#discount designer belts

[jjenthusee]

Steady Breaths and String Lights

Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: another drabble 😫 i’m really into domestic jason rn so don’t mind me giving yall soft jason content <3 ENJOY and tell me your domestic jason headcanons in the comments if u have any :D

A brand new couch.

It was a deal from a discount furniture store and once you had laid your eyes on it, how could you pass up the deal?

No tears, a good color, the store wanted to get rid of it, so they slapped a large discount tag on it and it came with the decorative pillows. How could you not have it?

One card swipe later, you were the proud owner of this new couch.

The process getting it in your apartment was different. You had no vehicle to haul it, but you managed to convince the company to do one delivery for you.

After your great declaration of strength and independence (and with the help of your neighbors) you moved the couch.

The living room was complete with the new furniture.

You were practically an interior designer.

If Jason wasn’t gone for the week, he would’ve told you that was a stretch, but he had boring taste anyway.

After a good wash and spray, you moved the cushions into place, angling the decorative pillows perfectly and shifting a pristinely folded blanket for a unique touch. It was just like how you saw it in the store.

Then curiosity got the better of you and all the cushions were taken out again, placed at different angles, leaning against one another.

Placing, stabilizing, placing another one.

You grabbed a blanket from your bed, some battery powered string lights, and Jason’s pillow, leaving yours untouched on your side of the bed.

You had made a structurally sound fort, with an organized stack of books, lights hung from edge to edge to give the perfect ambience, comfy blankets and Jason’s pillow that smelled like him.

After admiring your creativity and one final inspection, you crawled into the fort, curling yourself in the safe cocoon.

It was warm and you leaned into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo comforting you until your breaths evened, falling asleep to the excitement of telling Jason about your brand new purchase when he got home.

An hour later, a slight rattle came from the window, cautious steps crawling in, but loudly enough to make a sound to alert whoever was inside.

Jason had got home early and he waited for your head to pop out of some corner.

His armor was heavier on his body that night and he had been away way too long. He just wanted to hear your voice happily welcome him back, passionately hug you, and then crash on the bed holding you near him.

Like routine, he was going to unclip his utility belt and peel off his jacket, but he never heard your voice.

Standing frozen, he kept the protective shiny red helmet on his head until he could physically see you.

There was no movement, no noise.

Jason stood still, pressing his boots into the floorboards as he readied himself. While preventing any sound from his movements, he switched on his infrared scanners, sweeping the entire home before he saw a curled up ball.

In the living room, you were protected by a small cushion fort in front of a couch that magically appeared.

You were sound asleep as his hushed footsteps walked closer to you. He had removed his helmet after he ensured you had a steady heartbeat and even breaths.

He placed his helmet outside the blanket door and removed his boots, placing them neatly next to one another.

He wanted to be a respectful guest in your newly built home.

With bare hands, Jason lifted the flimsy door and there you laid, peacefully drifted off.

Jason exhaled, releasing his previous tension with one glance at you.

He always loved coming home to you.

Carefully, he maneuvered himself through the door. With a surprise, he easily fit. He smiled at the thought that you must have built it with him in mind because the door perfectly fit his shoulders. What an attention to detail.

He crawled in, moving his body by his arms until he was parallel with your face.

Unconsciously, you moved to the new warmth, Rolling your body closer to the new presence.

Jason smiled into your scalp, closing his eyes to the weight of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” Jason whispered, vibrations felt against your cheek.

You incoherently mumbled into his body, barely able to open your mouth.

As you felt the comforting arms rubs and strong arms encircling you, your mind started to slowly wake up. The fog clearing.

You freed one of your hands buried underneath the blanket to match the hands enveloping you.

Then your hand felt a familiar bicep, firm in your palm.

Your eyes shot open as you moved your head out of the crevice of Jason’s neck to see your sleepy vigilante laying next to you.

“Feeling me up in your sleep?” Jason tiredly smirked, teasing you as soon as you woke up.

You slowly blinked before fully registering this wasn’t just another pleasant dream.

It was the real deal in front of you.

“Welcome home.” You softly greeted, kissing his knuckles.

Jason’s body physically relaxed at your words, his smirk morphing into content.

His hands were rough and calloused, but the feeling on your lips have never felt better.

“I got a couch.” You smiled into his hand.

“I see that.” Jason glanced around the inside of the fort. “I got ya something while I was out for the week, but I don’t think I could top a couch.”

“It was nicely decorated before, but I got carried away.” You closed your eyes to nuzzle into Jason’s pillow, holding onto Jason’s hand.

He watched you get comfortable, your silent contentment with his touch and warmth. Loving the skin he hated so damn much.

You yawned, the comfortability of your shared lives relaxing you.

Your hair was a mess from the nap, your lashes laid on your skin, and his hands rubbing at any inch of your face, memorizing every detail he could so even his dreams could also have you.

“No, it’s perfect.” Jason watched you, leaning in to kiss your temple, lips lingering a second longer.

You smiled, feeling complete that your other half was home.

“I’m glad.” You slurred, letting sleep inch closer and closer to you.

The two of you lost to the night, your sleeping forms intertwined and Jason’s legs sticking out of the fort.

And a brand new couch that joined your shared life.

[the-most-humble-blog]

USED SERVITOR BLOWOUT SALE FESTIVAL🎈🥳🎉:

Remember: Serve the Emperor, or Serve as Parts. Either way, YOU SERVE.

EVERYTHING MUST GO (INCLUDING YOUR HUMANITY)

Welcome to the biggest clearance event in the Imperium, motherfuckers! Need cheap labor? Need a servitor with that "lightly used, only screamed for the first 40 days" kinda vibe? Well, step right up! We got everything from half-brainwashed factory workers to lobotomized aristocrats who forgot to pay their tithe.

Because in the grim darkness of the far future, one thing is certain: you can be a worker, you can be a soldier, or you can be stock.

💀 SHOP SMART, SHOP SERVITOR 💀

🔹 Genetic Mishaps? We got those! Crooked nobles who thought they were untouchable, now wired into conveyor belts, drooling coolant, shitting oil, and making sure your las-rifles come off the assembly line on time.

🔹 Failed Tech-Priest Acolytes? Fuck yeah! Ask too many questions, and you could end up as a walking soft-serve machine with a detachable cock-replaceable nozzle.

🔹 Battlefield Salvage? Some dumbass Guardsman who took one too many rounds to the brain and didn’t have the decency to fully die? Now he’s the designated ammo carrier. His eyes are gone, his soul is in whatever counts as an afterlife, but goddamn if he isn’t still loading shells into the Basilisk.

🔹 Discounted Heretics! That’s right, folks! Thought crime isn’t just punishable by death—it’s punishable by a lifetime of tireless, lobotomized, piss-and-rot servitude! Remember that loudmouth who started questioning the Ecclesiarchy? Yeah, she’s a self-powered fuckin’ janitor now. And she doesn’t even know it.

💀 INJUSTICE? NAH, THIS IS JUST HOW SHIT WORKS. 💀

Look, the Imperium doesn’t have time for due process, ethics, or your bitching. You get caught, you get sentenced, and if you’re lucky, you just get shot in the face. If not? Well…

You will be stripped. Of name, rank, and thought.

You will be wired. Into machines, into assembly lines, into grotesque walking infrastructure.

You will be useful. Until your body fucking quits.

And then? Your carcass gets recycled into another batch of "freshly mindwiped workforce," because wastefulness is heresy.

💀 TRAGEDY? MAYBE. COMEUPPANCE? ABSOLUTELY. 💀

🔹 That planetary governor who let a Hive World rot in famine? He’s a servitor now, shoveling the same shit his people had to eat.

🔹 That spoiled noble who thought she was above the law? Yeah, she’s bolted into an automated pleasure engine, servicing the same underhivers she once spat on.

🔹 That inquisitor who purged an entire city "just to be sure"? Hope he enjoys his new eternity as a fleshlight-dispensing bio-recycler.

🔹 That rich fuck who hoarded resources, letting a whole sector starve? Don’t worry. His nutrient paste tastes real good, because it’s made out of him.

Because in the glorious Imperium of Man, even the worst scum eventually finds a purpose. Even if that purpose is being a half-melting, piss-leaking, cybernetic flesh-husk on sale for 5 thrones.

🔥 EVERYTHING MUST GO (INCLUDING YOUR SOUL) 🔥

REBLOG if you’d rather be shot than end up in a servitor assembly line.

💬 COMMENT which Warhammer faction you think deserves to be on the clearance rack.

🚀 FOLLOW for more grimdark truths straight from the corpse-laden frontlines.

[tigers1o1]

my dearest fnc guy mutual can i get some modern au/fools gold fnc headcanons (i’m designing modern au versions of the albatrio and want silly doodle ideas)

Yes absolutely you may, you’ve come to the correct guy

Chip doesnt know how to style his hair. It is messy at best and downright unsightly at worst

Gillion doesnt know what sweats are. He stricly wears skinny jeans and Chip hates him for it. Hes tried getting him to wear the Grey Sweats TM many times but gillion just dont get it (its ok if chip saw gill in those sweats, he’d simply implode)

Jay does not care for bras (real)

Jay has one of those across the body purse bag thingies. Like a messenger bag. She brings it everywere

Chip owns one pair of shoes, they are falling apart

Jay is the only reason chip has ANY sense of style

Chip and gill have the matching rings, gillion found them at a local shop and basically got a buy one get one free discount after her started talking about his boyfriend and the salesperson almost died bc of how cute they are

In come on dance with me, pretzel is a real human child and gillion is that dad of all time and idk how that would line up in fools gold but i love it

Jay either doesnt have a hair routine or has a 15 step, 3 hour routine that scares the piss out of chip

Same with lizzie actually. I cant decide if she leaves it in braids forever or takes immaculate care of her curls

Jay does however, have the BEST skincare routine known to man

Chip has the style of a bisexual transman who’s only just learned what fashion is (flannel shirts over band tees and baggy shorts, yes I’m calling us all out)

Jays taste in fashion is fucking impeccable

I’m talking high waisted pants that flare out, the cutest belts of all time, little tank tops and statement cardigans/ jackets

Big ole earrings

I feel like gillion would have a very specific style but idk what it is

Also he wears his hair in a man bun 99% of the time (chip finds it very hot)

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

Escanor: *already has multiple sun and lion motifs*

Me:

Anyway, hello everyone, it's been what feels like an eternity, but I have returned! And with a new redesign! You've probably been waiting for him, but here he is at last: Escanor.

