i did all the line art for this and then painted it anyway. why did i do that.

i'm still kinda fond of the first one with miki studiously leaning over a miniature rose garden while the actual garden grows wild around him... one of the interpretations of eight of pentacles (reversed) is being so focused on details that you overlook the bigger picture, which i think really fits miki as the student councils Bloke Who Does Fuck All. he has the appearance of someone who's very analytical and sensible, but he's so locked in his own tiny perception of the world that he mostly just comes up with whatever conclusions suit him best, regardless of any harm he might be ignoring or outright causing. HOWEVER that's kind of an ungenerous interpretation for a relatively chill card 😌 also i had no ideas for a background and the composition didn't work with the border so rip to that idea

i liked the stopwatches as pentacles so tried to reuse it in the third design but was out of ideas by then. the seconds thumbnail with the birdhouses and the piano kind of came naturally so that's what i went with :) and it more or less stayed the same in the final result. i was thinking of adding some kozue presence, like empty milkshake cups or a birds nest or graffiti on the side of the old piano, but imo that would have made it too cluttered. i literally did forget to add paint pots tho OOPS

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)

[qwiopty]

TAILS GIJINKA BREAKDOWN!

FINALLY!! i put together some tails gijinka/humanized stuff LOL!! see below for some goodies and an in depth (kind of indulgent) breakdown!!

[for the third image: sonic gijinka design belongs to @noka-exe !! i havent really come up with my own but i like theirs :-) ]

thisss gijinka is packed with headcanons LOL.. beware!! for starters...hes just a little guy!! i took visual inspo from markl (howls moving castle) and simon (gurrenn lagann)!! mostly simon bc i find a lot of similarities between him and tails.. short and unassuming shy boys who are also compassionate and brave!! (isn't it also awesome how simon and tails both have an older brother figure who encourages them to be brave.. 💥💥🤯 and they both have some sort of space opera and id go on but thats spoilers!!) i also went with a prosthetic leg to kind of represent his tail!! i think it could parallel to how tails' tails can act like a mobility aid, and he'd get the opportunity to tinker and repair them too!! it could also possibly correlate to how tails makes something he was picked on and bullied for, his tails, and uses it to his advantage! and again tying in his interest for mechanics and being able to customize and repair it is a concept that i find neat!! (maybe some inspo from fullmetal alchemist.. bahahaha..)

speaking of customization. i also love the idea of him covering them with stickers!! i've already added tails' own emblem on there but this has prompted me to look into adding some more!

(sorry that im singling you out again @tornado1992 LMAO i just loved your input!!) but i also love the hc that tails gets hand me downs from sonic!! for instance his gloves.. ik theyre not directly from sonic but it is such a sweet detail that tails has a rubber band around those oversized gloves to mimic sonic! and tails definitely has the means to make his own fitted gloves yet he still has those bands on in his modern models!! auhgh!! so yes.. lets say the hoodie is so oversized and oozing with swag cause it originally belonged to sonic! :-) maybe tails likes it so much that he designs the cyclone after it!! just some ideas... more depth into his clothes: i drew a lot of inspo from already existing tails-related designs!! the main outfit i draw him in is a large short-sleeve hoodie with some elements pulled from the cyclone and tails' racesuit design from sonic speed simulator! he also has his goggles and shoes from sonic riders, with some slight details added on!! see below for a better look at the outfit LOL

(the pins on his crossbody bag are a fly-type emblem, a mint, and a red star ring! theres also a sonic keychain that i keep forgetting to add/switch out with the fly type emblem LOL)

here's some more doodles from last year with this design!

yes i did make a classic design for him!! his younger hair is more of that nice vintage orange-yellow but as he gets older itll turn amber then maybe gold? i was also thinking he dons some red clothing to reflect his admiration for sonic but later starts implementing his own style with some grays and blues!!

i'll also point out that i lean into more of a space-pilot design instead of the usual aviator pilot!! tbf i was raised on sonic x season 3 which is just a huge space opera.. 😅😅 but i still do love the aviator pilot concept!!

this should be about everything i have to dump about my design!! im not usually this talkative in posts so im a little embarassed to be sharing this at all 💀 but if u read through all of this thank you so much LMFAO im so crazy about him!! if you have any questions or ideas youd like to share id love to hear them!! maybe draw them out too... i may even do a cosmo design update/breakdown!! for fun.. heres the first tails gijinka post i ever posted!!

also shoutout to @corvussio for the incredible detailed comment on my other tails design post!! i know its been ages but i still think about how you took the time to look into each and every detail!! thank you greatly pal!!

