#her cape/coat thing is SO cool........

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Hossabara Concept Art

Translation notes and id under the cut!

Translation Notes:

"Woman of maturity" is once again a Japanese term that doesn't translate super well that means "aunt." Just plain "woman" or "lady" might have also worked, but given that he specifically comments on her age afterwards, I wanted to show that her age/maturity was something he had already touched on.

"Rushing to the Rescue on Horseback (Missus)" is probably more literally translated as "Rushing to Recover and Rescue on Horseback (Wife)". The "wife" bit in particular was odd because Hossabara's pretty notably not a wife of anyone in the game, but this could potentially be explained by the specific word for "wife" they used which seemed to specifically be "wife" in the context of a phrase meaning "a household where the wife is the boss." There wasn't an awesome English equivalent for that, so I went with "Missus" since it had a vaguely similar vibe (i.e. someone calling their wife "the Missus"). I also left out the "Recovery" part of the title because I couldn't find a good way to phrase the title otherwise I felt like "rushing to the rescue" encapsulated the concept of "recovering something", and it also just felt more punchy.

A lot of the notes on the bottom half near the scholar designs were sort of iffy for me. As far as I could tell, it seemed like a lot of them were kind of jotted, not-completely grammatical notes, which made it tricky to translate. I think the translations are more or less literally accurate, but they're probably not worded as well as they could be and likely don't get the entire intended meaning across.

"Acts with dignity" is literally something more like "acts with depth/acts with profundity", but I switched up the wording to something that sounded better in English.

[image id: Two pages from the Triangle Strategy artbook surrounding the topic of Hossabara. The first page has a colored and uncolored version of her canon portrait, along with a note that reads (in English), "A bold woman of maturity with a good spirit. In Japanese RPGs, beautiful men and women tend to be your companions, but I feel personally appreciative that characters of this age group are also given the spotlight. (Tatsuaki Urushibara)". The second page is titled "Rushing to the Rescue on Horseback (Missus)" and has several images of Hossabara, including one where she rides her horse and another where her face is visible with nearby speech, saying, "I'm here to help! Hang in there, everyone!" There are also several drawings detailing her outfit, with the following notes:

"Rescue Missus

These are clothes from C

Arena Mechanic Character

There are arenas in every country

She's on a provincial tour

Absorbs the cultures of all countries

Has the feel of a magic unit

Represents orientalism"

The second half of the page has three different drawn figures. The first is an "ordinary" Hyzantian scholar, an old man in a cap and gown. The second is a scholarly-looking woman with a staff. The third is much closer to Hossabara's final design. There are several notes regarding how Hossabara is meant to be "liberal," and brainstorming how to best express that. The second design has a note that reads "ride with an open mind," "curious robust type," and "talks a lot." Hossabara's almost-final design has a note that reads "acts with dignity," "dresses indecisively," and "She's practical and academic, so she's light on her feet." The final illustrator's note reads: "Mr. Ikushima drew up a rough sketch of an exceptionally cool lady, and I followed up on that with small details. (Tatsuaki Urushibara)" /end id]

[starrysharks]

zeno's ultimate pokemiku tierlist ⁉️(it's all his opinion and he loves them all regardless⁉️)

[p0orbaby]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

summary: you and alexia attend marriage counselling

warnings: suggestive

a/n: i have no clue what this is but i like it and i hope you do too !

word count: 1.4k

-

You’re sitting on a lumpy beige sofa, the kind that looks like it’s been stolen from an old woman’s sitting room. The armrests have stains that could either be coffee or something much more sinister. You don’t want to think about it too much. You also don’t want to think about the fact that you’re sitting next to your wife, who might be one or two millimeters closer to you than she’s been in the past week, but you’re not counting.

Alexia looks at the therapist like she’s evaluating her for a spot on the team. This is her default face—cool, calm, like she’s about to suggest subbing you out. You’re not sure how you feel about that. You’re also not sure how you feel about the therapist, who introduces herself as Dr. Bristow but who you immediately decide looks like a "Betsy."

Dr. Bristow, née Betsy, gives you both a gentle smile, the kind of smile people give puppies before they realise they’re about to chew through their expensive shoes. “So, why don’t we start with what brings you both here today?”

“I don’t know,” you say, crossing your arms because you’ve seen people do that in movies when they’re trying to look defensive. “Why don’t you ask Alexia?”

Alexia doesn’t even glance at you. “We haven’t had sex in a month”

You choke on absolutely nothing. The last time you checked, your sex life was no one else’s business, but apparently, Alexia’s decided that it’s Betsy’s now. Wonderful.

Betsy’s eyes widen, but her tone remains professional. “That must be difficult for both of you. Would either of you like to share why?”

Alexia shrugs, her muscles rippling under her tight shirt. You try not to notice, but you’ve always had a thing for her biceps—who wouldn’t? But now isn’t the time. You tell yourself this even as your mind decides to replay the last time those biceps were wrapped around you, gripping you like you’ll blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

She’s talking, and you force yourself to focus. “We’ve just been… busy”

You almost snort. Busy. That’s one way to put it. Busy with training, busy with travel, busy with being one of the best footballers in the world while you’re busy just trying to keep up. It’s not that you don’t understand, it’s just—God, it’s frustrating.

“Busy,” Betsy repeats, nodding slowly, as if she’s letting the word marinate. “That can definitely take a toll on intimacy. Have you both discussed how you feel about this?”

Alexia turns to look at you, and you suddenly feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

You clear your throat. “We’ve talked about it. Sort of”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise. “You mean I’ve tried to talk about it, and you’ve changed the subject”

There it is. That thing she does. You know she’s right, but the way she says it makes you want to argue just for the sake of it. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe the problem is that you’d rather wrestle a rabid dog than talk about feelings.

Betsy’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “It’s not uncommon for couples to struggle with communication. What happens when you do try to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly, trying to avoid looking at Alexia’s lips because that’s just distracting. “She’s always so… calm”

Betsy blinks. “And that’s… a problem?”

“Yeah,” you say, exasperated. “It’s like she’s a robot. No offense”

Alexia just shakes her head, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “None taken”

“I just want to see some emotion, you know?” you continue, warming up to the topic. “I’m over here, losing my mind, and she’s just… chilling. Like, I could tell her I’m moving to Antarctica to raise penguins, and she’d probably just ask if I packed a warm coat”

Alexia finally shifts her gaze to you again, her eyes softening, which is somehow worse because it makes your chest tighten. “You know I care. I just… I don’t always show it the way you want”

Betsy leans in, like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. “And what about you, Alexia? How do you feel about the way your wife expresses her emotions?”

Alexia’s eyes meet yours, and there’s that spark again. You know the one. It’s the one that usually ends with you pinned against the wall or thrown onto the bed, Alexia’s mouth on yours, all lips and teeth and heat. The one that reminds you why you fell for her in the first place.

But then she says, “I love how passionate she is. But sometimes it feels like she’s on fire, and I’m just trying to keep from getting burned”

Ouch.

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not a fire hazard”

“No, but you’re combustible”

“That’s just because you’re too controlled!”

Alexia laughs, and it’s not the reaction you expect. She actually laughs, and you’re left wondering if you’re missing the joke. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure out how to meet in the middle?”

Betsy nods sagely, like she’s the Buddha of bad relationships. “Finding balance is key in any marriage. Have you both considered how you might do that?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, probably considering how much easier it would be to just skip to the make-up sex and forget the rest. The thought must cross Alexia’s mind too because she gives you that look—the one that says, Let’s just go home.

You’re about to suggest it, too, but then Betsy has to open her mouth again. “Sexual intimacy is often a reflection of emotional intimacy. If you’re not connecting emotionally, it’s likely to impact your physical connection as well”

You want to groan, but instead, you offer a tight smile. “Thanks for that, Betsy”

Alexia stifles a grin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re on the same team again. You used to have so much fun together—where did that go? It wasn’t always football and fights. There were nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, laughing, and occasionally getting tangled in the sheets, not caring about anything but each other. Maybe that’s what you miss the most—how easy it was back then, how effortless it felt.

“Remember that time in Cartagena?” Alexia suddenly says, as if she’s reading your mind. “When we got locked out of the hotel room after that party?”

You can’t help but laugh. “You mean when you tried to break in using a hairpin and almost got us arrested?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But you tackled me before the security guard could, and we ended up in that broom cupboard”

You’re both grinning now, and it’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. That night was a disaster, but it was your disaster, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You remember how you’d both been breathless with laughter, trying to keep quiet in that tiny cupboard, your bodies pressed together in the dark, and then… well, things got heated, and you’re pretty sure the broom cupboard got more action that night than most honeymoon suites.

Betsy’s watching this exchange with mild interest, but you’re too caught up in the memory to care. “Maybe that’s what we need,” you say, half-joking. “More broom cupboards”

Alexia leans back, her hand sliding casually onto your knee, and you almost jump at the contact. “Or less pressure”

“Or more spontaneity”

“Or,” Betsy interjects, her voice slightly louder, “a bit of both?”

You look at Alexia, and for the first time in weeks, you see the possibility of something other than just surviving this rut. Maybe you don’t need therapy. Maybe you just need a reminder of what made you fall for each other in the first place—a little more broom cupboard, a little less beige sofa.

Betsy’s droning on about communication exercises, and you’re nodding politely, but you’re already planning your escape. You catch Alexia’s eye, and you both know exactly where this is going.

You’re going to leave here, and you’re going to find the nearest cupboard, or alleyway, or even just the backseat of the car if it comes to that. Anywhere you can be alone together, no talking, no therapy, just you and her and that spark that never really went away.

As Betsy wraps up, you stand, practically dragging Alexia out of the office. You thank Betsy on the way out, but you’re already halfway out the door before the words even leave your mouth.

And as soon as you’re out of sight, you push Alexia against the wall, her mouth on yours before you can even think about it. Her hands are in your hair, on your waist, tugging you closer, and you realise that maybe you don’t need therapy, or a broom cupboard, or anything else.

Maybe all you need is her.

[idkyetxoxo]

Davos Blackwood - Carnal Feuds

Summary - When a Bracken girl accidentally enters Blackwood territory, she meets Davos Blackwood. What begins as a fierce argument quickly evolves, as their long-standing rivalry erupts into a carnal clash for each other's bodies.

Pairing - Davos Blackwood x Bracken reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), Strong language

Word count - 2317

Masterlist for Davos • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The sun was setting slowly, casting a golden hue across the horizon. The mid-summer days were warm, accompanied by a slight cool breeze that provided a welcome relief. I decided to take a short walk through the fields and forests, savouring the tranquillity of nature. 

As I strolled along, a rustling noise caught my attention, followed by the sound of soft whimpers.

Curiosity piqued, I walked further to locate the source of the noise. There, hidden among the tall grass, was a small baby deer, a fawn, who seemed to be injured. I frowned, glancing around to see if anyone else was nearby, but the area was deserted.

"Poor baby," I muttered, watching with sadness as the young fawn writhed in pain. Spots of crimson stained its fur around the belly, a contrast to its soft brown coat.

I took careful steps, attempting to approach the fawn without startling it. To my misfortune, the young fawn's attention snapped towards me. She startled and bolted through the forest, her legs clearly still functional despite her injury.

