#hes supposed to be drawn in clothes so hes a bit less basic

[hallowshumour]

I'm kinda like if a condemned radio tower started broadcasting weird signals out of nowhere but as a guy 📡🎙📶🛰

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Hazbins bad character design

I feel like there is a definitive lack of varitey when it comes to the designs in HH as well as a problem of characters' designs not fitting them or what the show wants us to assume about them.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (like lots of other ppl already) but the designs in HH specifically mostly don't work. They're fine if you look at them disconnected from the show. Maybe as just random characters who don't really have to carry a show visually. But they don't work if you actually put them into context and into the background of Hazbin Hotel.

Obviously this stuff is very objective and if you do like the designs thats fine (which I shouldn't even have to say). Also I didn't study art or character design and I don't think you have to to be good at it/be able to form opinions on it and this is mostly just me compiling what I don't like while using some basic knowledge on how shapes, colours etc work.

(rant under the cut)

One problem I really have is, that as soon as you have a design there are immediate assumptions about the character. In the sense that if person A is very muscular and fights against person B, who is maybe slimmer or less buff, you would probably immediately assume that person A wins, atleast in physical combat. Whereas person B would probably be the assumed winner in a stretching or flexibility competition. Often characters are designed with these assumptions in mind. Muscle, height, weight, age, clothes etc. give way into assuming stuff about people, their condition, lifestyle or personality.

The expectations that are set up by the design choices are usually either picked to genuinely represent something about a character or to be subverted and shock/confuse the audience.

Like how a lot of fighting types in Pokémon will either be more muscular or have other details relating to certain fighting styles/sports and the fairy types are usually pinkish, fluffy and cutesy. Because these elements are something typically associated with these types and when we look at them we can pretty easily tell which type they're supposed to be.

Otherwise, Monster girl from Invincible is drawn as a twelve year old girl, so it subverts expectations when she turns into a big green monster and generally doesn't stray away from violence, because it's something you wouldn't have assumed about her from her appearance.

In Hazbin Hotel most of the time the character designs don't necessarily fit what they're supposed to be and they also don't use the other design choices as subversion (the one that would probably count here is Nifty with looking and acting very childlike usually but then also acting violent/crazy sometimes).

The first thing would probably be that characters don't look their age mostly.

Charlie and Valeria (Vaggie, but I really don't wanna keep calling her that so she gets a new name) look fine as they're supposed to be around 20. Rosie and Carmilla also look alright for what we can assume their ages are supposed to be. But Alastor is in his 30s or 40s (what it says on the fandom wiki) and he looks around 20 as well. The same thing goes for Lucifer. He looks so young that he could also count as just Charlies brother or friend rather than her dad, because he doesn't look like he could be the dad of a 20 year old. This makes the song "Hell's Greatest Dad" a bit awkward because these men are singing/competing about who is better as Charlies father but they don't look a day older than her. Husk also looks way too young for someone in his 60s-70s (again from the wiki).

The body types being all the same also doesn't help.

Mimzy and Adam are pretty much the only more relevant characters who aren't like all the others in terms of body shape. All the other relevant women in the show have a tiny waist and either big boobs/big hips or just a slimmer build in general. All the men have thin waists and then broader shoulders.

And for some characters it makes sense. Like Angel is really flexible and his more lanky body fits with being a spider. But why are Lucifer and Valentino like that? Other than the fact that Viv doesn't like drawing muscles there is really no reason for them too being build like every other skinny man there. Valentino is supposed to be intimidating not just by how he acts but physically too. He seemingly has a bit more muscle than others but his arms are still super thin and look like they could snap if I look at them wrong. I'm not trying to say that abusers all have to be buff, but simply from a design perspective the scenes with him would be a lot more effective if we saw him actually have a big physical advantage over Angel and others, even when he isn't necessarily threatening them. As soon as he comes on screen, we could see him as a much more intimidating presence, especially when all the other characters look like sticks. Or they could make it so, that he hides his muscles under his coat and when we get the reveal of him actually removing it, it's more shocking and immediately makes the situation more tense.

Lucifer could've had a more confident frame as well. He's the king of hell and the strongest being in hell, so just for the diversity I would give him some muscles too. Husk is also super skinny and for someone who only sits around and drinks alcohol all day, he should definitely have a beer belly (please I swear to god I wanna see more men with bellies, Mammon was great). Also for Valeria and Lute and pretty much all the Angels I don't get why they wouldn't be more buff either. Valeria is a fighter, she's Charlies bodyguard but she looks like all of the other women there. It's stated that Angels fight so wild because they don't know they could get hurt. And while I know that the Angels can really only get hurt by angelic weapons, having this whole reveal that they can be injured would've definitely suprised me more, if they actually looked like they couldn't be injured in the first place. But then again, Valeria looks like her arms would break as soon as a breeze hits them too hard. In some episodes her thighs look a bit more muscular, but not notably and she also doesn't fight using her legs (like Carmilla) so only her thighs being bigger sort of doesn't make sense. In general, she or Lute don't show any difference to the women who aren't physical fighters. And obviously just to have a more interesting show to look at, including different body types would do a great job at making these characters stand apart from eachother more.

While we're on the topic of diversity, another obvious thing that makes the characters redundant and borig (sometimes ugly too) is the reused colour pallette. Colour coding is probably one of the easiest things when talking about character designs and it's something atleast Helluva Boss understands.

What effect warm/cold tones have or what feelings we associate with different colours is a great way to bring stuff about characters across without being too on the nose. Obviously colour can also be used to either connect characters or to make them very distinct. Shape language also plays into that of course. In Inside Out the emotions are mostly characterized by their respective colour and by their distinct shapes.

Joy = yellow (bright colour often associated with the sun/light)

Sadness = blue (cold colour often associated with tears/rain)

Anger = red (very strong colour with aggressive association with fire or when someone turns red because of anger)

Fear = purple (light colour here, mix between red and blue as fear often falls into a more angry or sad feeling)

Disgust = green (colour of most dirt or puke or other stuff people usually see as gross)

Or in a show like Bluey, where different patterns, shapes and colours show the breed of the dog and also how characters might be related to eachother (same breed/mix of breed = usually related).

Or how colours can be used as lighting effects to create cool shots when the colour pallette changes all of a sudden. In JJBA these changes happen often when someone is in distress or unsure of themselves. Also in tense moments to make them seem more exciting and interesting.

Hazbin Hotel has very limited range when it comes to the colours of the main cast. All of them feature some form of red and that usually in combination with black or white (if they aren't just purely red like Alastor or Rosie). This makes them not stand out from eachother and creates very similar colour pallettes which get boring once you've seen them repeated over and over again. It also makes the visual connection between characters who are actually related (like Charlie and Lucifer) a lot less strong because so many characters share similarities already.

Also they just hurt to look at sometimes because the background is mostly red as well and with a lot of them being very overly detailed. People have also spoken before about the show being pretty inaccessible for colour blind/vision impared people due to these issues with the colour.