[minpage]

First, Best Destiny (Part I) by @ophelia-j

(Thank you so, so much for letting me bind this)

I’ve been watching people make books of fanfic for years, and knew it was only a matter of time before I caved and started a new hobby. And here it is! Voila! The first of (hopefully) a library of some of my favourite stories.

Had a lot of fun figuring out the formatting of the pages and drawing things for it. Especially the cover. That was a challenge but I’m so happy with it!

Putting the other pictures under the cut so this isn’t too long :)

- The title page. Made the circular design and then realised after I printed it it would look cooler if it went across both pages. Got a lot better at freehanding circles though as a result.

- The chapter headings. Ended up doing Vulcan numbers in the background, which I think turned out nice! Each chapter covers several episodes from the series, so I added a footnote to show which ones.

- The page break after the epilogue. I wanted to put an illustration somewhere in the book, and thought here worked well. Had fun drawing the Enterprise!

- The copyright page. Standard stuff. Put a lot of the fic information here (and the rest at the end of the book)

- I also added a section at the end for all the author notes, cause it felt like a shame to cut them entirely even though they didn’t fit with the formatting of the chapters. They feel like an intrinsic part of the fanfic experience, and I always enjoy reading them alongside the story!

So yeah, that’s that! Incredibly happy with how it came together. I also highly recommend this fic to anyone who likes The Original Series — it’s brilliantly written and captures the characters’ voices perfectly. You can find it here :)

[reallyromealone]

I’ve been soooo obsessed with the babyhaul series.So,I was wondering if you could do an ep where the babe finally develops his quirk.Aizawa dropped the babe at the U.A daycare and a few hours pass and he gets called to the office bc his little one developed their quirk (You can pick the quirk bc I have no idea what it should be)

Feel free to ignore this <333

Title: quirk

Fandom: bnha

Characters: Yamada, Aizawa, Nedzu

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Yamada x Aizawa

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader, fluff

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Quirks were fun.

Especially when you get a call that your toddler rearrange the structural design of a block into a pile of sand, causing the daycare staff to have to call the parent to said daycare.

"What did he do?" Aizawa asked exasperated as he and his husband sat with their three year old, (name) sporting a cool quirk suppressant bracelet for children as he played with his papas fingers and wedding band "well it seems he developed his quirk, he turned a wood block into sand and then his cookie into a ducky toy and began crying when he didn't have his cookie anymore" the head of the U.A daycare explained and the two teachers shared a glance.

(Name) Had his biological father's quirk.

"Thank you for telling us, if you could excuse us" Aizawa lifted the little one In his arms as they went to Nedzu, they knew this time would come but god they wished they had a bit more time. (Name) Was confused as his dad's looked serious "papa! I got my quirk!" (Name) Tried to make conversation with Yamada who smiled down at his son that was in Aizawas hold "yeah, now we gotta see uncle Nedzu to teach you how to use it" (name) looked confused but just went with it, uncle Nedzu was the smartest guy ever so...

"Uncle zuzu! I got my quirk!" (Name) Said excitedly as he was freed from his dad's hold and set in the ground, waddling/ running towards the principal "So I have been told little mouse, very exciting" Nedzu said handing a cookie to the child who went around his desk to see him properly since he wasn't able to see above the desk.

"The commission isn't to know about his abilities so we can work that to our advantage" (name) was sitting on the carpet with his toys, playing happily while the adults put their plan into action, the daycare trained and signed enough NDA's to make a judge sweat "We will begin quirk training immediately, if he can do something like that without breaking a sweat now... That's something to keep close tabs on"

It was well known that quirks could be more powerful through generations, evolving into something even bigger than itself and (name) had no reaction to using his quirk even by accident, turning wood to sand wasn't an easy feat after all.

"It will only be for an hour a day, he is still quite young" Nedzu showed them folders he had prepared, a very cohesive and airtight plan that had the parents impressed "there's even snack time" Aizawa said with a huff, it fit in for their pick-up time for Eri and everything.

"And if course I'll be there in case something happens" Aizawa said looking back at his son who was in his own world.

That night, Aizawa and Yamada sat with their tot and explained a little bit about his quirk, (name) was already mentally developing faster than they were expecting, they were sure that Kisaki did something to cause that as the boy seemed to be understanding things faster and better than his peers.

"I can make cookies..." The power (name) realized he has was a horrifying realization to the parents who couldn't help but laugh at the fact that making cookies was his first instinct.