"Wait!" I called out, attempting to chase after her as best I could in a dress and flats.

It felt as if I was running forever, darting around trees and ducking under low-hanging branches. Eventually, I had to stop to catch my breath. The fawn was completely out of sight and as I took in my surroundings, I realized with a sinking feeling that I didn't recognize the area.

"Seven hells," I mumbled, realizing I was now alone and lost in unfamiliar territory.

The sound of twigs snapping nearby caused me to turn around, hoping it was the fawn. Instead, I saw a man approaching cautiously. My smile faded as he drew nearer.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his posture immediately defensive.

My stomach dropped when I noticed the colours of his clothes and the sigil sewn into his cape. "Blackwood," I whispered, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them.

He took a step back, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom. "Bracken?" he questioned, and I neither confirmed nor denied his assumption.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as his hand found its way to the hilt of the sword he carried.

"I stumbled upon here by accident. I was chasing after an injured fawn," I explained, realizing I wasn't exactly in a favourable position.

"I don't see an injured fawn," he said, gesturing around with his free hand. "Were you perhaps spying?" he questioned, and I shot him an incredulous look.

"Spying?" I echoed, and he nodded as if his words made complete sense.

"This is Blackwood land," he explained, and I scoffed.

"Would I be spying in laces and flats?" I asked, turning my head to the side and gesturing towards my clothes as if his suggestion was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard.

"Yes, who knows what you Brackens are willing to do," he said, taking a step towards me. "Perhaps it is a ploy to send a young, pretty girl to do their dirty work," he continued, and I laughed mockingly.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's you Blackwoods who resort to petty games," I said, crossing my arms.

"Forgive me, but shouldn't the Brackens be more concerned with breeding horses than claiming territory," he spat, and I rolled my eyes, taking a step towards him.

The tension between us was a tangible force that crackled in the air. We stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, each unwilling to back down daring the other to yield first.

"You Blackwoods are always so self-righteous," I shot back, my voice dripping with disdain. "Always thinking you're better than everyone else."

"And you Brackens are always so arrogant," he retorted, his eyes narrowing. "Always causing trouble where there doesn't need to be any."

I stepped closer, my chin tilted defiantly. "Maybe if you Blackwoods weren't so insufferable, there wouldn't be any trouble."

He matched my step, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn't quite identify. "Insufferable? You're the ones who can't seem to mind your own affairs."

We were inches apart now, the heat of our argument burning between us. "At least we know how to stand up for ourselves," I spat, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Standing up for yourselves?" he scoffed. "More like picking fights, you can't win."

I could feel his breath on my face, our proximity igniting a strange, electric tension. "Better to pick a fight than to cower behind your precious lands," I countered, my voice shaking with emotion.

He opened his mouth to retort, but the words seemed to die on his lips as his gaze flickered to my own. The anger in his eyes softened for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of confusion and something else entirely.

"You're impossible," he whispered, his voice suddenly husky.

"And you're insufferable," I replied, my voice barely more than a breath.

In that charged moment, something shifted. The fire of our argument morphed into a different kind of heat. Without thinking, without fully understanding why, we both leaned in, closing the final inches between us. 

Our lips met in a fierce, urgent kiss, the intensity of our argument bleeding into the passion of the moment.

His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer, while my fingers tangled in his hair. The world around us faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against me.

We kissed with a desperation that spoke of years of rivalry, of pent-up emotion and unspoken desires. It was as if all the animosity between our families had culminated in this one, fiery moment. We broke apart, gasping for breath, our foreheads resting against each other.

"What are we doing?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

He shook his head slightly, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't want to stop."

And with that, we were drawn back together, our lips meeting once more in a kiss that defied the world outside, a kiss that spoke of a thousand unspoken words.

His hands roamed over my back, gripping the fabric of my dress, pulling me even closer. The heat between us was unbearable, a mix of anger and desire that neither of us could resist. He broke the kiss briefly to look into my eyes, his breath ragged.

He shook off his cape laying it down on the forest floor, a rough, makeshift bed in the clearing. 

The sun was setting behind us, casting a warm glow over the scene, but all I could focus on was him.

He pulled me down onto the cape, our bodies entwined in a feverish dance. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, claiming. I responded in kind, my fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his clothes. The heat between us grew more intense, more urgent.

We stripped away the barriers of fabric between us, the cool evening air a contrast to the burning heat of our skin. Our movements were rough, desperate, as if we were trying to erase the years of animosity with our bodies. 

His hands gripped my hips tightly, his touch both possessive and demanding. I arched against him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I fought to pull him closer.

"Fuck, you damn Brackens," he growled, his eyes raking across my naked body with a fierce hunger.

"Fuck you Blackwoods," I mumbled, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and pulling him towards me.

He laughed suddenly, the sound low and rough, causing me to furrow my brows. He kissed down my body, his lips leaving a burning trail on my skin. 

"Yet you're about to fuck this Blackwood," he said, parting my legs and positioning himself at my entrance.

I sat up slightly, closing my legs and causing him to look at me with confusion. "Not until you earn it," I taunted, my voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire.

His eyes darkened with a challenge accepted, and he pushed me back down, his mouth crashing onto mine with renewed fervour. Our bodies collided with a rough, desperate need, hands grasping, teeth grazing, nails scratching. The pain and pleasure intertwined, fueling the fire between us.

"You're so stubborn," he muttered against my lips, his breath hot and ragged.

"Mhm I've been told," I retorted, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer.

He thrust into me with a force that made me gasp, my back arching off the ground. Every thrust was a battle, every gasp a victory.

The roughness of our movements was both punishing and exhilarating, a raw expression of our pent-up emotions. We moved together in a frenzy, each seeking to dominate, to claim, to conquer.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his hands gripping my hips as he drove into me relentlessly.

"Yes," I gasped, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour. "Harder."

He obliged, his pace becoming almost brutal, the intensity of our connection overwhelming. The forest around us seemed to disappear, leaving only the sounds of our ragged breaths and the slap of our bodies against each other.

Our eyes locked, as our bodies continued their frantic dance. The roughness of our encounter mirrored the years of conflict between our families, the unspoken hatred and undeniable attraction coming to a head in this one, fevered moment.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and awe. "You're incredible."

"Thought I was arrogant and impossible," I managed to retort, my voice strained as his hand snaked to my shoulder, forcing me to match the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Doesn't mean you don't feel incredible around my cock," he replied, a slight edge of laughter colouring his tone.

I gasped as a shuddering sensation consumed my body. His grip on my shoulder tightened, guiding me to move with him in perfect, punishing synchrony.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a husky whisper in my ear.

I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Instead, I arched my back, pressing my hips harder against him, meeting his challenge head-on. The friction, the force, the unrelenting passion was almost too much to bear.

"Admit it," he demanded, his hand slipping between us to tease me mercilessly. "Admit you love it."

I cried out, the combined sensations pushing me closer to the brink. "Yes," I finally gasped, my voice breaking. "Yes, I love it."

His eyes darkened with triumph, and he drove into me with renewed fervour, the intensity of our movements increasing. His hands roamed my body, gripping my hips, sliding up to my breasts, and then tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer.

"So headstrong," he muttered, his teeth grazing my neck as he thrust into me with relentless force.

"Whiny much," I shot back, my nails raking down his back, leaving a trail of red welts.

His response was a low growl, and he shifted our positions, rolling us over so that I was straddling him. He gripped my thighs tightly, guiding me to ride him with the same rough intensity. The new angle drove him deeper.

I leaned forward, my hands on his chest for support, and began moving my hips in a rhythm that matched his thrusts. The friction was exquisite, every stroke igniting sparks.

"Harder," he urged, his voice strained with desire.

I complied, increasing the pace, my movements becoming more frenzied. Our bodies collided in a fevered dance, his hands gripped my hips again, guiding me to ride him faster, harder.

He surged upward, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with the same fierce intensity as our bodies. The kiss was a battle for dominance, our teeth clashing, our tongues duelling. I moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by our fervent kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he flipped us over again, pinning me beneath him. He drove into me with a force that made me cry out. His hand moved between us, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent me spiralling towards the edge.

"Cum for me," he whispered, his voice a rough command. "Cum for this Blackwood."

The combination of his words and his relentless thrusts pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure radiating through my body. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I convulsed around him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he followed me into bliss, his own release tearing a groan from his lips. He collapsed onto me, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

For a long moment, we lay there, entangled and spent, the reality of what had just happened slowly sinking in.

As the haze of passion began to clear, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty. His fingers traced a path along my collarbone.

"Get off our land, Bracken," he finally said, his voice a low rumble.

I sat up slowly, deliberately, pulling my dress back on with movements that were unhurried and intentional. The fabric felt cool against my overheated skin.

I couldn't help but let my gaze linger on him, taking in the sight of his dishevelled hair, the glistening sweat on his chest, and the look of lingering desire in his eyes.

"Gladly," I whispered, narrowing my eyes as I stood up, my voice laced with defiance. 

The power dynamics between us shifted constantly, a dance of dominance and submission that neither of us was willing to concede.

"Till we meet again," he called out as I began to walk away, his voice filled with a challenge that was impossible to ignore.

A satisfied smirk played on my lips as I walked backwards, my eyes never leaving his. "Whatever you say, Blackwood," I responded, my tone dripping with sarcasm. 

I knew full well that after what had just happened, neither of us would be able to keep to our respective lands.

A/n - It's kinda giving Romeo and Juliet

[chaosandmarigolds]

you can skip this all u want but

I wanna know abt readers ex ngl

why does Ollie have attachment issues?

you seem like you could do soft angst, 👻

(I audibly giggled like a maniac when I opened this, because angst has my heart. it has my HEART- only when it ends in fluff tho, otherwise someone might as well just shove me in a ditch it feels the same- ahem, sorry, got sidetracked)

Let’s do a lil flashback and backstory to this whole…debacle shall we?

May 20th

“Annnn then we got get- got get, noo-no! Ister Riley no,” Ollie grumbles as he reaches over the block castle he had spent the last twenty minutes building to grab the toy Simon was holding- a tyrannosaurus, or as Ollie called him- The Superman. The little boy fixes the doll cape attached to the toy and then holds it back out, “Otay, is fix.”

Simon nods, “Good good, he needs to have his-his-“

“The cape gives him powers.”

“Oh!” Simon agrees and looks at the worn out toy, the cape like it would be found on an actual Superman toy but put on a dinosaur. He only looks back to Ollie as the boy goes on about grabbing the rest of the toys he thought they should have.

“Yeah, that what my daddy tell me. That-that my superhero cape make me have superpowers.” A short silence and he sets the toy fire truck down along with a tow truck, “It no give me power, but it does for Bo though.”

(Bo, the name of the T-Rex.)

Simon looks at the boy, watching his demeanor change and he holds how the toy, “‘ell your dad was right, Bo does have some super cool powers.”

To that Ollie takes the toy and then shrugs, “I guess. But my dad- he-he lies and you say lying is not good.”

“Ladd I’m sure your dad didn’t lie,” Simon returned, it was just a toy, and he couldn’t see the harm in letting a three year old believe in superpowers for his plastic T-Rex.

Ollie shakes his head, “But he do! He said he come back for-for my birthday and no come, he didn’t-he lie.”