And now you might say that it's hell and therefore it makes sense for all of them and the background to be red. But firstly, I don't think that there is a definitive source which decides that hell is red and can only be shown/interpreted as red. And also there is another show, also set in hell which actually does a much better job at that and actually shows different colours in hell. Like in Helluva Boss the rings are all colour coded.

And I know, that HH plays in the pride ring fully, but imagine how cool it would've been to see sinners have colours similar to the sin(s) they committed. This could lead to them looking distinct from eachother and the background and would also lead to us being able to assume stuff about them, if we're familiar with the colour coding. In "Hell's Greatest Dad" they do a fun colour change with different light and it's really refreshing and I just wanted to see more variety like that (of course I kinda get that the colour changing isn't really part of the shows design but it was pretty cool to see in that song).

There also is the issue with characters that are supposed to be animal-like sinners not looking like the animal they apparently take inspiration from. The thing is that the animal/object parts don't necessarily have to be visible to understand a character. But in the show, how sinners look in hell is often influenced by their life on earth. Vox's head being a TV is because he was a Tv-show host when he was alive. Nifty also is supposedly a bug, which makes sense because she hates bugs and probably hated them in real life too. But that is where it would be great to actually have Nifty resemble a bug, instead she has no features of one and just looks like a regular humanoid sinner. The same thing happens with Alastor being a deer, Valeria a moth, Charlie goat-like and Angel a spider (also Mimzy is apparently based off of a chicken). Like I said, the animal inspiration isn't essential to the characters, but emphasizing these design elements could help the characters stand out instead of them all just looking like sort of human characters. Sir pentious and Husk work the best in terms of presenting their animal inspiration (though pretty much everything else about Husks design sucks ass).

And then there are complaints about the characters that are supposed to be people of colour not having any features that resemble their race. It's just a bit weird when a mostly humanoid sinner doesn't really seem to resemble how the person looked in real life. Black characters have really desaturated and sometimes just straight up grey skin in HH. Alastor is probably the most egregious in that regard, but also Emily has just light blueish gray skin and no textured hair or other black features like the nose or lips or palms. Velvette and Sera have darker skin but also no other features (except for when we see Velvette's natural hair texture in like one shot at the end of the season). I know there are other things wrong with how Voodoo is presented in HH or with Mimzy's design often being seen as a jewish caricature, but I don't wanna focus on that fully, because I feel like there are people better suited for talking about that (black people or jewish people ofc).

In general HH is a show with pretty bad designs (imo). That's actually a thing I prefer about Helluva Boss, because there the designs are mostly okay or actually sometimes pretty good. Striker is probably my favourite design in both shows (he reminds me of Dillon and that's cool).

I like Mammon, Asmodeus, Octavia and Loona as well. I would still probably change a bunch if I were to redesing the HB cast but they overall look more solid than the HH cast.

This was another post which pretty quickly became an excuse to talk about other media I enjoy. I might do that more often, because comparing elements of HH or HB to other stuff makes it kinda easier to articulate my feelings. Also just because I enjoy talking about other stuff too.

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

[beginningdrawing]

Art Tips Two: Drawing What You See Vs. What You Think You See

The first significant assignment for my drawing class was to do a modified contour drawing of a building, spending at least 4 hours on the drawing. For a modified contour drawing, you are supposed to keep your eyes on the subject about 95 percent of the time, looking at the paper only occasionally to place your pencil or check the lines you are making; it is a type of drawing that really reinforces the connection between what your eyes are seeing and what your hand is drawing. It's less about creating realistic art and more about hand-eye coordination.

It's quite clear that many students in my class did not understand the assignment. I've drawn something similar to the things I've seen submitted and will be comparing it to the drawing that I did for the same assignment.

But let's start with the fact that brains are very weird and one of the things that's so weird about them is that we spend a lot of time not seeing.

Most people don't process 100% of the full detail of the things they see around them in day-to-day life. If you were to process that much detail about everything all the time, you would be constantly overstimulated by it. So your brain takes shortcuts and sort of fills in the details instead of processing every single thing. It looks at a sidewalk and says "okay, I know what a sidewalk looks like, no need to render all the shadows unless something breaks the expected pattern because a break in the pattern might mean a trip hazard."

This is very useful in day to day life! People who have trouble tuning out details of sounds and sights and sensations often find themselves overwhelmed and frustrated. It's a good thing that you are likely not seeing every tiny little irregularity in the bricks in your walls or the fibers of your clothing.

However, seeing precise detail is important for representational drawing.

Because this is a *beginning* drawing class, it is about learning the basics of drawing what you see, not stylizing images or creating art from your imagination, so the very first lessons are about how to see what you want to draw. Blind Contour drawings are almost entirely about seeing and hardly at all about drawing, and Modified Contour is about *mostly* seeing and only somewhat drawing.

When people (adults especially) begin to learn to draw, they often want to draw what they think they see (the world with the details their brain has sanded off) and not what they actually see. Sometimes this is because they think the things they think they see look "better" (more intentional) than the things they think they see.

(As a side note, my cartooning professor liked to tell a story about doing commercial illustration for a sock company; he drew an accurate, realistic foot for the ad and it got sent back he asked what was wrong with it and they said "nobody is going to buy socks when they're on such ugly feet". The next ad he sent featured a simplified, cartoonish foot and was accepted with the feedback "much better, much more realistic" - we often see stylized things as more real than real things because we spend so much time eliding what the real world looks like)

Okay, with all of that in mind, here is a drawing similar to what many of my classmates turned in next to the drawing that I turned in.

The first one is full of things that the artist thinks they see. It has trees that don't look like real trees, but do somewhat look like the idea of trees that people get from cartoons. It has sidewalks that don't look like real sidewalks, but look like how your brain thinks a series of evenly-sized concrete slabs on flat ground should look. The artist knows a little bit about perspective, and as such has drawn straight lines aimed at a point on the horizon to show distance, but you would almost never see that many straight lines in an apartment complex. They have scribbled in some grass, but those scribbles are a signifier that there is grass in those spaces, not a representation of what the lawn area actually looks like. This is a drawing from someone who saw the assignment "draw a detailed building" and 1) ignored the time requirement and 2) was not aware that the purpose of the assignment wasn't to draw what a building looked like in their mind, it was to draw the lines on a building that they actually saw.

My drawing is certainly not a fully accurate representation of the building I was drawing; the perspective is wonky and the whole thing ended up being very cramped compared to the actual building, but it is much more representational than the first drawing because it was completed by very slowly following the lines that I saw and putting them down on paper.

I'm not trying to mock the other students in this class, this isn't me being mean or trying to show off that I'm more skilled, this is a constructive criticism that I wish I could offer to the other students but that I will share here instead for the people who want to learn and may be running into this issue as the assignments continue.

This is the difference between drawing what you think you see, and trying to draw what you actually see. And also putting in the time; unfortunately a lot of students just clearly didn't spend the time on this. If you don't have the time or focus for a four-hour drawing it's better to work on several smaller drawings of simpler objects in 5-10 minute increments than it is to rush through one big drawing and fill in the gaps with details that aren't there.

