#getting the base shading down first then lighting and darkening

[alaskan-wallflower]

WIP WEDNESDAYYYY

it looks shit rn but be patient i’m nowhere near done lol (if you’re not into g/t or it makes you uncomfy scroll by-)

i suppose cartman’s spell accidentally backfired, whoopsies-plus it’s very energy consuming, so he’s got a pissed off, starving elf on his hands :3 whoops-

[badathumanemotions]

My Little Vampire

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader Happy Halloween! MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Smut, Biting Kink, Bite Marks, Oral Sex (m rec), Vaginal Sex, Riding, No Protection, Aftercare/First Aid. WC: 3,268 It's Halloween Eve, Spencer is running around worrying about making sure everything is perfect. You need a way to wear him out. (Not Proof Read)

"Seriously, you can't see the difference between these two shades of red?" Spencer held up two almost identical pieces of cloth to the light, his eyes squinting with intensity. His glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and the smudges on the glass only added to the endearing chaos of the moment. It was Halloween eve, and the living room of your shared home had been transformed into a whirlwind of cardboard skeletons, cobwebs, and plastic pumpkins.

You couldn't help but smile, watching him from the couch where you were lounging. Spencer's costume was sprawled out in front of him—a meticulously crafted Sherlock Holmes outfit, complete with a deerstalker hat and an intricately tied cravat.

"I'm pretty sure the trick-or-treaters will be more concerned with the candy than the decor, Spence" you teased, sipping on a cup of spiced cider that warmed your throat with its sweet taste.

Spencer looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. "But what if they're not? What if they judge us based on our aesthetic commitment to the holiday?" His voice was light, but you knew the underlying stress was real. Spencer was not one to leave anything to chance, especially when it came to Halloween.

You set the cider down on the side table and padded over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "They're going to love it, and if they don't, well, we'll just have to eat all this extra candy ourselves," you whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. He rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

His dedication to Halloween was admirable, adorable, and something you loved him for. But you knew he could get too wrapped up in the details, so you had to come up with a way to get him to relax. An idea struck you, one that was sure to get his mind off the decorations. You stepped back and looked him over, your eyes lingering on the soft skin of his neck.

"You know what, Spence?" you said, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "I think I have the perfect way to distract you." You took his hand and led him away from the chaos, into the bedroom.

Once inside, you closed the door firmly behind you, cutting off the sounds of the TV playing a classic horror movie in the living room. Spencer looked at you questioningly, his eyes glancing at the bed and then back at you. You smirked, walking closer to him and standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"You're so adorable when you're all worked up like this," you murmured, your breath warm and tickling the skin of his neck. "It makes me want to just… bite you."

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react, your teeth sank gently into the meat of his shoulder, just enough to leave a faint pink mark. He gasped, his body tensing for a moment before melting into your touch. You felt his pulse quicken beneath your teeth, and the sweet taste of his skin filled your mouth. It was a sensation you couldn't resist, a kink that had grown between you, a secret thrill that added spice to your relationship. You pulled back and admired the small mark you had left, feeling a sense of possessiveness wash over you.

He looked at you with a mix of shock and excitement, his cheeks flushing. "You're incorrigible," he murmured, but his voice was laced with desire. You stepped closer, your body pressing against his, and his eyes darkened with lust. You knew that look, the one that said he was ready to give in to whatever game you had in mind.

Spencer lifted his arms slightly, allowing you to help him out of his shirt. You took your time, your hands lingering on his shoulders before sliding down to his biceps. The fabric of the shirt whispered against his skin as you revealed his chest. You couldn't help but trace your fingers over his torso, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath your touch. He had a lean, almost delicate build, but you knew from experience that he was stronger than he looked.

With the shirt discarded on the floor, you stepped closer, your chest brushing against his. You leaned in and kissed him, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. He gasped, and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his candy sweetened breath. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers digging in.

You could feel the heat building between you, the electricity of your bodies touching sending sparks through the air. Spencer's hand began to wander, tracing a line down your back before coming to rest on the swell of your ass. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his desire against your thigh.

Breaking the kiss, you stepped back and began to strip off your own clothing. He watched, his breath hitching as you revealed your skin inch by inch. Your eyes locked on his, you slowly removed your shirt, revealing a bra that matched your panties. His gaze was hungry, and you felt a thrill of power knowing that you had such an effect on him.

"You know I love it when you're like this," Spencer said, his voice coming out hoarse.

You smirked and took a step closer, allowing your fingertips to dance along the waistband of your jeans. "I know you do," you purred. "And I love leaving my mark on you."

With deliberate slowness, you unzipped your jeans and pushed them down, revealing the matching panties. His gaze was like a physical touch, making you shiver with anticipation. You stepped out of the jeans and kicked them aside, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

Spencer's eyes were glued to your every move, his pupils dilated with desire. You reached behind you and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His breath hitched as your breasts were freed, and his hands followed the path your own had taken, tracing the curves of your body. You stepped closer, pressing yourself against him.

His thumbs brushed over your nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from you. You leaned into his touch, your head tilting back as the sensation rippled through you. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

"I need you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Spencer's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the same raw need reflected.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss that made you whimper. His hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire wherever it went. You felt his fingers tug at your panties, and you stepped out of them eagerly. His own clothes were off as you both sank onto the bed, a tangle of limbs.

Straddling him, you ran your nails lightly down his torso, feeling the muscles quiver beneath your touch. You loved the power dynamic here, the way he looked up at you, eyes filled with hunger. You decided on his collarbone, a spot that always made him squirm. You leaned in, your teeth scraping gently against his skin. He arched his neck, offering himself up to you. You took a deep breath, savouring the moment before you bit down.

Spencer's moan was caught in his throat, his hands fisting in the sheets as you marked him. The sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin was intoxicating, causing him a heady mix of pain and pleasure that made you wet. You released him, watching the reddened skin slowly rise back into place.

With a seductive smile, you began to grind your pussy against his cock, feeling the heat and hardness of him against your slick flesh. You were already soaking wet, and the friction made sparks of pleasure shoot through you. You felt his cock twitch and knew he was just as turned on as you were.

Spencer's eyes fluttered closed, and you took that moment to lean down and begin marking his chest with love bites. You started at the base of his neck, working your way down to his collarbones, leaving a trail of pink marks in your wake. He squirmed beneath you, his moans growing louder with each bite.

As you got lower, you made the marks darker, your teeth pressing a little harder, leaving behind small, purple bruises. You knew he liked the feeling of your teeth on him, the way it made him feel claimed and desired. You traced your way down to his nipples, flicking them with your tongue before giving them a gentle nip. He gasped, his body arching off the bed.

You continued to explore his torso with your mouth, leaving a constellation of marks. Each bite was a declaration of your love and lust, a brand that was uniquely yours. When you reached his navel, you paused, looking up at him. Spencer's eyes met yours, and he nodded, giving you the silent permission to continue.

With renewed fervour, you trailed downwards, making the marks darker and more pronounced. Each one a testament to the passion that surged between you, a visual representation of the intensity of your desire. By the time you reached his hipbones, you had created a canvas of love bites that stood out starkly against the pale landscape of his skin.

Then, you found a particularly sensitive spot on his right hipbone. You bit down hard, your teeth sinking in just enough to elicit a sharp gasp from Spencer. His body jolted, and his cock jumped. The sight made your own arousal spike, and you felt a rush of wetness between your thighs.

You trailed down to his cock, being gentle, kissing and licking it. Your teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and he moaned, his hips moving slightly as if begging for more. You teased the tip with your tongue before taking him fully into your mouth, feeling his length fill your mouth.

You held back, using just enough pressure to drive him wild. Spencer's hands found your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he tried to guide you, but you resisted, keeping the pace slow and deliberate. His hips bucked upward, trying to increase the tempo, but you remained unfazed, continuing your slow, torturous exploration of his body.

The tension grew palpable, a silent battle of wills as you teased him with your teeth and tongue. You felt him growing more and more desperate, his breaths coming in harsh gasps, his body straining against yours. You watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut tight and his brow furrowed with need. Each moan that slipped from his lips was music to your ears, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could elicit such a reaction from him.

With a wicked smile, you released his cock and slid your hand down to fondle his balls. They were warm and heavy in your palm, and you began to massage them gently, keeping the pace slow and languid to match the rhythm of your kisses. You felt him tense, his thighs flexing, but you didn't relent. You enjoyed watching the way his body responded to your touch, the way his hips rolled slightly as he tried to push into your hand.

You took his cock back into your mouth, your teeth scraping along the shaft before you took him deep again. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and his fingers tightened in your hair. You swirled your tongue around the tip before pulling away, licking up the pre-cum that had gathered there.

With a smirk, you kissed along the length of his shaft, feeling him pulse against your lips. You knew he was close, his body wound tight as a spring. But you weren't ready for this to end yet. You took his balls in your mouth, one at a time, sucking gently before releasing them with a soft pop. His thighs tensed, and he moaned, his hips jerking upward.

Spencer had reached his breaking point. "Please," he groaned, his voice filled with need. "I can't take it anymore. I need you."

You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed beneath you. But you knew when to give in. You positioned yourself over him, aligning your wet cunt with his erect cock. His eyes widened, and you felt his entire body go taut with anticipation as you sank down, taking him inch by inch.

With a gasp, you sat down fully on his length, feeling him fill you up. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a strangled moan. You didn't waste any time starting up a brutal pace, bouncing up and down on his cock with a ferocity that had him seeing stars. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, his breath coming in harsh pants as he matched your rhythm.

He bent his knees, trying to get leverage to fuck up into you. The bed frame creaked under the force of his movements, and the headboard thudded against the wall with each thrust. You leaned back, giving him better access, and he took full advantage, slamming into you with an urgency that was almost animalistic. Your breasts bounced with the motion, and you watched as he stared, transfixed by the sight.

It was as if he was channelling all of his anxious energy into fucking you, and it was the most intense experience you had ever shared with him. His eyes were glued to where your bodies were joined, watching as your juices coated his cock with each deep plunge. You could see the fascination in his gaze as he observed the way your pussy lips gripped him, as if he was trying to burn the image into his brain.

Leaning forward, you moaned, the new angle causing your clit to grind against his pelvis. Sparks shot through you, and you threw your head back, the sound of your pleasure echoing in the room. Spencer's eyes snapped to yours, and the look of pure lust in them sent a shiver down your spine. He took the opportunity to lean up and kiss you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he bit down, hard enough to make you groan.

The pain was delicious, and you ground down harder on him, feeling the sparks of pleasure intensify. His cock hit you just right, and you felt yourself approaching the edge. Spencer's hands found your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples as you rode him with abandon. You could feel your orgasm building, a pressure that was almost painful in its intensity.

"Fuck, yes," you hissed, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built up. Spencer's eyes were locked on yours, watching the play of emotions that danced across your face as you got closer to the edge. The way he studied you was both thrilling and a little intimidating, but it only served to push you closer to the brink.

And then it struck you. You let out a scream, your body convulsing around him. In that moment of pure ecstasy, your teeth sank deeper into his skin than ever before. You hadn't meant to bite down so hard, but the sensation of your teeth breaking the barrier was like a lightning bolt of pleasure that shot straight to your core.

Spencer's eyes went wide, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. The sudden, intense pain mixed with the pleasure was a cocktail that sent him spiralling over the edge. He roared, his body spasming as he came, filling you with his hot release. You felt his cock pulse within you, the sensation sending your own orgasm into overdrive.

You collapsed onto him, your teeth still latched onto his skin, your body trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. Spencer's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he panted beneath you.

Slowly, you pulled back, looking down at the dark mark on his shoulder. You felt a twinge of guilt—you hadn't meant to bite so hard—but the desire in his eyes told you all you needed to know. He loved it. You kissed the bruised skin gently, tasting the faint metallic tang of his blood.

The moment you could feel your legs again, you were dragging him into the bathroom, adrenaline still pulsing through your veins. You grabbed the first aid kit from the shelf, your hand shaking slightly with the aftermath of pleasure and the sudden rush of worry. Spencer followed, a slightly dazed smile on his face.

In the mirror, his body was a canvas of your love, each mark a story of the passionate moments you had shared. But his gaze kept being drawn to the deep purple bruise on his shoulder, a stark reminder of the intensity of your desire. The sight of it made him shiver with a mix of pain and pleasure. He traced the outline with his fingertips, the tenderness of his touch making his cock stir.

You rummaged through the first aid kit with trembling hands, your heart still racing from the intense climax. Spencer watched you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You found what you needed: alcohol wipes, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a small bandage. You turned to him, a look of concern etched on your face. "Let me take care of it," you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness.

He offered his shoulder without a word, his eyes half-closed and a sleepy smile playing on his lips. His skin was flushed from the passionate encounter, and he was so soft and pliable after his orgasm that he could only give you a sleepy grin in response. You carefully cleaned the bite, watching the skin around it redden and then pale as the alcohol stung. He hissed but didn't pull away.

"It's okay," you soothed, your voice gentle as you applied the ointment, hissing a little as the coldness of it hit the sensitive skin. His eyes fluttered shut, and you placed a gentle kiss beside the bruise. "All better," you murmured, pressing the bandage over the mark. Spencer's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you felt his cock, still half-hard, against your stomach.