This took an unreasonably long time; I can ran outta steam for a bit while making him, but I think he came out pretty okay. Especially since I've never properly drawn abs before. Pretty important since Escanor seems to hate shirts so much.

Anyway, I've decided to play off one of Escanor's Grand Cross designs with the fur coat reminiscent of a lion's mane, some fancy coattails, sun imagery (via the necklace and belt buckle), and armored bracers. I've also given him the long flowing mane he deserves, as well as beard just because I thought it suited him. And, of course, the thigh-high boots because... well, it's Escanor. He's the baddest bitch out there and he's going to make sure everyone knows it. Additionally, I've also took his original design and made him a bit more proportional. Man was like 60% upper body for some reason with the tiniest pelvis imaginable compared to the side of his thighs, so I decided to fix that.

His night form has a little bit less going on, keeping with the theme of Night Escanor being meeker than his daytime counterpart. Therefore, Night Escanor is also the only one, other than Meliodas, not to have his brand on display most of the time; he can defend himself, but he's not that confident about it, and so would prefer not to be targeted by anyone if he can help it. Honestly, he kind of looks like a discount pimp to me. Good for him.

And why does the coat magically get longer with him? Don't worry about it.

Noticeably, I've also decided to change the placement of Escanor's brand from his back to his solar plexus, both because it's a bit more visible than on his back and I'm not confident I would draw him shirtless very much (or at least shirtless without a cool coat overtop because he deserves it), and because of the symbolism of the solar plexus chakra, the symbol of which most represents a sun and is responsible for confidence, self-esteem, and willpower.

On the topic of his association with the sun, I thought it would be cool to explore just how far we can go with his Sunshine ability and what it could be capable of, hence the bracers/gauntlets made of literal sunlight which Day Escanor can likely form at will; hence why he's the only one we ever see in their full armor. It also probably affects his physical body, with him literally radiating partial sunlight from his skin during the day. Since Merlin is a vampire now, I figured it makes for a very interesting dynamic since he's in love with her but can barely get near her in the daytime when she already has to hide from the sun. Therefore, it gives some merit to his Night form and some inner loathing towards the Day; the Day is confident and powerful, but only the weaker, cowardly Night form can be around the woman he loves. IT'S. ABOUT. THE TRAGIC. LOVE STORY.

Anyway, that's about all I have for Escanor for now. Let me know what you think, if ya'll are so inclined, and I'll see you - hopefully - soon!

[untildawnss]

what kind of wallet the until dawn characters would carry

ashley

would totally have a cute little coin purse, either leather or a nice floral design, always struggles with fitting in her ID, debit and/or credit card, has way too much loose change

beth

solid colour accordion- style wallet, probably velour and red or black, tons of stamp and loyalty cards because she always takes them, even if she doesn't like the place

chris

basic black leather men's trifold wallet and he definitely keeps an old ass pokemon card in there for the times he wants to wistfully stare at it and tell people about how much he misses his wife, zigzagoon

emily

black leather women's trifold, she has all the rewards and loyalty cards and she pretends to look through her wallet whenever she's shopping somewhere because she likes to put on a bit of a show, also has all the corresponding apps on her phone and strategically plans how and when to use the discounts

hannah

has a leather women's bifold with her initials and a floral-type pattern. she keeps receipts for at least a month, so that wallet is thicc. has all kind of loose change floating around in there and sometimes just dumps it when she comes across a busker who plays a song she likes

jess

def an accordion-style or cluth wallet girl. she has cards for days. debit, credit, loyalty, whatever, she has all the cards. there's more than one expired gift card in there. she don't care

josh

probably basic black or brown leather men's bifold or trifold. definitely carries it in his back pocket and keeps a uno reverse and +4 card in there for chris reasons. doesn't even need to look, he knows where they are

matt

matt feels like a metal wallet/cash clip kinda guy. he just wants some a no nonsense kind of wallet and "cleans" it weekly. one compartment for bills, where he also stashes receipts until the next cleaning and one for his neatly organised cards. he also keeps a lucky coin taped to that wallet

mike

either metal wallet or men's bifold. probably bifold, though. stashes receipts in there until it almost bursts and/or he feels the noticeable shift in position when he sits down and then throws out everything, no mercy, no returns or refunds, even if the receipt is about 30 minutes old

sam

a two different wallets girl. probably a fanny pack/belt bag that holds basic stuff like her ID, phone, debit card, maybe even a power bank for whenever she's doing outdoor sports, definitely a velcro phone holder for indoor sports, and i can see her with a hyper-organised, either men's or women's, bi-/trifold for any occasion that's not athletic in nature

[shadowphoenixrider]

Locker Room Debriefing

(After Shadow finishes a Danger Room training session, she finds Gambit is waiting for her. And when Gambit gets an idea into his head, what starts as a simple discussion turns into something more...intimate. Enjoy some more smut!)

"Dat was some performance, chère!" Gambit greeted me as I entered the locker room, grinning widely and spreading his hands. "You gettin' better all de time!"

"Thank you." I smiled back at him, moving over to my own locker, aware of his gaze following me like a hawk. "You were right about getting a weapon to use; I'm really liking this sword." I unbuckled the scabbard of the short bastard sword from my brown leather belt around my waist, placing it inside. "I still can't discount the bow, though." The unstrung fibreglass bowstave leant on the other side of cabinet, a row of metal training arrows arranged alongside. "I've always liked archery, and it feels better if I stay outta the fray, you know?"

"Sure, can see that." Gambit nodded. "Jus' a coupla problems though: one, 'side from stabbin' people wit ya arrows, ya not got many options if someone gets close. Not like ya can hit dem with it without it breakin'." He shifted his position, pointing at my hands. "Two, de archer gloves you'll need remove ya ability to use ya powers. Least 'til you learn to heal us through fabric."

"And that doesn't seem like something I'm gonna be able to do for a while yet." I muttered, frowning down at my current black gloves. Beast had designed them specifically to grant protection whilst allowing me to lay my hands on those I needed to help - they covered my wrist and most of the back of my hand, with a loop to attach around my middle finger, but left the rest of my hand, especially my palm, exposed.

"'Sides." His voice made me glance back up. "Ya can't deny de thrill of jus' wailin' on somethin', non?" His midnight eyes twinkled knowingly. "You were goin' at dem drones like ya were when we be sparrin' in de forest, an' havin' a good time of it too!"

I chuckled, unbuckling my belt and dropping it into the locker.

"Okay, that's fair. It was very fun to just let loose and go to town." My gaze drifted to him, smile playing on my lips. "You still think of that night?"

"O' course." Gambit's warm smile made heat rise up into my face like steam, as he pushed off the wall and stepped towards me. "Gambit'd never forget."

"Neither can I." I admitted, giggling weakly. "Especially my terrible attempt at a first kiss..."

His deep chuckle was as genial as his smile.

"Found it very sweet, actually." He replied, my blush darkening.

"I'm glad."

It was a sweet moment...up until a devious glint entered Gambit's dark eyes, and they began to rove hungrily over me.

"Oh no, I know that look." I folded my arms. "What are you up to?"

"Gambit jus' thinkin'," he said casually, stepping closer with an intent that was anything but.

"Uh huh." I quirked an eyebrow up at him. "And what, dare I ask, is the Raging Cajun thinking?"

His red black eyes flicked away to the closed door for a moment, before returning to me.

"No-one's scheduled to be in de Danger Room for another hour or so, chère," he said, taking yet another step forwards. I stepped back and to the side, away from the lockers he was trying to trap me against. "And here ya be, in dat suit of yours." His grin stretched from ear to ear. "Gambit always wondered what ya look like under it."

I rolled my eyes, continuing to back up from his approach. Ever since I agreed with Professor Xavier that I would be training for missions proper, I had graduated from the spare black and yellow body-suits to something more personalised.

Although I'd stuck with the body-suit, mine had a broad blood red stripe running down the torso and inner thighs instead of the yellow, with the small black 'X' logo remaining against the red, just above my left breast. The look was partnered with shin high black leather combat boots and the custom designed gloves, along with a thick brown leather belt and two thigh pouches to make up for a lack of pockets. I'd left the thigh ones in the locker for this straight combat training session.

And ever since I'd first started wearing a suit for the training simulations, Gambit had seemingly never known peace.

"You've seen me naked, Cajun." I retorted. "It's not going to be any different!"

"Gambit gonna be de the judge of dat, mon amie..." He purred, just as my back hit a wall, and he caged me in with his tall frame. I sighed, giving him a Look as he smirked triumphantly down at me.

"You've been fantasising about this for a while, haven't you?" I raised an eyebrow at him. Gambit barked out a laugh.

"Guilty as charged, chère." His grin became playful. "Can ya blame Gambit, though?" He ran his hands down my sides. "You fill it out in all de right ways..."

"That explains why Rogue keeps turning heads." Was my comment, making him chuckle.

"Dat be one of de reasons, yeah. But we not talkin' 'bout her." Gambit's hands curled around the top of my hips, moving close enough that his heat and masculine scent washed over me from the inside of his coat. "Gambit only have eyes for one beautiful woman." He murmured, lowering his head to gently brush our foreheads together.