If you are trying to learn to draw, learning from the basics is the best way to do it, which sometimes means forgetting what you already think you know.

You don't know perspective, you don't know shading, you don't know what trees look like, you don't know what a sidewalk looks like. When you're learning to draw, don't assume that you know what these things look like, and instead draw what you actually see.

[the-nerds-in-black]

If you don't mind me asking, what inspired your designs for the LiB human forms? Why did you give them the looks that you did?

I love this question!! I'll explain a bit of my design process. (Be prepared, it is a long explanation!)

First and foremost, I wanted to retain their color schemes, but sort of "normalize" them in a sense. The lords dress very bright and wacky, and I wanted to keep that but also make them look like someone you could just pass on the street. So, the first thing I did was assign them natural hair colors. A more natural blonde for Tinky, ginger for Wiggly (because I found it funny), etc etc..

I also tried to make their clothes more "believable". You dont really see a lot of people walk around in shiny, brightly saturated, monochromatic outfits in everyday life. Personally, I think we should normalize that, but whatever. So, I broke up and spread the color throughout their outfits. Pokey still has blue, but its only in his pants and tie. Tinky still has orange and a little bit of red, but he doesnt have those neon yellow matching jacket and pants combo like in canon. Basically the first step in designing them was making them look.. kinda normal!

Then the second part! Relating them to my pre existing lords designs!

Disclaimer!! These are old designs from months ago, and Ive been slowly redesigning them so they aren't exactly accurate to how I envision the Lords!

But anyway, then comes the easy part, making them look like my interpretations of the lords! Face shape, nose type, hair texture, body type, etc etc. I did accidentally make Tinky less husky as a nerd, which wasnt intentional, so when I draw him later he will be a bit stockier!

As for exact design choices for each of the Nerds In Black, this is how I designed them!

Pokey

His outfit is meant to resemble Paul's outfit by the end of tgwdlm. Its pure irony and I am a sucker for that! It also feels like something Pokey would wear casually: formal but not too formal. The little heels are purely for show. In the future I'd probably draw him with chunkier heels. The little streak in his hair comes in a later chapter!

Tinky

I really channeled nerd energy into his design. The short sleeved button down over a t-shirt speaks to me. Also gave him a watch because I felt it was the easiest way to allude to who he is. Plus, it matched the shape language of his glasses! (Which alludes to his goggles in canon) When I draw him in the future I am drawing him a bit chubbier and with messier hair. Also, ive never written about it or drawn it, but Tinky still has an overbite!

Wiggly

He is actually pictured in an outfit that will show up in the next few chapters! It's a dressier outfit than what he woke up in. The inspiration comes from a funny place actually: Grace's outfit. White shirt, cardigan vest, a little ascot resembling tentacles, its just a slightly more masculine (and green) version of her outfit. And this serves a purpose! For now, I'll say that Grace and Wiggly have a surprising amount of things in common, and they are sort of like foils to each other. It was also important to make him look non threatening, including his lanky frame and freckles. Basically, i wanted to emphasize his insecurities, the parts of himself that he believes make him weak, so that he can't avoid facing them head on!

Nibbly

I went a little silly for this one. PERSONALLY, and this is my opinion, I dont.. really care for Nibbly's outfit in canon, but I tried to keep the skirt, pigtails, and overall feminine expression. I feel like the dark sweater contrasted well with the skirt and peppermint inspired accents. Honestly, im not sure if this one is one of my favorites and I may rework it a little, but I still think its cute! Plus he has a little gap between his teeth! Also, the corset was a fun idea I had, and I think he will get it in a later chapter. The strings on the corset are supposed to resemble sharp teeth too.

Blinky

Being fr I have no idea what i was thinking with the polka dots on the hoodie. Maybe like.. eyes? Definitely going to rework that. Anyway, I wanted Blinky to be dressed very modestly. Its sort of meant to represent that he prefers to watch and not be watched. The face mask also serves that purpose, plus obscuring his mouth. I also kept his glasses, but made them a necessity. Its an added weakness, and worse, its a weakness that was once his strength.

In conclusion...

Overall, I think Pokey, Wiggly, and Tinky are my strongest designs that have a lot of thought into him! I will be changing a feel small things in the future, but for now I think they are fine.

And that's my design thought process! Thanks for asking about it :3

[fauxfickle]

Stylized unwithereds yay! I had a very basic idea of how they would look months ago but I've finally refined them to be more what I wanted.

Freddy's face is based of Boom Boom Bosco's and Fingers Dan's masks from the Bear Country Jubilee. He's just super pissed off for some reason. He's got little ruffles around his wrists similar to my T. Freddy design. I wanted him to seem a little less domesticated than the toys and classics if that makes sense. Purposely gave him low shoulders and short legs like an actual bear.

Bonnie's face isn't really drawn from anything in particular other than Beach Bear from the RAE with a bit of a double chin and stoned expression. His clothes are more based even more of Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" music video than T. Bonnie's. I'm not sure where but I remember seeing a W. Bonnie design giving him a red nose and felt like that was really cute, so I stole it!

It's a little hard to tell but Chica is supposed to be place behind doors that swing out when she leans forward, similar to when Pasqually was hidden behind little kitchen doors. Her attire is based off of Mama Grandbags from the Hard Luck Bears show and BCJ. Also gave her a grey streak in her hair to make her seem a little more like an older women or hen rather.

Foxy's here and it seems like he forgot you need pants if your gonna wear a belt! I drew him before way back in November but didn't give him his signature worried look. I'm not sure why, but making him look like he's 5 seconds away from having a mental breakdown always seemed appropriate for the character. Anyways, his striped shirt is based off Mr. Smee, I gave him some ear piercings, and like my Mangle design, he has a prosthetic hook for grabbing things. I accidently drew him with his top teeth showing while his mouth was closed and really loved how goofy that made him look so I kept it. His cap says "HMS TERROR" which if you know, you know.

Finally puppet's here! They play piano and that's about it. Not really anything I can really add to the character.

My main design philosophy with these guys was imagine what the Fredbear and Springbonnie characters are like, how they act, how they are presented by the company, and flip it around. I imagine Fredbear, Springbonnie, and the puppet are all good friends trying to put on a show. They poke fun at each other, but it's all just theatrics in the end. They have funny old people energy.

Freddy and his friends are the compete opposites. They rant and rave at each other. They're loud, tacky, raunchy, and hopelessly geriatric. If the classics from the 90s are in their 20s, and the toys are in theyre 30s-40s, then the withereds are just plain old people in their 50s-60s

[gogogoats]

Dragonblade Deep Dive - Chapter Nine

Chapter Eight

Still just me and my opinions and the growing need to defend Gunther.