"You're still worried," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. You nodded, unable to find the words. He leaned down to kiss you, his tongue delving into your mouth. "I liked it," he assured you, his voice husky. "I liked it a lot."

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. "You're not just saying that?"

Spencer's smile grew. "No, I'm not. I love how passionate you are." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're my little vampire," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. You couldn't help but chuckle, the tension you were hold dissipating.

You both cleaned up and slipped back into the bedroom, the smell of sex lingering in the air. Spencer lay back down on the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths. You lay beside him, gently running your fingers over his chest.

As the clock struck midnight, Spencer opened his eyes and turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Happy Halloween," he murmured, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was a comforting cocoon, and you snuggled closer.

"Happy Halloween," you sleepily reply.

[korpuskat]

Chosen Avatar - Part 1

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (GN, has a vagina) Rating: E WC: 2.1k Contents: PWP & Megatron Ramattra. Transformers-typical size difference. ===

There were a few things that had been at the top of your mind when you first saw him after this… transformation. It should’ve been his size. Instead, it was the glowing purple of his faceplate, the darkened slits that hid his optics now illuminated, radiating a brilliant royal shade- and for the first time, you could see his gaze settle on you. It had stolen your breath then, but now it’s even worse.

His optics rake over your nude form and it makes you embarrassed. A kind of shyness you haven’t felt with him in so long-- but like this? Everything is new.

He’s hardly done anything, hardly can do anything. With the aleatory effects of this gift, he’s much too big for his previous methods. No, you’ve had to get… creative. His thumb- massive and gray and strange and new- sweeps over your body, petting at your chest, then down over your ribs, brushing roughly between your legs. It’s crude, no precision at all, and yet still as painfully effective as his touch has always been on you.

He stops there over the heat of your sex, lets you whimper and rut against his cool metal.

“I thought you were small before,” He coos, his deepened, reverberating voice only makes you shiver harder in the palm of his hand. “Look at you now, aching for just the tip of one finger…” This, too, is alien now- a harsher tone that distorts his speech, like it’s been fed through an old speaker somewhere further down in his throat than it has been before.

“Rama…” You whine, grabbing at the edges of his rubber inlays. “Please…”

Ramattra hums, and even this noise has been altered by his new power, but does nothing to sate the heat in your belly.

“Here.” He says, and picks you up with his other hand. You make some sound in protest as being handled so casually, but honestly, the fact he lifts you even easier than before, that he just grabbed you like a doll— you whimper softly as he adjusts you, pushes you to lay back against the base of his thumb. This would be strange enough, except his fingers curl possessively towards you. The tip of his pinky sliding up along your thigh. It’s a good pressure, even if the angle is unusual.

Why he’s moved you becomes obvious only a minute later. His palm lowers, brings you level with his hips- and you watch, entranced as his other hand pulls off his pelvic plate.

What lies beneath is nothing like it was before. It had once been made specifically for you, for your tiny, fragile, human body- all purple translucent silicone and delightful waves, little nodules of firmness with his inlaid lights, now his cock stands as a monstrous obelisk, longer than you are tall. It’s dull silver, the same as his body though you aren’t sure if it is also now entirely metal, but it stands out with the base painted in that new red accent. The head is longer, less rounded and more pointed like an arrow, complete with a half-dozen more, smaller ridges beneath the head, almost making it look like a double sided key through the middle of the shaft. Below that, seams that match the ones on his faceplate run down the rest of the length- each glowing softly with purple light. And none of that is even what holds your attention.

“That’s certainly new.” Ramattra muses, gaze settling on the exact same feature this gift has given him. With his other hand, he touches the tip of his cock- and his fingertip comes away slick. A tiny slit in the head leaks a silvery purple fluid that slides lazily over the oblong head. Lubricant, some still functioning objective part of your mind supplies, but given the dubious origin of Ramattra’s benefactor, you can’t help but wonder if it is actually precum. Gods, you hope so. Heat builds in your belly, leaves unable to stop yourself from rutting against his finger as you watch him gently prod at his appendage. He smears the fluid across the tip, making it shiny and faintly purple- and heat rushes from his vents.

Cautiously, he curls two fingers around himself, uses the lubricant to ease his stroke. Above you, Ramattra moans- a shuddering soft little noise that you’d almost miss if you weren’t listening. And that alone is enough to make you grind harder against his fingertip.

You hear it as he turns, pistons shifting just so his gaze moves back to you. He watches, purple optics burning as you work yourself against his smooth new exterior- and when you tip your head back to look up at him, his chest rumbles in wordless praise. His grasp on himself adjusts, the slick noises of his fist gliding through lubricant even louder- and his finger presses harder into your skin. You gasp, brace yourself against the base of his thumb, nails digging into the little seams between plates as he rocks the finger against you.

You watch as the giant metal appendage rubs on you, nuzzling blindly between your legs. As thick as your forearm, the weight of it alone is thrilling. You adjust your position so he’s pressed right against your clit with every thrust, the underside of the finger slowly beginning to glisten with your own wetness.

“Yes,” He purrs, and you think it’s just how good his hand feels- lubricated and slick against himself. But as you look to him again. the light of his optics has darkened into a wine-like shade, locked perfectly onto your body writhing in his palm. Your grinding against him, your enjoyment of his body- that is the source of his pleasure. Heat surges through you, and if that wasn’t enough- “Keep going.” He urges you, his voice still new and staticky and rumbling and you can’t possibly deny him.

You dig your nails harder into his palm and meet each thrust- your noises a strained, staccato tempo in time with his movements, slowly building the pressure between your legs. It’s so imprecise, a blunt assault on your body that’s hotter more for the effort, for the slapdash connection you’ve forged than because of the sensation itself.

Until his digit slips too far up.

You choke; the plate of the last segment of his finger ends leaving you with a sudden little gap between his plates and with it, a complete lapse in pressure. This alone is jarring, but it’s the downstroke- the sudden return of the weight of him that makes your legs twitch around him.

And Ramattra- his head looming above you, so far away- does not miss this. In an instant, his motion changes, perfectly choreographed to rub the edge of the plate against your clit every single time. Like this, it’s not grinding, not the slow waves of incessant pressure, but an active stroke, flicking your clit like a switch-- one that keeps pace with the hand on his cock. And the pleasure shifts immediately, no longer a slow smoldering build, but a quick start tinderbox.

“Ramattra,” You gasp, clutching at him, hands scrabbling across cold metal as he ruts his finger against you- and in his lap his hand speeds up. Each stroke marked with a wet shlick of his own precum, the hum of his fans, the hiss of steam- and when you throw your head back all you see is purple. That gaze, knowing that he’s watching- it’s too much.

Your hips jump, desperately meeting each press of his fingertip, gasping, crying out his name as it pushes you over the edge. Your thighs tremble on each side of his finger, trying to clamp down on it and failing. When your body fails to keep its pace, his does not- keeping rubbing that edge of his plate over your clit again and again and again- dragging your high on and on in a merciless display for himself.

And Ramattra groans. Deep and loud, it vibrates through his entire frame, into every inch of your skin that touches his palm. You tear your eyes open, stare back up into his optics- blazing, burning orbs of light as his voice glitches, fights through static with every noise-

“A-ah.” His voicebox stutters, breaks as he fights to moan your name- and his body lurches forward. The purple light dims, flickers like a candle-- and you can’t even breathe as he cums. His hand works himself with a speed that must hurt, but from his chest he makes a noise you’d never known was him- like a radio going out of tune, pitched a half-step up- raw, unfiltered, erroneous data and he spills over himself.

His finger on your pussy finally stops, but there's no sleek offlining into a system reset- it's rough. All the air in his ventilation that was being pushed out suddenly reverses flow, his chest broadening in a desperate inhale. Silvery, lavender fluid coats his hand as his pace falters, slowing as he heaves, gasps through his orgasm in a way you’ve never seen him do before.

He keeps going- keeps stroking himself until his fingers tremble and another deep groan slips from his vocoder. He stops, lowering his hand to his hip and, gods you have no idea what this power has done to him because his cock twitches, a last few stray droplets of cum sliding down over his ridges, pouring down the seams in gorgeous, perfect streaks.

You shouldn’t, but your mind is still too lust hazed, still half grinding against his finger just from the sight of Ramattra’s cum. You reach out towards his soaked hand in a silent plea, grasping at the air. Whatever has changed in him means he must finally get his own afterglow, because Ramattra obliges, bringing his dripping palm to you. And oh, you shouldn’t, but there’s no logic in the world that could stop you from stumbling to the edge of his hand just to lean to the other and lick.

Your mouth tingles- and your first thought is fruit, that it’s sweet like juice. The second, however, is that it’s like licking a battery, but turned up to eleven-- like licking a car battery. It’s sour in a way you know isn’t physically possible, electricity manually activating your nerves in a way they aren’t meant to be. Tart and sparkling and it’s like grapes just before they’re about to ferment and damn Megatron because it’s not even bad.

You go in for another taste and Ramattra groans, apparently starting to come to his senses as he separates his hands, leaving you to collapse back against his fingers. Which is fine, as you immediately enjoy how the heat of your skin dissipates into his cool digits. Above you, you can see the plumes of steam still slipping from Ramattra’s vents, his optics dulled into an easy amethyst.

“That was… different.” He offers after a minute, his voice box slowly coming back to its regular working order, but still not pristine. “I’m not sure I appreciate this being messier.” He shifts his cum-coated hand, the fluid there slipping, shimmering in the light.

“Never seemed to bother you before.” You grin up at him, lazily lounging against one of his cleaner fingers and conjure images of how much of a mess you’ve left him with before- on cock and fingers and faceplate.

“I did not mind when it was your fluids.” Ramattra grumbles.

“Well,” You can’t help yourself, the endorphins making you too loose, too giddy to not prod at him. “Maybe you should have asked the alien warlord what he was going to do to your dick before accepting interdimensional power.”

A noise rumbles from Ramattra’s chest, something between a scoff and a laugh. “Yes, I’ll make sure to take notes for next time.” He rests there for a minute, content enough to relax and approach re-regulation and watch you do the same. Eventually, however. “I should clean up.”

You nod, stretch in his palm and prepare to climb down onto the floor-

His palm rises. You sink to your knees with the force of it, clutching at the seams below you as you turn, trying to figure out what he’s doing- and he brings you up to his shoulder. To his scarf. You blink a few times, but smile as you force your wobbling legs to work long enough to transfer yourself onto his frame.

The fabric is unwieldy to climb on, folded together in fat bunches that give way as you try to navigate them, reliant on the hard seams of Ramattra’s new body just to find a good perch. But the payoff is worth it. From here, his vent heat is everywhere. The steam has warmed the scarf thoroughly, leaving it toasty and soothing on your nude body. You don’t even have time to make a comment on how cozy he is before you’re slipping into an easy sleep.

[albed-hoe]

Heart-pounding Performance

Characters: Lyney x M!Reader

Summary: Lyney may be a bigger fan of Teyvat's greatest male popstar than he thought...

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of big crowds (I could never be a celebrity just for this lol)

Word count: 837

A/n: I’ve been obsessed with I Am by Ive (lol) for a couple of months now, but that didn’t really inspire me for anything I just felt like promoting my favs, go stream rnnnn!! This is by far the winning vote of the poll for the moment, if you haven't voted yet click this link because there are still 3 prompts that are pretty close and a bunch of days left on the vote!

You did have your fan base, but it seemed as if none other liked you as much as the Great Magician of Fontaine did.

A few months ago, Lyney had been caught up in an impromptu street magic performance at the Court of Fontaine. The crowd of onlookers huddled close with wide eyes as he made various objects disappear, seemingly into thin air. However, just as Lyney was about to make a whole deck of cards fly from one hand to the other, his eyes swept across the crowd only for them to lock onto yours. Unlike most of the crowd, you were watching with curious eyes, but without making a sound. Although you were further behind everyone else, Lyney still could not help himself from getting lost in those pools of [E/C].

And although it felt like he had been staring at you for an eternity, only a few seconds had passed before the whole deck of cards came fluttering down from the sky, scattering around his feet. The cards brushing against his face finally snapped him out of his daze. He stared at the cards in disbelief while he tried to find his bearings.

“Ah-” Was all he managed to utter before a shade of red crept onto his face. He, the Great Magician of Fontaine, had just messed up a trick in public. This was all because he had been ogling the greatest male pop star in all Teyvat, yourself.

All he managed to do was scratch the back of his head in confusion, his blush darkening when the crowd began to laugh. Not only that, but you were there watching, of all people… He looked up to see you smiling at him, chuckling in amusement. Great…

As he bent down to begin picking his cards up, the crowd got bored and dispersed. A few moments later, an elegant hand grabbed the same card he had just reached for, brushing against his. He lifted his eyes and met yours, his mouth hanging open.

“Oh, apologies, I just thought I’d help you pick them up!” You pulled your hand back and rubbed it nervously, looking away from Lyney. His mouth closed, and then he smiled politely, feeling better that he was not the only embarrassed one.

-

That was how you had met each other, attending each other’s shows every so often thereafter. Lyney knew of you before you had met in person, you were, after all, a very popular singer. His sister would even poke light fun at him for being a stan and for his puppy crush on you. What he did not expect, however, was to fall completely head over heels for you after your first meeting.