His black and red eyes (the same colours as my suit, I suddenly noted with amusement) gazed lovingly at me, despite the desire simmering behind them, and they searched mine for permission to enact whatever crazy plan was cooking in his head.

I smiled up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing our lips together in what started out as a chaste, gentle kiss. That rapidly changed as soon as Gambit's hands moved from my hips to my backside, cupping and squeezing, his tongue in my mouth as soon as I moaned. I melted against him as we reacquainted ourselves with one another, the hard lines of his cuirass be damned.

Not that Gambit lingered for long - soon he pulled back, leaving sloppy kisses to the corner of my mouth, then jaw, slowly working his way down. I rolled my head back, exposing my neck to the Cajun's eager mouth, kissing, nipping and occasionally dragging his tongue over my fluttering pulse.

That was until he reached the boundary of my suit, where he paused, fiddling with my collar for a moment.

"Ah, dere it is." He muttered, and when I looked down, I caught sight of a particularly wicked grin on his face.

"Gambit?" I asked, not quite sure if I was ready for whatever the answer would be.

"S'all good, chère." He replied, sliding a hand around to my back. "Jus' keep ya eyes on me, okay?"

"Sure..."

He flashed me another grin, before leaning in close to my collar, his tongue darting out to find and unearth the zip from its hiding place. It was only when Gambit clamped his teeth around it and our eyes met did I realize what he was about to do. He grinned widely, and winked.

Then he began to pull it down.

Gambit took his time, his eyes locked to mine, slowly but surely revealing the expanses of my pale, freckled skin to the cooler locker room air. The Cajun slid down my body with an almost serene grace, hands gliding down my sides even as the spandex parted. The zipper stopped mercifully just above my pubic bone - Gambit was already crouching before me, God help me if his face had gone any lower.

Although, from the utterly lascivious way he was gazing up at me, his hands curling around my ass and thighs, I was already in for a lot of trouble.

"Magnifique..." Gambit purred, nuzzling into the black shorts I wore specifically under the suit.

"Enjoying yourself down there?"

"Always, chère." Came his reply, his gaze homing in my underwear to the point I could almost see the gears turning behind his eyes, absently pulling his gloves off and dropping them to the floor. "Though maybe we could see 'bout gettin' you outta these too..."

"Ah, how about we don't do that." My hand came down on his head, gripping a tuft of his brunette hair warningly. "At least not here. Maybe in the showers a little later."

"Gonna hold ya to dat, mon amie." He grinned cheekily up at me.

"Of course you are, Cajun." I giggled, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Now, let's see here..." He murmured, attention shifting back to his scheme.

Gambit began pressing feather-light kisses up my body as he worked up to my breasts, now bare calloused hands slipping under my suit to caress me. When he reached my sports bra, he carefully took the bottom between his teeth and tugged it up and over, exposing my breasts to his eager mouth and hands.

"Really taking the 'taking my clothes off with your teeth' to heart, I see." I teased, helping pull the bra up a little further to make sure it would stay in place.

"You say dat like it not gettin' ya hot under de collar too, chère." Gambit rumbled, tucking his head in the valley between them, pausing to enjoy my heart beating fast under his ear.

He pressed a kiss there, before wasting no more time, shifting his attentions to my breasts in earnest. I groaned, rolling my head back against the metal wall, letting my eyes flutter closed. With his mouth on one and a hand on the other, I let bliss wash over me, the world outside this room fluttering away.

Gambit crooned sweet nothings against my skin between his ministrations, swirling his tongue around my nipple before switching sides. I moaned softly, enjoying this soft yet sensual moment, heat pooling between my legs.

"Ohh, chérie..." He purred, very gently nipping at the soft skin, his other hand beginning to wander along my ribs and under my suit.

"Gambit..." I said softly, almost absent-mindedly. "Where's that hand going?"

"Patience, chère." He hummed. "You'll find out soon enough."

That hand slid down my back whilst he continued to play with my breasts, sneaking beneath my shorts to cup my ass. He squeezed it appreciatively, and revelled in my contented grunt. Much to my surprise, Gambit didn't linger there - his hand moved on, around my hip and-

Ah. I see.

I felt Gambit's devilish grin just as his fingers slid down and under me, a gasp escaping me as they brushed over that sensitive bundle of nerves there.

"Well well well," he crooned wickedly, "looks like you been enjoying dis every bit as much as Gambit." He leered up at me from between my breasts, lazily circling my clit with his fingertip, dipping occasionally towards my entrance.

I opened my mouth to retort, to justify myself...but nothing came out, only the rising hot realization that yes, I was just as much into this as he clearly was. His knowing grin only widened.

"Twat." I said instead.

"Hmm?" Gambit hummed. "Didn't quite hear dat, chère. Gonna have to speak up."

I narrowed my eyes, and opened my mouth to clearly enunciate what I thought of his shenanigans, but no sooner had the first syllable started to shape itself in my mouth, his finger connected firmly with my clit. I'm not quite sure what noise I exactly made, but it was definitely a moan of some description, quickly submerged by more as he rolled that bud under his fingertip. Pure bolts of pleasure shot through me, and curled tightly deep in my pelvis, lifting my hips.

"Ah, Gambit...!" I groaned, twisting my fingers more into his hair, tugging some free out of his headpiece. His laugh was pure, delicious evil as he rose up to standing, lips brushing against my ear.

"Dat's more like it, chérie." He purred, his deep voice like hot liquid gold that oozed down my spine. "Sing for Gambit..."

A part of me wanted to bite back, parry and riposte. But it was so hard to do that when Gambit started kissing my neck, still palming my petite breasts with one hand whilst the other continued teasing moans and other pleasured cries from me, coaxing my hips to rock with the motions.

"Really puttin' on a show for Gambit now, aren'tcha?" He murmured, fingers dancing close to my entrance, suggesting. Teasing. "Gambit can't wait to get ya in de showers, chère." He ground his own hips against me - despite his armour, I could feel his hard length straining for freedom. I shuddered with delight.

"Why not...now?" I managed breathlessly, through my pleasure-fogged mind.

"And leave mon ombre adrift?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "Non. Gambit gonna give her what she deserves first."

And with that, his fingers sunk into me - a groan of relief and euphoria rolled off my tongue, my back arching. As careful as always, Gambit paused to let me adapt, gently scissoring his fingers to stretch my walls.

Only when I tenderly rubbed his head did he begin his ministrations in earnest, stroking and pumping in and out of me, his other hand still playing with my breasts. I arched my back again, moaning luxuriously into his ear, making Gambit shiver with delight.

"Ohh, chérie...!" He breathed, grinding his hips against my own. I rolled mine to meet his, pressing against his arousal, and his groan was music to my ears.

Gambit rewarded me with a quick bite of my neck, revelling in my gasp and running his tongue over the now tender area.

That familiar hot coil was winding tight at the base of my spine again, the sheer onslaught of sensations and pleasure making my head spin. Only Gambit pressed against me kept me tethered to reality, to what he was doing to me. Where anyone could just walk in and see us...Or at least, the fact something was happening behind Gambit's large frame and trench-coat.

Tension began to build within me, starting from my pelvis and spreading through me, down my legs and up my chest.

"Remy," I gasped in his ear, "I'm nearly there! Please!"

"Bien sûr, chérie." He murmured in my ear. "Gambit's got you. Jus' relax. Let it take you." His voice became a whisper, a seductive temptation. "Come for Gambit, mon ombre."

The coil constricted, almost too much to bear. And then his thumb pressed hard into my clit, snapping the coil completely. Gambit kissed me quickly to catch my loud cry of ecstasy as pure pleasure roared through my body, lighting me up like a beacon as my powers flared, multiplying every sensation thrumming through me. A hard squeeze of my breast kept me from accidentally passing into Gambit's body, and his motions slowed, helping me ride through the aftershocks.

My knees started trembling with the effort of holding me up, and Gambit wrapped an arm around my waist, taking my weight against him whilst he whispered sweet praises in my ear.

"So gorgeous, ma chère. Always so beautiful when you come. Gambit so lucky to have you."

My eyes flickered open, offering him a dopey smile. His smile back was so fond and adoring I swore my heart did a somersault in my chest.

"So...everything you dreamed of?" I asked when words returned to me, stroking his hair. Gambit chuckled.

"Perfection, chère." He grinned as he slowly withdrew his fingers from me, holding them up to the light. "Looks like ya made a bit of a mess, mon amie..." He purred lowly. "Gonna have to clean you up."

I slapped a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back.

"You can do that in the showers." I said sternly, trying to straighten my back to my full height.

"Oui, madame!" Gambit replied cheerily, sweeping an arm under my legs to pick me up nigh effortlessly. "Let's continue dis dere."

I leant into his body and under his coat to hide my state of undress as he set off, uttering a long-suffering but affectionate sigh.

"What I am going to do with you, Cajun?"

He laughed, a beautiful throaty sound.

"Keep me close, chère?"

I smiled, tucking my head under his chin.

"Always."

[fnvminorcharacterpoll]

FNV Minor Character Poll - WINNER-TAKE-ALL SUPERFINAL

Left: The Challenger, Trudy, proprietor of the Goodsprings Saloon. —"If you were able to get Ringo out of this mess, you'd have a decent reputation around Goodsprings. I'd even set you up with a discount."

Trudy's designated cheerleader is @sas-afras! trudy is, as the "town mom" of goodsprings, a representation of the people whose lives will most be affected by the state of the mojave by endgame. someone who just wants to live their life in peace, who has no stake in nor control over what happens to the dam, who no one in power wants to give a fuck about. she is the everywoman!! the proletariat worker!! MY MOM!!!!!!!! the fact that she can die so quickly in the first hour of the game as part of the couriers first "moral choice" (as simplistic as it may be) is a microcosm of that role, and its a shame she didnt get the development time she deserved. i love her and her hidden lesbian polycule. also, i will die on any hill if that hill is a woman. VOTE TRUDY!! Trudy was the twentieth seed in the tournament overall and a semi-finalist in the A-side bracket. She beat Ignacio Rivas, Francine & James Garrett, and Fantastic before being defeated by Keely in tournament semi-finals.