“Oi, Olls, ‘m sure your dad wanted to come, he just couldn’t-

“My mom doesn’t like him anymore, I heard her talk to my Auntie Beth and she said my dad is lair and mean- so that mean he not good.”

Simon, upon a lot of other things, realized that little kids really did share anything that came to their mind. and that he should definitely do some more research.

July 2nd

“It is-“ you laugh out a sigh as you stumble into the entrance of Simon’s house, having left your umbrella outside, “Raining cats and dogs out there!”

Almost as it had fallen into some odd and domestic pattern, he helped you take off the coat and hang it off without much speaking and you then look to him as you take off your boots, “Thank you for watching him later, I didn’t know I would be working a double and it-“

“No problem, darling. Lil’ guy was out by seven.” He cut you off and hung up the coat beside Ollie’s on the rack, which hung beside his own, “You go’ dinner al’eady?”

You hum and stand back up, “Are you offering?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Dinner was a delicacy of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and oven cooked fries, matched with a hearty portion of sprite. And about an hour of what you would consider you yapping about your crappy day, and what he would consider it favorite part of the day- you finally faltered, leaning on the dinner table with a dull and lifeless laugh.

“I feel like…I owe you, god, I owe you my life or something.”

He furrows his eyebrows to that, “No’ why? ‘M no doing anything special.”

You give him a look, “Free babysitting for one. Not to mention the rides, you-you pay for him to go to soccer, and you go to the games and you buy him clothes and you love him and you care for him and-“ you cut yourself off and look up to stop the tears- which were threatening to flow, shaking your head, “I’m sorry. I’m…it’s just- no, it’s just been a day.”

Now, Simon was many things, a merciless killer and a solider was one of them but he always knew how to read body language. What really gave it away was how you messed with your ring finger, as if you were twisting a nonexistent ring, “What’s today?”

A glance up to him and you give a dull laugh, almost mocking yourself with your words, “I got married five years ago today. Wore the pretty dress and said ‘I do’ to a man that was a piece of shit but damn….i loved him. I did. I loved him so- and I’m, god, Simon you gotta tell me to shut up sometimes.”

He looks at you, and he knew you couldn’t read him, but there was sadness etched in his expression, “I never want you to shut up, luv.”

( That’s all the backstory you get for right now! Aka, I am doing this on my phone and my thumbs hurt…and all I’ve thought of rn- comments, feedback, and your ideas make my day!! Annnnyway that’s it! <33)

[kuni-is-daddy]

Okay, but Lesser Lord!Reader riding Scara and him praising them and saying how lucky he is to be ridden and pleasured by a god like them. Just fluffy, soft sex with Scara, and maybe a bit of brat taming.

This man has such a chokehold on me

SUB!WANDERER X LESSOR LORD FEM!READER PART 4?

featuring:? A bit of paimon and the traveler(Can be aether or lumine, didnt use a specific gender)

//Lessor lord Y/n Teases with the name Hatguy, Sabzeruz Festival Event Spoilers!, Use of mommy~

word count: 1.43k

Scara masterlist! Scara x Lessor lord masterlist

"What? You think im TRYING to think the worst of lessor lord y/n? Incase you've forgotten Traveler..Im not a saint." wanderer scoffed while retrieving the archives of Sachin's research from paimon. "Tch- Ugh- Paimon thinks your being pretty harsh HAT GUY! be nice to y/n or paimons gonna give you a UGLY NICKNAME! She gave you a education and healthcare!" the floating child stomped her feet. "Because im her prisoner, you lowly creature. And healthcare is free in sumeru, Dont need it anyway, im a puppet incase your so dum to remember. She wouldnt-" A cool lavender scented air coated the hot desert. Stopping the puppet as he remembered the familiar sent. "You think so.. Should i treat you as my prisoner hat guy?"

You walked up towards your group of friends and 'prisoner' as your caped swayed throughout the breeze. Taking the files from hatguy with a smirk on your face. "Hah. You already do, Having me run errands for you like a dog. But if doing this gives me worth. Then so be it." He said while looking down at you. "Is that what this is about hat guy? You want to feel worthy in the eyes of a god~" With your free hand you tugged at his feathered ornament. Smoothly rubbing along the prickles. Paimon and traveler looked with flustered expressions at your teasing. "You know hat guy~ I was hoping you could make some friends but..I guess that didnt work out hm? Busy making enemies with your saviors-" "Unnecessary. I dont need anymore reasons to be indebt to you." He placed his warm hand along your arm. Watching you tinker with his worth. "Then we can start off with you being a scholar how about that? Even prisoners have a right to education." Paimon coughed at the interaction, "I- uhm Y/N? as the god of wisdom. what do you plan to do with sachins research? It is 'negative' wisdom after all." You gazed and pulled away from his touch and began flipping through the archive. "Well paimon, As the god of wisdom I have to guide everyone to wisdom, even good or bad. But I will seal away his knowledge as his ideals are more deemed as corrupted and-" "Tch. Talk about a speech, What about mine huh? Is that why you have me doing this? Because i have 'corrupt' knowledge and see me as a pawn?" You sighed at his interruption, then smirked at the choice of words. "Well..I can help you with your 'corruption' myself, Mr hat guy~" You closed the book roughly, making the two snap out of their disturbed daze. "Paimon, Traveler. Come by the akademiya later today and ill have him drop off the rest of your things regarding the festival. Until then~" You greeted them goodbye with a smile. With a flick of your finger the wanderer wasnt too far behind you. Mumbling and giving death glares to his 'saviors' over another task he had to do.

---

Thunder and lightning struck through your blurry view of sumeru city, You sat at Wanderers small desk writing about what interested on you sachins research for his thesis. How could a wealthy man be so bothered by society? One that he technically can change with a bag of mora. But you had your own changes to worry about. Apep, a former ruler of sumeru that existed since the start of the Heavenly principals. With all that knowledge the dragonette had, many of your questions could be answered without the use of irminsul. Along with eternal protection for your nation. You just needed a way..some sort of 'contract' to get that information from apep. "Ugh, what am i thinking..Im acting like morax and Ei with these ideals." You laid your bare head on the desk. Tapping your pen while thinking of ways to get more from the dragon.

After what felt like never ending rain, you heard a click of the doorknob and a light dangle of bells. "Well. How did it go? I trust that you gave them what they needed. Hat guy?" The puppet walked into the room. Brushing off the water on his hat. "Tsk. In the rain if that makes you feel any better..And would you stop calling me that? There's no need." He placed his hat on the hanger then laid on your side of the bed, Already undressed into a shirt and shorts. "Hm.. But I like it~" You pulled the chair back, turning around to face the lean puppet. "I never thought the god of wisdom would be so childish..." he sighed. "Don't you like it? the honor of having your nickname picked out by a god." you got up out of your chair and began walking towards the bed. The puppet stayed silent as you climbed onto his body.

"Aren't you lucky Scara. The god of wisdom treating you so well, giving you a home, education, anything you've wanted." His cock twitched in his pants at the name. Your cape swayed gently on his legs as you positioned yourself on top of him. "I-I told you before, it's unnecessary. I'm your pris-" before he could get another word out you leaned down and laid kisses along his neck. Sinking further into the pillow as he covered his muffled moans. "Y-y/n you- ah..." "Is that all you think you are hatguy? The prisoner of a god...I think your worthy of more..." You whispered in his ear as your clothed clit rubbed back and forth against his crotch. "F-fuck...shut up..stoph..saying..that..~" he trailed his hands along your top while you sucked at his neck. Recklessly tugging at the buttons that kept your cape hooked. "Mmm..your such a brat hat guy...maybe you don't deserve it." You flicked his hand off your torn cape and began pulling away from his hot body. "N-no! Wait..." He sat up as you crawled off the bed "... I want it..y/n.." you crossed your arms. "Hmm..I don't know hat guy~ what's the magic word?" You grinned as he gripped onto the sheets in frustration, covering his embarrassingly hard cock. "Maybe.. I'll just go finish up in my room~ you seem a little tired-" "P-please.. I want it y/n.. I cant- i-" suddenly you smashed your lips against his, the both of you fell back on the pillow as he wrapped his arms around you with no hesitation. Exchanging spit as the puppets body began to heat up between each breath. "Hah.. more~ more please" "mhm? what do you want scara~ mmm how do you want your god to make you feel good?"

"I- inside...f-fuck me.." you sighed at his words. "Such a vulgur puppet you are.. wanting your god to fuck you like this.." you parted lips, then looked down to his bulge. "We can't have down here being covered, can we?" You pulled his pants down to reveal his wet length, stained in precum. "Your so big scara..~" you pulled your skirt and underwear off, climbing ontop of him once more, both of your pre oozing onto eachother while you guided his length to your hole, brushing the tip along it. "Hah...fuck..d-dont tease me...I-" you sunk his length deep inside of you while a moan spilled from your lips "Ah~ your doing so well scara~ filling up your god just like that~" his hips buckled up at your praise. "Y-y/n your so warm i- oh fuck!" He gripped onto your waist, pushing you farther into his length as you began riding him, biting your lips from the ecstasy of his tight grip. "Mmm your such a good boy scara, taking your reward for being so good for me, for your god~" "Ah~ yes, s' good! Just for you! Don't stop mommy~ please!" The puppets body began to heat up even more. He trained himself to breathe to fit in with humans, but not like this..not so roughly and begging like a dog in heat from the pleasure he felt. "Such a lucky boy aren't you? Do you wanna cum inside your god?" "Y-yes! Please- wanna cum! Let me mommy! I'll be a good prisoner- a good puppet! A-anything please~" you giggled at the way the once false god dropped his pride, the pleasure from being inside you and feeling loved was too much for him. You did give him everything, everything he ever wanted from a person, from his god. "Shit...Then I can't turn you down since you asked so nicely baby~ cum for mommy, cum for your god~" His nails stung into your skin while your moans echoed throughout your room. "Hah..oh God mommy I'm gonna- i- inside! It's coming!!" The puppets brain overheated and turned to mush from your warmth "mommy! I- im- AH~" with a few rocks of your hips he shot his load inside of you, coating his sticky and warm liquid along your walls. You rode out your high, dripping your own juices onto his own length and shirt while the puppet watched with practical hearts for pupils and a mouth leaking drool. Hazily as you shifted down to his dripping shaft and kissed at it with your wet lips. "Now im going to give you your reward, my prisoner~"

Some of you liked cat!subby scara so this was another subby scara one

And yes health care really is free in sumeru according to one of alhaithams voice lines about kaveh getting scammed💀🤭❌

Scara x Lessor lord masterlist

[the-m0st-forg3ttable-g1rl]

❝𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫❞

𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘'𝐀𝐋𝐋!! 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝟏𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐬𝟑𝐥𝐟 𝐡@rm, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝟑𝐫𝐝𝟎𝐬𝐞. 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!! 𝐈 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 (𝟑+ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬)

the lamb siblings sat outside their musty trailer, they could smell the weed from the surrounding houses... if you could even call them that. Penny was convinced the two had a constant second hand high from how much their little "safe haven" smoked that shit.

This was their normal ever since they were small, sitting with each other while their parents couldn't care less, penny, being the elder of the two felt the responsibility to protect her brother, Ezra, from the cult they lived in, however he was a clever kid and eventually caught on in his preteen years.