All this brings him to his current predicament: some of your fangirls were screaming at the top of their lungs at your performance, blocking the view of you on stage. Lyney was not tall, so this was a reoccurring problem for him at most of your concerts. His annoyance only grew as you finished performing a song, having seen you for a total of about three seconds. As you began talking to the crowd, the group of fangirls would scream their answers back at you at ear-piercing levels of noise.

“You know, I don’t think this night would be complete without inviting a lucky fan on the stage…” You said, his ears perking up. “Let’s see, how about…” Your finger travels across the audience, fans screaming louder when it passes by them. “You, over there! With the blonde hair!” Lyney looks up, your finger pointed at him in the crowd. One of the fangirls in front of him starts screaming, mistaking your pick for her.

“Haha, not you, silly. The boy behind you!” Confirming you meant him, Lyney gets ushered up the stairs to the stage by a security guard. He takes your outstretched hand in awe as he admires your tousled hair glowing in the spotlights. Your smile captivates him as you pull him towards the center of the stage.

“Hey guys, isn’t this the Great Magician of Fontaine, Lyney? What in Teyvat is he doing at my show?” You ask the crowd playfully. Oh, this was going to start some Twitter (not X eww😒) discourse later.

“Well, it’s good that he’s here, because I wanted to give him a little present on stage before we finish tonight.” You put the microphone down and turn to him, taking his face in your hand and speaking directly to him.

“Hopefully, this doesn’t start too many fan wars.” You tell him before leaning in and pressing a kiss on his cheek. The crowd goes wild as you pull away and smile at him. Lyney hears the girls who were blocking his view go crazy before he smiles back and holds your hands in his.

“I hope so too...” Twitter blew up over the next few days, but both your stan groups cross-stanned and shipped you together before the show, so their dreams came true as well.

I’m not super satisfied with this one but my brain was dry asl sorry :( I’ll probably be back after the weekend since I’ll be away without wifi. See you all soon!

[cf8wrk4u-us]

How The Lost Light Canceled The Hunger Games

Summary: To a Cybertronian, 200 years is nothing, barely a foot note in this peaceful time where bot are trying to rebuild their world and society.

But 200 years is a lot to humans though, 200 years is a lot for Earth in general.

Things change, humanity changes.

And as Cybertron will learn, not for the better.

But this is something the members of the Lost Light wouldn't stand for.

(Based on these ask given to @yes-i-write-fanfiction

https://www.tumblr.com/yes-i-write-fanfiction/735322098308890624/in-honor-of-the-ballad-of-songbirds-and-snakes?source=share

We're on a flat, open stretch of ground, a plain of hard packed dirt. 

Behind the tributes across from me, | can see nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even cliff. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, spars piney woods. This is where Haymitch would want me to go.

 Immediately.

I hear his instructions in my head. “Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water”

But it’s tempting, so tempting, when I see the bounty waiting there before me. And I know that if I don’t get it, someone else will. That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. Something catches my eye. There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting to be engaged. That’s mine, I think. It’s meant for me.

I’m fast. I can sprint faster than any of the girls in our school although a couple can beat me in distance races. But this forty-yard length, this is what I am built for. I know I can get it, I know I can reach it first, but then the question is how quickly can I get out of there? By the time I’ve scrambled up the packs and grabbed the weapons, others will have reached the horn, and one or two I might be able to pick off, but say there’s a dozen, at that close range, they could take me down with the spears and the clubs. Or their own powerful fists.

Still, I won't be the only target. I’m betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored an eleven in training, to take out their more fierce adversaries.

Haymitch has never seen me run. Maybe if he had he’d tell me to go for it. Get the weapon. Since that’s the very weapon that might be my salvation. And I only see one bow in that whole pile. I know the minute must be almost up and will have to decide what my strategy will be and I find myself positioning my feet to run, not away into the stir rounding forests but toward the pile, toward the bow. 

I notice Peeta, he’s about five tributes to my right, quite a fair distance, still I can tell he’s looking at me and I think he might be shaking his head. But the sun’s in my eyes and-

CRASH!

A symphony of broken glass and metal erupted across the arena, the once sunny and clear blue sky darkens into a mess of pixelated screens and  crumpling scaffolding. But that's not what had our attention. 

From the growing crack in the forcefield  was a large aircraft, far bigger than the Capital hovercraft that had brought us to the arena. It was colored in a bright orange red and yellow with tinted dark glass on its front, so massive was its size that it literally scraped the sides of the entrance it cashed through. Sending more of the broken structure to crash down.

My breath picked up, heart hammering in my chest as I saw the craft get closer and closer to us,  I noted absently how its shadow easily shaded over me the rest of the tributes. Practically eclipsing the whole arena. 

A part of me screamed to move, to run, I thought of images of a hawk as it swooped over a desperate rodent. But the rational part of myself firmly and calmly reminded me that I needed to stay still on the circle before me or I would end up in pieces from the land mines.

But even that became a physical struggle as the aircraft landed sending a heavy gust of wind that threatened to blow tributes back from their stands. I braced my knees and even as I couldn’t stay on I grasped to stay right on the circle. In fact I noticed how others did the same , but a few weren’t successful. Such as one male tribute, from District 5 I believed, who was sent tumbling off. I gave a quick look from my position, ready to hear and see a mess of explosions…but nothing happened.

Even the District 5 tribute, whose face had paled, was now looking confused at the fact he wasn’t a mess against the grass.

The gong hadn’t gone off, yet the mines were not active, so what had the trigger time run out?

Has the Hunger Games begun?

In my head the passing thought came of how this could just be a scenario made by the Gamemakers. 

That perhaps the games already started and here I was just standing like easy prey.

But as I heard another groan of metal from the collapsing field above, even I had to admit that was a stupid idea.

Even so, then what was happening?!

Finally the craft opened and a bridge slid down, then stepping out with a thump of metal and heavy footsteps were what I can only name as giants.

Giants covered, no, made of metal!

Then it barely took me a second to recognize what these beings were.

Transformers.

In our history books it always seemed that throughout Panem past and even before the creation of the country, humans have always been each other's greatest enemies. But as stated in our history books, thousands of years ago, there was another race of beings that almost wiped out the planet and the entire human race with it.

Aliens from another world, giant transforming robots known as Cybertronians.

Beings of metal brutality and cold indifference, a warring species who brought their conflict with one another to Earth and put humans right in the crossfires of it.

Only leaving once almost irreparable damage was done to the planet.

As a child and learning about them in class I sometimes would look to the night sky in terror at the thought that these aliens were still out there. Just hiding among the deceptively beautiful stars.

But after losing my father, struggling to hold what was left of my family together, and the helpless dread that came with the annual Reaping; I learned rather quickly that the monsters in real life were far scarier than that of thousand-year-old metal terrors that hadn’t been seen in ages.

What was there to fear of beings who hadn’t been interested in Earth for centuries?

How ironic that my only fear had been my fellow humans when it came to surviving the arena.

Four stepped out from the ship, taking the lead was a fiery red and orange mech whose colors matched the design of the ship. Next to him came the largest of the group was colored a deep blue and red with white high shoulder guards on each side. Besides them was the shortest of the group of Cybertronians, his dark armored body barely reaching the orange one's waist and who unlike his companions didn’t have a visible face of sorts but a blue visor that fitted their red and white helmet. And finally from behind was an imposing gray and black figure, whose armor may appear more subdued in coloring and design than his group, his helmet a simple flat triangular design, nonetheless was buff and strapping. Power practically screaming from just his image alone, and when his red eyes gazed over to us I couldn't help but shiver under their intensity. Not feeling any better when I noticed a sort of dark blaster on its right arm.

He seemed familiar, his image perhaps one I had seen in my aging textbook?

I didn't have the time to ponder further as they finally stepped away from the ship and made it to the grassy field of the arena.

Like earlier I shifted my legs for a sprint, forgetting all about the food and weapons, my eyes shifting to the large expanse of forest that would be the only way to try to avoid whatever these stalking giants had in stored for us.

It was the only plan I could think of, the safest choice, and I’m sure Haymitch would agree.

Is he seeing this? Is the Capital? The whole country? Do they know where being invaded-

“Hello, there”!

I was taken off guard as the orange and red Transformer, the presumably leader of the group, called out to us. His voice was jovial and the smile that spread across his metal face was friendly.

Nothing that gave me a reason to trust him.

His grin persisted as he marched closer only shifting as several tributes cried out and scrambled to escape.

“Wait! Wait”! The giant robot hurriedly said “It's okay”!

I didn’t stop in my sprint  till I made it to Peeta, not complaining as he firmly grasped my wrist and pulled me into a hurried pace.

We needed to leave, put as much distance as we could from these metal monsters.

“We're not here to hurt you”! The Transformer said in a surprisingly desperate tone “We're here to help you! Save you! Too Stop The Hunger Games”!

I nearly fell as Peeta stopped.

“Peeta”! I hissed trying to tug him towards the forest, but he refused to move instead looking dumbfounded at the robot. As if he believed what it was saying.

But as I looked around I could see the other tributes had stopped as well, with the ones who made it to the woods actually peeking from the edge of the treeline.

The red and orange robot's face morphed into a softer expression before he went down on one knee. 

I gestured I couldn’t help but recognize from my sister Prim when she approached the small scared animals she nursed back to health or in my mom to the anxious sickly children that were brought to be treated at our home.

This Transformer, this giant of a being, was trying to make himself smaller so that the tiny humans before him wouldn’t be frightened. 

That…didn’t sound like the hostile warring species from my history class.

I stopped trying to move Peeta.

Seeing that he had our attention the robot spoke again, his voice soft but clear.

“We're here to save you, you won’t have to die today, not for some game, and especially not for your Capital” he stood up before looking at the smaller Transformer “Rewind, are we ready”?

“Just about” they, Rewind, answered “Though before we start mind stepping a little to the left”?

“Huh, why”? Asked the leader

“Because captain, if we were trying to sell the whole “we don’t mean any harm” image maybe we shouldn’t be showing how we trashed their enclosure”? Rewind said 

The apparent captain looked to the shattered entrance they had created before sheepishly smiling “Yeah…better not let them see that yet”

“Doubt it will make much a a difference” said the gray and black Transformer, his voice was sharp and curt “No doubt their Capital already knows about the damage done to their little arena”

“This difference is Megs is that we're making a statement” said the Captain “One that has to be said as soon as possible, ready Rewind”?

“Whenever you are” said the smaller bot, tapping the side of his helmet.

I was confused why he did that till I noticed a redlight shinning on the side of his helmet, a video recorder perhaps?

With that the red and orange giant stood straight ahead, his gaze intense as he looked at Rewind “Citizens of the Capitol and Panem, we come in peace”!

CRACK! CRASH!

At that moment more scaffolding and material decided to come tumbling down into the arena as if to loudly object to the statement.

I winced at the noise and off to the side I could see the largest of the Transformers actually pinch his brow in an exasperated manner. A scene I could almost find funny.

 Despite this though the captain gave only a nervous chuckle before speaking again “This is Rodimus Prime, and despite our rather abrupt entrance, we have only the best of intention for our arrival” he face then became more serious “While I understand that as of now most of the citizens of this country recognize us in a hostile light, we Autobots,  many members of the Cybertronian race have viewed Earth and its people as sentient like minded beings. Ones who needed protection and safety when our war did unfortunately touch your planet. With some humans even becoming valued allies who fought besides us during such a perilous time” Rodimus stopped then, his blue glass eyes dimming even “After the war we left Earth, both out of a need to protect this planet from any further conflict we may have had  and out of respect for humanity who wanted to independently run their society once it was rebuilt, a wish we were determined to honor” his voice then harden as he continued “But recent discoveries and findings have forced us to decide to break this arrangement, this biggest being your so called Hunger Games” Rodimus practically spat that word out “A society whose higher caste who not only feeds greedily on it’s citizens but demands blood tributes out of its children, making a game out of their very lives! It will not continue! Not if I can help it”!

I watched transfixed as he raised a fist to his fiery chassis “I call an end to the Hunger Games! Starting now”! He calmed “Again this isn’t a message made out maliciously, I want more than anything to resolve this peacefully, I hope you can believe me citizens of Panem”

Rewind then made a gesture and Rodimus visibly relaxed, even giving a small laugh.

“So did we get all that”?

“Sent it right to our sources, hopefully it was enough to get it to the other Districts but you can bet those big cogs in the Capitol must have seen it”

“That's good” Rodimus nodded before beginning to walk “All we got to do is wait for now”

“You know Optimus Prime isn’t going to be happy about the stunt we pulled today” the gray and black one, Megs, spoke again.

“Well Optimus shouldn’t have been dragging his pedes over this,” responded Rodimus “But if anything just say you were following the captains orders, I’ll take the fall”

“I highly doubt he believed that” the blue and red Transformer said

Rodimus actually shrugged before looking our direction again, he gave another reassuring smile “Just hang tight” he said “I almost got you all out of this”

No one responded for the longest time, till in a quiet voice spoke out.

“Is this really happening”?

I couldn’t pinpoint who spoke, but that voice echoed a question I was asking myself.

Was this really happening? 

I recalled the proclamation made by the Transformer not even a minute ago.

An end to the Hunger Games.

No more Hunger Games.

The games were canceled.

Was this really happening? Barely a few minutes earlier I was ready to run for my life and fight against my fellow tributes in a bloody arena, but now I was being told that we didn’t have to fight by a giant metal alien.