Chapter Nine - Two for One

Jane and Dragon have been deliberating over whether or not to try unlocking the sword for “a while”. They go back and forth, agonizing over whether or not to try doing this thing that they have done countless times before. Like, we see Jane playing with the handle, twisting the runes, it’s not a big deal and in fact she’s probably done it so often absent-mindedly that I’m amazed she hasn’t accidentally unlocked many of it’s secrets. It’s basically a built-in fidget toy.

Anyway. Dragon is acting more like himself, Jane says it’s nice. Jane decides they will line up the runes and Dragon is worried it could be a lethal booby-trap. Jane says she knows the sword won’t hurt her just as she knows Jester would never hurt her or Smithy would never hurt his pig. She thinks that this will lead to them uncovering the history of dragons and that’s what they’re actually scared about.

Jane remembers which runes to line up, but not the order they are supposed to be in. This is the most drawn-out build-up to what I suspect is going to be a massive anti-climax. While Jane fiddles around with the sword, Dragon speculates about why a dragon would have made a dragon-killing sword for a human to use. Jane gets the order right, yay. After a brief labour, the sword gives birth to a dagger.

They admire both blades, which are extra light-weight now they are separated, and Jane swishes them around for a bit. Then she decides she must go into the cave to check on Robert. Sadly I don’t think she means to make sure he’s dead. She says she trusts him now and she wants to see the secrets he has for her. Dragon is against the idea but Jane says he promised to show her a true dragonblade if she proves herself worthy.

So now the teenaged-girl is running after the creepy adult man who lured her into a trap and took advantage of her isolation to disorient her, because she wants to prove her worthiness to him. Fabulous.

Back in the village, Jester and Gunther are still hiding near Magnus’ house, spying on Theodore and Haroldus. Jester can’t understand why Gunther would have confided anything in him, and decides that since he is a “schemer” and “cut from the same cloth” as Magnus, he must have a reason for doing so. Yes Jester, he had a reason. It was because you wouldn’t listen to sense or let him do what he needed to do without tagging along. But no, it must be because he’s a horrible person, as evidenced by none of his behaviour thus far. So nice to mention that he’s “not AS bereft of virtue” as Magnus, though! What a compliment!

Gunther is focused on the task at hand and notes that Theodore is fuming. Jester thinks he might be injured too, and Gunther agrees, deciding he must go to him at once, which he does.

Jester watches him go and reflects on him. He has always been a pawn of his father but he was also influenced by his training to become a knight. Jester has watched Gunther struggling to reconcile these two influences with admiration. Jester seems to have some very strong, very conflicting opinions about Gunther.

Suddenly, Jester is no-longer seized by the need to do whatever is necessary to learn what has happened to Jane. He doesn’t want to be around while Haroldus is being interrogated, and the need for answers about her location or safety has become less pressing. Instead he needs to go to the tavern and drink.

He tells the taverner he’s there to hide from Lavinia, takes his drink and sits in the corner, where he tries to solve the incomprehensible riddle of why Gunther would want to talk to someone about some of the crap his father is up to.

Jane is preparing to enter the cave, but it’s dark in there. Dragon sets a tree on fire and gives it to her so she can cut off a branch to use as a torch. She takes out the dagger, picks up her torch, ignores Dragon’s advice and heads in.

End chapter.

Overall impressions:

Really struggling to care about Robert and the cave. Kind of wishing that Jane and Dragon would just fly off and leave him there. I guess we’re supposed to wonder about how and where he learnt about Jane’s sword and how to unlock it. Was it his father who passed on the knowledge, or did he read about it somewhere? Will we ever find out? Eh.

Does Jester have a drinking problem? He woke up with a hangover this morning and he’s back at the tavern at midday because he needed a drink to help him think straight. Hair of the dog, maybe?

If one more character compares Gunther to his father, the father they KNOW has treated him badly, I swear. Why can’t he be his own person? Why can’t he see his father’s schemes for the horror show they are and want to confide in someone about it? His life is ruled and manipulated by this huge, evil, conniving monster of a man and Jester can’t figure out why he might need to talk about it sometimes?? You’re supposed to be the smart and insightful one, Jester! 

Times passed since start of novel: day two, afternoon

[shijiujun]

Okay I’ve decided to do a single rec after I finish one novel hahaha because if I wait to get around to it all it’ll never happen! Anyway because @sarah-yyy​​ has been reading it and I’ve gotten a lot of asks/replies on this, I’m just going to do one huge list for one of my faves so everyone knows what’s going on and where to find things XD

- Part of Min’s ‘Why You Should Read’ Series -

Summary: 

This is set in a historical setting where men can marry other men, but it’s usually reserved for sons who were not borne by the official main first wife of the patriarch of the family, i.e. a son born by a concubine in a family may be forced to marry a man to keep him from being able to become the next family’s patriarch for example. This is because any family’s next leader needs to be able to have children with a wife who married in as a zheng shi (lawful wife), and not a ce shi (second wife) or any other concubines/mistresses etc. Most of these men who marry other men have to take them as their zheng shi and lawful spouse in a sense, and the same goes for the royal family.

The story starts with third prince Jing Shao, who was forced to marry Mu Han Zhang, a Marquis’ second son, by the Empress and Emperor, thereby officially and effectively cutting him out of the race for the throne. He’s mocked by the public as everyone knows what this means, and for the next 10 years, he neglects Mu Han Zhang, blaming him for his predicament, and deliberately showers his three other concubines with affection in front of him, but 10 years later, when Jing Shao is accused of treason, everyone leaves him except for Mu Han Zhang. They are chased to the edge of the cliff by soldiers, and Mu Han Zhang dies in his arms having taken an arrow meant for him earlier, and Jing Shao jumps off the cliff with his dead body, and promises that if there’s a next life, he will do everything Han Zhang says, and love him.

He wakes up immediately on the night of his marriage with Han Zhang, and realizes that he’s been given a second chance to make everything right. Han Zhang is definitely afraid of him, humiliated and angry when he first wakes up after how rough Jing Shao was with him earlier on their wedding night, and he has no memories of their past life. Jing Shao then sets to SHOWER HAN ZHANG with affection, love and basically everything, because he realized that this is the only person who stayed by his side until the end, and then he falls in love with Han Zhang properly this time, and also deals with every single person who maligned and schemed against him in his previous life, with Han Zhang by his side.

Read: 

Novel (Online) | Novel (Print) - Not Available | Novel Translations | Manhua (You’ll have to download the KuaiKan app, the chapters are currently all free)

Characters:

1. 景韶 Jing Shao - 3rd Prince and is the first out of his three other brothers to be given a title 成王 (cheng wang). He’s referred to as 王爷, and also 小勺 (xiao shao) by Han Zhang. Went out on his first war when he was 14, and was thus given a title before any of his brothers. He’s known for being a merciless, cold and fierce army general/commander, but this was before his second life with Han Zhang, where he puts on like his doting mode and is basically a dumbass XD who listens to Han Zhang with a lot of trust, which is cool and all.