"Use that power wisely" Yamada snorted as they went home, they had some things to order and have lunch, (name)s choice.

[quartzteph]

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TGS!!!!!

I've had this design for a recombined Jekyll rolling around in my head for months now, so I finally took the time to draw him. For the sake of clarity I'll refer to him as Re!Jekyll (short for Recombined Jekyll) (also the prefix "re-" feels kinda fitting for him, since he is whole once again). I have many ideas/headcanons for him, but I'll put all that under the cut :)

As for the drawing itself, I tried to mimic the look of the comic for the most part. (Note: Many of the colors used here were colorpicked from the comic to ensure accuracy.) I wanted him to look less like a 50/50 mix of Jekyll and Hyde and more like a Hyde-ish Jekyll, so I opted to give him the same face and hairstyle as Jekyll, but with some Hyde-like qualities. Aside from the obvious blonde streak, his hair is fluffier, messier, and a bit longer. The hair tuft/sideburn things in front of his ears are based on a mix of the hair tufts that hang in front of Hyde’s ears and university Jekyll’s sideburns. While he mostly wears red, he likes to include a touch of green, as seen here in his cravat. Also he gets the dark eye circles, as a treat. (I just really like Hyde's dark eye circles and don't have enough self-restraint to not give them to Re!Jekyll.)

Bonus doodles cause i love my freak son:

Various headcanon ramblings about him (plus drawing process) under the cut:

When he's trying to look more respectable, he uses his now-longer bangs to hide his green eye. At first, he also attempts to make his hair look neater, but this is a near impossible task that he eventually gives up on. (He is doomed to live out the fuzzy-headed mad scientist stereotype.)

When people question his sudden change in appearance, he claims his blonde streak and green eye are the result of a chemical formula splashing him in the face (á la Two-Face). Yeah this sounds a little far-fetched, but he is charming enough to get away with it. (Besides, he knows way more about alchemy than they do, who are they to question it?)

This sudden merging of identities is initially super disorienting. It takes him a while to get used to it. (In the first few days, he keeps referring to himself with "we". He eventually breaks this habit tho.)

Has a bit of an identity crisis. (I'm specifically envisioning a scene of him staring at his wardrobe, mostly full of reds and greens, and getting stuck because he doesn't know what color to wear.)

Jekyll and Hyde were so used to having someone constantly there, listening to them and yapping in their ears (or in their heads, rather). Now, for Re!Jekyll, life feels so quiet. It's peaceful, but also a little lonely.

Has a bad habit of talking to himself aloud. When he's alone, he sometimes has whole conversations or debates with himself.

Struggles more with the mundane parts of his job due to having Hyde's impulsiveness and wanderlust. He occasionally has to take little breaks from all the paperwork when he becomes too restless.

He's still goopy. Moments of extreme emotion (stress, anger, excitement, etc.) can trigger the green goop. (Think that one scene in Ch. 14 when the priestess startles Hyde, causing goop to spew from his face.) I like to imagine the guilt of everything he's done hitting him and causing him to have a "that one scene in Howl's Moving Castle" moment.

In rare moments of severe inner turmoil or repression, he may even go into convulsions in addition to the goop, as if his body is trying to transform. (Feel free to disregard this one if you wish, this is 100% just me being super self-indulgent cause I love angst.)

Despite his many newfound struggles, he’s actually very happy! He now knows that Lanyon loves and accepts every part of him, and this helps him to better love and accept himself.

And now drawing process images! Shoutout to that one Re!Jekyll who is way too excited about something:

[fermithesilly]

UNRELEASED/SCRAPPED CHARACTER

if you’d like to know more about Connie click this!

“WELCOME, WELCOME NEWCOMERS~! All I wish for are the most FRIGHTENED faces as you explore my mansion of freaks and flesh! TRY NOT TO TRIP..! Every mistake has consequences.”