"do you think we'll get out of here, ez?" penny asked gently, looking over at her little brother, dressed in his usual cape, he insisted he looked cool.

"no. no we won't, no one has" Ezra put simply, that was one thing him and penny never saw eye to eye on; sugar coating things. he always said it how he saw it.

"you.. don't think we even have a chance?" her question was met with the boy simply shaking his head.

She sighed deeply, feeling herself starting to tear up, god she hated this place, she hated her parents, more importantly? she hated herself. Times like this she thought back to her countless nights alone in her room, bloody toilet paper, a razor in her hand and her cheeks tear stained as she felt the sting in her thighs. that's how she kept herself grounded; pain. The only thing keeping her alive was her brother, she cannot leave him alone in this hellhole, he's her whole life, he's the only one who loves her.

Her flashback was interrupted as their parents called the pair inside, the two exchanged worried looks before heading into their trailer, this thing didn't even deserve to be called a home. Once inside they we're met with a harsh grab on their wrists and dragged to the kitchen, Penny's worst fear had become reality, and her brother would have to bear witness.

"mind explaining this? hm?" their mother questioned, her glare shifting between the two.

a razor, a bloody fucking razor sat on the counter, penny felt sick, she wanted to run away and die. actually die, no coming back like in movies, no happy ending; she deserved death.

Ezra stared in shock, he'd never seen it before, he was too young to worry about facial hair to shave, he was too afraid to even touch dangerous objects, so he shook his head

"ive never seen that, mom, and- and I doubt penny has! she.. she wouldn't, right penns?" penny remained quiet "penns..? why is it bloody?" he asked again shakily, connecting the dots. Their parents watched emotionless, penny finally spoke up

"how.. did you find that?"

"oh honey, please, we looked through your room once you developed a little limp and found your friend here. Tell your brother what you've been doing, or should i?"

"tell me what? penny why have you been limping? what does,.. that... have to do with it? you said no secrets between us!" her younger brother quickly became defensive, he knew the answer, he knew the answer to it all, he wished he didn't but... He wasn't dumb.

"Ezra, please, I'll explain it later-"

"no! I want- I want to know now! how are you so calm?!" tears began to form in both of the children's eyes.

Ezra was crying over his beloved sister hiding secrets, penny crying because her brother hated her now.

"ever... ever since we were young, I began to cope in this place with... that" she gestured to the object "the pain would distract me, would get my mind off of how doomed we were to die here, I'm not calm, i am beyond scared right now" penny explained, her voice flat, it was scary, she was never like this. this all but scared her brother more, he was the monotone one, it seemed they had switched places.

With that he walked silently to his room, their mother turned to penny, holding the razor out for her to take

"I see you'll be needing this again, now that the only person who would remotely like you is gone, all because you can't handle your emotions..."

penny took the blade, going up to her own room and breaking down as soon as the door was closed.

Her mother was right, about everything, grabbing the stash of first aid in her dresser she hitched up her skirt and began to "cope"... she couldn't even call it that, it wasn't coping, she was dying, she wanted too, now that Ezra was gone what was stopping her? she continued this cycle of thinking, of slashing and hacking at her skin, for what seemed like hours but was only 2 minutes. The girl sat there, staring at the mess she made, her skirt was blood stained, her thigh was sticky and her nostrils were intruded with the smell of sickly sweet metal. she wanted to vomit, she wanted to vomit until she couldn't any longer.

After her self pitying, penny finally stood up, limping to the bathroom in order to clean up, this was her nightly routine it seemed. Wrapping her leg in gauze, she heard a knock on the door;

"Penns...? I know it's you" her heart hurt. She couldn't turn her brother away, she opened the door to let him in.

Ezra nearly screamed at the sight, his sister was blood stained and sickly pale, he sat next to her on the ground, grabbing an alcohol pad to wipe her hands. A small gesture but he needed to be there for her

"I didn't want you to see me like this, I look pathetic" penny laughed, finishing bandaging her leg, letting her brother care for her

"I didn't want to see you like this either, at least I know you're alive" he reassured, throwing the wipes away and just sitting near her. the two sat like this for a while until penny spoke up

"when... I leave, will you be okay-"

"no. no I won't. which is why you can't leave, in any way." he knew what she meant by leaving. he wasn't dumb.

"right but... if I did?"

"I'd go with you, I don't exist without you"

penny just nodded, pushing herself up to exit the bathroom in silence

"I'm okay, ez, I'm going to bed, you should too" he agreed with her, hugging her tight as he headed to his room.

Once she knew he was asleep, she rushed to the kitchen, searching the pill cabinet for Ezra's Ritalin, with shaky hands she poured a handful, pouring a cup of water with her free hand.

She walked up to her room, waiting for the pills to kick in, she laid down in bed, feeling at peace for the first time in her life, she was finally leaving Elysium. her peace didn't last long as her body soon became clammy and her breathing was shallow; it was time, and she was okay despite the panic. her mind was racing; was this the right thing? should she call someone? what would ezra-

Ezra. oh god Ezra.

By the time her brother crossed her mind, she felt herself choking on her own blood, she found it beautiful in a way, ghostly pale in a pool of blood.

After a minute of agony... penny lamb was dead. She reached her goal of leaving Elysium.

Ezra awoke the next morning with a sense of dread, something wasn't right in the house. he rushed down to the kitchen, finding his parents but no sister

"where's penny? she's out by now"

"hell if I know, couldn't care less about that slut" his mother huffed, shooing him away like a horsefly, he simply turned and made his way to pennys room, figuring she must've overslept after the long night she had. It was unusual for her to sleep until 10am but he didn't put it past her, slowly he opened her door in case she was indecident.. she was, but not in the way he suspected.

This time he did scream at the sight of his sister, the only thing remotely recognizable about her was the twin French braids she always had, even they had dried blood in them, everything about his dear sister was bloody. his parents rushed to find their son kneeling in front of their daughters body, hysterically sobbing as they watched in shock

"no... no she couldn't have, she can't be serious, penny lamb, wake up!" their mother pleaded, shaking her slightly, her head simply lolled to the side as her mouth spilled with blood, dripping onto the floor, causing her family to back up.

Ezra stayed in her room for days, even after her body had been removed, the room smelled of her, of her perfume, blood, tears, memories... the room was her, it was all he had of her, he barely ate for weeks, just enough to barely live, just enough so his parents, as shitty as they were, would have one of their kids. He needed to stay alive for her, stay alive so she wouldn't have died in vain.

[nitewrighter]

Where would you put your taste on a scale between Edna mode’s “NO CAPES” and megamind’s “capes make everything better”?

I'd say whether or not a hero has a cape is really dependent on their powerset and rule of cool. Like, you need to remember that the reason they put capes on superheroes to begin with was that the capes helped visually demonstrate that a character was moving/flying. If your hero is more of a grounded bruiser type, then you're probably gonna want to go capeless because a cape can easily be grabbed and tripped on in a fight. There are also capes that serve practical purposes, such as Batman's cape being used for gliding and also for sweeping in front of opponents to discombobulate them in the Arkham games, or the way Raven's cape can get treated as kind of an extension of her telekinetic abilities. In the end, it's fiction, and the superhero genre in itself is naturally impractical, so you're just going to want to go with what is visually the coolest and showcases your hero's abilities the best.

That being said, a cape can also make your hero appear physically larger and, sometimes, more intimidating--think about how Omni-Man has a cape but Invincible does not--or how Superman's big red cape is (at its best) big and comforting, while Homelander's red and white striped cape is comparatively busy and jarring--so that's another thing to keep in mind. It also doesn't always have to be a cape if you want the dramatic flapping at your back--you could have a long coat like Midnighter or Gambit, or you could play with volume and silhouette on a Superhero's outfit in general (Rogue's bulky 90's jacket my beloved...)

The Edna Mode "No capes" thing is one of the things that, in my opinion, started out as a perfectly fun means of poking fun at the Superhero genre, but has also kind of morphed into a generally stupid rule for pedantic nerds to weep about 'realism' in a genre where a fucking smallpox virus can be a space cop. Like there are way better hills to die on when it comes to superheroes.

[sunnysam-my]

Hazbin Hotel redesign ideas p. 1

Unfortunately I don't really have time to draw rn, but here are some ideas if anyone is looking for inspiration.

THE VEES:

They follow lates trends so they won't stick to the outfits and technologies from the times they died. We even see that Vox changed his screen (head) to more modern, flat TV screen.

Valentino:

He is a moth that realises poison that's basically a date-rape drug. His wings are hidden, looking like a coat, which makes no sense, a cloak, cape or sleeveless coat would look better. He is a pimp who died in 1970s. Val was Hispanic when living. Apparently, he has bad eyesight.

He is supposed to be a moth, but I don't really see it much, and the furr around his neck, that's a part of his body, just looks ridiculous. I would design him after some actual poisonous moth.

Cinnabar moth - The cinnabar is slate-black with two red spots and two pinky-red stripes on the rounded forewings. Its hindwings are pinky-red and bordered with black. The caterpillars feed on poisonous ragwort leaves. The poison from the leaves is stored in the caterpillar's body and remains even when they are an adult. As adult they leak the poison when they need to. Cinnabar moths can be seen flying during the day and night.

Six-spot burnet moth - day-flying moth that flies with a slow, fluttering pattern. It has glossy black, with six red spots on each narrow, but long forewing. They release hydrogen cyanide when attacked.

Personally I would go with Cinnabar moth, but make the spots heart shaped, and leave his inner outfit without the accessories (the suit with the white pants and golden heart belt). I would also leave his general body type but definitely change the neck furr ring, because wtf is that? I would play around with his glasses since he is supposed to have eyesight problems.

[Edit: Actually, I would make him a combo of both moths and make the furr ring his hair, because he is bald without the hat!?!?]

Velvette:

Velv is a fashion designer and critic, she is also an influencer. She keeps the Vees together and their image fresh on the internet. She's a British black woman in her early 30's. Originally her appearance was supposed to be doll-like, but that was changed to 'it-girl' and a 'bad bitch' with a darker aesthetic.

Velvette's outfit is reminiscent of Val's (heart belt, coat with hearts, black stripes on arms) but darker, especially her sleeveless coat that imitates his wings. Since Valentino is already going to be darker (in my idea) and she is a fashion influencer it would make more sense for her to be brighter.

Main thing I would change about her is her skin tone, hair, and Harley Quinn themes left from her old design.

When creating very human like characters it's important to actually get the racial characteristics right. Her ashy skin and "curly" hair just makes it look like they didn't know how to draw a black character. I would give her a different texture, something between 3A and 4B. A hairstyle like heart shaped space buns would be so cool, but even if not, her styl in a poster in the background is already better than the ponytails.

When it comes to her style I would get rid of pom-poms shoes and fingerless gloves. Her outfit for meeting the overlord was pretty okay, but I would change her other outfit. My inspiration would be PidginDoll's design, because he makes fabulous outfits and makeup looks for all bodies, genders and races, but I'll keep the 'goth' (it's not goth, it's just a little bit alt, mostly skulls) theme.

Blue accents like makeup would work great with her brown skin and would reference Vox.