Right: The champion, Beatrix Russell, hired guard at the Old Mormon Fort and potential sex worker at the Atomic Wrangler. —"Longing makes the heart grow fonder, but I’ve always been a fan of hog-tying my lovers to make sure they can’t escape.“

Beatrix's designated cheerleader is @fnvminorcharacterpoll (@fallout-lou-begas)! That's right, it's me, your tournament organizer and the operator of this blog. In the interest of avoiding bias, I've refrained from using my platform this way to advocate for my own favorite picks during the tournament (r.i.p. ranger ghost), but now I have no such qualms. Why? Because the tournament is over. We have a winner! Beatrix Russell, a phenomenal and worthwhile character who's funny, rowdy, sexy, filthy, old, weird, rough, and immediately fascinating fights for her life to get the title belt, and now my opposing cheerleader refuses to recognize the results? The audacity! The shamelessness! The Fallout: New Vegas Minor Character Poll tournament blog would ordinarily not even entertain such audacious claims of illegitimacy, but if my opponent wants Trudy to step back into the ring so bad, then by God, she can step in the ring. We'll all go one last time. But Trudy's in over her head: Beatrix has won every bracket she's entered in a landslide. Meanwhile Trudy got knocked out by Keely, who Beatrix beat! See, Trudy, the numbers don't lie: and they spell disaster for you in the superfinals. Beatrix was the seventh seed in the tournament overall and the winner of the tournament overall. She beat Chomps Lewis, the Lonesome Drifter, Siri, Daisy Whitman, No-Bark Noonan, and Keely to become the grand champion.

[Bracket | Info & FAQs]

[souryogurt64]

miss sour yoghurt ur wardrobe is so important to me like u are serving in all of your video essays…please share where you shop

Demise video - Purple velvet bell sleeve top was from Etsy with a basic black lace tank top underneath. Bell bottom jeans were thrifted but from Target's Wild Fable line. Belt was a plain men's black leather belt from Goodwill. Velvet choker and tiny silver necklace with moons/stars were both from Amazon, then the pendant is vivienne westwood, it's the classic diamante design in purple. Black lace gloves are from Amazon and earrings are from Etsy.

MCR - Ouija MCR shirt was from the hot topic at the mall, earrings were bought at Romwe years ago, locket was from TikTok shop, same choker/silver necklace as before, mesh top was from Amazon, then i have a plain basic long black skirt on.

Brent wilson - T-shirt was from shoptokkistar, black cargo pants were from Ragstock, same belt and most accessories as before but the vivienne westwood necklace in this is the astrid design and then I have a bunch of charm bracelets on that are either old, thrifted, or from Etsy.

Pending SWMRS video is a thrifted pink crushed velvet top that i believe is vintage forever 21, a plain black skirt, and the tiktok shop locket. if i were to wear shoes on camera theyd be demonia camel 203s or black doc martens.

Most recent selfie was a doll's kill dress, it was F is for Fairies in purple. sorry I'm problematic but honest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . honestly their stuff is cut and sized extremely strangely so im not sure i would recommend it.

I honestly spend a lot of time thinking about fashion and shopping and cultivating my #look or whatever and i take notes on other people or movies or shows or whatever and use that to structure what pieces i plan to buy and i often spend a lot of time looking online at inspiration and for new items. IMO if you care about this sort of thing it's good to have an idea of what cuts, colors, and styles are flattering on you as well. dont be afraid to purge your wardrobe or put things in storage so they arent distracting. Amazon, thrift, and Target (and to a lesser extent Ragstock) are good for basics, Romwe and Ragstock are good for trendy pieces, and Etsy is good for vintage or unique items but there are a lot of dropshippers on there. Ebay Japan is good for fake designer and often the fake designs are (imo) better than the actual ones. Shopgoodwillonline is the best place for quality discount jewelry but you kind of have to get in the habit of checking regularly and be patient.

I often will see something in a movie or show or on social media (for example, a handkerchief hem skirt or a plaid maxi skirt) and then try to find a version of it in a style that's more me and fits my wardrobe (as a dress and in purple, or in black and white instead of navy) and see if I can find it.

Or like my fave charm bracelet I thrifted broke and I wanted to replace it with something quality so I thought about what I liked and after looking for a couple hours found a vintage silver one with hearts, stars, and moons that I liked even more.

Usually this takes me to resellers like depop, mercari, ebay and poshmark. They do come with risks though lol. Google Lens is really helpful for finding pieces because even if you can't get the exact item you can get something close and you can reverse search listings that have been sold or aren't your size. It's also good to think about what you already own that you can wear a piece with before you buy. Yeah that's my advice lol

[nightbringer24]

I had a think on it, and putting a hand on a holstered or sheathed weapon really did change when gunpowder pistols became more common.

As a short thing, long bladed swords; rapiers, arming swords, longswords, anything with an average blade length longer than a metre had to be worn on your non-dominant side, so your left if you were right handed or right if you were left handed. It was not a weapon you could draw relatively quickly, and while samurai movies like to show it off, it is doubtful that all katana users were quick draw masters with their blades.

This meant that to draw a weapon with hostile intent, it would be obvious to do so. You had to put your dominant/blade hand and arm across your body to grip the hilt and draw. Your non-dominant hand would also have to shift to grip the scabbard to make the draw easier too.

Now this is where the handshake comes from: your right hand (since the majority of weapon users in history would be naturally right handed or brought up in a society that forced them to be right handed) is your weapon hand, so when you shake hands, you're both showing no hostile intent since you are not able to draw your blades.

(Obviously, this discounts knives, dirks, messers, and small swords which can be worn on your dominant or non-dominant side and draw with either hand more easily, but that was the rule.)

Now, in a society without pockets, you're often left with your hands doing nothing except fidgeting, so it would not be uncommon for people with sheathed swords to rest their non-dominant hand on the pommel of their sword, just as a way to keep their hand occupied, and also to show a degree of openness.

This lovely model of the Three Musketeers shows it off well with the last figure (I'm not sure who is who in this figure, I'll admit): his left hand rests on the pommel of his sheathed swords. And it's common to see pictures of knights, officers, bravos, pirates, swashbucklers, Landsknechts and other historical fighters who used swords to do the same.

Put it basically, having a sword meant that, unless the person you wanted to harm had their back turned or wasn't focused on you, it would easily telegraph that you had hostile intent when you went to draw your sword.

Guns removed that openness, because we've all seen Westerns where the gunslinger, either the hero, the villain or the anti-hero, gets a quick draw with his Colt or Schofield quick as a flash. Or when someone takes offence by another just simply putting his hands near his pistol or even his belt. It might even have been true of pistols in the days of flintlocks and wheellocks since a pistol's shape and the holster is a designed to allow a much easier draw than a sword did. Obviously you had that literal split second where the initial discharge of the powder in the pan would flame up, but that fell away with the contained primer and cartridge.

Even in modern times, it is just as easy for a man or a woman with the right reflexes and speed to draw a holstered pistol from behind them, their chest or hip quickly and easily enough that they can get the drop of an opponent quickly and easily.

I've also reached a point where I've rambled on a bit and forgotten what I was initially saying so I'll end it here.

[eveningdreams8]

picking patterns for your dolls yukata and obi

i think there was maybe one 'maybe' on actually wanting this but i am posting anyway;;;

i will preface this with that ultimately you can do whatever you want and makes you happy and this is more of an art then a science but if you struggle on deciding on matching fabrics this might help

picking fabrics in general for either component, keep in mind your dolls scale and the drape of your fabric, generally you can get away with thicker and heavier fabrics for obi then yukata

if the fabric you have absolutely set your heart on for the obi is not stiff enough for a belt you can add interfacing

with that out of the way on to the print picking! you don't have to stick to traditionally Japanese looking prints like sakura flowers, temari balls, waves and cranes. Anything could be a yukata print if you want as long as it's in scale for your doll, this doesn't exclude large prints! you could get a really cool look with a large print.

generally i decide if a print is too big or not is when i put it up against a doll (or imagine it if my doll is not on hand as the case may be at the fabric store) would a real person look cool wearing this large print? or just odd? sometimes the print could almost work but it repeats too rarely to work.

small repeat prints are great! through the really small ones usually work better for obi then the yukata.

the goal is to pick two fabrics that both compliment and contrast one another, this might sound like a bit of a contradiction but i will explain

first consider the patterns, the goal is so the two fabrics don't blend together, so roughly large prints with small and avoid using the exact same print for both even if the colours look nice together

while you don't always have to follow these rules consider this more of a guideline, i no doubt also forgot to list some options that could work as well, these are easy ways to pick a fabric print

if you really can't decide a solid colour is usually a safe choice, to spice it up you could pick something with a subtle printed texture or variation, also don't discount just textured fabrics! they can make great obi even if they are only one solid colour

if your yukata print is large and organic it could look good with a small regular print or a geometric one

if your yukata print is vertical stripes it could look good with an organic design, small regular print, often repeating geometric pattern or small horizontal stripes (if the striped on the yukata it self are not small)

if your yukata has a geometric print it could look good with a small repeat pattern, or medium to larger organic print

now the colours! this is a little more nebulous and objective but here is a few things to consider

having a bit of the yukata colour in the obi or vise versa is a good way to coordinate the fabrics

one option is to have the colour combo pop! by this i mean you see the colours next to each other and go "yes that feels right!" even if they are quite contrasting

generally monochrome prints can be paired with just about any colour, you would pay more attention to the images of the print it self to make a good match

you could follow the colour pallet! if a print is black and green the obi is too, just in different amounts so it stands out with a complementing print

I would also recommend holding prints next to each other even when you doubt it would work, it's a good way of finding striking combos!

hopefully this will help someone 〒▽〒

if you have any questions or suggestions feel free to add

[murderspice]

Day III. Night on the Town | Sweet Talker

mostly the first, but a liiiittle bit of the second prompt here, if you squint. hehe

much love again to @captastra for putting this together (you can find the prompts here!)

here was my plotting note for this day:

"date night but it's just illario's increasingly elaborate attempts to pickpocket cad, who catches him every single time"

enjoy!

my other entries: Day I | Day IV (nsfw) | Day V | Day VI | Day VII

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

The first attempt was intended to be a joke. Illario would slip Rook's purse from his belt, palm it, and then present it right back to him with a flourish. Like a party trick. Some marks loved a display of sleight of hand.