He marries Han Zhang when he’s 19, and in his first life he was very reluctant and resistant, and neglected Han Zhang for 10 years, until he was charged with treason and hunted down. 

In his first life he wanted to snatch the throne, even from his blood-related brother Jing Chen, but more out of spite than anything else because he felt he was dealt an unfair hand by having to marry Han Zhang. Not only that, but Jing Shao is not his father’s favourite son, and he always felt that the emperor was biased against him. Anyway, a huge accumulation of daddy and anger issues, which is fair.

When he realizes that Han Zhang died for him, he decides he will be good to Han Zhang if they are reborn in their next life.

2. 慕含章 Mu Han Zhang - The 2nd son of Marquis Bei Hou’s, born to a concubine. He’s called by his 表字 which is 君清 (jun qing) by Jing Shao. Official First Wife Bei Wei Hou-furen and her son (who is in line to inherit the Marquis title from his father) has bullied him all his life, and wanted to push him into greater desperation by marrying him to Jing Shao, knowing he will suffer at the hands of the supposed merciless/heartless wangye. He has a weak body because of an accident when he was younger, and in his first life he was really sick after being neglected for 10 years, and knowing this in their second life, Jing Shao does everything he can to take care of him.

He is incredibly smart, has a brain for business and sales, and is also very good at handling people, especially scheming ones. He aids Jing Shao in the beginning of their second life, and then Jing Chen later as well, as both brothers begin to fight to put Jing Chen on the throne, against the 1st and 4th Princes. Is an incredibly good tactician in war as well.

3. 景琛 Jing Chen - 2nd Prince, Jing Shao’s blood related older brother who is handsome af too. His title, given later in the novel, is 睿王 (rui wang). He was misunderstood by Jing Shao in the first life as Jing Shao thought it was his brother who led to him marrying Han Zhang, and because he’s not very good at expressing himself and shows his concern to Jing Shao by nagging at him, Jing Shao always thought he hated him. In their second life, Jing Shao already knows that Jing Chen loves him and did a lot for him in his first life, and so trusts his brother and supports him right off the bat, because Jing Chen is indeed the most suited person for the throne.

He has a wife and a concubine, 3 sons and 2 daughters at this point. He ends up helping Jing Shao a lot, and when he realizes that Han Zhang is way more adept at politics and the whole scheming thing than Jing Shao is, he begins trusting Han Zhang a lot more as well! There’s a surprise with Jing Chen hahaha which I loveee and could see, but wasn’t sure until they confirmed it in the last few chapters AHAHAHAHA.

Other Notable Characters:

1. Song Ling Xin (Second Wife) on the left, and two other concubines on the right

They’re pretty much vying for Jing Shao’s attention, but at this point apparently he hasn’t slept with any of them before. Song Ling Xin is the daughter of the Military Department’s Head Song An, and Jing Shao married her initially out of interest. The right most concubine (I forgot her name oops) was a gift given to him by his oldest brother, the 1st Prince. The two of them played a huge role in Jing Shao’s downfall back in his first life, and so in his second life, he especially detests Song Ling Xin. Plus the three of them keep bullying Han Zhang in the beginning, but thankfully Jing Shao is like: “Anything my Jun Qing wants”. They don’t stay around for long either, watch as Jing Shao gets rid of them like he’s swatting flies.

2. Xiao Yuan & Zhou Da-Ge

This is another male couple who’s been married for 7-8 years if I recall. Xiao Yuan is one of Jing Shao’s important allies and friends in the second life, because in Jing Shao’s first life, this was one of the only young officials in court who spoke up for him when the accusations of treason came about. Zhou Da-Ge is his husband, who is a cook running a restaurant in the city. Whenever Zhou Da-Ge bullies Xiao Yuan in bed a little too much, Xiao Yuan punishes him by making him wear colourful clothes out (pink, bright yellow, purple, etc.) and thus he has a reputation for being eccentric and a weirdo, but oh well, all for love.

3. Gu Huai Qing

One of Jing Shao and Jing Chen’s most powerful allies, and he becomes blood-sworn brothers with Jing Shao without realizing who he is. Later he takes a liking to Jing Chen.

(Will update with photos when they come out, but they’re a bit further into the story so we won’t have them for a few months yet ahahaha)

Amazing Scenes:

Jing Shao & Han Zhang first looks in the manhua

Jing Shao being THAT clingy husband and helping Han Zhang to wear his clothes properly so cute!!!!!

Han Zhang and Jing Shao in their first lives (10 years later), about to die, sad and then Jing Shao jumps down the cliff with Han Zhang’s corpse, regretful cuz he a dumb bij

Jing Shao unable to resist kissing Han Zhang’s cheek, realizes what he’s doing, and gets embarrassed LMAOOOO 没出息!!!!!!! (This is different from the novel, because in the novel Jing Shao just kisses and is done with that, the embarrassment part is drawn in only in the manhua hahaha)

Other Things I Like in the Novel:

Jing Shao is like, he does a 180 entirely and he is very cognisant of all his faults and what he did wrong previously, and how badly he treated Han Zhang, so he legit forces his brain to go “I will listen to Jun Qing from now on” and he really sticks to it!

Loves kissing and teasing Han Zhang, but doesn’t force him into bed after their wedding night, and instead goes to Xiao Yuan and asks for tips on how to make his partner feel less scared about sex

The both of them end up with a pet tiger?!! That’s called Xiao Huang (little yellow) LMAO

They nap together a lot which I love <3333

Jing Shao knows he’s bullied at home, so when they go back to the Marquis Bei Hou manor, he holds Han Zhang’s hand in front of everyone to let them know Han Zhang has someone to back him up

Brings Han Zhang to war because he “cannot concentrate if Jun Qing isn’t with me at all times” - and asks for special permission to do so

Han Zhang notes that since he married Jing Shao, as the ‘wife’ he is supposed to serve Jing Shao, but it’s always Jing Shao serving him - Getting water for him, bringing him to baths, putting clothes on for him, putting food in his plate if it tastes nice, massaging his back and waist etc. - and best is he doesn’t have to deal with any in-laws?!! HAHAHA

Jing Shao gets revenge on those who hurt Han Zhang when he was younger for him, and the outcome is pretty hilarious but well-deserved

EPILOGUES are cute af!!!!

[soulmate-game]

part 2 (of that new bio!dad fic)

Dick whipped his head over to Bruce, who could feel the heavy gazes of all his children as if they were physical. If they had had heat vision like Clark, he would have already been reduced to a puddle of mush. Bruce shifted, the only sign of his discomfort, but he recognized that the middle of a gala was no place for this discussion. There were too many busybodies trying to listen in for the latest gossip. So he plastered on a smile that he couldn’t quite feel, and held a hand out to Marinette. He was careful to keep a good distance though, and left the choice for contant purely up to her.

The young woman looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Damian had been shocked silent by what she had to say, and perhaps even more by the all too telling way that Bruce hadn’t so much as implied that she was lying, and the look he was giving her was making her a little uncomfortable. Yes, she hadn’t planned on interacting with her father more than just the years-overdue confrontation she had just done, at least not while at the gala… but her plans always left room for improvisation. She could make this work.