______________________________________________________________

PLEASE READ THIS

Yeah I made an AU about a character that’s not even confirmed to be going in game. You can’t stop me. BUT I will say that since we barely know anything about Connie, how I portray her in this AU isn’t reflective of what she’d act like in canon. I’m just obsessed with her, and then got this AU idea. How she is in this AU might be similar, or completely wrong with how she’d be in canon. I might change some things about this AU if she actually gets added to the game, but for now pleaseee don’t think of anything from this AU as close to canon. Also this is my first time making an AU, I might be a bit slow on stuff

In this AU Dandy’s world is instead of the wholesome colorful kids show about learning lessons, it’s a Scooby Doo esk lighthearted horror show centering around the main cast solving spooky mysteries. Connie was one of the main antagonists of the show, usually being the cause of whatever frightening case the group had to investigate. She’d set traps, send monsters after them, and even attempt to possess them every once in a while! She’d try anything to get her way. But at the end of every episode, Connie was inevitably defeated; wether by giant vacuums or just throwing salt at her, the foul ghost always had her evil plans ceased. Though a bit annoyed at this writing choice, Connie had to play her character wether she liked it or not. Once the show eventually ended however, Connie wasn’t satisfied with how her character ended. And so in a fit of rage, she dissociated from her fellow Toons, disappearing from the world to make her own Spookshow. With the Gardenview (I might change the name later) building now abandoned, Connie took it over as her own, turning it into a twisted haunted house. As the years went by, the Toons would forget about Connie, hoping that perhaps she had moved on and is living a better life now. Though that’d be further from the truth, as one faithful day Dandy would go missing. The Toons were distraught, only being left with an eerie note from Connie at their doors, telling them to go back to Gardenview if they want to see Dandy again. After all these years, the Toons were returning back to their roots. A classic missing person mystery, except only this time, it was real.

Scrapped Connie design

I have many ideas for this AU, if you have any questions feel free to ask. @piquuroblox also hiii :3

[radawaycunt]

High Risk

PART ONE: STAR PATIENT

Mini-series masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.5k words

Series Summary: You, a nurse at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, are assigned to the newest inmate -- none other than the Chesapeake Ripper, otherwise known as Hannibal Lecter. He is nothing short of charming, but the dangerous mysteries that lurk beneath are equally alluring. So much so that you can barely resist the urge to uncover them all.

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence (mentions and some descriptions), slight canon divergence (here frederick is still director of the hospital), corruption, manipulation all around, eventual smut, secret affair(ish?), sort of power imbalance, ongoing murder investigation (the red dragon), cursing, not-so-slow burn, hannibal being hannibal pretty much, aaand that’s all I can think of but lmk if something should be added!

—————

“A woman being never at a loss…. The devil always sticks by them.” — Lord Byron

———-

Much like the Minotaur’s labyrinth, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was designed never to let one escape. At least, that’s how you viewed it, even if you were a worker and not a prisoner there. 

Still, you weren’t sure that was any better.

The place’s immaculate cleanliness was almost unnerving, but it was fitting. The walls were a glaring white, and the floors were always polished until they shone. The hallways were meant to confuse those who hadn’t actively tried to memorize them, every corner seeming the same.

Your uniform had to be impeccable too, lest you made the place look bad. It was absurd how much laundry you had to do, and how much time you had to spend on your appearance. All for it to go to waste whenever things got messy with rowdier inmates. 

But despite it all, there was a certain allure to the place that made you want to return each day. Something morbid, almost sinister, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. It was irresistible, and it would be until you found it out.

Doctor Chilton had just given you the rundown about the new inmate, stressing the importance of following protocol when dealing with him. He’d handed you his file to look over and on the very first page, there was a picture of the man they called the Chesapeake Ripper — Hannibal Lecter. 

You were taken aback for a moment, not expecting him to look like that. Luckily, the Doctor did not seem to notice your reaction, and you quickly made sure your expression was neutral once more.

Despite having worked there for a few years, witnessing all sorts of things, you were a little rattled by the way he spoke about him. Especially after mentioning he didn’t want to lose any more nurses, alluding to the incident with a former inmate, Doctor Gideon.

As it turned out, Hannibal was also a doctor, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the prospect of some macabre pattern forming. 

Of course, none of the other nurses wanted to be assigned to him, but Doctor Chilton trusted you to handle things well. You did what was asked of you and never caused any trouble. Truthfully, it wasn’t because you were particularly driven, but you wanted to fly under the radar and take it day by day.

And yet, it had still led you there, despite your efforts. 

You took the elevator down from the top floor, reading the file as you went. It was noted that the risk of him being violent was quite high, but he had thus far been cooperative with the staff. In fact, he had even turned himself in to the police, which was a detail that stood out to you. 

Considering his numerous horrific crimes, along with Doctor Chilton’s psychological assessment of him, he did not seem like a man who would let himself be apprehended so easily. It would gnaw at you, but you weren’t sure if you’d get the answers you suddenly seeked.

You left the file at your station to finish reading later, trying your best to ignore the looks of fear and pity some of the other nurses shot your way. Hopefully none of them would try to give you shallow words of affirmation, knowing you’d be the subject of gossip for the next week or so.