Not that this was—well. That remained to be seen.

He went for a simple distraction, painting the picture of what their night would entail with his words while his hands worked in tandem, starting with a light touch to his shoulder, then a teasing brush at the waist, going in for—

Nothing, as he was swiftly slapped away. Cadfael leveled him with a bemused look.

"Hands where I can see them, Dellamorte."

Illario blinked, momentarily startled, before easing a smirk onto his face. "Apologies. I was only going to demonstrate why you should keep close to me as we walk."

That earned him a snort. "You're not going to get anything from me without asking nicely." He gave the Crow a once-over, before motioning to the city below them. "Shall we?"

From then on out, Illario had a challenge to fulfill.

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

As it turned out, there were more merchant stands than just the ones that made it into the Grande Market Square. Illario happily led Cadfael through the streets to browse through each pocket of lesser known craftspeople, stopping at any that captured their attention.

A jeweler with delicate silver work caught Cad's eye immediately with the smallest pendant he had ever seen, in the form of a small bird. Its eyes were inlaid with purple gems.

"That one I'm offering on discount," the jeweler mentioned, their voice raspy but firm. "The amethyst inlays don't quite match each other."

"What a coincidence," Cad held the pendant level with his face, showing Illario how the bird's differently colored eyes resembled his own. "Neither do mine."

Despite the discount, he set the jewelry back on its display hook immediately after. Illario lingered for a moment, but he didn't let Cadfael out of his sight for long. When he caught up to him, the other was looking over an artist's stall in which nearly every surface was covered in artwork of varying mediums.

"Ah, look at these," Illario chimed, pointing to a spread of lithographs on a side table. "Works of art, are they not, Rook?"

Cadfael glanced down at the lithographs curiously. "They are beautifully done…"

"This one," The Crow lifted one of the sample pieces off of the merchant's table, simultaneously pulling Cadfael in closer. "I think is a depiction of Queen Madrigal's assassination, see the four steel swords-"

"Hands."

"Hm?" he tried feigning innocence.

"Off my belt."

Damn it. Illario set the artwork down at the same time as he removed his hand from Cad's waist.

"It was worth a shot."

Cadfael bumped him with his hip. "Better luck next time."

▪──── ⚔ ────▪ Their stroll out of the markets ended with a rather quaint looking restaurant, given what Cadfael had assumed of Illario's taste. It was a charming place with balcony seating on the second floor, and one conveniently reserved table right at the end, designated with a single white rose, trimmed to size in a small glass vase.

Even more convenient, that all the other guests tonight seemed to be seated more favorably on the opposite side to theirs. Cad would have to ask Illario about these coincidences, later...maybe after he ate his weight in the fresh bread set on the table for them.

"The Cacio e Pepe here is to die for, Rook. I daresay it's the best in all of Antiva."

Illario leaned back in his seat, taking in their surroundings like a flower took in sunlight. If Cadfael didn't know any better, he would think that Illario looked comfortable, even though he knew that Crows were almost always anything but in public spaces. If not comfortable, then…in his element, perhaps.

Either way, he was very striking.

"Did you know that there is a restaurant in Antiva City where they roll a hollowed-out wheel of cheese to your table to toss fresh pasta into before serving it to you? I was on a contract once that took me there. It's quite the spectacle, I'll give them that, but that's about all it is." He seemed to catch himself, then, taking his own piece of bread sheepishly. "I could go on, but I doubt you wanted to hear me go on a rant about Antivan cooking."

"Please, be my guest, songbird."

Illario's gaze flicked up and pinned him in place, eyes glittering. "I have a nickname, now?"

Cadfael tried to ignore the heat that rushed to his face as he held eye contact. "You're a Crow, crows are birds, and you like to talk. And, uh, you're fun to listen to. Ergo, songbird."

"Mmm." The assassin slowly broke into a breathtaking smile. "I like it."

Their orders were taken not long after that, Cadfael deferring to Illario's expertise on wine pairing. After they waited, talked, received their drinks, then their food, ate, drank, and talked even more throughout, Illario gently touched Cadfael's boot with his own.

"Allow me to pay for your meal. It's the least I can do."

"Fine," Cadfael chuckled, tapping his foot back. "But you better be using your own coin. I'd like my purse back, before we leave."

The Crow froze. "You knew it was gone."

"Illario." Cadfael stretched the name out playfully, just as the other often did to his. "I was a pickpocket before I was a Mercar. Of course I knew. You waited until you thought I'd feel safe again, walking over here, and then as we reached the table, you pulled me in and turned my attention to the view…"

"That isn't when I took it."

"No, it wasn't," Cadfael continued, tilting his head with a knowing grin. "You waited until you could pull my seat out for me, then lifted it right as I was sitting down, so I wouldn't notice the shift of weight. You've been sitting with it in your lap this whole time."

Illario gave him that beautiful smile again. "You...are very perceptive, Cadfael."

"Does that surprise you?" Cadfael laughed, raising a brow.

Illario rested his chin into his palm, elbow resting on the table between them. His eyes could barely contain the fondness when he answered softly, "It really shouldn't have."

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

While the sun had dropped past the horizon, the city remained as alive as ever on their stroll back to the Cantori Diamond. The market stalls still bustled below them as they took the rooftops, avoiding the crowds that had only grown in size as the night went on. Whenever they had to hop from one building to another, Illario went first just to hold his hand out for Cadfael to catch from the other side. They both knew it wasn't necessary, but they kept doing it anyway.

Even with a couple scenic detours, the journey back was far too short.

"I suppose this is where we part ways for the evening, my dear Rook."

They stood on the Diamond's balcony, partially obscured by one of the several trellises of climbing vines. Cadfael leaned against it, reluctant to leave just yet.

"Treviso is just as beautiful as you said." He took the rose from dinner—which Illario had tucked carefully behind his ear after paying the bill—and stepped in close to place it in the Crow's front shirt pocket, instead. Illario leaned into the touch, one hand landing on Cadfael's waist. "I had a nice time tonight."

"So did I." He reached up to fix the other's hair, where the rose's stem had gotten caught. "Seeing the beauty of it from your eyes made me remember why I love it myself."

Their faces were so close, Cadfael could feel the warmth of the other against his own face. It would take no time at all to close the distance. If Illario did, Cad wasn't all that sure that he would stop him.

He took a breath at the same time that Illario let out a lovely sigh, and let his eyes flutter closed. "Nice try," he murmured, catching Illario's wrist once more, where he had felt it inching ever closer to his belt.

And with that, the spell was broken. The sounds of bustling activity from within the Diamond gently returned to their ears as Illario backed away from Cadfael with a rueful grin, raising his hands in surrender.

"You really are an exceptional one, mio caro."

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

It wasn't until Cadfael was back in the lighthouse that he opened his purse to find a smaller velvet pouch sitting on top of all of his coin. When he opened it and tipped its contents into his hand, he was greeted with a delicate silver pendant, in the shape of a bird, with two mismatched violet eyes.

He couldn't wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the night.

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

[tabletopsystem]

Date Night! A JRWI Riptide fanfic.

A short fic where Chip helps Rufus prepare for a night out with his wife. Takes place on a secret extra day between when Chip went to the Dark Port and episode 63.

It's my first time writing fanfic so be nice.

Words: a lot, maybe 4k+? Idk, I wrote it all on Tumblr on my phone and I can't copy paste between paragraphs for some reason so it's hard to check the actual count.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chip walked through the rustic door of the Divine Barcanist, a bell chiming as it opened.

"Rufus you here?" He called out to the empty store.

"Oh goo-ood you're here." He heard coming from the room behind the counter, the drawn out sound confirming it was Rufus, "Flip the open sign on the window would ya? We're clo-osed for the night."

Chip turned to flip the sign but saw it was already flipped to "closed".

"What'd you need my help with Rufus?" Chip started walking through the displays of magic items, stopping to marvel at a particularly ornate and slightly glowing scimitar. "It's getting pretty late and I don't know how much I trust that Price can't send more of his goons after my crew, no offense to your wife's work, of course."

"Oh don't wo-o-orry my friend, I've got a tight schedule to keep too," He reassured Chip, "now could you come back here and help an old dog pick out an outfit for his date?"

"Date?" Chip walked into the hallway behind the counter, "Why'd you ask for *my* help getting ready for a date?"

He opened the door into Rufus's bedroom, it was quite big, there was a large bed with purple satin sheets, covered in small orange and brown hairs against the back wall of the room, a large vanity made of mahogany with a gold-framed mirror on one side of it with tons of different kinds of makeup that Chip had never seen before. On the other side was a smaller bedside locker, with an intricately designed lamp made to look like a sakura tree with pink and white petals, a framed picture of the Black Rose's jolly rodger next to it. A large tapestry of a town made of huts on stilts just above the water with different colours flowing through the air which Chip assumed was supposed to represent magic covered an entire wall of the room. Rufus sat on the side of the bed, his face and floppy dog ears drooping as he looked into his open wardrobe where he had two well kept suits, one a deep purple, the other a sleek black. Next to the wardrobe was a bamboo changing screen with the scene of a large island with a cherry blossom tree big enough to cover the whole place under its canopy, raining its leaves down and into the ocean around it.