I felt Peeta shudder beside me and when I looked at him I could see how wet his eyes were getting, he covered his mouth trying to muffle a sob. Without thinking I pulled him close and let his weight sag against mine.

I was ready to let our time in the tower be our final goodbye, knowing that the chances of us making it from the Cornucopia was slim at best and remaining allies had an even smaller chance.

But saying I wasn’t relieved would be a lie, I was relieved that the games hadn’t started, relieved that Peeta and I were still together, relieved that we were going to be okay.

And if a few tears and raspy breaths left my mouth I wouldn’t find myself ashamed for it.

When we were calm enough to pull away I looked to the other tributes; most  stood with their Districts. Some crying and clinging to one another, a few who decided to look through the packs of supplies littered around the arena, but most just staring at the Transformers that stood by their ship.

Well most of them.

The apparent captain, Rodimus, was actually walking leisurely towards the pond. Then literally popping open his chest cavity pulled out a pole of some kind that had a string at the end of it.

It took me a second to realize what he was doing.

“Is he…”? Peeta started

This Transformer, a giant metal warrior, a captain that led his own crew, and just broke into the Capitals arena and called an end to the Hunger Games; just plopped himself at the end of the water and began to fish!

Peeta actually coughed a laugh besides me “Can robots even eat fish”?

I didn’t know and wasn’t sure to find out.

But surprisingly enough Peeta let go of my hand and actually got towards the robot!

“Peeta”?! I whispered harshly “What are you doing”?

“I want to get a closer look at them” he said 

“Peeta, wait”! I said urgently “They’re Transformers, it might not be safe too-”

“They saved our lives Katniss and you heard them, they don’t want to hurt us” Peeta said but before he kept moving he held out a hand to me, encouraging me to take it.

I hesitated though.

Despite what these Transformers had done for us, despite their promises, I still didn’t feel comfortable putting myself in a squishing range of them.

Peeta gave me a disappointed yet understanding look and continued on. Surprisingly even some tributes began to take his lead, forming a small crowd.

The bot, Rodimus, began to notice their approach and gave a large smile at them. 

“Hello there,”!  he said 

None of the tributes worked up the nerve to greet him back verbally but I could see Peeta giving his own smile in return along with an energetic wave of his hand.

A part of me had to keep myself from rolling my eyes, it was just like Peeta to try to get people to like him. The games may have been over and these giants claimed not to mean any harm but Peeta was still trying to play it safe.

He really was clever like that.

But ultimately it wasn’t Peeta who opened up to the metal giant.

“You know how to fish”?

This came from the young 12 year old from District 4.

“Yup” Rodimus said “Back when I was stationed on Earth a good friend of mine taught me, I got really into it after that” He ended that by adjusting his line a little.

The District 4 boy's eyes widened before giving a curious gaze at the pond next to them.

“Do you think there’s anything in there”?

“I hope, in either case I’m just glad to be fishing again”! The robot said “I told myself that if I ever came to Earth again it would be one of the first things I did”! He stopped before asking the Tributes besides him “Do any of you fish”?

Again most stayed silent but the District 4 didn’t hesitate to raise his hand and say “My district is responsible for most of the fishing done, some of my father and uncles are even allowed on the boats to go to sea for the bigger stuff, we even have competitions during the season”

Rodimus' eyes seemed to glow brighter “Oh, so you're a bit of an expert huh”? He asked leaning closer “So what's the biggest fish you’ve caught so far”?

The young boy's face went red, from the freckles of his nose to the bouncy curls on his head.

“Um, just a couple of mackerel with my dads old fishing rod ” he said quietly almost embarrassed “I catch a lot more with nets with my friends”

“Mackerel! Wow that impressive”! The giant robot expressed eagerly “Most of my fishing is done in freshwater, I say the biggest I got was just  5 pound bluegill but boy was he a tough one-hey I didn't catch your name by the way”

“Luca” said the boy “Luca Alberts”

As the red and orange Transformer continued to chatter on about his fishing experiences the group of huns around him seemed to relax more and more, feeling at ease his casual attitude. And it seemed to affect some of the other tributes too who had previously kept their distance.

I moved closer to where Peeta was in the group, catching more of the conversation made by Rodimus to the District 4 tribute.

“So do you really hope to catch anything”? Asked the boy, Luca

“Who knows? Best way to pass the time anyway” Rodimus responded

“You might want to be careful” a voice suddenly said

It was one of the male tributes, I didn’t recognize him initially given he looked like another of the 14 year olds that were taken into the games. Then recalling a yellow suit I realized this must have been the tribute from District 3, his bright yellow dress shirt being the only thing that stood out in his rather dull interview with Cesar.

“You don’t know what might be inside the pond” the District 3 Tribute explained “The arenas are supposed to be set up with all kinds of traps, ones operated by the Gamemakers and ones set loose like the Mutts”

“Mutts” Rodmius said quietly “Right, those lab made animals they make” his happy expression turned into a somber one before his smile returned “Well, it’ll be fine! If there's anything dangerous lurking in these water, just trust your friend Rodimus to help”

He added a thumbs up that honestly felt corny, but seemed to please the younger tributes.

“I’d like to fish too”! Luca announced

Rodimus hummed unsure “Well, I only have one-”

“It’s fine” he stated before going to the nearest pack and rummaging through it “There pretty simple to make if you have the right supplies”

Rodimus nodded “Then I'll trust the expert on this”

The boy gave a proud grin though mad a disappointed sound at not fighting anything before moving onto the next pack.

From where I stood I gave another glance at Rodimus and his robotic teamates.

To be honest it wasn’t enough to say these were robots, the Capital miniature cleaning or delivering drones definitely fit the definition. There movements stiff and uniform, moved with purpose in their singular task.

But these Transformers, they moved as a human would. Maybe not with the same fluidity but unrestricted, like the armor they were wasn't just something attached to their bodies but actually a part of them. Even the metal on their faces, despite how alien they looked,  moved so easily. And given Rodimus examples, with so much expression and versatility.

How could metal and gears and inanimate material move and soften so much like flesh, like actual breathing beings.

Because they were alive obviously….

For years I had it in my head that these aliens were nothing but cold hearted machines of war. That's what our history books told us, showed us.

But then again those books were written by the Capital.

And the Capital says a lot of things.

 I looked at the large Transformers before me; Rodimus chatting with the other tributes, the smaller one Rewind holding the side of his face as he gazed around so obviously still recording, and finally to the two largest bots who stood rather detached from the rest of the group.

I part of me wondered how different things have been if Rodimus and his people had come sooner.

Would the first Rebellion have been successful, would the Capital still have demanded to Hunger Games, would their even have been a Hunger Games, would-?

My hypothetical thoughts were cut short when a piercing scream went through the air.

Turning I could see some of the tributes scattering away from the Cornucopia as the male District 2 tribute came barreling out of the entrance swinging a large sword.

“Stop! What are you doing”?!! cried Rodimus, quickly getting up and abandoning his fishing pole “Why are you fighting! Your free now! No one is making you kill anyone”!

The brutish tribute, Cato if I member his name,  looked at the robot and actually gave a snarky smile.

“Are you stupid”? he asked “Do you really think you can stop the games? That we'll let you”!

From behind him I can see more of the Career Tributes gather behind him, each brandishing their own weapons.

“We're here for a reason! And I'm not about to let you take that away from us”!

More tributes scattered as the pack of Carriers ready their weapons and stalk forward.

Despite everything, despite all of Rodimus hopeful promises, I'm sure that there's going to be death even if these aliens did call for an end of the games.

Really how stupid was I to believe them, how stupid I was for not grabbing a weapon, or not just running when I had the chance.

“That's enough”! Rodimus ordered taking a step forward, barely restrained anger in his voice “Stop this now or-”

But already Cato was rushing forward sword already at the closest, hapless target.

Luca.

The District 4 tribute quest for fishing line and other supplies had put him just close enough to Cato line of attack, he kneeled by an open bag, to startled or afraid to run.

Rodimus quickly moved , the ground quaking in his hurried step forward. Avoiding get accidentally trampled on I didn't notice when Peeta left my side till I saw him rushing past Rodimus bright orange feet right for Luca.

The instance was too fast and too slow at the same time, Peeta running to the boy, taking him his arms to try and pull him away from the attack, the sword swinging down and blood sprinkling out.

I can feel myself yelling, Peeta name clawing its way out of my mouth as I saw the sword about to swing back down again.

BOOM!

A roaring blast echoed through the air as a bright hot beam of purple shot over the heads of the Carrier tributes.

The arena grew hot, it felt like the very air was singed from that one blast. Leaving A smoking crater in the far off distance that no doubt could have easily sizzled away any puny human in its path.

It felt hard to breath and my stomach threatened to lurch the meager breakfast I stomached back at the tower. But still I turned my head to look at the cause of the blast.

The gray and black mech.

Everyone was silent, afraid too move. Even the Carrier tributes, who had been a savage pack thirsty for our blood were left shaking. The District 1 tribute actually scared off his feet, ass to the ground as he look terrified at the glowering red eyed Transformer.

"You wanna try that again”? the Transformer said, his voice like a rumbling storm, his still smoking cannon leveled at the group of Carriers “I came here because I thought I was saving innocent humans from a cruel game made by a tyrannical society, not a rabid creature who sees fit to attack his own kind" 

Cato stupidly tries to argue "Its the Hunger Games-"!

"And as my captain stated, there are no more games from here on out" said the bot, but his face actually looked to soften a bit "Your a Carrier tribute, from what I understand, you were raised for this, all of you" he cast his eyes to the rest of the group "Raised to murder, slaughter, and entertain...but understand that from here on out the games are done….but if you feel so free to continue fighting than do it" 

The cannon lights up.

"Come forward and strike, make your District proud, make your owners proud" 

Cato seemed to be hyperventilating, he turned to his fellow Carrier tributes but they were all shrinking away under the gaze of the giant robot aiming their weapons at them.

All of these Carrier tributes, made into these roughness killing machines for the benefit of the games, reduced to scared children.

I find it laughable if I wasn't fixed on a moaning Peeta lying on the top of a silent Luca.

But I didn't dare approach till Cato, with an almost wheezy cry, squeezed his blade one more time before throwing it away.

The others following his example.

I rushed forward trying to evaluate the damage, kneeling besides Peeta I carefully tried to move him on his back and off of Luca. The boy looked fine but I startled to see that Peeta had a long slash cutting across his right arm. Cutting deeply by his elbow before becoming shallow by his shoulder. Bleeding very heavily.

I did my best to press on the wound, the warmth stickiness of it pooling between my fingers.

Peeta eyes were open with pain but still he managed a strangled “Katniss…”

“You idiot”! I couldn't help but snap “What were you thinking”?! 

He was so close to getting out! Getting out alive at least!

A shadow overtook us and I looked to see both Rodimus and Rewind staring down at us.

Rodimus was clear with horror as he looked at Peeta's wound.

“Scrap” I heard him mutter, I didn’t know what it meant but couldn't help but share his sentiment.

The sleeve of my coat was already soaked with blood. I knew I couldn't continue on like this, then stupidly I member there was a pack besides me.

I grabbed at it hastily looking through, cursing as I only found a few crackers, a empty canteen, and a pair of socks.

Despite this I stretched the socks as far as I could, rembering from my mother and Prims work that no matter what I had to press to keep the blood in! Huh, even with something so obvious I still was failing.

“Here” a voice said and I felt a weight besides me.

It was the young girl from District 11, Rue, and in her hands was a roll of bandages.

Quickly grasping it I thanked her and made to work trying to wrap the wound. Rue wordlessly held up the arm gently to let me encircle it further, though Peeta gave painful gasps still.

“Let's try tying part of the arm” said Rue tapping just above his elbow “It'll help with the bleeding” 

I nodded following her instructions, just like I would if it were my sister and mother. I was never a gifted healer like them and I didn't have confidence in the wrappings as I still saw red peaking through the white of the bandages. But I was still too glad that it stopped spilling on the grass.

The shadow above us got bigger and I felt Rue press up to me while Luca fliched.

“Will he survive”? asked the gray and black Transformer

“I-I don't know” Rodimus said “Oh, slag, we really should have brought Ratchet”!

“To be fair he may nor have been as helpful considering this is a human and not a Cybertronian patient”

“Yeah but-will you put that thing away Megatron”! Rodimus suddenly yelled in frustration 

Megatron.

I felt my blood run cold as I finally realized why I recognized this specific Transformer.

Images of him, him and his Decepticons, littered the chapter of my history book.

Describing one of the leaders of the two waring Cybertronian factions, this bot name was meantioned as to put a face to the carnage that was the species of Cybertronians. Deemed so evil and callus for his not only his utter disregard of human life but in his delighted in the utter suffering and destruction to the organic life on this planet. Pictures and accounts left no room for nightmarish imagination.

He barely looked any different,  I could still recognize him.

This was him.

This was Megatron.

I didn't hesitate to push myself in front of Peeta and the younger two. Despite knowing I was helpless to anything he want to do to us.

“It was just too prove a point” said the metal ravager “Wasn't even looking to maim”

“That's not the point Megs-”! Rodimus would have continued if the whole arena didn't begin to shake causing even the giant robots to become unsteady on their feet.