The maximum security cells were on the basement floor, but you stopped by the kitchen first to get his meal tray. You steeled your nerves as you passed through the extensive clearance, continuing down the hallway until you reached the very last cell, which was behind a set of double doors.

Was the light dimmer there, or were you imagining things? You could see shadows lurking in the corners of the room, an ominous feeling curling in your stomach. A cool gust from one of the AC vents made you shiver, but otherwise, you willed yourself to stay composed.

Finally, you dared to look into the actual cell. It was much nicer than most of the other cells, equipped with two bookshelves, a large mahogany desk, and some elaborate sketches that were taped on the walls. Perhaps part of a bargain struck with Doctor Chilton based on his cooperation with the authorities. 

Then again, he was the new star patient, so that probably earned him a few more privileges. Despite those small luxuries though, you knew it’d be hard for him to forget that he was incarcerated.

Hannibal himself was lying down on his cot, reading, but he sat up as soon as you entered. He was even more handsome in person, almost rakish, and you allowed yourself the smallest pause to continue looking at him. 

He had a fine nose, dark eyes, and an aristocratic air to him. Not to mention, a full, obscene mouth that was surely meant to cast impure thoughts. 

Somehow, you had to admit that even his slate gray jumpsuit fit him quite well. If he truly was the Devil, then word of his burning, unholy beauty was not a lie.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile that you were sure had charmed many in the past.

“Good afternoon. Stay where you are, please,” you said firmly but politely, returning the smile just slightly. “I’ve brought lunch.”

He obeyed, hands resting on his knees. Slowly, tentatively, you made your way to the slot in the glass where you could deposit the tray. 

“Please don’t retrieve it until I’m gone, and let a guard know when you’re done so they can collect it.”

He nodded, smile still in place. “Thank you.”

You began to retreat, feeling his gaze fixed on your back. It wasn’t until your hand was on the door knob that you realized your heart was racing. Adrenaline was dancing beneath your skin like little bolts of electricity, but at least your breathing was even. 

What was it that had affected you so deeply? Was it the thrill of looking into the eyes of pure evil? 

No, that was far too simple, and therefore what you had expected… but that wasn’t all you’d been able to see. It was hard to decipher just at first glance, but you hadn’t been brave enough to hold eye contact for long. And you certainly weren’t any braver when you returned to deliver his supper later that evening.

He was still all smiles and charming obedience, but you noticed his eyes wandered a lot more. It might have been a little amusing, if you weren’t so nervous. If anything, to have his attention was both intimidating and bewitching.

It made you want to say something more, but you weren’t sure what. Still, you knew better than to engage too much outside of protocol.

Or at least you thought you did. 

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

Moonlight slipping through the foliage, anointing the darkened world in silver. A deer silently drank from a stream, unaware the hunter had spotted it. Head bent, throat long. It would be an easy shot, arrow cleanly piercing the jugular. 

It ran, but it did not get very far.  Its wide, ink-black eyes were looking up at the beautiful face of the moon, silhouetting the hunter. Its weakening heart leapt at the sight.

The last thing it saw was his knife.

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

You woke up with a start, panting and confused. Sleep slid off you slowly, like a veil uncovering your eyes. Your hand unconsciously went to your throat, but unsurprisingly, you found no arrow’s fletching.

Two weeks had passed with nothing especially of note. You had read the entirety of Hannibal’s file, the details of his brutality leaking out into your life beyond Baltimore State Hospital.

It was hard to peel off all the misery embedded in its walls, especially being exposed to it daily. It was easier to compartmentalize instead, letting your mind go blank at the end of the day. But the dreams were an inevitable torment, nonsensical and intensely vivid.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes and sighing into the silence of your small bedroom. You stared into the middle distance for a few minutes, mentally preparing to start your day. 

In the time that had passed, you had exchanged a few more words with Hannibal that were not part of protocol. He had asked your name, his tone kept carefully casual, and you thought it only fair to tell him. 

After that, he had ventured to ask more innocuous questions about yourself, perhaps trying to test the limits of your interactions. You had answered most of them truthfully but vaguely, worried about him psychoanalyzing you.

Something told you he'd also know if you were lying, so you figured it’d be mostly useless to try. But you were entitled to your secrets, too, and you preferred keeping your cards close to your chest.

Yet you were also aware that it would not deter him, but unbeknownst to him, you were just as headstrong. 