"Woah!" Chip looked around the room in awe, "You're fuckin loaded!"

"Weellll selling mag-ical objects has it's perks," Rufus said sheepishly, "They're all quite unique and, as a result, *quite* valuable."

"Suddenly I don't feel as bad about the discount you gave me on Ollie's belt." Chip couldn't take his eyes off the tapestry, which he assumed must've taken months if not years to make. "I mean shit man you could probably afford to buy some of the islands we passed through. Why the fuck are you-"

"Chip can we focus on my date please?" Rufus cut him off, "Amber should be home in a few minutes and I'm trying to make su-ure this night is veery special for her."

"Ohhh it's that kinda date huh?" Chip smirked, "Rufus you sly dog."

"Chip it's no-ot like that!" Rufus scolded, "I just want to ma-ake sure that she enjoys the night. She's been working reeally hard recently and it's been stressful for her, especially with the who-ole... situation with Captain Price last night." He let out a deep sigh, "I just want to make sure she has a nice night because it's starting to feel harder and harder to doo-o-o."

Chip looked down at Rufus and saw he was quite tense and his eyebrows were furrowed still looking straight ahead at his two suits. "Hey man, make sure you're enjoying the night too y'know?" He put a hand on his shoulder. "Now, what do you think Amber's gonna be wearing?"

"Well I to-old her to go out early and buy herself something nice while I get re-eady." Rufus explained, "She was wearing her favourite pu-urple dress, it really brings out the colour of her fur, yoou should see her in it, she looks be-e-eautiful." He visibly relaxed while talking about her, and Chip thought to himself how nice it must be to be in love like that.

"Well, if you want to match with her you gotta go with the purple." He started inspecting the suits closer, noticing a faint glitter on the purple one, as well as golden buttons on the cuffs, "but if you really want to give her all the attention you should go with the black so she stands out more."

"When did you-ou learn so much about fashion?" Rufus chuckled a bit as he said it.

"Well you pick up on some things when you make disguises to get into snobbier places than you're supposed to be." Chip sized up both suits and began to suspect they might not fit Rufus anymore, though kept quiet about it. "You definitely made the right choice asking for my help and not Lizzie's though."

"She's never really see-eemed the type for romance, even as a youngster on the Midnight Ro-ose." Rufus smiled, "half of Captain Rose's crew was taking bets on whether the two of you would get together when you got older."

"Ew" Chip interjected. Rufus laughed.

"The half that knew the two of you better was taking bets on whether she'd throw you overboard."

"Yeah that makes more sense." Chip laughed a little too. "Now come on, we haven't got all night here."

"Oh alright," he stopped and thought for another whole minute, "I suppo-o-ose I'll go with the black suit."

He took the suit from the wardrobe and moved behind the screen to change.

Chip sat down on the bed, and then, being uncomfortable in the silence began to chat with Roofus after a few moments, "Y'know Roofus, I've got a wife too." He said, almost surprising himself that he remembered her.

"Oh well that's great Chip," Roofus responded, almost as if he expected it, "It's no surprise a young man like you has found someone already, yo-ou should bring her around to the shop some day." He paused for a moment, "I might see if Amber can make something special as a gift for her."

"Oh, no it's uh, not like that." Chip stuttered out, "I was like, really drunk and don't even remember the wedding." He felt embarrassed admitting it to Roofus. "And like, I didn't really like her like that, but she really liked me, and Gillion officiated the wedding with some weird Undersea stuff so we couldn't just break up so I kept trying to fake my death cuz like, "'til death do us part" and all that, but she kept saving me and this one time she like, caught me as I was falling and it made me realise how strong she was and I can't really tell if I started getting feelings for her or if it was just nice to be held but I didn't really wanna think about it cuz we were already planning four other ways to fake my death and I was starting to have fun with it so I just pushed down the feelings like I do with everything else until we were leaving the island-"

"Chip I'm gonna need you to slow-ow down there because I didn't get a word of what you just said." Roofus cut him off, "What's her name?"

Chip took a breath, "Amanda Rinn."

"And what's she like?"

"I honestly don't really know?" He thought about it for a second. "I mean I spent most of the time I knew her just avoiding her and uh, trying to die in front of her."

"Well that's just a shame." He sighed, "You married this lovely woman who-o saved your life and you don't even kno-ow why you fell in love with her."

"Woah I wouldn't say I fell in love with her, we just got drunk, like, black-out drunk." Chip couldn't stop feeling more and more embarrassed, "She probably doesn't even like me that much anymore."

"Well from what I'm hearing, she kept saving yo-ou from danger every time you were in it. It takes a loot of courage, and a lot of love for the person you're saving to keep risking your own life like that."

"Well the danger wasn't real!" Chip knew he was running out of excuses, and the ones he did have didn't mean much.

"Do you think she knew-ew that Chip?" Chip could hear the smile in Roofus' voice. "I think at the very least, she deserves to kno-ow how you reeally feel."

"Fine." Chip conceded, frustrated, "I'll write her a fuckin letter or something... Eventually."

"And mayybe when you're writing it you-ou'll accept your own feelings for her too-oo." Roofus chuckled.

"Roofus I don't- I told you it's not like that!" He was getting annoyed now, "I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place."

"Oh alright," Roofus sighed, "Could you give me hand closing up my jacket, it's been a little while and I'm uh, not quite as fit as I u-used to be."

Chip got up and walked behind the screen to see that Roofus had just about managed to close the button on his pants, though it looked like it could pop open at any second, and though the suit's shirt managed to just about fit snuggly over his big belly, the jacket was straining to get buttoned below the chest.

"Alright you big old dog," Chip grabbed both sides of the jacket, "On three, you pull your stomach in and I'll get a button through, and then you'll be able to get the rest through yourself."

Roofus nodded.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

Chip ripped the button and the hole together as Roofus breathed in, and then ripped the button right off as he breathed out.

"Shit!" Chip ran after the button which was rolling across the floor. "I am so, so sorry Roofus I really didn't mean to."

"Oh it's alright Chip." Roofus took off the jacket and hung it back up in his wardrobe. "I think I've just been a little bit too lenient on the treats." He looked over to his purple suit and sighed, "I don't suppo-ose this one would fit me either."

"Yeah probably not," Chip picked up the button and walked over to Roofus, "look man, I can get some money somewhere and pay you back for this."

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that Chip." Roofus took the button off him and placed it gently on his bedside locker, "I'm sure Amber can sew back on. She's quite the skilled craftswoman."

"You sure?" Chip asked, "Cuz I can get a little gold for it if you need, I don't wanna keep costing you so much money."

"Don't worry about it my friend." Roofus reassured, "I just don't know what to wear tonight now, and I'm sure Amber will be home aaany minute."

Chip thought for a few seconds, then an idea popped into his head. "Here," he took off his red and yellow magical bandana and held it out to Roofus, who recoiled as Chip's facial features shifted just slightly and a few of his uglier scars reappeared. "What?" Chip exaggerated a look of hurt.

"I'd just forgotten about how this magical bandana works is all." Roofus was clearly unnerved by Chip's face shifting.

"Whatever, point is, you can take this and wear anything you want with it, just make sure to get it back to me tomorrow, and make sure you wear something under it, the clothes are *not* real and you *will* get cold, trust me." Chip stopped waiting for him to take the bandana and tied it around his head.

"Thank you Chip." Roofus put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, "I really do appreciate the help, old friend." He looked down at his much too small suit and before Chip's eyes the outfit seemed to magically loosen itself and close up around Roofus' body, a small silver watch appeared on one of his wrists, and a thin silver bracelet appeared on the other.

"Oh dude you don't get it, you can make literally *any* clothes you can imagine," Chip took the bandana back from Roofus and held it against his forehead, and immediately a glittering suit made of solid gold appeared in place of his tattered shirt and pants. "Like anything dude." He handed the bandana back to Roofus.

"Oh I understand how it works Chip, I just rather like my suit." He chuckled, "Wouldn't have had it tailored if I didn't."

"Your choice man, but I'd be going with the golden blazer if I were you." Chip started heading for the door, "Where are you going tonight anyways?"

Roofus took his pyjamas out and went behind the changing screen again, "There's a lo-ovely restaurant here in the Golden Circle Market called "The Shining Supper." They have some veery special dishes that you can't find anywhere else in the world anymore."

"Dang, you're really going all out tonight old man." Chip remembered walking past the restaurant and thinking it was way too gaudy for him to ever eat there, it had gold and crystal chandeliers and that was enough for him to hate it, though he thought it might've been nice to bring Ollie there if he could ever afford it.

"We-ell my Amber is worth every last copper." Roofus sighed, "I'm so lucky to have her in my life. After the Black Rose-"

"Roofus I'd love to reminisce some more but it is gonna be dark out soon and I am not in the mood to get jumped by more of Price's goons so can we wrap this up." Chip interjected rather abruptly, "Not that it's not been nice hanging out with you again, I just wanna make sure we can do it again after tonight."

"Ooh alright, drop by tomorrow whenever you can and I'll ma-ake sure to have your bandana in pe-erfect condition." Roofus walked out of the room with Chip and then walked him to the front door to say goodbye.

Chip was greeted on the other side of the door by a kitsune woman whose fur was orange with white stripes, she wore a deep purple eyeshadow with gold glitter, which matched the colours of her slim fitting sleeveless dress. She had numerous detailed golden bracelets covering the length of both of her forearms, she had a small ankle bracelet around one of her legs, which ended in sparkling purple high heels. "What are *you* doing here?" She sounded disgusted at Chip's presence, "*Please* tell me you're not going to ask me to curse another powerful artefact."

"Oh, I'm just on my way out." Chip slipped past her and then bowed a little more sarcastically than he actually wanted to, "Enjoy your date, Roofus is lucky to have you, and uhh, thanks for looking out for the old man."