Vox:

I genuinely think he has the best design in the entirety of the show, I would barely change anything. His outfit is similar to Alastor who he is trying to imitate, but he wears a tail suit, which is way more formal and elegant than any other suit, trying to showing he is a better, modern version of Alastor. I've seen some people got rid of his hat and gave him a tail made out a cord for fun, but other than that his design is good. Not too much details and not too little, tells us a lot about the character.

Maybe less stripes, because apparently Viv loves zebras or something. /hj

[writeshite]

Puppy Love

Summary:

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace. “I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” You chuckle, “I should say the same; wolves are equally as captivating."

Pairings:

Robb Stark x Male Reader

Tags:

Targaryen Reader | Fluff | Smitten Robb Stark

Words: 2122

Author's Note:

I have not actually watched the show or read the books fully 👉🏾👈🏾 I know things, but most of my knowledge is sporadic and random; it'll be like 60% accurate, I think....in my defense, I want dragons, and I also want Robb Stark, so like what else am I supposed to do 💀. Also, sorry if the High Valyrian in here is shit; I'm very behind in my Duolingo course.

“The dragons have taken back the Iron Throne.”

Robb didn’t quite know how to react to the news; his battle had been for the North, and the workings of the other kingdoms and their squabbles had never immensely mattered to him as much as he knew they should. The ball had been his mother’s suggestion, correction insistence, “As king, you should set an example and get ahead of the other kingdoms.” 

The Targarayens arrive on dragon back - each on a separate one - the beasts shake the ground when they land, thunderous roars echoing into the skies. Her Majesty, Daenerys Targaryen, is poised, expression calm as she descends her dragon; another figure follows behind her - the Queen's Hand Missandei - the other dragon rider, steals more of Robb’s attention. Expression perhaps more joyful, you appear rather ill-equipped for the weather, furs less than satisfactory in Robb’s opinion. Your attire appears snow-touched, with little color - a touch of red on the collar of your coat - and dragon detailing on the lapels. Your silver locks are platted back in a simplistic rider’s style, held together by an intricate golden band.

Your company trails behind, arriving just moments later. Robb is accompanied by his mother, Sansa, and Arya, the latter of the three stares in awe at the dragons. Robb picks up a bit of conversation as you approach them, dying down when you come to stand in front of them; the words are of another tongue - High Valyrian, he thinks. “Your grace,” he greets, “welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” she gestured to one side, “you know of my wife and hand, Missandei,” Robb nods, and she gestures to you, “and my cousin.” 

“A pleasure,” you greet him.

Robb had yet to follow etiquette, and in the spirit of that, he responds to your greeting and awaiting handshake with a kiss - placed on the back of your hand. Your skin trembles in the cold, cool to the touch; he rubs his thumb along it in an effort to create some heat. The purple of your eyes was entrancing, deep pools that drew his gaze easily. His mother’s cough draws him back; her disapproving and mildly irritated glance is counteracted by Sansa and Arya’s amused ones. The servants lead you to your temporary quarters, and Robb’s linger on your retreating form; his mother’s lecture drifts elsewhere in his mind, barely settling before it’s tossed aside by the glee of seeing you once more at the welcoming banquet.

Winterfell was colder than you expected. 

The invitation had seen no hurried response - with the rebuilding of King’s Landing, a new Dragon’s Pit, and many other matters - coming to Winterfell had primarily been driven by the need for a break. You rode on Morghon, Daenerys, and Missandei rode on Drogon, with Rhaegal and Viserion following and a company of Dothraki followed from the ground. The cool weather had been the first thing you’d noted, the second being the admittedly attractive King in the North. He donned a thick fur cape overtop his attire, a ringlet crown surmounted by iron spikes, and three wolves at the central front.

“Dubāzma,” you shrug at Daenerys’ warning tone; you hadn’t done anything; you simply glanced at the man.

You counter such, “Eman gaomagon daorun, ivestragon zirȳla Missandei.” 

Missandei shakes her head, amusement in her tone, “Iā bughegon isse suvion iēdar kostilus,” she jests.

You shake your head, and the conversation breaks off as Lord Stark welcomes you to Winterfell. Daenerys responds with light introductions for both Missandei, then you.

“A pleasure,” you say once introduced, hand held out, ready for a handshake. Lord Stark does something far different. Taking your hand, he turns it over and lays a peck on the back of it, causing Lady Stark’s eyes to grow wide in surprise and his sisters’ expressions to morph into grins.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, eyes locked on yours as he does so. His hand remains with yours for seconds longer, thumb caressing the skin, and when her ladyship breaks the brief haze with a cough, he leaves behind a phantom warmth.

The temporary chambers are cozy, readily warm, and stocked with furs; you set your luggage by the bed and don’t dwell too long on them - furs, a bed, fire, and comfort - as the welcome banquet requires far more attention. You replace your traveling coat with one more suitable for festivities - dark with gold embroidery and light fur trimming on the bottom. You exit the room to find Lord Stark’s figure leaning against the wall opposite, and a smile lights his face at the sight of you.

“Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?” you inquire.

“If you’d allow it,” he responds with a hint of hope. You chuckle and nod, drawing out a broader smile on his face. The hall is not as far off as you’d imagined; light chatter filters through the open doors as people mill into the open-spaced hall. Far from the entrance sits a horizontally set long table - the Starks on the right, Taragrayens on the left - the other tables line the sides, leaving the middle empty. 

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the announcer declares, drawing attention to you both; he announces you next, “...of House Targaryen….” It had been your idea to drop your name of Velaryon, “...Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” The latter of the titles stood more as a slight mockery, with your old life on the remnants of Old Valyria, those that had spotted you and Morghon had called you that in whispers.

You take the two remaining seats at the long table, Robb near the center, you near the edge, close to Missandei. The food is wonderful; meats, deserts, ale, and various Northern delicacies are brought to the tables - the honeyed chicken may well become one of your new favorites. People begin to mingle after the main courses as music fills the halls in steady beats; you follow suit at Lord Stark’s request to dance. 

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace.

“I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.”

You chuckle, “I would say the same; wolves are equally as captivating,” your arms turn, both palms now against the other; he laces his fingers with yours, a cheeky grin on his face. You turn to circle in the opposite direction, the crowd around you filtering out as you remain fixated on each other. You draw back, hands still intertwined; coming back again, he places his other hand on your shoulder as yours goes to his hip. A few paces and you should separate from the other, turn to another person and carry on the dance, but you don’t, remaining in each other’s grasp as you drift across the floor. 

The music changes and a joyful beat begins; the formality is lost as the crowd of dancers switches to more upbeat and expressive movements. Lord Stark tugs at your arm, head tilting towards the doors; you turn briefly to glance at the long table - Lady Arya is immersed in conversation with Daenerys; Missandei and Lady Sansa are the same; Lady Stark herself, however, appears to have swallowed a lemon, eyes glaring daggers at his Lordship. You return your attention to said man and allow him to drag you away from the hall.

Robb hadn’t paid much attention to his mother’s lecture; her words went in one ear and out the other; she wasn’t angry, not truly, merely cautious. The interest seemed mutual to some extent, though the matter of marital affairs would be complicated - gods know the Lords of Westeros would turn their noses high in disgust - his almost engagements had all fallen through when he’d paid them little mind. 

“Robb Stark!” His mother’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “I understand your attraction circumvents what the realm would regard as suitable, but that is no excuse, do not trifle with him; we don’t need them setting our lands ablaze.” 

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Sansa comments after their mother leaves. 

Robb purses his lips; a wise man would take the words to heart and cease whatever he was doing - even if this interaction bore positive fruit, there was no certainty it would be in the best interest of the North. Her Majesty could have him abdicate his throne in favor of moving into the Targarayen household, or she could disapprove of him and feed him to her dragons. Robb was a man of heart, the kind that intercepted the servant at your chambers and took it upon himself to escort you personally to the dining halls.

Your previous coat has been replaced by a darker one; golden dragon heads decorate the cuffs, and it sits tighter on your person, with the fur trimming at the bottom fluttering delicately as you walk. “Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?”

“If you’d allow it,” he responds, and gods, he hopes you would. He feels himself smile wider at your agreement, arm threaded with yours; the short walk to the dining halls leaves him ecstatic.

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the declaration echoes in the hall; brief glances become more fixated on your intertwined arms. His mother’s eyes squint, a frown on her face, “...of House Targaryen, Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” 

Robb thanks the gods; his mother’s seat is further from him; if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d have died at the entrance. “You’ve taken to my cousin quite quickly, Lord Stark,” Her Majesty’s voice draws his attention.

Her gaze is steady as she regards him, “I suppose, your grace, is that a problem?” 

It’s no secret that certain parts of Westeros and their rulers disapprove of other attractions; Robb’s not quite sure where his father would have stood on the matter - he imagines him supportive - he knows his mother prefers he be less expressive on the subject. Queen Daenerys had been quite clear on her stance, disregarding the disapproval of her new laws and marriage, though that’s not to say she would like to have him as her in-law.

“Not as long as he is happy, and well,” she answers, “I have little family left; I cannot help my worry.”

There is an underlying threat to her words, and Robb nods in understanding, and it satisfies her enough to turn away from him. The food is brought in just after - honeyed chicken, venison pies, cod cakes, ale, candied bread - the music begins near the tail end of the feast. Some sway to the tune, conversations carrying in the air, as the music changes to something more befitting a dance. He stands and moves down the long table towards you, “Care for a dance?”

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip. 

“I would agree; dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” Your arms meet in the middle, level to your heads, as you circle each other; even as the other dancers switch partners, you remain together. Up until the music changes and a less formal tune carries in the air, you follow suit, hand in Robb’s as he drags you from the hall. You stroll idly through the halls, hands held together and swung lowly and sharing idle chatter.

“What do you call your dragon?”

“Morghon,” you respond, “it means death, a fitting name. Would you like to see him?” Robb pursed his lips, and you chuckled at his hesitation, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of dragons,” you teased; coming to a halt, you tugged him closer, “certainly not after flirting with one.”

He can feel the heat creep up his neck and imagines his skin pinker at the moment, “What if he bites?”

“He won’t,” your graze drifts a little lower, “but I could.”

“Is that an invitation to your bed, my prince?”

“If you’d like, you could show me how warm the North could be. I’m sure a few hours of demonstration should suffice.”

“The demonstration will have to wait for another time, your grace,” his mother’s voice cuts in. You both jump apart, hands loosely held together; she grabs Robb by the arm, “I apologize for the interruption, your grace, but we have some familial matters to attend to.” His face pinches into a frown as his mother leads him away; he remains turned enough to send you a brief wave and a smile and is thrilled to see you return it.

End Note:

Hope you enjoyed this mess. Stay hydrated.

[sanderssidesthehouse]

First of all, the reason it took me so long to put this out was bc I was trying to find good shots of their outfits and I simply couldn't except for Remus. Theoretically they all wear pants. I swear we've gotten good shots of them, I just can't find them anywhere so if anyone wants to help a guy out and send some my way, thanks in advance.

Look, is Logan hot? Yes. But it’s not because of the outfit. It’s because of the autism.