Later, after having slipped on your mask of cool indifference and clocking into work, you brought down his breakfast. You found him at his desk, sketching. He glanced up without moving his head, pencil still moving.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “Is it nice out today?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘nice’,” you said mildly, making slow work of depositing his meal tray. “It’s been intermittently raining since last night, and I don’t think it will stop any time soon.”

“Not bad at all,” he said, his tone ever so slightly wistful. “I do quite enjoy rain. I hope you didn’t forget your umbrella.” 

Strangely, you couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for him. The sudden loss of freedom was an unbearable thought to you, and you didn’t really wish it on anyone. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t deserve to be in the position he was in.

He noticed you hovering but not saying anything. Finally, his pencil halted and he looked up at you, leaning forward slightly. His assessing gaze pinned you in place, but your body was tense and ready to flee.

“You sound tired. Did you sleep poorly?” He asked.

You blinked in surprise, the question snapping you back to the present. Lowering your gaze, you inclined your head.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” you said politely. “I should get going, I’ll be back in an hour.”

He pursed his lips in what seemed like irritation, but he didn’t press you. Instead, he stopped you once more by changing the subject. 

“Before I try to talk to Frederick about it, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” Hannibal said.

You looked at him with apprehensive curiosity. “I cannot promise you anything, but you may ask me.”

“I would like to draw you, if you’d model for me,” he said. “Simple stuff, all of it appropriate. I promise. I’m just in dire need of a muse.”

“What makes you think he will say yes to such a request?” You asked, not yet processing everything in your state of shock. 

He smirked. “He needs my help with certain things, so it’s only fair I get something in return.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And… Why the interest in me, specifically?”

“It would be a sin not to immortalize features like yours.”

Heat crawled up to your face and your arms tightened against your torso, but you kept a mostly neutral expression on your face. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or just toying with you to unnerve you, but you had a feeling it was a mixture of both.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a bigger reaction, but it was likely he could still tell he’d rattled you. The worst part was that deep inside, you also took his interest as a compliment, but there was no way you would let that show.

“I’ll give it some thought,” you said slowly, unsure why you were even considering it. “Pending Doctor Chilton’s approval, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

With that, you left, floating down the corridor as if detached from your body. The whole situation had a feeling of unreality to it, and you kept expecting to wake up once again.

As you got to the nurse’s station, another nurse told you that Doctor Chilton had summoned you to his office. You blinked at her in surprise. Impossible… Had Hannibal really been so fast?

Next thing you knew, you were knocking on the door to his office, turning the knob when you heard him grant you access.

“There you are,” Doctor Chilton said, one hand resting on his cane. “Close the door behind you and take a seat, will you?”

You dipped your chin in compliance and mechanically followed instructions. For what seemed like an eternity, he said nothing, studying you instead. You shifted slightly in your seat, instinctively returning the favor if only because you didn’t want to be the one to look away.

He himself had been a victim of Hannibal’s more than once, and his body bore all of the evidence. Still, the Doctor had an undeniable obsession, using any and every opportunity to brag about Hannibal’s capture.

Clearly, the impact had been more than skin deep. No one ever dared to outwardly gossip about it, but it was well-known regardless.

It wasn’t often that you dealt with him directly, and you were being painfully reminded of why you preferred it that way. 

“Did…” you began, but he interrupted.

“I watched it all through the cameras. He knew I would be when he asked you that.” He leaned forward on the desk, hands clasped. “Wise choice not to give in just yet.”

You couldn’t help but balk at this. “I beg your pardon?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It must have been a tempting offer, to be the Devil’s muse. I would not blame you if you were at least a little flattered.”

Your eyes, just like your resolve, were like steel. “Why have you called me here, if I may ask?”

His smug, easy grin faded as he let out a long sigh, his patience wavering for a moment. 

“Hannibal is right about my needing him, though I am not the only one who does. The reason why is classified, as you can imagine, so I cannot tell you much,” he said, keeping his tone bored as if he couldn’t be bothered to explain it to you. “What I’m trying to understand now is why he wants you in return.”

“I’m just as confused, trust me.”

“From what I have observed, you don’t speak much, even if he has tried. I wonder if the challenge interests him…” he drifted off thoughtfully for a moment. “Though I suppose he’s always liked to surround himself with pretty things, too.” 

You stiffened, taken aback by the strange compliment. “And so you are expecting me to say yes?”

“I’m not expecting, no, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that this goes beyond Baltimore State. Of course, should you choose to assist us, you would not only be generously compensated, but I would be immensely grateful, as well.”