Suddenly the forest erupted in a burst of flames! And the once tranquil pond bubbled ominously, growing inside till literal waves were sloshing closer to the field the stood.

“I believe the Gamemakers are not too happy with us interrupting there game” said the blue and red bot named Mags as he approached his captain.

Getting a serious face Rodimus loudly ordered “Grab the humans, were getting out of here”!

Rodimus kneeled before us “We got to leave” he said before cupping his metal hand and holding it low “I know your friends hurt but we gotta move you guys”

There's a lot I can distrust Rodimus for, being a Cybertronian for 1. and having Megatron on his crew for 2.

But seeing the earnestness in his blue glass eyes and knowing staying in the arena meant only death, I could only silently shuffle Peeta onto the bright red metal with Rue and Luca following behind us. The metal felt oddly warm beneath me.

“That's it little buddies ” Rodimus said encouragingly “There we go” 

His fingers curling as the only warning before Rodimus lifted us up to a dizzying hight, from their I could see the other bots Mags and Rewind collect the rest of the tributes with surprising gentleness.

Something I also noticed is Megatron himself, simply standing there and staring at the Carrier tributes who panicked as the ground around them began to muddy as the tide of the water lapped at their feet.

I guessed that the metal destroyer maybevwanted to finish the job,but to my surprise he leaned down and scooped up the scared tributes. 

Soon enough Rodimus and the others rushed us towards their ship

It started dark before opening to a control room full of machinery and screen monitors.

“Magnus, get us ready for lift off” said Rodimus before going towards a large glass tank and gentle settling us inside there. Rewind did the same to the two tributes he held and the bot Mags/Magnus set down the rest.

There was some hesitancy as Rodimus saw Megatron with the Carrier tributes but he only made a clicking noise before jumping into one of the seats, no doubt the Captain chair.

“Are we ready”?

“Thrusters on captain”!

I barely felt the ship move but on the monitors is clearly showed us soaring above the almost decimated arena and lift towards the dome. I shuddered and continued to hold Peeta as once again the ship jolted as it scrapped against the size of the force field.

“Rodimus, I'm detecting several hostile flight carriers coming our way”

“Guess they really didn't appreciate our little peace demonstration” Rodimus said dryly as he gripped the steering device.

The monitors showed what was obviously Capital shuttles coming at the ship. 

There was a violent shudder from the side of the ship.

“Rodimus…should we engage” said Magnus quietly 

Rodimus voice was determined as he said “No, we agreed we weren't taking any lives today” but then an almost cheerful tone came to his voice “But I got something else in mind”!

The ship gave a jerk and I felt myself bracing against the surface of the tank.

“They want to chase us, then we'll go somewhere they can't follow”!

Despite the optimistic way he spoke it was becoming worryingly hard to breath.

“Rodimus” Megatron said in a stressed tone “Rember the elevation, the humans-”

“I think I know how to transport humans” Rodimus said sarcastically, but I couldn't help but notice that it was getting easier to breath.

I coughed and checked on Peeta, concerned how paled he was though with how alert he looked I was still hopeful.

The jostling stopped and soon it was a smooth ride. Though not a comfortable one as Megatron gazed at all of us within the tank.

I did my best to meet his gaze fearlessly, my eyes flickering to the scared Carrier tributes still in his hands. The squirmed and cried, terrified to be in the hands of a titan who could easily squish them.

The one-sided stare off was broken by Rodimus hysterical laughter “We did it! We did it”! the bot practically leaped from his seat to fist pump the air “We saved the humans and showed those higher cassette up”

“Yes” Magnus said in a tired voice “With 23 anxious young humans and 1 injured tribute in our care”

“Well, we can figure it out” said Rodimus jovially “Doesn't this prove we can do anything”? 

“Rodimus-” started Magnus 

“Oh, we need to get ready to dock”!

The way Magnus sighed you would think he was a  tired parent to a rambunctious child and not the crew member following his captain.

There was another shudder and soon a bright light entered the hall we had come from, soon Rodimus left his seat to the tank we were in.

He was all smiles as he began to roll the very platform our tank was on towards the entrance.

“Your safe now, your safe” he kept murmuring.

I wondered if it was more for his assurance then for our sakes.

The light at the end of the hall was blinding but when we emerged from it a roar of cheers followed.

“WE'RE BACK”! yelled Rodimus

As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see we were in a large hangar of some sort and inside it a group of Transformers stood, bots of versions colors and sizes all whooped and hollered in congratulations to Rodimus and his group.

Once we got closer several of them surged forward.

“You actually got them”? said one with sharp helmet a grey face and red marking around his eyes.

“Ha! I wish I could have seen the faceplate of those Capital jerks when you burst in there” said one bot who only had a single yellow glass eye that made up his greenish blue helm.

“Are these humans”? one small white and blue bot asked as they struggled to look at them from the height of our platform “They're so cute”!

A purple Transformers with a narrow face and red eyes leaned forward “One of thems injured”

“Scrap”! Rodimus said “Ratchet?! Where's Ratchet”?

“I'm here”! called a gruff voice, a red and white mech pushed through the crowd “What happened”?

“Um, we ran into some complications” said Rodimus gesturing to Peeta “Can you help him”?

“A human patient” the robot frowned “I can try, but I can't promise I'll be as much use given how long it's been and what supplies I have ir should I say don't have”

“Haha, he just being modest” Rodimus said nervously looking at Katniss “But he'll be in safe servos” 

That obviously didn't assure me and both bots could tell as I held Peeta close to me.

The one called Ratchet came forward before lowering his hand into the tank, tributes did scramble back till it was only me and Peeta before the metal hand that was as big as a storage door.

“I see your worried for your friend, I understand” he said “ But I need to take a  look at him, it's the best way to ensure his wound is properly treated”

“Your not a human” I found myself saying “You don't know what your doing”

“This isn’t my first time with an injured human, it's just been some time and I don't exactly have what I need….” He stopped before saying “He looks like aid was administered, was this your work”?

I nodded but admitted “I had some help”

Ratchet hummed and nodded before nudging his hand more instantly towards me “You can come along, perhaps you could help me treat him”

I gulped looking between him, the hand, and a grimacing Peeta. Then finally helped push Peeta onto the outstretched hand before placing myself onto the cold metal of the palm. I braced myself as once again lifted by a metal giant.

Ratchet began to quickly walk away with us, but I could still hear Rodimus speaking.

“Megatron make sure you keep those tributes separated” he instructed curtly, obviously talking about the Carrier group.

His voice became more lighter as he said “As for the rest of you, I want to welcome you all to the Lost Light”!!!!

[painting-warhammer]

C’Tan Shard of the Deceiver in the style of Sonichu (CWC)

I lied. This is my favorite figure. Commentary under cut.

#1: Rule Number One Is That You Gotta Have Fun

The other two figures I painted had ups and downs--days genuinely ruined and many frustrated moments where I just hated everything about this hobby and everything I was making. I'm sure this is no strange feeling to any artist, but since I kinda gave up on art over a decade ago only to pick this up after that decade, it really felt like that heartbreaking moment of making something that you know was bad and not improving fast enough.

I never had that for one second while painting Sonichu. I honestly giggled to myself a lot when I worked on him. When something fucked up (note how I didn't make as good of a glowing effect on the eyes) I just took that as "Well, that's just me being accurate to the original art." When something went well, I learned something that I would be able to apply in the future. If you look closely at the quills and the chest, you'll see that this was the first time I tried edge highlighting to get more of a good lighting effect. On top of that, I just used Baharroth Blue without a base paint, but rather as a base paint that I later darkened with a Tyran Blue shade wash for the creases in the sash. I did the same for the skin near on his abs and arms. (I should have made them blue. Damn.)

I also didn't get so bogged down in being accurate to the inspiration, or became better at knowing what to pick and choose. For example: Sonichu doesn't have a sash, of course. Instead, I decided to go with the color of the banner in Issue #0.

There was a point I briefly considered learning how to actually make a decal, then taking the title to be plastered on the front of the model, but I decided against it. I even considered some yellow streaks to give him a bit of a glow, but if you look at the base you'll see some of the experimental wetblending I tried (and would hypothetically cover later) and it just didn't look good.

Also the feet. Sonichu does have a distinct color for his shoes, but I just shrugged and figured it was more correct to just keep it in line with his hands on the model. I made the hands in the hideous style of the Bad Trailer Sonic, and figured the feet would probably follow the same principle. Besides, the sash had enough blue as it is.

#2: Rule Number Two - Just Don't Get Attached, Too

I said I had fun at all stages painting Sonic'hu, and I meant that. The painting part, that is. Gluing was a disaster.

If you're new to the hobby, understand this: Older models, things from the 90's or earlier, are produced using a plastic resin. It's very light gray (left) while the newer stuff has a dark gray tint and is made with a different kind of plastic.

Now Citadel sells ONE (1) glue, pictured to the left. It's a very good glue for the DARK GRAY plastic. It looks like this. Some people use the one on the right, but the listing on Amazon is apparently sketchy as hell and comes empty because they can scam you out of your money since you can't return or refund liquids. So I never fw it; if I encounter it in a hardware store or hobby shop, I'll pick it up and give it a shot.

This is all to ultimately say that in spite of Citadel selling only ONE KIND OF GLUE, that ONE GLUE cannot hold light gray resin figures together AT ALL.

I don't have pictures, but God was it frustrating. Sonic'hu would CONSTANTLY fall apart while drying. I would be holding his arm in place; the head would fall off. His spines would fall off. He'd flop over on his base. Even after priming him, his arm fell off again, and you can see his face is a mess of when my fingers were just covered and glue and I was just holding him in place frustratedly. I tried like three different glues (not including Tamiya, but Krazy Glue was one) and I don't remember which one worked.

However, whether Tamiya works or not, I actually did have to go back to resin on a different figure recently. I went through my old man's drawer and found this.

It's unreal how good this is. Put this on resin, and the plastic itself comes apart easier than the glue does. It also works okay on the dark gray figures, but I've had the odd part come undone and I went back to the Citadel Glue.

Fair warning though--I'm praising this version of Loctite specifically. There are a few varieties, and I can't say much as far as their quality, but I read online that the ones with an extra long cap tend to dry out and be unopenable later. This Gel Control version doesn't give me any problems like that, though.

#3: Rule Number Three - Wear Your Heart On Your Cheek

My only regret is not going harder with this.

There were some gemstones at the bottom of this model and I literally don't remember what happened to them. I was going to paint them like Chaos Emeralds, originally. Then I saw a paint job of the model that had stones encircling the C'tan Shard like he was making them rise up Dragonball style, and the thought came to mind to get little Chaos Emerald replicas to look as though they were orbiting him. (Unfortunately, Etsy pretty much only had them in a set size, and though Sonic'hu was the largest figure I'd worked on, he was too small to have those orbiting around him.)

I also wanted to learn how to model with Green Stuff using this model; there was a point where I considered making the actual sneakers, but more importantly the Pikachu ears and the one additional spine to bring it up to six total. I didn't not want to do that when I bought it, actually, but after the glue had settled after so much effort I was utterly sick of the prep phase and just went straight to painting.

There's also a little Necron that is at the base of the C'Tan that I also haven't painted, but the reason for that is that I am considering how to do the CWC's "The Classic" shirt on his rib cage. I keep waiting for the inspiration to strike.

So that's Sonic'hu. Honestly, having a shitpost figure was something that helped me be a little less afraid of failure and take chances, make mistakes, and get messy. I would resume tryharding by the next figure, and ultimately paint, in my opinion, my best figure yet.

[frostbitebakery]

Progress Shots For My Entertainment

A Journey

A few people have mentioned how they like getting WIP pics of a drawing I’m working on and see it go through all five stages of grief whilst I slowly go insane. So how about I do all that but in a post?

Behold! Pirate Dancing.

It came to me upon a dream and ballroom-esque pirate music. But I really, really wanted these two specifically to dance and I begged @elwenyere to let me. She agreed 💜

Like everyone else, I start out with the messiest sketch and proudly show it off in hopes it goes on the fridge. Subsequently in step 35664338 I clean up the sketch to something coherent, though the lineart barely makes it to the very end. It’s a mix of part of the art and helping guides for where goes what.

Followed by more tedious work of choosing flat colors. Which is the worst. I wrangle with layers so connecting flat colors aren’t on the same layer. Everything goes into alpha lock, just like the rest of my sanity.

Then the fun starts.

Hair 😍

It’s the first thing I shade. I gotta have the hair down before shading faces. It somehow does not work vice versa for me. Faces absolutely have to be next. If they’re not to my liking, the whole work stalls. Cody’s face in this gave me so much grief. He went through five or six similar iterations before I settled - and was satisfied - with the version that’s in the finished work.

The rest of the shading is me bullheading through it piece by piece, cursing myself for being anal retentive. Especially the leather and leather embossing was… there was so much leather. The look is achieved by a brush that’s called “Old Metal”. Personally I don’t think it looks like old metal but it’s fantastic for leather. I have a few darker and lighter shades and I use the brush in different sizes and opacities to wrangle a leather look out of the flat mid-tone base. The symbol of the embossing is on a separate layer above the flat color, with the mode set to multiply and layer opacity anywhere between 15 to 30%.

Once I get all of that done, I play around in post-production. I throw effects at it, adjust color temperature and saturation. I enhance light reflections on metal. Lighten up places that suddenly look too dark, darken parts that suddenly look too light. Post-production is very much the stage where I really choose an overall vibe. Which is why I send WIPs through post to get a feel of what I should work towards during shading.