With a soft sigh, Marinette extended her own hand— half the size of Bruce’s, he noted almost immediately with a rush of illogical fondness— and grasped his lightly. She couldn’t help but notice the way his impossibly blue eyes brightened, no different than her own when she was particularly happy, or the way his mouth twitched with a barely suppressed beam. Instead, he controlled himself enough so that the only smile he gave would look professional and entirely in character to the nosy socialites still spying on them, and led them out onto the dance floor.

What everyone else saw was the unfairly charming Bruce Wayne giving his young guest of honor a simple dance. Just a basic swirl around the floor that every other social elite had learned when they were five. Clearly he was taking it easy on the self-made girl, who probably didn’t have experience with such dances. Humoring the accomplished young woman with his approval for a moment before he would slink back to his family or patrol the crowds and make the necessary greetings and meaningless chatter.

What his family saw was Bruce taking time to slow his steps, not for Marinette to keep up but rather to prolong the event. What they saw was the grace in Marinette’s steps as she never once faltered, and that Bruce was careful to take his cues from her instead of the other way around. He only led the dance in technicality, Marinette had all the real control.

What they saw was a father’s first dance with his daughter.

“Eighteen,” Dick whispered, eyebrows drawn low. “She said she’s almost eighteen.”

“Well, that lines up doesn’t it?” Jason asked gruffly, his own gaze never leaving the dancing duo. “We were planning on doubling up your big thirtieth birthday party as your eighteenth adoption anniversary,” he reminded his brother, who just made a slightly distressed noise in the back of his throat. Whether it was at the reinforcement of his adoption coming only months after Marinette being put up for adoption, or the fact that he was turning thirty, nobody could really tell.

“Hurt,” Cassandra spoke up from behind them, looking incredibly concerned as she watched the dance. “Uncertain.”

Stephany rolled her eyes, fidgeting from her quickly building energy. Anger was making her restless. “Of course she’s hurt. Bruce replaced her, with a boy he knew virtually nothing about, not even that long after she was born. How do you think that made her feel, when she found out?” Stephany let out a little growl, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and downing it in one gulp. She ignored Dick protesting that she wasn’t of age yet, which made her wrinkle her nose. “Only one more year, Dickhead. Get over it, I need the buzz.”

“Well,” Barbara sighed and maneuvered her wheelchair around the group so that everyone could see her. “Nothing we can do right now but be supportive and watch Bruce like a hawk so he doesn’t make this worse,” she stated easily, not looking even the least bit ruffled by the news despite the disturbed glitter in her eyes.

“... Guys,” Tim spoke up, not looking at any of them. “Who wants to volunteer for Damian duty?” At first glance, it might seem like Tim was thinking about his own first disastrous meeting with the younger boy. Once everyone paid attention though, they could see that the truth was that Damian had snuck away and Tim was pointedly looking at a slightly hidden-away staircase to the second floor.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, but before he could say another word Jason shoved him back and started towards the stairs.

“No, not this time Dicky. I’ll talk to the brat.”

Back on the dancefloor, Bruce and Marinette broke away without any fanfare at the end of the song. If Bruce tried to hold her eyes for a moment too long, nobody noticed besides his observant children, and two of Marinette’s protective friends.

Then, just to make sure that nobody caught on with the help of hindsight, Bruce said something vaguely polite and praising, which Marinette accepted with flawless, distant poise. And they went back to their own groups, Bruce quickly noting that two of his sons were missing. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why when a presence behind him caught his attention. Unlike Marinette and Chloe, this newcomer was not at all trying to hide their approach or be sneaky about it, even though Bruce couldn’t hear any footsteps that were close enough to belong to the mysterious entity. Closing his mouth, Bruce turned around only to be greeted by yet another vaguely familiar face. Bright green eyes bore into his, unreadable.

“Mister Wayne,” the newcomer greeted, voice warm but stiff. If the Waynes hadn’t all had years of recognizing when a person was only pretending to be cordial, they never would have suspected that the boy was anything but pure-heartedly happy to be there. But they did have that experience, and thus they instantly honed in on the very well-hidden fact that he had a bone to pick with them. Or, more probably, with Bruce.

He cut an impressive figure, for all that he was lithe muscle instead of bulk. Hair that was lighter than Chloe’s, less like cloth-of-gold and more like sunlight glinting off of wheatfields. It somehow hung in gravity-defying tufts, yet perfectly arranged to evoke a calming aesthetic. Like the fluff of a long-haired cat, almost, and it looked just as fluffy and hypnotizing. It contrasted with his emerald eyes, impossibly vibrant in their gleam. And the suit he wore was decidedly top-notch, much like the other two they had met from his class. He was daring, in a dark silver suit that slightly shifted in the light, green accents that matched his eyes standing out strikingly against the collars and trim, and coiling in tantalizing swirls at the cuffs. The lining of the suit jacket was done in a dark green that could almost pass for black in the right lighting, adding a layer of both drama and mystery as it peeked out at the back of his collar, the insides of his sleeves if he moved just the right way, at the bottom hem of the jacket when he turned or bent just so. And with his notoriety in the modeling world? He always knew exactly how to move or place himself to get the reactions he wanted. And he was clearly showing off the craftsmanship of his suit just then as he faked adjusting his cufflinks and lifted his head just the right amount to both look challenging and let the dark green on the back of his collar flash in the light in such a way that Bruce and those nearest him wouldn’t be able to miss the brief reveal of color.

“Adrien Agreste,” Bruce greeted back, eyebrows pulling down in slight confusion. Normally the topic of clothing was far from his genuine interest, but in this particular case it was an intriguing, and possibly even concerning, observation. So he said next; “That suit is not of your father’s usual style of design.”

Adrien scoffed, straightening out his suit’s jacket and making the obsidian buttons glint. “Of course not. I’ve started my rebellious phase— or, well, I finally started being blatant enough about it that my father noticed anyway,” the way his lips curled was decidedly not very attractive, but painted a vivid picture of a son who despised the way he was treated. Adrien quickly wiped the distasteful expression away and replaced it with a camera-ready smile. “I’m wearing one of Marinette’s designs, much to his chagrin. She insisted on making this for me as soon as she heard that my father was planning on sending me in a white suit.”

Bruce quickly caught on, and sighed. How long would the gala go on for, again? He didn’t remember what time it was anymore. “Your friend Chloe already got a pretty clear warning in. I suppose you know as well?”