Just put him in a whole ass button up and some slacks and nice shoes, keep the tie, he doesn’t need a full suit, but if he’s trying to look professional, that’s literally what district managers and office workers wear, it would do. Now, if he did some character development and wanted to express his interests via clothing, we could throw in a lab coat or maybe a heavy duty apron. If he wanted to be more casual, you know he’s wearing a NASA bomber and star patterned converse but he also definitely put the stars and such on there himself. Space nerd has to have a favorite galaxy he could map out.

He’s not giving enough. He could be giving so much more. He’s Creativity and he is extra as hell, you’re telling me he couldn’t be MORE extravagant? Where are the furs? The cape? The crown? The DRAMA??? He’s playing a prince, but a prince can wear eyeliner. Where is it? Give him some gold highlighter, I want to be able to see him from the moon. A prince has got to slay, but what is he slaying? My spirits? With his current outfit, certainly. I’m mad because he can do better. He’s so boring to look at. Maybe it’s because he’s not just a prince, he’s specifically a Disney prince, but just because we’re pulling from a source material doesn’t mean we can’t spice it up, ok? Adaptation is allowed and encouraged to make improvements. But I’m also not really a Disney fan. You didn’t come here for unbiased facts anyway, you came her for my bad opinions.

I don’t think you can get any more Catholic guilt than that look so potential is met. Unfortunately the only thing he’s serving is church dad who cries himself to sleep next to his wife that he never has sex with because he’s gay but scared to admit it. She loves him but knows there’s something missing and resents him for it. They still have two and a half kids as is standard. Their picket fence is white. He’s living in suburban purgatory. He projects a little too much onto his dog. This is what he’s serving. I’m not eating it. Um, personality, yeah the fit pretty much sums him up. I hope at some point it doesn’t. I hope he gets better. Someone help him.

I know he’s on the cusp of proper development so he might get a new fit soon? Or not idk. I hope if he does it’s froggy. Give him one of those frog rain hats that would be cute af. He just wants to be silly, let him be silly, please for the love of everything, someone let him be silly.

I think we could have went harder into a subculture. Emo/punk and he doesn’t even paint his nails or wear a choker. What a fucking poser. The patches on the sweatshirt and holes in his T are good, though. He could also probably do with piercings and more make up. I do love that as a collective the fandom decided to have him keep the purple hair bc that really did him some good. I understand it's annoying to put chalk or wax in your hair every time to play him, but it would get him another point in the potential category. I just want him to look cool.

Serving- Dark sides know how to serve a look. If you’re going to be morally neutral/grey you have to make up for it by being hot. They don’t make the rules but the rules were definitely made for them.

Personality- I know exactly who he is by looking at him: A fucking dork. I love my dork ass wife.

Potential- There’s always room for improvement. Namely a yellow ribbon strip on the hat. I know in my heart of hearts that it’s there, but my eyes betray me.

idek if I’d say the cape is an improvement, I think they were right not to include it because it doesn’t really add anything to the way he’s been portrayed. Though I would love to see an occasion where he can play around with the cape because I love capes. I just feel like a variation of landsknecht would have served him well. Maybe paned slops. Pumpkin breeches. Do you see the vision? He just needs some slutty little booty shorts to amp up the bottom energy, and he already has the sleeve design to go with it.

Look, he’s not even my boy, but I’m going to defend Patton on this one. What else could we possibly do here? (I’m serious, please tell me, I want to hear about your Patton designs.) He’s just you’re emotionally repressed dad! Not MY emotionally repressed dad, for certain, mine wears Hawaiian shirts, Bermuda shorts, and crocs, but SOMEBODY’s emotionally repressed church dad. Probably. Maybe.

He’s not SUPPOSED to be all ‘it’s called fashion, sweaty’ because he’s just a guy! A very normal, boring guy! That’s part of his whole thing! He’s church dad! And his outfit shows it! Anyway, sorry Patton. I didn’t mean to expose you to this kind of outfit negativity. (This portion is mostly a joke. Idc if you think his outfit sucks. It does, that just happens to be in character which makes it technically not suck in my opinion.)

Maybe now that Janus has his hands on him Patton's fashion sense will improve. Light sides just don't do it like the dark sides.

[molardeer]

9 year old me would be shatting her pants if she knew what i was drawing right now. hi billy

headcanons and tidbits about my hum!bill design below because im ill

- i wanted to kinda have a balance between alex’s one drawing of human bill and The Tumblr Design. as well as some of my personal design choices because i wanted it to be lore accurate but still visibly projected on by Meeee

- bills still only got one eye (hence the closed lid, he chooses not to have a prosthetic) and i gave my design of him polycoria so he has two fused pupils in one big eye. he still has long ass giraffe lashes

- ive seen a lot of human designs of him with a suit and jacket and i think thats really cool but i wanted mine to be a bit simpler n try something new so i gave it a caped coat thing. which i actually like a lot but i might experiment in the future shrugs

- pierced ear with teeth because he would methinks. im not disclosing whether its deer teeth or human teeth

- crooked gapped discolored + missing teeth because i think its fitting + an aspect of alex’s bill that i liked and a design choice i like in general sniles. his breath smells like beer and issues

- not skinny like the Tumblr human bill design, i wanted to emulate the triangle shape w/ his body type so hes a little bottom heavy at the torso (tho it might not be too noticeable w/ the coat) and has scrawny limbs. he gets to be a chubby old man as a treat also ive seen designs of him with pointed ears and i thought that was neat. just human enough to be human passing but still Questionably Inhuman

- his bow tie looks a little bit less like his canon design’s, i liked a ribbon-looking one better since its kinda a parallel with stans ribbon thing + i hc he got it from his mom and the hat from his dad

- i dont really know if i wanted the lighter streaks to be highlights or greasy hair i could see it being both or either tee bee aych. i hc that his hair gets a lot longer when hes in the theraprism + dwelling on the divorce, and i really wanna draw that at some point

- i dont really have a face claim for him atm but if i ever find one im passionate ill edit this and out it here. i think hes got pretty sharp cheekbones but theres some chub under his chin + hes got a pointy nose. yknow cus hes. pointy

- i got this hc from tiktok but i thought it was really interesting; his hands are really charred from the fires of his deals, + expanding on that hc i think hes got burns from the euclydia fire under his coat and gloves

thats about all the thoughts i have for now, thanks for reading !!!

[pinyatapix]

i never played Concord nor had interest in it but i felt an insatiable drive to redesign all of its characters before the game shut down ever since i saw how absolutely dripless they were

anyways here’s my scuffed ass sketches of the gang. i was originally going to finish these all before the game’s shutdown but i was so stuck on Teo that it took 6 extra days rip me. also i cant draw guns. these are all first drafts so expect them to change a bit if i feel like drawing em again

more info on these designs below (warning i yap a lot)

Itzi (i am not calling her “It-Z” cuz it reads rly weird and i can imagine someone bri’ish calling her “It-Zed” it’s so dumb): Wanted to make her more of a goofy lil gremlin creature, like some combo between a jerboa chameleon and raptor, to make her more appealing and interesting, imagine being shot to death by this silly little scamp. Everyone loves Ivy Deadlock for her gremlin charm so maybe they’d love Itzi too if she had that as well. Her chest has a hole in it containing the weird ball she throws to teleport and shit, because a Concord critique by TBSkyen said that a character’s powers should appear on their physical design or whatever, also to show that she got mutated in a freaky space storm

Bazz: nothing about her reads as “agile deadly knife-throwing assassin”, especially with that annoying puffy bright red coat, she looks completely stupid running around doing backflips with that thing on! So i made it a more sharper mysterious black coat she wears like a cape to give her that sense of shadowy agility like a phantom thief, which she keeps all her carbon steel knives all neatly stored in. Gave her a slight diamond motif on the coat and the glasses because it felt elegant and sharp. Thought her hairstyle kinda fucked hard so i kept it but made it a bit more pointier and added a little stylish side swoop.

Lennox: i actually love this guy’s voice acting and the slightly manic goofy personality it had but his design did NOT fit the voice, so fuck it im making him even more of a lizard man than they were trying to do. His self-healing ability is him shedding a bit of skin after it took damage, and his “splodey knife” is probably a back scale spine he yoinks out of his back that can explode because it’s a biological property of his species for some reason. I do not know what clothes to give him

Lark: Discarded all semblance of a humanoid silhouette to make them even more of a weird mushroomy alien. I don’t really have much to say but i can easily see them slithering around like an octopus on land but faster. Their gun would look way more like some organic fungal creation

Haymar: not much changes here but i wanted to make her more mystic and “wizardy”. The “fireballs” she uses as her main ammo are now a floating bead necklace rotating around her neck (kinda like that zen robot from overwatch) and her clothes now have more of a slight flame motif, along with more of a mystic vibe. Got rid of those ugly ass mustard sneakers too of course

Daw: gave him more turtle motifs to match his “turtle-esque” gameplay style by giving him a protective hoodie and turning his “healing pad” pack into a bulky turtleshell backpack (he’s also wearing a turtleneck sweater shirt underneath the coat lol). His coat is somewhat translucent like shiny plastic cuz i thought it would look neat, tried to ditch the goofy-ass jumpsuit thing he had by giving him a belt to separate shirt and pants. Not too sure if i made him appear enough as a medic as that’s his main thing, the coat and gloves could probably help but idk, but i adjusted his personality presentation to be more easygoing and warmhearted with the closed-eyes so maybe that could give a healer energy.

Duchess: old ladies who know how to kick ass are rly cool. her whole thing’s making walls and constructs out of this golden gooey energy but nothing in her design tells you about that, so i decided to give her a cape/cloak made of that same golden essence so that it’s more apparent on what she can use it for, it also makes her appear more like royalty which was prolly what they were going for. Kept the haircut cuz that beehive thing was very goofy but it fits the vibe of everything else

Roka: she looked like a blowup sexdoll version of Master Chief which is… very cursed, and it tells nothing about her being able to fly around and stomp on people, so i made her bug themed! She’s like a cross between a wasp and dragonfly, the bulletproof wings are rocket-powered and can fully rotate the other direction to give her a forward boost of momentum to stomp people with her slightly more exaggerated boots, they also neatly fold away when she’s not flying. She’s rockin’ that tokusatsu hero look, it gives her a lot more energy to her personality.

Daveers: hated drawing them and i feel unsatisfied but i do like what ideas i had for them. Gave them more of a “sketchy mad scientist” vibe and personality with a shit-eating grin and all that, also tried to give them a “test tube contraption” thing going on by having their helmet be entirely glass and there being tubes and bottles all over their baggy jumpsuit full of poisons and chemicals. Gave them a spray-can backpack that stores all their toxic sludge tho im not too sure if it fits the rest of them or not… whatever. Tried giving them a chemical burn mark on one half of their face but it’s blending in with the hair rip

Jabali: he’s a healer whose powers come from “his own pulse”, but the weird pacemaker thing on his heart is the only way of knowing that so i made him waaaayyy more heart themed! His cool-ass hat’s got a blood cell design on it, his coat’s got a vein pattern, his shoulder pads look like aortas and arteries, i think his dreadlock ponytail could also match the aorta look. I seriously felt that vibe of the cool badass black guy with the glasses and coat and wide tippable hat needed to be enhanced even more, he had all the ingredients to be one stylish mfer but they weren’t mixed in properly, depressing.