And get new perspectives on a work. :P

[ticklishraspberries]

Teeth (Alex/Henry)

Summary: Alex makes good on a promise he made via email, and discovers something interesting about Henry. (Somewhat based on an anonymous prompt, and on one of Alex’s canon messages to Henry in the book. Hope y’all enjoy!!)

Alex had just been teasing when he sent the email, but the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to follow through on those words: “I’ll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you’re in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you ‘baby.’ I’ll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart.”

And so, the next time Henry is around, Alex decides to do just that. They’re making out in a hotel room, as they’ve done plenty of times before, but the time they’ve spent apart adds to the desperation of it all.

Kissing at Henry’s neck, Alex experimentally nips at the pale skin, resulting in a small gasp. He knows it’s a terrible idea, but he isn’t thinking about paparazzi or makeup artists or public appearances as he begins to worry a bruise on the side of Henry’s throat.

“Marking me up doesn’t seem very wise.”

Mind-reader. “I promised to take you apart with my teeth, though.”

Henry’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. “Do it somewhere that I can hide, at least.”

Alex pouts but complies, pulling away from his neck and observing the red spot — it should fade quickly, but Henry is so pale, the mark sticks out. Oops!

“Where do you suggest I go, baby?” he asks, smirking as the pet name results in a shiver. “I believe I also promised to make you admit how much that gets to you…”

Henry covers his eyes with one hand, smiling like a fool and shaking his head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You know it turns me on when you use big words.”

They both laugh, easily switching between dirty talk and silly banter. Since Henry failed to answer his question, Alex takes it upon himself to gently sink his teeth into Henry’s right shoulder, resulting in a groan.

His mouth wanders, trailing kisses, nips, and licks along smooth skin. He even dares to dart his tongue out to tease one of Henry’s nipples, which causes a hilarious noise somewhere between a moan, a gasp, and a giggle.

It’s a ridiculous sound, so why does Alex find it so fucking hot? He trails kisses past Henry’s sternum and down his belly, pausing to nip the softness below his navel, just above where his pantline would be, if he were wearing any pants.

Henry squirms, and it's the first time he’s put up any sort of physical resistance so far, and it stops Alex in his tracks.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

Henry nods. “Yes, it’s perfect.”

“You just got a bit wriggly there, I wasn’t sure if you were trying to tell me to stop.”

“If I wanted you to stop, I’d tell you,” Henry assures him, reaching a hand out to stroke the side of his face. “It just feels…odd, in some places, I suppose.”

“Odd?” Alex quirks a brow. “Odd how?”

Even in the low lamplight, Alex observes Henry’s blush darken even further. 

“It’s just…sensitive.”

Alex is about to snark at how unspecific of an answer that is before an idea pops into his head. “Did that tickle?” he asks, unable to hide the mischievous smile that curls on his lips.

“No,” Henry replies, far too quickly to be believable, and Alex is clambering on top of him in an instant, trying to hold his hips and legs in place. He returns his mouth to Henry’s belly, barely ghosting the skin with his lips.

Perhaps it’s the light, playful mood, or the anticipation of the inevitable, but Henry starts to giggle after just a few moments. It’s completely and utterly adorable, and Alex just about melts.

“How did I not know about this?” he asks. “How dare you not share this important information with me, your best friend. How will the tabloids believe that we actually like each other if I don’t know everything about you, Your Highness?”

Henry’s hands do little to bat him away, twitching beneath each brush of skin. Alex can’t stop grinning like a dumbass.

“Cut it out,” Henry whines. “You’re killing the mood!”

“I disagree,” Alex replies. “I have the Prince of England helpless under my touch, breathless and blushing. I’m tickling a member of the monarchy! Is this some kind of crime?”

As he talks, his fingers join the game, spidering up Henry’s sides and keeping a steady stream of laughter pouring from his lips.

“Yes! This is punishable by death!” he cries.

“It’d be worth it,” Alex says without thinking, and then, since that feels too sincere, too vulnerable, he leans down to blow a small raspberry on Henry’s stomach, a stupid thing that June used to do to him when he was a kid, and it just seems like a natural way to distract from his words.

Henry didn’t react too strongly, but Alex could feel his muscles twitching under his lips. “Please—”

“Begging already?” Alex asks. “Tell you what: I’ll stop tickling you if you say you love being called ‘baby’. And, add that I’m awesome in there somewhere.”

Henry's laughter kicks up a notch as Alex’s fingers find the soft curve of his waist and squeeze. “Never!” he still manages to reply.

Alex takes his time exploring different spots, poking and pinching all over the torso before him. There’s a charming, almost boyish quality to Henry’s laughter, mainly when Alex focuses on his ribs.

“Okay, okay!” he finally gives in, hands batting uselessly at the offending fingers. “I’ll say it!”

He could be really mean and make Henry spit his confession out between those sweet giggles, but he’s feeling generous this evening, and slows his touches to a stop. “I’m all ears.”

Henry refuses to look at him as he catches his breath before murmuring, “I like it when you call me ‘baby’…And, you’re awesome, I suppose.”

“A little cheeky, but I’ll accept it.”

Henry slumps back against the mattress, and Alex moves to lie down beside him.

“You are a menace to society,” Henry says.

“I got you to admit it though,” Alex replies, smug as ever.

“You used more than your teeth, though.” It almost sounds like a challenge.

“Maybe next time.”

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

another snippet! my first Flight Rising one, featuring my darling couriers Honey and Grace having a chill time <3

~

If he had to choose his least favorite place in Sornieth, Honey wouldn’t hesitate to name the Southern Icefield. More specifically, port Hillberg.

The ramshackle town nests at the base of the Cloudscrape Crags, near where the continent starts to break apart into the Floes. It’s large, but shabby - tarp and rope holds together half of the buildings. Honey suspects that the residents simply couldn’t be bothered to rebuild time and time again. Sparse vegetation dots the steep landscape, if it could be called one. The dragons who have made Hillberg their home are just as blunt and harsh as the environment.

None of these things are strangers to Honey. Perpetual bad moods and subpar architecture aren’t what makes him dread every delivery to the region.

No, no… it’s the wind. 

The constant, inescapable, Shade-cursed wind. 

It isn’t that Honey doesn’t like wind - oh, he does. He hails from the Windswept Plateau, and spent his happiest years tumbling through gusts and zephyrs. His blood sings in the air. 

Hillberg’s wind, though, is an utter nightmare.

At best, it’s a frigid breeze that even a tundra can feel through their thick coat. At worst, it’s a howling force barreling down from the Crag’s peaks, tearing through Hillberg with a vengeance. It carries biting flurries of ice and sleet with it, leaving a trail of frost and unfortunate frozen creatures in its wake. Everything not bolted down is lost in moments. Hillberg is lashed together and fixed to the earth to withstand the daily barrage. 

It’s so terrible that ropes line the streets for dragons to cling to so as to not be blown away in the gales. Wings are bound, claws are left long for purchase. Hillberg’s larger inhabitants have an easier time of it, but they’re few in numbers. The majority of residents are too small to withstand the greatest winds.

This horrible natural force even has a name - the Crag’s Breath.

Honey wouldn’t give it such a tame title. It’s a roar, a howl, a bellow. It rivals the Crescendo’s outer winds.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to put up with the Breath’s ordeal all that often. Hillberg doesn’t get many deliveries, and Honey isn’t the only courier available on this route. More often than not Honey gets months between trips here - sometimes he gets even luckier when the Breath isn’t howling during his brief stop. 

That luck isn’t holding this time around. 

Honey untenses one of his talons to flex feeling back into his claws. It’s a useless endeavor, of course. It serves him right for not wearing full gloves. He shivers and puts his talon back down, curling his claws into the frozen divots they’ve carved. A gust hits him from the side, and he clenches his leg muscles to keep from staggering.

The wide, desolate landing zone offers no comfort. The frozen ground yields no natural protection from the freezing wind, and the setting sun gives no relief. The gales yank at his apparel, his tail, his tightly folded wings. Honey doesn’t dare imagine what would happen if he opened them.

It’s cold. So devastatingly cold. The chill cuts right to Honey’s bones, and he’s certain that he’ll never be warm again.

During times like these he curses his lifestyle. Being constantly on the wing keeps him fit and light. Not enough fat lingers in his muscles to provide insulation, and his lithe form struggles to withstand the wind. He rarely meets a dragon larger than himself, yet right now he feels no bigger than a fae.

Honey huffs through his nose and glares across the icy field at the lights in the distance. The debris from the Breath and the shadows deepened by the waning sunset cast Hillberg into a darkening haze. Soon all that will be left of it in Honey’s sight are the lights. Those too will vanish as everyone hunkers down to wait out the brewing storm. 

At least the wind doesn’t allow ice and snow to melt on him. The only thing worse than being in the Breath is being in it while wet. 

If only his welcomers would hurry. In Honey’s opinion, the protocol Hillberg has for arrivals - especially inter-regional ones - is absurd. Honey always has to wait an hour or more before they lead him into town, and more importantly, shelter. He wouldn’t mind it if the Breath wasn’t active, but at this rate he really will freeze in place. At least Hillberg would have a shiny new statue for their proverbial doorstep. 

In truth, though, Honey is being dramatic. Even if he was forced to wait all night, he’d survive. It would be long and miserable, but he would make it to sunrise. It isn’t him that he’s worried about.

It’s his assistant, Grace. 

Honey crouches lower and cranes his neck to try and peer into his scarf. His slush-smeared goggles blur everything into indistinct shapes and monochrome colors. He shoves his nose into the scarf and snuffles - he can smell her, he thinks, but she hasn’t moved in some time.

“Grace,” he grunts. The wind snatches his words away, and he says louder, “Grace!”

Tiny talons push his snout, and he pulls back. Grace peeks out from the navy folds to peer up at him. Getting a read on her expression is impossible - the helmet and goggles betray nothing. Despite how sheltered she is, the wind still snags at her frills and presses them around her face. 

“Hanging in there?” Honey yells.

Through the blur, she nods.

“Still warm?”

Grace makes a show of shrugging before burrowing back down. She squirms further down into the scarf to rest where Honey’s neck meets his chest. Hopefully both the scarf and the thick arctic coat provide enough insulation for her, along with her own matching apparel. Not enough of his own body heat will seep through - staying warm is up to her. Still, Honey wishes that he could tuck her into his jacket. 

Honey shakes out his frosty mane and casts another look at the vanishing town. The guideropes staked into the ground leading there dance in the wind, empty. 

Please, he thinks as a violent tremor wracks his body. He lifts a talon and immediately lurches forward - he slams his haunches down and angles against the wind. He rests the lifted talon over Grace. The faint press of her eases the knot in his ribs, though it won’t entirely untangle until they’re both out of the cold and warming by a fire.

It was a harsher trip than usual, getting here. Usually the route takes them along the Floes, where they can rest at established checkpoints along the way. But the first checkpoint had directed Honey to make one continuous arcing journey over the ocean to Hillberg. Why, he doesn’t know yet. There was some sort of issue. 

What he does know is that he’s beyond exhausted. Flying for so long unbroken is well within his capabilities, but it isn’t fun. Not to mention that the transition into Hillberg airspace had nearly knocked Honey out of the sky. The battle to the landing field almost did him in - his limbs almost gave out upon landing. Only half of his current trembling comes from the weather.

As soon as they’re in the hanger, Honey is sure to collapse and sleep for hours. It will set back their schedule, but it’s a much needed rest. Especially so if they can’t take the Floes for the return trip.

Honey hunches his shoulders higher. At least his folded wings protect the courier satchels. It would be horrific if the straps broke or the clasps came undone. Dozens of letters, documents, and parcels all spilling out and whisking away into the sea… Honey’s next tremor isn’t so much of a shiver as it is a shudder. He might throw himself into the ocean after them if that happened.

Frantic tapping against his talon shakes him from his thoughts. Honey’s eyes snap open and focus on Grace, who’s frantically waving and pointing. He follows her gaze and relief soars in his ribcage. 

A tundra slowly struggles towards them in the growing darkness. They’re big and burly for their breed, though that must be the uncountable pounds of fur covering their body. They remind Honey of the giant shaggy goats he sometimes sees while flying over the Icefield. 

The tundra stops, gripping the thick rope with both claws as they angle themself into the wind so that they’re nearly sideways. Their fur billows around them. When Honey lifts his head, the tundra jerks their own towards Hillberg. They carefully turn around to make the return journey.

Thank the Windsinger.

Honey helps nudge Grace back down to safety, and they spend a moment making sure she’s secure. Once they start walking, Honey won’t be able to spare her a moment of attention - he’ll be too busy staying upright. 

The Breath gusts under and around Honey as he stands, filling the new openings. He curses and stumbles. One talon slips on an icy patch, nearly sending him to the ground. In any other situation, Honey would be embarrassed about shuffling forward with his hindquarters still tucked. It must look ridiculous, but it’s the most stable position. 

Honey moves as quickly as he can manage, though even that is still slower than he’d like. It only takes a few minutes to catch up with the tundra. They don’t seem to be struggling, which is expected of an experienced Hillberg resident. Still, it can’t be easy.