You thought about it for a moment. The additional income would definitely be helpful, but you had to admit you were also growing more and more curious about the whole thing. What else did you have going on, otherwise? 

Still, you had to try and cover all your bases first. You couldn’t make it too easy for him, after all.

You slightly tilted your head to the side.“Grateful… so you could call it a favor, then?”

He raised both eyebrows. “A favor?”

“Yes, Doctor. He’s a highly dangerous patient and you are asking me to spend longer periods of time – I’m presuming alone – with him. The safety of all staff should be your top priority, right?” you said pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What use is money if no one’s alive to collect it?”

His green eyes narrowed as he seemed to weigh his options. Your face remained implacable, though there was also a challenging shade in your features that he did not miss. Otherwise, he could not get a very good read on you, and that suddenly intrigued him. Perhaps you’d be more useful than he’d originally thought.

“Right… You make a good point,” he finally conceded. “Well, I am a man of honor, after all. Anything you might need, you can always ask.” 

You smiled as genially as you could. “How gracious of you, Doctor Chilton. Thank you.”

His false smile was more like a sneer. “Of course. You don’t have to give your final answer now, but…”

“I accept,” you said, cutting him off. “I am honored by the opportunity.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“How close are you able to get to the glass?”

“Up to ten paces away,” you said, taking your cardigan off and draping it over the back of the chair you’d brought. “Should be close enough, no?”

“Not nearly,” Hannibal said with a small, flirtatious smile that you did not return. 

Still, he could see a flicker of amusement cross your face, softening you infinitesimally. It only made him ache all the more to see you up close. He felt a sudden thrill that warmed his extremities — a feeling he recognized but had not felt for some time.

“Doctor Chilton has given us two hours, so I’d advise you to use the time wisely,” you said, slightly lifting an eyebrow and setting your hands on your hips. “How would you like to start?” 

“Just as you are, at your most natural,” he said, picking up his pencil. “Let’s see…”

It was strange at first, to have him stare so intently at you. You, who were seldom cowed by anything, could still barely keep eye contact with him. As an excuse, you offered your profile, turning your body to face the wall. 

He complimented the elegant swoop of your neck and you rewarded him with a demure glance and soft words of gratitude. His grip on the pencil tightened, his heartbeat spiking. You caught the way he shifted slightly in his chair, swallowing hard. 

Despite your icy exterior, you felt a thrill at the effect you seemed to have on him. 

You hadn’t been instructed to do anything but show up, but you knew instinctively that it would take more than that to keep Doctor Chilton’s favor… and Hannibal’s interest. Luckily, you were well versed in the art of slow seduction – giving just enough, but then withdrawing in equal measure.

Not to mention, it felt safer to do so on the other side of the glass.

Once or twice, he gave you brief instructions on how to pose your arms or which way to angle your head. You fell into a sort of meditative state, the reality of the whole situation slipping away from you, as well as the passage of time. 

When your watch’s timer went off, he seemed to snap back into focus at the same time as you. You looked up, startled at the sight of all the sheets of paper strewn about the desk. You noticed his hands were stained with graphite as he set his pencil down.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you took a step closer if only to try to get a glimpse. There was an almost frantic quality to the sketches, as if he was worried he might not be able to trace all the lines he wanted to in time. You weren’t able to gather many details from that angle, but you did not doubt his talent. Something about those hands…

“Productive first day,” you said, lightly teasing him to distract yourself from other thoughts passing through your mind.

A smile and the faintest dip of his chin. “I have not been so inspired in a while.”

“You flatter me too much. I’m sure it wasn’t just due to me,” you said, looking behind him at his bookshelf. “What are you currently reading?”

He seemed momentarily surprised at your interest, glancing over his shoulder and slightly raising his eyebrows. 

“Byron, actually.” He chuckled as he saw your reaction to the poet’s name. “The irony of it is not lost on me, trust me.”

You looked away. “You’re finding beauty where you can. I understand.”

“I always have, in my own way,” he said. “I have a feeling you might relate.”

“In places like this, there is no other choice,” you said, noncommittal. “Not if you want to survive it.”

“The great object of life is sensation,” he quoted. “To feel that we exist, even though in pain.”

You let out a short exhale as you slipped your cardigan back on. How curious that he would be a romantic, but you supposed, in a way, it made sense. 

Free of being a so called muse for the day, you withdrew back into yourself. He’d gotten the barest glimpse of another side of you — softer, more open — and that had to be enough for the time being. 