Vale: i was racking my head on what to do with her because the only thing going on with her was “sniper” and “bionic legs”, but i decided to make her a “scrapper” like what they called Emari in that one short by turning that “burlap sack hobo” look she originally had into more of a defining feature as something recycled from a bunch of scrap she collected. Turned her “how do you do fellow kids” backwards hat into a slick bandana that has her sniper goggles attached to it, made her braids/dreadlocks into a cool ponytail befitting of a sniper though i wished i decorated them with more stuff other than the power plugs at some of their tips, like nuts and bolts acting as hair beads. Her bionic legs are also more heavily emphasized here, she’s like 70% leg like Byakuya Togami Danganronpa and that makes her a bit more taller than most, i can see her running around with them rly fast also they have large springs in them for extra jump (also they matched those spring like curly tips in her og hairstyle)

Emari: tried to make her bulky armor even more like it’s made of scrap like the “scrapper” she is, tho since i kinda suck at mechanical greebling she looks very cluttered and hard to read. I tried putting cute little stickers and graffiti on her armor to give her more of a fun-loving vibe despite her imposing build, felt like she’d decorate her armor for fun. Gave her helmet a visor to give her some cool toughness and added lil things on it reminiscent of bear ears cuz her silhouette needed a lil something. Problem i have with drawing her is that her silhouette ended up looking too similar to 1-0FF’s redesign, it really needs some fixing cuz it’s pretty damn rough.

Kyps: she could’ve served so much cunt but she didn’t, so i needed to change that. To match her invisibility powers as a spy i themed her off of chameleons and mirrors — i un-balded her for improved silhouette by giving her a hairstyle similar to a chameleon tail (tho it also looks like a glass Prince Rupert’s drop and mirrors are also glass), gave her “earrings” similar to mirror handles, made her coat a lot longer and have it slightly reminiscent of fractured or cut glass, give it a coattail like a chameleon tail, and tried giving faint patterns on the clothes and especially the tied that gives a sort of “shimmery” kinda vibe??? She’s reminding me a lot of Inteleon right now

1-0FF: actually my favorite out of the redesigns, he was so tricky to do but i think i got him pretty right. Wanted him to appear even more of a friendly recycling bot toughened up by constant battle, replaced that menacing eye of his with a friendly smile on a screen (that i took from an app icon from my ipad out of laziness lol) and gave him little symbols of recycling like little sprout iconography and a recycling symbol heart, though as contrast to all that i gave him scars and battle damage so you know he kicks ass. Still wanted to keep the trashcan look so his head kinda resembles those trashcans with the spinny rotating lids, tried my best to make the rest of the body also trashcanny. Turned that vacuum gun of his into a megaman-type arm gun because why did they make it a separate component that’s so stupid.

Starchild: turned him from a rip-off Guardians of the Galaxy character into something more like a rock monster guy since his main ability's called Diamond Skin and it does.... guess what. I put crystals on different parts of his body and I thought about the "hair" on his body being made of those weird fuzzy kinds of crystals (realized it was a missed opportunity to give him chest hair rip). Wanted to make his name "Star Child" a lot more literal by inspiring him off of a shooting star, which is why I gave him that plume of smoke for hair. Since he's a (former) proud tribal warrior guy I wanted his design to lean more heavily into that by giving him tattoos that are like geometric stone carvings??? and giving him clothes and jewelry that give a sort of non-existent tribal culture vibe, his clothes also have a sort of bismuth pattern to them.

Teo: okay this fucker was the reason why I did not finish this. His design was so unimaginably boring that it was very difficult to come up with a "twist" for him while still having him be the standard shooty guy. Days later I immediately thought "Space Dandy" and decided to make him be way more flamboyant with a pompadour as his main feature, befitting of the "goofy space adventure" vibe this game tried and failed to capture. In my head his backstory was that he was raised from birth to be a regular ass disposable space soldier, leaving the army much much later to pursue a quest for self-identity... the identity he chose for himself being that of an over-the-top galactic popstar. I imagine his "Smoke Bomb" ability being glittering colorful smoke instead, like a popstar entering the stage out of artificial smoke clouds.

okay I'm tired. i am cooler than playstation. goodbye

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Thursday

The smut is still ever present. And has leaked into many a fic. The word leak may have been used in some of them, or not. Nerdie is unsure and quite unwell. Like I’m physically fine but you, the mind is swirling.

Anyway… 👀 The docket for this week: One Tim, One Marcus, Two Dieters and a trickle of Din.

I was tagged by @syd-djarin 😎 Thanks for the reminder and all your fics look awesome! 😘

First up, Tim (he’s got plot to get through thank you!):

Doc and Rockford are seated outside of the diner. The cool air feels excellent on her skin. She feels like she’s burning up. Tim likely understood what his brother meant by her satisfaction or lack thereof and that’s before even mentioning him putting your lab coat on her, complimenting her or touching her stomach. Doc still has to process that. So much has happened. “You wanna talk about why you were out with my brother, the outfit, or me getting you in the car Esme? Which elephant do you want to tackle first?” Rockford would have phrased it differently, but he’s tired from the late night paperwork, being worried about her and now trying to think about how he’s going to react to whatever she has to say. 

Second, Marcus Pike (because he's adorable):

“Hey beautiful! You ready for to go? I’m just going to put away some files and we’ll be ready to go.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat in giving a swift kiss to Imani’s forehead then heading over to his desk and fiddling with drawers. He’s shuffling papers while stealing glances at the woman seated in his office. “Between the shade of orange, your smiling face and those luscious legs tempting me from across the room, we might be late for our reservation.” The good agent Pike wiggled his eyebrows which had his lady friend holding her stomach in laughter.

Lastly, I wrote some Din (because we don't appreciate Din's early armor enough):

Still holding the knife, she lowered it and nodded, “Yes thanks to you. May I know your name to thank you? I can’t see you very well there, could you step forward?” Taking two steps toward him, she stopped three feet before the shadows from the building obscured him. Heavy boots and what sounded to be metal clinked with his steps. His armor was the answer, he wouldn’t need to really tell her. Silver that reflected the moonlight with a t-visor helmet and a modulated voice. None of his skin was exposed, covered in a mix of brown metal and durable cloth and a black cape at his back. Hints of silver dotted his armor from different pieces and from his weapons. Those are a major tenant of their culture - their beliefs.

The graphic above is for the pending Din fic. 😀

And I have one for a pending Dieter fic ( @angelofsmalldeath-codeine this is 30% your fault - thank you. 😊)

Technically, she’d met one of her best friends at a table read for ‘Graceland’ but it didn’t register who he was until there was an entire season making him more central to the plot on the second show. Aisha appreciated that he was serious about getting the character right, adding in changes to better express what the writer’s room was trying to convey. He didn’t do it so much for the slick escapist show on the USA show but she really saw him shine on the screen as Agent Marcus Pike in ‘The Mentalist.’ One thing that the writer’s room voted to write out for his character was all the eating. “No agent is gonna be eating like that,” they always said. Once Dieter Bravo ate the takeout in the scene while dolling out his lines, the director loved it so they quickly pivoted on that creative choice.

And I can’t leave Dieter and Maya out you know! I haven’t been chipping away at them slowly, there’s a lot to figure out. I’m don’t have much on them unfortunately. 😭

No pressure tags: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @connectioneverywhere @boliv-jenta @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@pedroshotwifey @perotovar @julesonrecord @chaithetics @avastrasposts

@slippinninque @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @inept-the-magnificent @tinytinymenace

@jessthebaker @sin-djarin @morallyinept @604to647 @djarins-cyare

@djarinmuse @pedroshotwifey

[lilywily143]

I'm gonna give you guys just a few of the ideas for ALL the voices before I draw them. Because I wanna share so muchhhhh I'm so excited working on all this!

Both spoilers and just long

Hero: Superhero appearance with wings shaped like a cape, even if he's most "human" Though I can make an argument being a superhero to help people is the most human out of the voices.

Broken: hhhh he's my comfort guy. I do have a lot of doodles of him with plucked feathers. [and I don't just mean bald spots, the stems are still in the body] But I wanna add more... diving offering based things for his...opinions on the Tower Princess

Cheated: Oh he needs a X on his chest as a general princess parallel for her being cheated from life too. Also cuts from the Razer princess. Past that, not sure.

Cold: I abandoned the idea of making him look like he was made of icicles, to be wrapped in his wings "But he's a voice numb to the cold, he is the cold itself, why would he be getting himself warm with his wings-?" Because I like that he is cozy within himself. ah? that cool? No? don't care, i'm commited

Contrarian: God I wanna do more past the jester idea and something with his Stranger route arc BUT UGH IDEA MAKING IS HARD. I have a draft of him like a jester for now...

Hunted: I'm gonna reuse the ripped off feathers idea for him. My chickens fight for domanice sometimes so I have a good reference for the appearance. probably bite marks on his wrists and an additional claw. not like a new hand, it's like this thing

Opportunist: EEEHEHEH it's hard to describe without devolving but it's.... a illusion to a Devil pretending to be a Angel thing in visuals, but in representation he isn't a devil just mischievous.I also added the fun ribbons from the Princess and the Dragon chapter.

Paraniod: Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Oh come on how could I not add them??? also just ruffles up feather coat and wings. he's gonna get a REALISTIC heart design on his chest btw, not a cartoon one [unlike another voice~]

Skeptic: little hard to figure out i'm still thinking about him maybe detective since he doesn't know what's true and wants to find the truth?

Stubborn: KNIGHT. He is a knight. Warrior!!! the willpower to fucking come back to live is badass. I might make a colored drawing JUST FOR HI because I would love him to have some orange for a Phenoix vibe

SMITTEN: MY BELOVED VOICE. HE'S MY FAV Cupid. He's a Cupid and no one can convince me otherwise. Cute cartoon heart imagery, dainty angel [like cartoon cupids] wings, a nice gown. It suits him

i wanna also say. I am not dressing up the voices, I thought feather shaping language would be fun. Though I didn't have that as a "hard rule to follow". Smitten was the first I drew and he's gonna keep the gown

Also part of me REALLY wants to do "evolved forms" of the voices because of the paths they have a huge role in. Like I saw @beartitled with a Goth Smitten form from the Happily Ever After Chapter because of the HUGE role he had and how much of a evil voice he was. [loved your art btw if you see this, it's inspiring to see :D]

Btw I love the Smitten even more because of that route. Not because I like his actions as the epitomy of "Amatonornativity Standards in the World" but because it shows how much more depth he has and also how too much of this one voice/feeling can be super bad. Like it's such a interesting arc on his end alone and the entire chapter is amazing but now i'm rambling.

[koco-coko]

A World of Color | Ikevil Fic

Tags; Fluff, Found Family, Painting Nails, Slice of Life

Characters: William Rex + Lacie Monet (OC) (NOT SHIP), all of Crown briefly

Word Count; 2279 (6 pages)

a/n; i love found family dynamics and crown is the most dysfunctional found family in existence

i think they might like this: @natimiles @olivermorningstar @leia-skywalker-organa

thanks @natimiles for the headers/dividers

The garden was always peaceful. A sanctuary of flowers and nature that even the cruelest of men deemed quiet enough to wander around without trampling rosebuds and honeysuckles. Perhaps it was an escape from evil, or perhaps the beauty was its neutrality. Hero and villain alike could admire the lily pads and tadpoles in the point.