Amber was surprised by his sincerity, and he started running back to the Albatross before she could respond, feeling way too awkward to have a conversation with her.

[botanicalbonelord]

I think I've found the wildest piece of music history in existence. So I went to a audio/visual store today, and they had vintage cassettes, and I was amazed to find a Travelling Wilburys one. The Travelling Wilburys were a musical supergroup consisting of Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Roy Orbison, and Tom Petty. (I've linked their most popular songs, just in case you're not sure who they are.) So I was very excited to add it to my collection. (Side note: it plays great.) Upon opening it up this evening, I was looking at the inside pamphlet, you know, the kind that has designs and track lists and such. And I found an incredible piece of fake lore for the band, which I have typed out (CW for brief racial stereotype):

“The etymological origins of The Traveling Wilburys have aroused something of a controversy amongst academic circles. Did they, as Professor “BOBBY” Sinfield believes, originate from the various Wilbury Fairs which travelled Europe in Medieval times, titillating the populace with contemporary ballads, or rather, were they rather derived from “YE TRAVELLING WILLYBURYS”, who were popular locksmiths during the Crusades used to picking or unlocking jammed chastity belts (rather like today’s emergency plumbers.) Dr. Arthur Noseputty of Cambridge believes they were closely related to the Strangling Dingleberries, which is not a Group but a disease, an unpleasant form of crotch-rot; arguing that a “WILLBERRY” is often used as an expression for a piece of crud found in the crevice of an ancient pair of y-fronts; but I think this can be discounted, not only because of his silly name but also from his habit of impersonating Ethel Merman during lectures. Some have even gone on to suggest tenuous links with the Pillsburys, the group who invented Flour Power. Dim Sun, a Chinese academic, argues that they may be related to “THE STROLLING TILBURYS”, Queen Elizabeth the first’s favourite minstrels, and backs this suspicion with the observation that The Travelling Wilburys is an obvious anagram of “V. BURYING WILL’S THEATRE”, clearly a reference to the closing of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre by Villiers during an outbreak of plague. This would account for the constant travelling. Indeed, many victims of plague and St. Vitus’ dance literally danced themselves to death, and it is this dancing theme that resurfaces with The Wilbury Twist. Not a cocktail but a dance craze, reminiscent of The Wilbury Quadrille made famous at Bath in 1790 by Beau Diddley, and the Wilbury Waltz, which swept Vienna in the 1890’s. One thing, however, remains certain. The circumambulatory peregrinations of these itinerant mundivagrant peripatetic nomads has already disgorged one collection of popular lyrical cantata, which happily encapsulated their dithyrambic antiphonic contrapuntal threnodies as a satisfactory auricular experience for the hedonistic gratification of the hoi polloi on a popular epigraphically inscribed gramophonic recording. Now here’s another one. Tiny Hampton (Professor “TINY” Hampton is currently leading the search for Intelligent Life amongst Rock Journalism, at the University of Please Yourself, California.)"

(I've included links that might help contextualize the jokes/puns/references that I could pick up on.)

HELLO?????? WHICH ONE OF THEM WROTE THIS I NEED TO KNOW

And APPARENTLY, they all had Wilbury personas.

And BEST OF ALL, they named their SECOND ALBUM (which this is pulled from), "VOL. 3". IM WHEEZING.

[writer-and-lover]

Boot-Shaped Bruises

Kinktober Day 3: Boot Worship | Bukakke. Genital torture (not extreme, some hard grinding), drool, degradations, general perverseness from reader.

Tw: British Slang

Hobie Brown’s concerts truly encompassed the sort of person he was. They were bright, colourful in so many different ways that they usually left you dazed. Set up in a small underground venue, it’s cosy and relaxed despite the crowd and the noise. Posters litter the walls, pictures of different bands and artists who’ve played before. In the middle of one wall, you can see Hobie’s band poster clearly. You’d made them yourself. Two pillars frame the stage, each one covered in heaps of stickers and doodles. Small standing areas surround the stage, capable of holding maybe a hundred or two hundred people. The stage itself is slightly elevated, made of solid flooring covered in a black carpet. The instruments are all set up already, with the exception of any basses or guitars the groups may be using. Behind the stage, several large speakers hang from the ceiling, with smaller ones wrapping around the room to create a gorgeous noise-surrounding experience. It’s high quality, despite being on the smaller side. You’d know, since you were the one to pick it.

You know the roster like the back of your hand at this point. You’d memorised it beforehand since you were too excited to sleep. The opening band were good at what they did, music catchy and with an amazing beat. Good enough to get the crowd hyped up. There would be several other opening artists on stage, which gave you enough time to see-

“Early bird, I see.”

Hobie. He was one of the first artists you’d met when you began coordinating. He was tall and skinny, but somehow he made it work. It didn’t make him seem awkward at all, instead making him seem elegant. Smooth. He was wearing his signature wicks. The collar around his neck was spiked, as well as his jacket. He also seemed to have spiked bicep arms, which you haven’t seen before. His whole outfit is definitely raised to max on the street punk sub-style. What caught your eye though, was the new boots he sported. A simple, gorgeous black colour; the boots came up to his mid-calf. They had chains replacing any buckle or lace, which was uncharacteristic of him. The leather was smooth with a matte finish. On each side, it had decorative belt buckles that kept each chain up. Most interestingly of all, the chains had large spikes in the middle of them. The vamp of the heel had an extra piece of glossy black leather, designed in the shape of a flame with rough stitching all around it. Definitely done by hand. They were- they were weirdly sexy on him. Boosting his height (albeit, unnecessarily) whilst also finalising his entire punk look.

“Of course, I had to beat the crowds to make sure everything was up ‘n’ runnin’,” you comment. Your eyes still haven’t strayed from the boots. The heel counter seems to also have a matching flame design. How cute. “I see you went to that cobbler I recommended you.”

He looks down at his boots, raising his foot up so you can look at the sole. It’s got symmetrical ridges.

“Yeah, he was a real nice bloke. Gave me a discount ‘cause I told him you sent me.”

You hum. “Yeah, we’re close like that.” You check some things on your clipboard, before looking at Hobie again. “Maybe later you can show me those boots more close up.”

He stares at you for a beat. His eyes look intense, or maybe it’s just the kohl he applied on his waterline. You stare at each other for a moment, before he smiles. He looks wicked, like he’d planned something.

“Why wait? There’s a tiny little changing room backstage that I’m sure can fit us both.”

You gape at the insinuation. If you were a stronger person, you’d probably say no outright. Call him crazy and leave him in the middle of the crowded venue to hide your flustered reaction. But you weren’t. Instead, you considered it. Instead, you thought about having him so close to you. Instead, you winced knowing you wouldn’t fight back.

“Hobie I-, the shows about to start in five minutes! I need to supervise it y’know that-”

“The opening show doesn’t need constant supervision, c’mon darling,” he coos, “just gimme 15 minutes. Give you a good look at these kicks. Won’t take long at all.”

You groan. God, you’re so weak to those dark eyes of his.

“I’m giving you ten, you bloody slag.”

He grins, grabbing you by the arm. He drags you through the crowd, uncaring for how many people he pushes past or steps on in his hurry to get to the room. You apologise as he drags you, cringing at the annoyed murmurs you get. As you get closer to the backroom, you pass the stage. He waves at his bandmates, who begin wolf-whistling and cheering on as soon as they saw you right behind him. The red curtain looms ahead, and you have half the mind to change your mind and run away. You’d been flirting with each other for months, but you never thought- you didn’t think you’d ever-

He shoves you in the backroom, barely pulling the curtain open beforehand. He follows eagerly, smiling wide. His large hand holds you against the furthest wall, splayed out and damn near spanning the entirety of your chest. It’s a small, cramped space. Big enough to just about hold the both of you with a tiny sliver of space left. This close to his face, you can see clearly the shiny rings of his snake bites, and the spiked barbells on his eyebrows. You loved his punk style, the astounding history behind it. But you also loved how sexy he made it look. Maybe you’d always liked that bad boy style, but Hobie really took it to another level. He was such an odd combination of teasing and caring. Every teasing remark, every playful jab or comment sent your head spinning, especially when he’d follow them up with a check-up glance or a soft touch. Making sure you knew he was joking. Making sure that you were into it.

“Don’t think you’ll be able to see the boots really well from up here, yeah?”

You blink at him, mouth slightly gaping open.

“You gone daft?” 

You stammer, indignantly pushing him back slightly. He smiles, watching you raptly. Taking a deep breath, you drop to your knees. Maybe. Just maybe, you miscalculated a bit. Because now his boots are right between your thighs, way too close to your own crotch for you to feel comfortable with it. It’s true that you can see the boots better this way. And you can definitely see how clean they are, taken great care of. But…

“Have you polished them recently?”

Hobie thinks, making a face. “Nah.” He grins again, canine teeth glinting in the dim light. “You can polish them for me, no?” 

You frown, “Hobs, I don’t have any polishing materials. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I polished my own footwear-”

“Who said anything about polish?”

You blink at him, eyes furrowed. How else would you-. Oh. The realisation hits you in the face. He means for you to… to- You swallow, tilting your head down to look at his boots. Flustered as you are, it’s so- so damn tempting to do it. It’s degrading. Degenerate. Even so, you wrap your hands gently under the sole of it, feeling the weight of the boot. Of Hobie’s foot. Of his gaze. It’s so damn humiliating, you don’t want to look up at him. But you’re shameless enough to wrap your other hand around his ankle to bring the boot closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you gently lick at the leather of the vamp. It’s bitter, the taste making your boot scrunch up. But a soft nudge at your mouth with it encourages you to press your tongue harder against it on the second pass. Your body feels hot, like you’re being overcome by a lust-filled fever. You kiss the boot wetly, a strand of saliva connecting your lips to the boot. You hear a groan and you almost look up at him. But eye contact would be too much for you right now. A small movement just above your head makes you open your eyes. His hand, decked in silver rings, palms at the bulge in his pants. It’s a gentle motion, almost teasing. For both you and him. The sight makes you moan, even as you flatten out your tongue to give a broad lick to the side of the boot. Your eyes are glassy, disoriented. So focused on looking good. The small noises he makes are encouraging. You’re turning more sloppy with it, so consumed with need that thinking isn’t possible.