Had to leave him wanting more, after all.

“I will see you bright and early tomorrow, Hannibal. Get some rest.”

------

[justin-chapmanswers]

hi Justin! just want to say I ADORE ii and it's one of my favourite shows out there; actually inspired me to start my own!

which is a lame segue into my question- do you have any advice for someone wanting to make their own show?

That's so exciting!! Art makes art!

Oh golly uhhhh. There's so so much to say in so many different departments. So. I'll keep it broad and of course anyone can ask more specific questions haha.

My go-to advice tends to be for creators to start as small as possible early on. Even if you aspire to create projects that are huge-in-scale down the line. So much about becoming a great artist involves moving through the stages of your art (whatever type it may be!) from start-to-finish, every step of the process, over and over and over again. So say in show creation, idk if you plan to be hands-on in every department or if you have a lot of help, but that could mean breaking down stories and outlining, writing, recording, constructing audio scenes and boarding, character and prop and background design, animating, music assembly, mixing, finalizing and editing, etc, over and over again. Obviously not every step may be involved in your project depending on what your goal is, but whatever it is that you do, do it sooooooooo many times.

While there's nothing inherently wrong with jumping in and making your first project something say, movie-length, or something immensely complex in scope, I do find it can, for many (not all) be limiting when it comes to learning a lot of fundamental building-blocks in craft. As well, I see a lot of people get lost in an overwhelming project, trying to focus on quality>quantity right out of the gate. But spending the majority of your time just on adding some extra polish as opposed to running through the whole process again and again can only do so much for you. Obviously, a mentality of quality>quantity is great once you have a strong baseline understanding of production. But again, I think it's a huge plus to work on shorts and teeny-projects to start.

Since the above is pretty dry, I'll add an additional fun one. I've found that a lot of newer artists will toss away the concepts that make them joyous in hopes that they can instead create something that fits an objective perception of "professional." Nothing wrong with that, but I strongly advise artists of all levels of experience to toss everything they've love about the world and other media into their work. Their favorite genres and tropes, the stupid inside jokes that make them light up with their friends that they can invite the audience in-on, adaptations of stories that have made them cry. Create the things YOU love to experience. It's fine to let go of what you think the audience wants. Cause that's not easily guessable. But what YOU enjoy is something certain to you. It's sorta like how they say, it's better to go to the gym and do an suboptimal-but-fun workout that keeps you coming every day than a perfect workout that leads you to quitting. Share your joy with the world, and someone will resonate!

Be silly, be cringe, have fun!

[yakutarts]

Video process:

Soo.. Cross is now a furry. If you would like to draw this design (first of all bless you and god have mercy on your hands, second of all I’m sorry I made the design so complicated, I got carried away) please tag/credit me! I really love seeing fanarts!

I made him a African Painted Dog and a Border collie mix because I think it is what fits him best.

Painted Dogs are really social creatures, and extremely skilled in the hunt, the base of it’s strength is the pack, the family and friends. A pack of Painted Dogs are deadlier than a pride of lions and much more dangerous than a pack of wolves. However, take it’s pack away and it cannot survive. Family is everything for a Painted Dog, it is survival. If I’m not mistaken, there have been cases where they die because the anxiety separation gets so bad, that it causes an hormone imbalance in the dog’s system and it kills them (Also I do not know if this is legit, take my words with a big grain of salt, I am not a biologist or a zoologist). Cross is depressed and being alone in that white void for so long, knowing that everything is his fault, that he killed everyone that he loved for no reason, almost drove him mad (XChara was not helping), but Ink was there, he helped cross not die of a broken heart. Cross is strong, but he would be even stronger if he had the rest of the royal guard by his side, he would fight better.

I also chose a Border Collie because they are really smart working dogs, loyal and obedient, with a need of someone telling them what to do. Cross kinda always needed for someone to tell him what to do, he was always following someone, first he was serving royalty, then XFrisk as his bodyguard, then Nightmare, and now possibly Dream. He was always told to do something, almost never acting by himself. He needs it, if he doesn’t have it, how is he going to save his friends? His family? He can’t fight XGaster when he can control Cross’ body at will, how he is going to get that independence if everything tells him that he needs to serve someone to even do something?

Oh, how I love angst and making characters suffer… :)…. Reminder that I put a lot of personal headcanons in my interpretation, this should not be taken as a source of canon material, but feel free to use it as inspiration!

Also if the quality is kinda shit it’s because all the images are glazed.

Ink belongs to @comyet

Cross belongs to @jakei95