Under the shade of the gazebo were two such antagonists. Lord William Rex, an arrogant, self-righteous villain wearing a cape as red as blood, and… A little girl. A short thing wearing a cotton, purple dress and a blindfold over unseeing eyes, with pale blonde hair that cascaded down her back into long, twin braids. The girl’s shoes had long been discarded to a shadowy corner of the gazebo. 

Despite their differences, the pair sat at a tea table as complete equals. In fact, the self-righteous monarch held the little girl’s hand, gently applying a coat of paint to her fingernails. 

Lacie squirmed. “It’s cold,” she whispered. “Are you done yet? What color is it?”

William smiled. “This is only the first layer, dear,” he explained, “It’s called the base coat.”

“And then we add the color?” Lacie said excitedly, her free hand eagerly searching for a platter of cookies. She moved around carefully and slowly so as to not knock over the chilled tea in cups that were nearby. William let her hunt the table. He had learned a long while ago that helping the girl would only cause her to huff and pout about her own competency. “What color is it going to be?”

“I’m not sure,” he grinned amicably, “Is there a color you wish for?”

“Will,” Lacie responded, wryly. “I’m blind.”

“I know,” he stayed with a tranquil smile as he reached for her other hand. “I was simply curious about what you would say. You’ve yet to tell me why you want your nails painted so badly, even though you won’t be able to see them.”

Lacie rolled her eyes. William couldn’t see that due to her blindfold, of course, but the little girl had to add a dramatic flair to every action. With an embarrassed little huff, she murmured: “Because I felt your nails and thought we could match…” William knew not to comment, since Lacie would only go on a tirade about how no, she did not think he was mysterious and cool at all! It was just curiosity! Just that alone! And she certainly didn’t want to spend time with him whatsoever! “What color are your nails?”

“I usually paint mine red,” William hummed. Lacie perked up slightly. Finished with the clear and shiny coat of polish, William put the brush away and inspected his work with keen eyes. Any error would have to be viewed and corrected by him, after all. “Occasionally black. I’ve been told it compliments my eyes.”

“What color are your eyes?” Lacie continued questioning. The brief question of children and their neverending curiosity flashed in Lord Rex’s mind. 

“Red,” he stated simply.

Lacie didn’t appear too thrilled by his response. A small pout came to her cheeks. She wanted to say something, but she figured she’d only get a response along the lines: “you’re the one who asked, aren’t you?” She simply hummed with dissatisfaction.

“Perhaps we should approach the problem differently,” William started once he was satisfied with the precise painting of Lacie’s nails. “I’ve always wondered how you perceive colors. Some say that certain colors can make us feel different emotions, and I’m curious if you experience something similar to that.”

Lacie was quiet for a long moment, her brows knit in deep thought. William said nothing, sipping from his teacup while he awaited her words. While in silence, a hummingbird breezed by the gazebo. Breaking her thought-train, Lacie quickly told the bird she couldn’t play, she had to concentrate! It understood her immediately, bowing its head in apologies and zooming off to a different flower patch. A perk of her curse, she supposed. 

“Color is…” Lacie mumbled before she spoke fully. “Honestly? I’ve never really cared about color much, so I haven’t really thought about what they mean to me.”

William tilted his head. “A few moments ago you were begging to know what color I’d paint your nails.” He already knew the answer, but he knew Lacie loved the sound of her own voice. 

“I’m interested in it now, obviously. And I don’t want you to pull a prank on me and make it something ugly! I know Jude would.”

“Of course, my mistake,” he laughed, “I give you my word that you’ll have the prettiest nails in London.”

Lacie huffed, bringing her chin up. “Second prettiest. I don’t want Elbie trying to rip my fingers out.”

William nodded, taking a bite of one of the strawberries in a bowl nearby. “What a clever girl you are.”

“I know,” Lacie giggled. “What were we– Oh! Color! Yes, hm… I think color is more so an experience than it is a feeling. It also depends on how the word sounds, too. Does that make sense?”

William glanced over the vials of paint and compared each to Lacie’s figure, only to push them aside a moment later and give the girl his full attention. “If you explain it to me, I’m sure it will.”

Oh, Lacie did love talking, didn’t she? Especially when it was about something she knew and the other didn’t. It wasn’t often at Crown she got to be the one who knew things and would be listened to. Unbeknownst to her, a large smile curved onto her face. William’s eyes thinned with pleasure in return. “Give me some colors, then!”

William didn’t waste a moment. “Black and red.”

“Oh, black is very simple,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve heard people call it scary, but whenever I hear it, I think of something warm and comfortable. Like a fireplace, or a big bed with lots of blankets and clean sheets! Very enveloping, as well.”

William tapped his chin. “I suppose that does make sense. You and Victor are quite close.”

“Does Victor wear a lot of black?” Lacie asked. Unable to keep still, she kicked her feet back and forth while she leaned on the table. One again, she reached for another dessert and devoured it in seconds. 

“Quite,” William said, before continuing to amuse the girl. “Is the evening black as well?”

“No, not at all! Nighttime is very green, actually. But black is very cozy and dark, like the night, so I see the confusion,” she stated. “Oh! You asked about red, right? Well, I think red is very unique. It’s bright, but sort of diluted. Blood is red, right?”

“Correct.”

“Right. So, taking that into account, I believe red is very lively and exciting! Every living thing has blood, I think, so it’s a sign of life. I’d say Liam and Alfons are very, very red.” Lacie’s grin only spread wider as she kept talking.

And Lord Rex, clad in black and red, was more than pleased to know she had such a vibrant view of his wardrobe. “And what about purple? You’re wearing a purple dress right now.”

“Oh, purple is very mysterious, but also cold. Like deep in the ocean,” the child explained with joy, “Fish are purple.”

“All fish?”

“All of them. Except dolphins– those are orange. Also, purple is very smoky. I don’t think smoke itself is purple, but the smell is purple. I don’t like smoke, but I don’t think it smells too bad after the fact.”

“Jude wears a purple coat,” William said. “And he smokes quite often. Does that–”

“Ew!” Lacie shrieked, “I take back everything I just said.”

William let out a hearty laugh. “Alright, I’ve already forgotten.”

“Good. Now, I think…” Lacie hummed a short tune. “You said your nails are red, right?” 

“Indeed I did,” he said, “Your memory is incredibly sharp.”

Lacie blushed, “Thanks.” She coughed to make her red face go down. “I want red nails then!”

“It will be done,” William said. “Do you have any recommendations for how I should paint my nails?”

With that, Lacie gasped. “Oh! Can I paint your nails?” she said, her feet swinging back and forth wildly. William stilled, looking over the bottles of nail polish, then at the girl’s blindfold. “I’ll paint them pink and blue! Remember how I said Liam and Alfons are very red? I think you’re pink. You and Harrison are pink. And Ellis! Very polite and whimsical, but also very weird. Flowers and trees are pink, as well,” she explained, before catching her breath once more. “Or blue! ‘Cuz blue’s a scary color, like brown. I think Roger is very blue. Dark blue; very mature and serious and scary. Roger and also books are blue. Oh! What about both? And black! Black suits you, too, I think.”

“Let me finish your nails first,” William responded, “And then I will trust my hands to you.” William couldn’t help but feel brightened as Lacie ranted on and on about how she perceived the world without her sight. The blind little girl did not live in a dark void; no! Quite the opposite! In fact, she existed in a loud cacophony of sounds, feelings, sensations, that all were painted with bright ideas! Paper was yellow, grass was magenta, the sound of birds chirping was a bright mauve, the creaking of wood was a homely orange, a kiss on the cheek was teal. People weren’t only one color either, he came to learn, by a stained glass painting of thousands of different tastes and sounds that changed whenever sunlight hit them.

Once Lacie’s nails had been dyed that same blood red William favored so, he gave his hand to Lacie and guided her through the same steps. Lacie wore an enormous grin throughout. Sure, she was blind, but she could still feel the soft skin of his hands. She ran her thumb along each of his fingers to find out where his nails were, then brushed over the keratin slowly. She bit her lip as she concentrated, and William didn’t feel the need to correct her.

“Here, this color–” she whispered, dipping it into one of the paint vials. Letting go of William’s hand for a brief moment, she felt around. The textures of each object used to mark colors were specific, so as to let Lacie recognize the corresponding colors. Cookie, teacup, strawberry, a petal. Hm, decisions, decisions…She reached behind the teacup and gently took one of the vials. “This is pink, right?” 

“Indeed,” William said.

Then, Lacie dipped the brush into the paint and took his hand. She ran her thumb over each finger, stopping at his middle. “I painted your thumb and index already…” she mumbled to herself, then quickly felt the fingers beside it. “Four, five– Yes!” While she didn’t pat herself on the back, she did bite her lip to try and hide her ever-growing smile.

The day breezed by easily, and soon enough night had fallen over London. Crown gathered in the dining hall– a sinister meeting of villains, planning dastardly schemes and… 

“What the fuck is on your hands?” Jude spat, stabbing the food on his plate with no remorse. Poor rabbit… “Did a rainbow vomit on ya?”

William hummed, sweet and innocently, looking down at his free hand, then the one that Lacie held onto. “What? I’ve had my nails painted since we met.”

Victor raised his eyes from his food, his eyes twinkling as he saw the state of the self-righteous tyrant. “William! My, what a… unique and colorful form of self-expression!” The rest of the table turned their attention to the pair, all with different levels of surprise. A few eager, some confused, others terrified.

William’s entire hand and wrist had been stroked with thousands of different colors, all overlapping each other, never in a straight line, with only a few spots actual skin managed to break free. Some places had already crusted and flaked off due to the bending and twisting of his fingers and wrist. On his cheek, in baby pink, was a sloppy heart (or maybe a lumpy circle? a peach?). While his hands looked like a used artist’s palette, his nails were, indeed, bright pink. “Lacie and I did each other’s nails over tea this afternoon,” he explained plainly. Lacie beamed at the rest of Crown as she showed off her expertly done red nails, despite her thumb’s polish already being visibly picked at. The little girl wore a similar painted heart on her cheek in dark purple, although her's was leagues more neat than William's.

Liam’s face lit up like a firework. “Wow! Lacie, we should do each other’s nails sometime, too! That’d be fun.”

“Perhaps I’ll join you,” Alfons chimed in, adjusting his gloves briefly. “We can make it a Crown-bonding activity! 

Roger chuckled and shook his head. Elbert shrunk back into his seat. Jude scoffed loudly, “Leave me outta it. I ain’t letting that brat near me with any kind of paint.”

Ellis ignored his boss’s remarks, smiling gently as he sipped from his cup. “You two look happy.”

Lacie shrugged in response to Ellis as she took her seat besides Victor. “You’re all just jealous that I’m such a good nail-painter! William said it himself!” Harrison thinned his eyes but refrained from comment. “Victor, can I do your nails next?”

Victor ruffled Lacie’s hair with enthusiasm. “Of course! I’d be delighted to have our littlest villain do my nails! What color should I wear?”

Lacie hummed and swung her feet back and forth, wearing a knowing smile as she felt William’s gaze on her. “I’ve been told you wear a lot of black, but I think you’d look great in blue.”