Adrien’s grin darkened with mischief, and he nodded all too happily. “Of course! Marinette told me almost as soon as she found out, a few years ago. You see, we had to put down a very solid rule about secrets between the two of us. She has a bad habit of trying to shoulder the entire world’s problems and not tell anyone about it, if you don’t pay close enough attention,” his voice was deceptively light but his eyes were hard, warning. “And let’s just say, I have a lot of experience with bad father figures. I can recognize them a mile away by now. The signs of neglect, of apathy,” his eyes suddenly lightened when he saw how Bruce’s throat visibly caught, how the man didn’t seem to realize he had stopped breathing. Maybe he was being a little to mean, Adrien thought. So he let the dark slip out of his eyes, and his smile turned more genuine. “You don’t have those signs. You looked at Marinette like you were both the happiest and most miserable man in the world at the same time. But you can’t change what you did to her, Mister Wayne. If you want some advice from Marinette’s oldest friend?” Adrien held out a closed fist.

Bruce took a second to realize what was happening, too busy trying to recover from his situational whiplash and wave of relief. Once he caught back up to the present, however, he held out his open palm and let Adrien drop something into his hand.

To his shock, it was a pen, engraved with the name he recognized as Marinette’s biological mother. He also recognized it as a popular model of pen-knife. He raised his eyes to Adrien, who winked.

“Marinette doesn’t know I had this made. And she has a lot of tricks that might surprise you, but what she wants more than anything is stability. If you try to give her that, show that you care and you want her safe— and then prove that you’re gonna stay— then maybe you can repair the damage you’ve done. It won’t be easy though, Mari is the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I grew up with Chloe.”

Bruce closed his hand around the pen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but Adrien’s faith in him and his help… somehow felt significant. He nodded to the young model.

“Not to worry, I have experience with stubborn,” he glanced back at his other kids with a small smirk. None of them were the least bit repentant. “And I do want to stay. Thank you for the advice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Don’t thank me. If you hurt her again, you’ll never see my revenge coming. It can be rather… catastrophic,” with that ominous threat, Adrien bowed dramatically and turned to leave and do some rounds charming the elites. Bruce tucked the pen in one of his hidden pockets, but stayed silent after that. He had a lot to mull over.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the gardens behind the gala’s venue. He was glaring at nothing, and his hands trembled from where they gripped the rail. It was five minutes, a little longer than he had expected but not that odd considering everyone’s distraction over Marinette, before he heard the glass doors behind him creak open.

“Yo,” Jason greeted, knowing it was better not to catch the boy off guard. None of them were good with surprises anymore, for good reason. It was always best to announce their presence before they made someone react violently on accident. Damian’s shoulders relaxed a little— not a lot, but enough for Jason to notice. The older man sighed, walking up and leaning on the rail next to his little brother. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“That could have been me,” he almost instantly blurted. It was still hard talking about his feelings, but certain things were easier with Todd. This was, apparently, one of them. “If Mother hadn’t kept me a secret.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason disagreed, shrugging. “There are several big differences here. For one, Marinette was born three years before you were. By the time you were born, he already had Dick and he would have only been a year, max, away from taking me in. Which means he already had built up his problem with taking in kids, and nothing would have gotten him to give up a chance at raising you. With or without Batman getting in the way.”

“But then why—” Damian growled. “Why did he give her up?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jason remarked bluntly. “You know how he is. He didn’t have a kid at the time. Hell, Bruce would have only been twenty-two back then. He only adopted Dick on impulse because Dick reminded him of himself, but before all of that shit? He probably made a million excuses about not being able to raise a baby and be Batman at the same time. About his life being too dangerous for a kid. Which, yes it is, but that clearly didn’t stop him later.”

“She’s older,” Damian muttered, this time softer.

“Yup.”

“Her mother wasn’t an assassin, probably. She designs. I hate to admit it, and you are never to repeat it to anybody, but her work that we’ve seen so far is impressive. She can clearly charm even the most stuck-up of gotham’s upper crust.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed neutrally, his eyes never leaving Damian.

“Father won’t need me. He already doesn’t have much patience—” Damian was cut off by a flick to the nose. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you’re being stupid,” Jason defended himself. “Look, B’s actually been real patient with you these past few years. I mean, when was the last time he yelled at you? Or told you that stupid ‘justice not vengeance’ line?”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. After another moment, he replied; “Almost two years.”

Jason nodded. “It might take him way too long, but he can still learn new tricks. Especially after that mess with Heretic, he’s been trying really hard to be better to you. He still screws up, because I think we all know by now that he’s a bigger mess than any of the rest of us and that’s an accomplishment, but he’s trying. He doesn’t keep you around because he needs you. He’s got plenty of us around if all he wanted was soldiers— though none of us would stick around if we thought that’s all he wanted.”

Damian flexed his jaw. He was still the most violent of the kids, besides Jason. He saw Bruce rubbing his forehead or pinching his nose far too often at some of his decisions or comments. He was stubborn, impatient, reckless.

But hadn’t Bruce himself told him on several occasions that he wasn’t trying to make him a perfect soldier? Hadn’t Bruce himself said that he just wanted Damian to grow into himself?

It was just really hard to swat away those stupid voices in Damian’s head. Voices of the past, mostly, old dialogue he had never actually forgotten. That he merely pretended had never affected him. The “you’re too violent”s, the “that’s not how we behave, Damian”s. All the old lectures, the old fights. They echoed like stupid little gremlins of doubt.

“...Marinette has his eyes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like that,” Jason’s voice was soft, but gruff at the same time as he cuffed Damian over the head. “You didn’t choose to be born, idiot. And despite being a little demon, none of us would reverse it, You’ve saved all our skins at least once. And besides,” he nudged Damian a little with a grin. “You’re not half bad, nowadays.”

Damian chuckled. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey!”

@peterxwade24 @mizzy-pop @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @khneltea @itsmeevie01 @fusser90 @woe-is-me0 @lolieg @moonlightstar64 @jayjayspixiepop

[mleelunsford]

Darkstalkers Redesign Thoughts Part 4 & 5

The final rounds! I was really getting worn and burnt out, so I don’t think a lot of these last ones were my best. Here are my thoughts anyway.

Part 4

Q. Bee: Q. Bee is the scariest Darkstalker for me. I hate insects to start off, if not a genuine phobia then very close. Secondly just the idea that the “humanoid” part of her is all a façade formed to lure people in creeps me out. I tried to make her body look more like it was formed organically rather than she’s wearing clothes, gave her some  extra limbs to be a bit more bug like. My favorite part is the pose though, the hand could either be seen as for her lower face searching, or for her “true” face, covering her mouth while she laughs.

 Lilith: Another difficult one! All of Lillith’s backstory is about her being Morrigan’s sealed off energy trying to return to her. Which is why she has matching outfits with Morrigan in the original. I wanted to reflect this by having her form an outfit that resembles the Morrigan redesign I did in shapes, but doesn’t quite get it right, and doesn’t look like real clothing someone would buy. With floating bits showing the whole thing as being formed mystically.

Huitzil: Originally Huitzil was based on Japanese  dogū figurines. My only idea was to bring back more of the detail and designs of those figurines to add a bit more flare. Also I read that the designs on some of them showed signs of being painted in vermillion, so I  added some of that coloring.