The boot moves out your hands, the sole pushing harshly against your face. The low laugh that comes out of Hobie's mouth sounds so mean, so cruel. It makes you pulse in your underwear. And you feel yourself pulse again when you think of the fact that you’ll probably have a mark of his boot for the whole night. God, you feel so dirty. You moan softly. The boot comes down your chest, pressing gently against it and trailing down to your crotch. He presses hard against your inner thigh, and you can clearly see the mark of his boot against your clothes. It rips a gasp out your chest, cut off by the feel of his boot bruising the opposite thigh, higher up than before. You can see where he’s going with it, and looking up, you can see his dark eyes narrowed down at you. So calculating. His grin is wiped off, and instead he’s biting at his snake bites. The sight is so hot, you feel like you’re drooling. Like a dog. You lick your lips, leaning back to give Hobie more space. All whilst spreading your legs more.

“Fuckkkk. So pretty, songbird. Gonna moan for me, yeah?”

You moan shakily, eyes squeezed shut. You’re biting harshly at your lip. Even though you can hear one of the opening artists playing outside, you’re so scared that they’ll hear you. That you’ll be depraved enough to make it known what you and Hobie are up to. 

“Thought you were going to par me when I tried dragging you here,” he admitted, “but you were so easy. You’ve been trying to chirps me, yeah? Poor thing.”

That gets a loud moan out of you. The teasing. A boot against your crotch cuts you off, instead pulling a yell out of you. The pressure is immense, almost painful. But it feels so good, especially when you grind up against it. You can’t help but get louder with each twist of your hips. 

“Shh, you’re being loud, songbird.”

He pushes your head back with the palm of his palm, dragging it down to sink two ringed fingers into your wet mouth. You moan wetly around them, drool spilling out your mouth and dribbling on your chin and down your front. You’re so messy, but Hobie doesn’t let you look away. He yanks your face back with the fingers hooked in your mouth, gently slapping your cheek when you close your eyes.

“How about you make me feel good too?”

You look at him, eyes half-lidded. You’re half gone, but God it feels good to listen to what Hobie says. So as he slips his fingers out your mouth, your hand reaches up shakily towards Hobie's trousers. He'd been kind enough to undo the many chains and complicated belt-ropes that held his trousers up at some point. But he had his normal, spiked belt still buckled. So you do the honor of wrapping shaky fingers around it, unbuckling it as fast as you can. You undo his zip and button, excited. In a perverse way, you're looking forward to mouthing at the outline of his dick through his underwear. To inhale his sweat-addled smell as subtly as you can. Except, that he's not wearing any underwear. You can see his dark skin straight away, a thick happy trail leading down to the thick hair surrounding the base of his dick. You blink up at him. 

"Going commando, Hobs?"

He smirks, grabbing you by the back of your head. 

"Just wanted to make it easier for my biggest fan. That's all."

You shiver, gently dragging his trousers and pants down to his mid-thigh, letting his dick flop down over your face. Gently, you mouth up the shaft of his dick, and shyly sink your tongue into Hobie’s foreskin to taste at his skin. He curses, grabbing at both sides of your head. You close your eyes, trusting Hobie to guide you into making him feel good. You drag your tongue against the spongy tip, moaning breathlessly at the taste. Now it’s Hobie who can’t keep his eyes open, torn between looking at the way you tease him and shutting them to enjoy it to the fullest. You wrap your lips around the exposed tip, sucking at it gently. He shudders, head falling back against the wall. His breathing is loud, ragged moans pulling straight out from his chest. The warm, wet mouth around his dick too good to be true. You inch down his cock slowly, lips stretched to accommodate his size. 

A knock to the doorframe shakes you both out of your reverie.

“Five minutes, boss!”

One of Hobie’s bandmates. It’s said full of amusement and future teasing, but it brings a curse out of Hobie.

“Fuck- I���ll be there!”

He pushes your mouth completely off of his dick, instead jerking it off rapidly right in front of you. It makes you remember that he’s still digging his foot into your crotch, although it’d loosened up some time ago. You grab his ankle with both hands and pull his boot further into your crotch, sobbing at the pleasure and pain that it brings. Your clothes are dirtied to all hell. You probably won’t be able to take the marks out of it. But that excites you. You’ll probably paint over them with some sort of dark fabric paint. The hand on the side of your head tightens, and you look up at Hobie, mouth gaping, right as he comes over your face. You flinch, closing your eyes as you feel it get on your face, in your mouth and in your hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He digs his boot further into your crotch, grinding it against your sensitive spots. It’s too much for you, and you come with a loud cry. You slump back against the wall, panting harshly. Hobie moves his boot away before crouching infront of you. He passes a soft cloth (some poor bastards lost shirt or something) over your face and hair, as you swallow what you got in your mouth. Your eyes open, hazy. He winces slightly, before smiling. 

“Good job, songbird.” He pats your face lovingly. “I can’t get the boot mark out though.”

You jerk up at that, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed.

“What the fuck do you mean,” you harshly whisper, “that you can’t get the boot mark out?”

“C’mon. I’m sure noone’s gonna notice, it’s all chill, innit?” 

“You goddamn wasteman, I’m gonna KILL YOU-”

The rest of the show is a success. Hobie had managed to run out the backroom before you’d either strangled him or ripped his dick off. He strutted over to the stage, a big smile on his face. His bandmates hollered and whooped, seeing his happy demeanour. Until they saw your own, fuming face. Each one wincing and whipping their faces away, focusing instead on their instruments. The boot mark on your face was so glaringly obvious, as well as the ones all over the front of your clothes. A few patrons pointed them out to you, waggling their eyebrows at you or sending you cheeky glances.

“Ey, that’s jokes mate,” a particularly young lad cackled, wrapping his arm around you, “you and your bird being bare bait with all that here, huh?”

“Allow it.” You hissed, pushing him away. 

It was a great goddamn show.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

Divine Falls AU design descriptions, as promised.

Soos - large green toga with a golden leaf crown except instead of leaves, it's interlocked question marks. Not really much I can do here beyond toga. Eyes shift color whenever he blinks.

Wendy - okay, so hear me out. Flannel toga. A flannel patterned toga that sounds like agony to draw. Hair is autumn leaves (literally) hanging from like vines and draped over her face and back. Golden leaves wrapped around her head like a little golden leaf beanie. (+2 AC)

Robbie - uh listen I'm kind bs-ing this. I designed him last because I want to keep it very Robbie while still incorporating earth into his design. Basically, dark brown short toga with a light gradient at the collarbone. He still wears the same hoodie, which is mostly unzipped. His hair is made of mud and drips onto his toga every few seconds.

Dipper - probably the design I'm most excited about. Hair brushed off to the side where you can constantly see his birthmark - because what's a space god without his space birthmark? - and constellations all over his clothes. Purple and blue shifting in ever changing patterns to mimic the real complexity of space. The constellations stay mostly in the same spaces though. Maybe they shift very slowly over time. His eyes look like black holes. Has pens tucked into his toga, with little stars and planets on the caps of each pen. Every time a star goes out? Yeah that's Dipper chewing on a pen.

Mabel - probably the design I'm the second most excited about. Blue dress - not a toga like everyone else. Mabel is wearing a straight up dress. There are large green abstract shapes on it meant to resemble landmasses. White sweater over it that changes colors to mimic the sun shining through the clouds. Hair is literally made of clouds and there's birds flying through her hair and hot air balloons floating around her. They scale with her size, so if she modifies her size to be that of a human, she's got tiny birds and hot air balloons floating around through her floating cloud hair. The collar of her dress is a bunch of flowers in a meadow sprouting from her collarbone. Basically, make Mabel but if she was decora mother nature. That's the vibe.

Ford - blue floor length toga with golden accents all over it. A large gold-wrought tree of life covering his whole chest, going over his toga. His toga shifts into lilac near the bottom. Green carnation in his hair. Eyes look like blue fire.

Stan - short red toga with tattoos running up his leg. Hood that's down when he's with mortals or people he doesn't know well, but down around Mabel, Dipper, Ford, and the like. Constantly has an athame strapped to his waist and a sickle in his back pocket. Claims it's like a discount scythe because he has no respect for sickles. Eyes are dark, cold, and barely emote.

McGucket - honestly, not much changes here. He's got more hair and his eyes look like plasma set into his face. His hair also changes color near the ends. Large hat, oversized glasses, and potion bottles hanging off his belt.

Bill - literally Bill Cipher. I don't feel like designing a human version of him so I'm not gonna. Might later but not right now at the very least.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I always find some costume designs so… unimaginative

Cat noir has cat ears, metal decorations on he’s leather clothes, a belt has a tail and he has actual claws

Meanwhile ladybug is a rubber suit which a pattern extremely ugly (said pattern also caused the show to be made into a 3D instead of 2D since in 2D it was too hard to animate)

We have the roast hero which try’s to look like a matador de toros, but he’s design is like too much stuff put in top of each other, like it tries to add to much things symbolizing a roster but the character they chose just doesn’t fit with the look they are going for (same thing with the goat)

Then there’s the bull which looks alright but it looks like a discount rhino (Spider-Man)

If you compare every other super hero or Magical girl with the hero designs of ladybug. You can see ladybug is very lacking specially with how 3D designs need to have more details to look good without being too much

While I can sort of get why the designs are so simple to make animation easier, it does get pretty frustrating for almost every hero to have a generic skintight bodysuit with only a little feature that reminds you of the animal they're based on.