“Would you like assistance?” Honey yells over the howling wind. The tundra looks up at him, and he moves the wrist of his wing away from his body to open up a pocket the tundra could climb into. 

They regard him for a moment through their own goggles, then at the long path ahead. They nod. Honey crouches as low as he can and angles his wing to create a buffer from the wind. The tundra lets go of the rope and flings themself at him, clinging to his thickly-padded shoulder. They clamber into the offered pocket and press up against his side, their fur frigid against the seam of his wing. Once they seem secure, Honey closes his wing tight and continues the trek. 

Each stride gets slower, and Honey’s legs tremble more with every one. The lights grow brighter and streak across his goggles, incandescently blinding him. The path curves up as he heads to the mountain-carved bunker.

This isn’t the worst weather he’s withstood, Honey reminds himself. Yes, it’s freezing. No, he can’t feel his own body anymore. But when has that ever stopped him? He has deliveries to make, including two lives tucked against him.

The icy soil finally gives way to an equally cold stone plaza. Honey staggers across it to the huge door. Carved stone and wood arc into an overhang, jutting directly out of the foothills and offering very little relief from the Breath. The hanger is the only area entirely safe from the wind -  something carved into the earth itself can’t be blown away. 

Honey slams his shoulder against the thick heartwood door, tough as iron and sturdy as the Crag. He leans desperately against it, flagging fast. 

Eternal seconds drag by.

Snowflakes gather in Honey’s exposed fur. 

The sun’s final light fades from the horizon.

The door shudders, groans, and lifts. The horizontal slats fold into the roof, and Honey yearns for the firelight spilling from inside. Only a couple more steps, now. Only another minute or two.

Honey squeezes through as soon as the door lifts enough for clearance. He slips into a long, warm hallway ending with the glow of a roaring fireplace. The door slams back down behind him, nearly landing on his tail. The door locks into place.

The abrupt silence almost hurts. Honey blinks hard and tosses his head against the ringing in his ears. The crackling of embers is barely audible. 

A tap against his side - ah, right. Honey uncurls his wing to let his passenger out, wincing at his frozen stiff muscles. The tundra jumps to the floor and shakes themself out. Ice crystals fly from their fur to shower the ground in glittering bits. 

“Thank you,” the tundra says, her voice clear in the hall’s calm. When Honey inclines his head, she butts her head against his wing and inhales deeply before trotting down the hall. He hopes she remembers his scent as an ally. 

“We’re in the clear,��� Honey murmurs into his scarf as he pushes himself forward once more. Just a little further.

Grace clambers out of his scarf. She shakes herself before launching into the air, flitting in Honey’s blurry peripherals and performing complex acrobatics. That’s one way to warm herself. 

Only part of the bunker’s warmth reaches Honey, and he still feels frozen. His apparel crunches with every step. The stone floor seems to burn under his talons, even though it’s surely cold. Grace perches on his unbroken antler as they enter the bunker proper.

There aren’t many dragons inside, shockingly enough. The tundra he already met is settling into cushions set up by the circular fireplace. Three more tundras lounge about, along with a ridgeback that looks Arcane, a young guardian brooding in the corner, a pearlcatcher who already seems set on ignoring him, and a few specks that may be faes or spirals. Perhaps both.

Not that any of this matters much to Honey. He only has eyes for the empty cushions surrounding the blazing hearth. He stumbles towards it even as his vision tunnels until only the bright firelight remains. 

Just a little further.

A few more steps.

One more…

Honey is unconscious before he hits the ground. 

[ozonecologne]

like HOW did you do the shading on that lnx piece!! the velvet?

🥰 I will happily walk you through my layer process for this piece!

First, I do a sketch of my subject from reference to get the general shape of things. Once I'm happy with it, I line everything in solid black with a default hard round brush.

You can see the outline of the durag above the forehead here, and my navigation panel to the right that shows where in the piece this is overall. This canvas was 8.5x11 inches at 720dpi, so I think the size of this outline brush was 15px? I think the smaller lines were a 5px, used with a really low pressure.

Once everything is outlined, I add a base color layer underneath the outline layer. I try to match this color to the reference as best as I can just using my eyes, but sometimes I help myself out by color picking the middle tone. I'm still learning about color so this step is hard for me. Cheat when you can!!!!

Once the main color is under there, I look really carefully at my reference and block in the shadows and variations in the colors that I can see, checking myself with the color picker as I go. I'm sure someday I will get faster at this, but color theory is hard 😮‍💨

I noticed a gray reflective purple-y shadow at the front, but also that the velour/velvet is not uniform. I use a soft round brush at different levels of opacity to make little dots that really tell you what texture this is, and then make the brush bigger and softer to unify them with some longer strokes. There's no rhyme or reason to this part, I just flip really fast between my canvas and the reference image to try and paint what I see.

Once all these colors are more are less where they're supposed to be, I adjust the line art color with clipping masks to make the shape a bit more organic. I just match the surrounding colors I've blocked in so we have a smooth blend, also paying attention to edge highlights.

Time for the bigger and brighter highlights to make everything pop! I lay down some bigger shapes first, like these long strokes of white that I soften at the edges with a low opacity soft round eraser.

You can see on the navigation bar to the right what the zoomed-out piece looks like at this stage. It's getting there, but there's a lot more texture and brighter highlights on this area! To really make it look like velour, I zoomed in on the reference image and noticed that a lot of the highlights at the front here are actually more of those dot shapes. That's what makes it look soft to the touch. I use a really small soft round brush at full opacity to pop those in:

YEAHHHHH now we're talking.

I've spent a lot of time on this area, so I'm ready to move on! Once the whole piece is finished, I use a trick that I learned from Elicia by duplicating everything I've drawn, merging it into one layer, blurring it, and lowering the opacity.

It might not be that noticeable here, but zoomed out it gives the whole piece a bit of a glow and softens up the lines. It makes the painting a little less crisp, a little more dreamy. I love learning tips like this from other artists I admire -- it doesn't always work out when you try to map someone else's style onto your own, but sometimes you find something that really sticks!

Finally, I put on some adjustment layers. I especially like to play with saturation since my color theory is still not that good, and I always worry about my contrast so I usually do a curves layer as well (lighten up the lights, darken up the darks). I'm also a fan of a nice pink overlay, but I didn't do that here. I don't think it needed it!

So now I'm done! And here's the finished piece:

Looks great :) Hope this is cool to you!!!

[brassharrier]

Beefsteaktorial: Starting Metallics

Hey everybody! I had another opportunity to ask myself why I do things the way I do them. This is going to be more about establishing the why's of metallic paints than the how. Everybody has their own paint styles so I figure it's more productive to have the bare basics established.

Priming

Choosing your primer color is already an important step. In the case of metallic paints, you can use your underlying coat can change your final product in subtle ways. In our examples below you'll see that I went with a black primer to darken the base color I used which provided more overall contrast on the model. However, I went with a warmer tan color to help contrast the gold against the dominant silver.

First Coat

One common issue people have (myself included) is fighting with the metallic paint's coverage. Resist the urge to layer on too much paint at once. You'll want your primer to come through here. We don't want a full on opaque metal coat. Having some of your primer come through will let the pigment as well as the metal flakes do their thing. In addition, metallic paints have a nasty tendency to clump harder than basic pigments because of the extra material suspended in the medium. Don't worry, our next steps will bring the color up!

Wash

There are plenty of ways to get depth with metallics besides washes, but for today it'll be part of our process. Washes will help us get some definition by darkening our low points which will help us elevate the high points more than just a brighter coat normally would. Be sure to give everything time to dry before and after the wash. Any wet paints will flow all over the place and cause some issues with wet washes. You can use a hair dryer on low heat to speed up your washes, but be very careful not to heat one section for too long and do your best to avoid drying big pools down quickly as they'll leave very obvious pool marks. This part of the process will dull your shine, but that's okay at this stage. In our example pictures, you'll see that I used a black wash to really deepen the recesses of the silver and a red wash for the golds to warm the area and provide overall contrast from the model.

Second Coat

This can be either a layer of dry brushing or standard painting with a brighter shade. My progression was from a gunmetal silver to plain silver and brass to a light gold. For the silver in the example pictures I used a dry brush. For the gold, I used the aforementioned thinner coat of paint instead. For the silver, the dry brushing let the model keep the depth the washes provided. Be sure your brush has very little paint and build up patiently to avoid drowning out your lows. The gold was painted on in a thin and careful coat. The edges were easy enough to avoid and I didn't want to risk getting gold on that fresh silver coat.

Golds

These are the gold steps separated out from the silver steps just to make this easier to follow. These are the exact same steps with the small detail that instead of a prime coat I used that tan base coat to help the gold show up better instead of trying to fight the silver.

At the end of the day, easy metals boil down to just a few basic steps.

Choose your base color. Either use a color to help your metallic paint show up better or a color that will add depth by showing through the metal.

Don't fight your paint. You don't want perfect coverage on your first layer. Let your previous layer do the heavy lifting for you.

Wash your first coat, but expect it to dull. Just your primer or base layer, pick a color with purpose. Washes don't just darken your low points. You can use them to help separate the area from the rest of the model to provide a bit more pop.

Use a lighter color for your second layer of metallic paint and make the layer under it do the heavy lifting. This layer is there to help bring your color back up and restore it's shine. If it isn't glossy enough, but it's the right color you can just paint on a thing coat of gloss when you're done and finish sealing your model.

Thanks to everybody who stuck all the way through to the end. Hopefully I was able to help end some struggles for people or provide an alternative method of doing things. Always remember, you're better off with multiple thing coats than too think of a single coat!

[p1x1x]

how i color/render!!!!! (general + metal)

hi i had an actual piece i was going to do this with but decided to just actually draw a process for this!!! before i say anything else though i'm not a professional so this isn't a "how to" it's "how i" thing sdlfkjsdlfkj,, also i draw in paint tool sai, for coloring i just use a flat blocky brush for everything

ok Here We Go. ramble

general things

When it comes to my style of shading, it's almost more of color "texture" rather than sensible shading? I'd say 80% of my shadows are placed believably with respect to a "general" light source but I fudge it a little because sometimes I think it'll look cooler. Oh and I live on the left side of the box. Let's me have the option to place really saturated colors as accents if I ever want to.

Normally in any work I choose the base colors based on what mood I want for it, but for easier explanation this is the pattern I found I do for nearly every color.

Each color tends to get around 3 - 5 shades total. The lightest shade tends to be a smidge more saturated than the base color, but then every shade color after that starts getting less saturated. Kind of based in reality, as shadow is the absence of light, and light is color, so shadows tend to be "grayer" (of course this rule can be broken : 0 and even while that's true light reflects so some color from environment is added back in the shadow asldkfjaskdf I do this if there's an actual background,,). I still darken the color though, so instead of it being linear straight down or just to the left it's a bit curved like a backwards C in the color box thing.

I also hue shift the shades because I think it makes it look more interesting than just messing around with saturation alone. Almost always I shift the hue to the left (towards red or pink), because I like that. I don't actually know the reason for this eye just think it looks good. Even with cool shadows they still end up in reddish hues (but with how desaturated my colors are it's pretty much gray so,,)

As for order of shades - I don't choose these shades beforehand either, I usually just start with a shade close to 2 and after placing those shades down I either go add a lighter shade (1) or continue with darker shades (3, 4) before going back to add 1... it's kind of all over the place and the placement of doritos is hard to explain too so! Example!

I forgot to take a picture of the flat fill, but yeah this is pretty much how they appear. Basically, I start placing biggest shadows first before gradually populating it with 5 billion doritos and lines. As for patterns:

Some of the common patterns I find in my own drawings. Lots of overlapping colors and whatnot, the triangles/ines also tend to hug either the lines or the edges of other triangles. Depending on the material, the patterns might be different. Think this one is a good example of bunch of stuff:

The feathers of the wings have tons of overlapping triangles that bleed into each other, but they still follow each other's edges. That big rock in the picture doesn't have much triangles - it's got more blocky rectangles and lines instead. The grass itself are just fat lines really. The bushes in the background have a mix of odd shapes somewhat overlapping each other... I feel kind of awkward pointing all of these out from my own work so um yeah!! There aren't really any hardset rules it's just whatever in the end!!!!

the main request for this whole thing was how I rendered metal .so Moving On lsdkfjsldkfj

how metal

step by step process, a bunch of separate images lskdjfdsf this is a closer look at how I render a specific material. Rare instance of lighting being added in the first place haha,, and I actually did most shades in order kinda so it's not super confusing

There's no particular background or mood for this metal arm here, but I find doing a flat fill really important either way. If I decide to finish and post that commentary of my own drawing thing it'll be more obvious how it affects the drawing there but essentially placing a flat fill first helps establish the mood of the piece while also being really helpful in making sure the colors you choose all work together.

(this is a thing some painters do as well I think? helps all the colors blend nicer together and depending on the color of the fill you can have some nice warm or cool undertones. instead of blending for me it helps with handpicking colors - especially when there's multiple different colors and not just an arm but enough rambling ,sdflsdkjf)

aaaanyways what I wanted for this was warm-ish lights and cool shadows so the fill is a slightly orange gray. When it comes to metal I establish a rather harsh shadow at the beginning - this is because I treat the base and shadow as two separate colors, if that makes any sense. It probably will with pictures,

These steps are grouped together because it just follows the general shading and patterns I described earlier. The lightest shade is a bit more saturated and red (and really subtle,,), yadda yadda the next are less saturated, darker, but still redder - the 3rd shade getting close to pink. At this point the 3rd shade has an almost blue tint (to my eye at least) and it's because of how colors look relative to each other.

When a warm color is placed next to a gray, that gray will appear cooler relative to it. A cooler color next to a gray will make the gray appear warmer. So in this case, because the base is a bit more saturated and orange (warm) than the 3rd shade, the shade appears as a really faint blue relative to the base! Or maybe I'm just crazy I don't know,,, irl wouldn't notice a difference : ( they think I'm weird for moving the color picker by 1 pixel to the right... orz

Now the shadow gets its own 2 darker shades... still following the same rules. Notice there's a bit of a harsh line that goes down the middle of the forearm parts. That's where most of the lighting will be placed against, because metal tends to have a dark shadow right next to the light,, uh not a professional here I'm pretty sure it's the core shadow (darkest shadow of an object, usually next to light).

Here's a picture I stole from the internet where you can see on side of either light there's a noticable darker section before it's mostly back to midtones

Fun part of metal! Adding the light!!!!!

For me this is a pretty good stopping point because the lighting really sells the metal look. Since I had a cool purple shadow the lights are a warm yellow. I still stylize the light a bit so there's just a few doritos and lines but other than that I'd consider it done... there's some extra stuff you can do though

These are quick things that help place it in an environment or mood. Say, this arm's out in a forest or something so there's green bushes and whatnot... Usually metal will reflect those colors in the environment so adding them really helps in making it fit in with the background.

Quick way to make it glow too is to create a new layer set to overlay and go over the light with a color of your choice and blurring it so. it Shinier!!! I used both of these before too : 0

bit blurry but there are green/yellow doritos reflected from the grass/bushes/leaves and some reddish ones from the tree trunks! and there's a tiny bit of glow on the light! yeah this piece had a lot alsdkjfa

that's basically it. i’ve only rendered metal 4 times total so here is where i say again not really a tutorial but loll maybe this made sense and helped someone laksdjflaksjdflkjsdf

if you scrolled to the end for a tldr; here's one irl did! it’s very concise and 100% accurate

[sarafroot]

pls talk about technique!! sorry if i’m annoying you but i’m eating this up lmaooo. i appreciate your responses a lot!

i’ve been having trouble with coloring/rendering?? like idek where to start when it comes to that part of a drawing and every time i try it i get frustrated which just sucks

Answering this under the cut because its LONNGGG 😜😜😜 also you are so not annoying me I have been waiting for someone to be as interested in this as I am lolz

Here is a detailed walk through of how I'm going about coloring something for that band au-- I hope this helps!!!

For skin I start by putting down a base color; this is the color that shadows and highlights should be considered in relation to! I always set the layer to "alpha lock" so that when I start rendering my strokes stay within the silhouette I originally colored

From here I add redness to her skin first in the form of any natural flush her face may have. I pick a color for blush by beginning with her original skin tone and adjusting the hue to a slightly cooler color and increasing its saturation. I use a soft, buildable, and blendable brush to apply this (quoll). In this scenario, I want the flush to be subtle as she's supposed to be in a darker setting.

For shadows, the first thing to consider is where your light source is. In this scenario, the light will be hitting her from the right, so shadows should be most prevalent on the left. I pick a color for shadows the same way I pick a color for flush, only this time I don't saturate the color as much and darken the shade more. The color usually appears purple-ish. I use a more defined brush to apply shadows and blend them around where I imagine the contours of her face are softest.

Finally I color finer details like lips, eyes, scars, and freckles, and add highlights where a light source would likely reflect on her face. I love adding washes of neon oranges and pinks along harsh shadow edges and cheeks as well! I feel like this makes faces feel more alive.

When I use this method on a face in profile, here is my color placement:

For bodies, I use the same colors that I used on the face for the sake of consistency. I start with any natural flushing on the body, typically on joints, tummies, butts, upper backs, and hands and feet. I use the same brush I used for flush on the face.

For shadows on bodies, you really have to use your imagination or a reference to form a 3D image in your head. While face shadows are more straightforward as there's often a formula you can follow, body shadows are more diverse. If you were to break her body down into shapes, where does her body protrude most, and where do you imagine there are crevices? How will light interact with these shapes to form shadows? Again, I'm imagining a light source on the right so the shadows I place will be mostly on the left.

Then I go in and add highlights and other tiny details.

For hair, I start with a base color before putting down highlights closest to the light source and shadows in places that I imagine are hidden from a light source, such as underneath a particularly prominent strand of hair. Finally, I pick a color I feel like encapsulates the "true" color of her hair and scribble it over the base color I chose, making sure to leave some base color peaking through. I feel like hair has a lot of depth, and by doing this you can kind of mimic that complexity in color without sacrificing a simplistic art style. In total, I used four colors for her hair. I separated the darks and lights for a clearer demonstration of how I think her hair would fall.

You can apply these techniques to really anything, especially clothes!

Yayyy done!! I will absolutely answer any other questions you have

[readylovewrites]

how to rest (in a war)

Hyperspace is smeared white with the light of a million stars, a million planets and suns and moons and people. Hearts of kyber and fleshier things. Flares of life. Bugs on a windshield.

His spine aches and the ache pulls like the fingers of a grubby street child, like a grasping weed, draws his mouth into a thin line. Immeasurable.

The smears don’t blink out as they come out of hyperspace and that confirms his suspicions. He’s going to pass out. Maybe already has passed out and is surfacing, head above water, before the waves submerge him again.  Maybe it’s worse than that. He doesn’t think so; he’s grown remarkably good at knowing the limits of his body and feels certain that he’ll die without bacta and bone stabilizers but not immediately. That’ll have to be enough. Internal bleeding aside, his body is not riddled with shrapnel or tattooed with the burning ink of an explosion.

The Death Star fired on its own base and its only Bodhi that got them out. Imperial pilot. Defector. 

Cassian doesn’t allow himself to think the word friend.

The grating beneath him shutters, pitches, and he hears distantly K-2’s steady back and forth with Alliance flight control. It’s out of order.  An echo. K is dead. K is a square of data in his quarters. K is stuttering into the comms—stuttering—shouting Goodbye into an ever darkening vault. Bodhi is stuttering. Bodhi is alive. K is dead.

A hand bunches into his tattered shirt and presses down into his chest just beneath his collarbone. A shadow leans over him but the stars of hyperspace remain, dashed across the bridge of her nose, her eyes, her mouth. It’s Jyn, he thinks. She was next to him when they took off and Chirrut is a half-dead slump that Baze hovers over. Or was. Maybe now he is an all-dead slump.

This is the first time quiet has sung so loud.

“Cassian. S-stay.” It is Jyn. “You need to stay awake.”

He knows that. The majority of his career has been solo missions, regardless of the presence of assets, and though he’s never really had to call upon it much, he knows basic first aid. Knows how to bandage a blaster shot, a vibroblade wound. Knows that falling asleep with a concussion could mean never waking up.

He knows it but the stars are getting brighter and she’s fading to light.

The stars, suns, moons, the shades of hyperdrive are burned into his eyelids but he still turns his head towards her voice and reaches for her arm, desperate. When he finds it, he slides his palm down her sleeve until he hits exposed forearm and lingers. Presses two fingers to her pulse point. Lingers. Only for a moment. Even as her other hand comes to rest on his wrist, he slides further down to her hand that holds tightly to the clunky weight of the plans. She presses his hand.

“I’ve got them. We got them. Stay awake.”

Can’t, he thinks as his eyelids slip shut.  The stars are here. In the dark, and burning bright.

He turns his hand, feels the data drive fall away, and all that’s left is Jyn’s skin.

It’s odd how hungry he is for the touch. More than for the plans even. He remembers touching her hip where they originally hung as soon as he and Jyn were dragged bodily by Baze on board, not even out of atmo yet. Not safe, no promise of escape. Touched and gripped and thought it’s done, though really it isn’t.  And still, more than all of that, he wants to touch Jyn Erso and feel that she is alive.

“Cassian, stay awake.”

Maybe he is delirious from the concussion. It’s nonsensical.

He’s never felt an urge to hold a person without motive or prompting.

Cassian. Stay awake.

He won’t and he knows it but the corners of his mouth tighten with an effort.

Cassian. 

He’s more Cassian than he’s ever been.

She gives that to him. No aliases, no lies.

Cassian.

[krowspiracyanon]

Krow belongs to @thekrows-nest.

I probably won't finish this because the hair and skintone have me stuck. It may even have to be completely redrawn.

However. This picture was one of the the first detailed pieces attempted after buying Procreate Pocket in August and trying digital art out for the first time. It began as a low effort repaint of the 'toddler with gun' meme but then I started using it to properly learn the tools and went ham.

What I like: The detail of Krow's design and the blending of their skin tones. The realistic style. Their expression. This is before I read anything about facial proportion or expressions so I drew that face instinctively by eye, but the anguished emotion of the original still somehow came through.

What I don't like: It began as a lazy repaint over a toddler so the body proportions are off for an adult. Far too chunky.

I chose a default base colour that was too warm and light for Krow's skin and used a reference picture with harsh overly bright lighting that lightened and distorted the colours. This, in combination with overzealous blending of highlights into the mid tone, ended up whitewashing their skin. (I didn't know about changing brush opacity then.) In canon art and other fanart Krow has darker cool toned skin. (Krow is Indian/Bengali.)

Attempts to darken the shadows to put the lighter 'overexposed' looking parts of face in context and paint over with a more appropriate shade only orangewashed them, and adding more details to try and tone their skin down darker just turned their cute freckles into muddy hyperpigmentation. I wish I had known or knew how to just colour adjust the original. Ps. Those round dark shadows are from their headphones.

I'm sorry king. I'm still learning, studying guides and source material now and will try to do better next time.

Also all this was done on a smartphone with a cheap stylus so even with the fineliner brush tool as small as it could go I couldn't write small enough for the allotted space on the buttons - so the details on there are blurry approximations.

I also didn't Glaze it because the artifacts of the filter were highly visible, a problem I'm having a lot. I'm sorry for the watermarkish writing - don't want someone to repost it with no context and get me dragged.

[pokerninja2]

I should really pick up the pace on these, it's been about a week since I talked about Spikers stuff. In any case, today we'll discuss the four ghost characters that have been added from the Luigi's Mansion series - Gold Ghost from the first game, and Greenie, Gobber, and everyone's favorite ghostly pup, Polterpup, from Dark Moon!

To begin, something I generally like with how I did ALL the ghosts is how they're drawn. If you've seen all my art you know I typically use black outlines with basic shading, which is not the case here. I wanted to make these guys glowing and transparent, particularly inspired by how the ghosts appear in artwork for Dark Moon. It made for a cool effect, so I wanted to replicate it as best I could. I think I did a good job, and it makes them pretty distinct from the rest of the cast, which makes sense when Luigi's Mansion designs are quite detached from general Mario stuff.

The effect admittedly looks better on a dark background than a light one. In fact I had to darken the background on Polterpup because he would have been virtually invisible otherwise lol. Still, I was able to make it work by making em less transparent.

But now onto the ghostly ghosts themselves! Gold Ghost probably has the least interesting going for him, all he has for an outfit is a hat. Then again, I don't imagine he needs too much to be intimidating - he IS a ghost after all. That said, the Gleaming Spook attack is based on how ghosts appear in the games: they suddenly materialize and scare Luigi before doing whatever.

They're certainly less goofy than the Dark Moon ghosts in this game, but the ghosts in 1 seem way more out to get you, whereas the ones in DM are more like pranksters that get in your way, so I think it makes sense for them to be more scary.

Now for Greenie. The inspiration is obvious, the kitchen ware they use to attack Luigi in Gloomy Manor! Rolling Pin Romp is even taken from the same spinning attack they use, down to them getting dizzy afterwards. Perhaps not as intimidating as a sword or a spear, but you think getting whacked in the face with a rolling pin is just sunshine and rainbows? These green fellas know what they're doing! And if that doesn't work, the lid shield should help.

For Gobber, Puddle Eater is obviously based on their main attack: spitting out puddles of goo that make Luigi slip and fall. The goo in this game traps players though, so it's a bit more like the Creeper from Dark Moon. The huge fork, knife, and bib they have is something I made up, but one that certainly fit their hungry selves. They'd probably try to eat up their teammates, so they get provided all-you-can-eat buffets before every match. Probably one of my favorite tidbits in the descriptions... I guess you can call them lore? Can something like this have lore?

It was also somewhat inspired by Mr. Luggs from the first game. Gobbers were likely inspired from him, so I thought it made sense.

Finally, there's Polterpup! I briefly considered making him a captain since Luigi having a pet ghost dog is a huge part of the series now. But since ScareScraper showed they were an entire species, they became sidekicks. Plus, who wouldn't want multiple polterpups on their team?

Polterpup's not too interesting regardless though. His only thing in terms of costume is a collar, with the team emblem on the tag. Cute, but also not so noteworthy. The Pounce attack was based on how Polterpup often pounces Luigi and licks him though!

(this was the best image I could find)

And that covers all the ghosts so far! Generally, I had fun adapting all their unique quirks into fun designs and movesets, and when I inevitably tackle more ghosts from this series, I'm eager to talk about how I did them as well!