Bishamon: Two big things I changed here: I wanted to make him less like a solid blue man and more ghostly. Secondly I wanted to make the chest piece of the armor more of a face to pull him away from being another stomach mouthed monster like Lord Raptor. I referenced Samurai masked and Oni depictions. I saw some Samurai masks had mustaches and thought hat would be a way to make him stand out more. I also shadowed his “human” face a bit to pull focus from it. Making the armor’s face the one you are drawn to.

Part 5 

Demitri: I just wanted to give the boy some decent clothes. Who told him a skin tight body suit and a frilly jabot was suitable for every day life? Just gave him a fun layered suit and a Dracula trophy.

Jedah Domah: I’ve never liked how Jedah looks. Striking to be sure, and works great as a sprite, but in drawings I always thought he looked a little lackluster and a bit confusing. I tried to keep some basic shapes from his original look while making him a bit more intimidating (at least to me) and grim-reaper-like.

Pyron: Not much to do there with the battle-loving fire alien, but I suppose I realized I never liked his horns. I made some horn-like shapes formed by fire instead, and mostly kept him the same otherwise. There’s something charming about his original simplicity and I didn’t want to mess with it too much.

Marionette: Never a full character, just a mirror match style mode (like Shadow, who I neglected to redesign as he’s kind of just some sludge). I just tried to give her a more interesting cosutme, and made her look more like she is the puppet master than being a puppet herself. Also, not important, but a little behind the scenes thing: I have a big 20 inch Spider-Man action figure from the Toby McGuire movies, I used it as reference for how to draw the joints on Marionette here.

And that’s all! hope you enjoyed these. I thought about doing some Midnight Bliss versions down the line, but I need some rest from these now. Thanks for reading!

[lady-literature]

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them. 

And they all live happily ever after the end.

[illumilu]

there’s only one bed” - illumi zoldyck x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe makes the world go round. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this way too long again, but who cares?? this time it’s with illumi! aka loml ...

summary: after a lengthy car trip, you arrive at the hotel with illumi, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. including: you dreaming abt him when he’s literally right in front of you (embarrassing). this is part two of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka is already written and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! only on your part though, since illumi is basically awkwardness personified... no nsfw <3

illumi zoldyck:

- the trip to the hotel had taken 6 hours. 6 hours in which you had fallen asleep multiple times, cramped your legs, somehow made every sleeping position dangerously uncomfortable, cracked your neck and twisted your back, possibly to the point of no return.

- for mr zoldyck, or rather, “illumi”, as he had instructed you to call him, the trip was no problem. his upbringing, which consisted of mainly torture, included staying awake for as long as a fortnight at a time. 6 hours may as well have been a few minutes. 

- “the silent son of the zoldycks” was his reputational nickname, or, rather, “lifeless koi fish”, as your friend, hisoka, enjoyed calling him. either way, illumi was not going to let a car ride tire him.

- when you had first met him, he had scared you. a lot. the entire “trained dangerous traumatised assassin” storyline was one that felt like a threat. you were undoubtedly taking a risk by working with him, but it was one you were willing to; it may have been twisted, but murder was your forte, and you were searching for a partner.

- over time, you had grown to be less intimidated by him.

- you were now colleagues with him, working on a new assassination.

- shockingly, planning murder took time, and who better to plan it with than the assassin himself? you had spent the past day on a “business trip”, paid for by illumi’s grandfather, where you sized up the area and familiarised yourself with yorknew.

- all for the big night.

- tonight was the day before the murder of the ten dons.

- illumi and kalluto would carry out the murder, while you made sure everything went smoothly, via a small mic attached to his clothes. the entire operation was based on trust, and would therefore be executed like clockwork.

- you had taken the necessary mental images and kept the targets in mind; all that was left was a night at a pre-booked hotel and then it would be go-time.

- you had assumed that the hotel would be high-class, with doormen, perhaps some marble flooring and pillars - it was the zoldycks who were paying, after all, and you knew they had money to spare. 

- “we’re here.” illumi stated blankly, face reflecting in the window. admittedly, he did look a little bit like a koi fish.

- you nudged past him to look out of the window, leaning over to get a good view.

- oh.

- it seemed you had made quite the overestimation. it was a simple, plain building with a few stories. no doormen or extravagance could be sighted.

- you supposed keeping a low profile was important, but the depressing accommodation was somehow making you wearier.

- the two of you didn’t exchange any conversation on the way up to your room, but you were used to that. 

- you and illumi had met around 5 months ago, and most of it had been comfortable silence. you hadn’t expected it to be like that - in all honesty, you had expected him to kill you - but illumi seemed... calm around you. 

- it was probably because you shared such an odd passion with him; the logistics of murder. you assumed it gave him a chance to loosen his harsh demeanour and enjoy himself. the both of you had worked on multiple murders together, focusing on theory and planning, but this was a huge assassination. nevertheless, you knew he could pull it off; illumi was smart, you had to give him that.

- finally, you arrived at your hotel room, sighing from the lengthy stairway winding up to your unnecessarily high room. you assumed it was for safety purposes, but for god’s sake; why did safety have to be so enervating?

- illumi pushed the door open, and you walked in with him. finally, you could catch some rest.

- except, you couldn’t. 

- a singular bed placed in the middle of the room.

- “why.” you thought to yourself tiredly. 

- you stood there silently, waiting for him to say something. 

- then, you remembered that he was illumi. he obviously wouldn’t see anything wrong with the situation. 

- the bastard.

- it didn’t help that he gave you no visible reaction when you stared at him with your face scrunched up expectantly, as if to ask what his plan was.

- “is there a problem, y/n?” illumi asked, his tone flat as usual.

- you took a deep, worn out breath, clearing your throat.

- after a bit, you shook your head. this was strictly professional. illumi wouldn’t do anything, because he was illumi. nothing would happen.this was an important night, where rest and a clear mind were essential. blame it on the fatigue, and nothing else. you were just exhausted. there was nothing else to it. nothing.

- “no. i’m just a little tired.” you dismissed.

- a silence skimmed past.

- “my grandfather... he often tends to be absentminded. occasionally, he forgets to do certain things, or plan them correctly, i suppose. you could say this is a prime example of such.”

- “zeno forgot another goddamn bed, hm?” you laughed nervously.

- illumi stared at you once again, blinking a few times, in a methodical manner, face neutral and robotic. you smiled awkwardly and remembered that he was not one to laugh at jokes. or anything, for that matter. 

- you wondered if he laughed at bloodshed. or maybe hisoka.

- “i’m going to... go to set up my stuff now.” 

- turning your back to illumi, you winced at the uncomfortable air. even after all your time with him, you never learnt to stop trying to lighten the mood. the mood was literally just always unnatural, in some way. that was another one of illumi’s specialties.

- after some time, in which you had finalized tomorrow's plan and each changed into comfortable clothes, you watched illumi tie his hair up from across the room. 

- his hair had always fascinated you. 

- you had always wanted to touch it. honestly, even when you had first met him, apart from his magnetic eyes, you had been drawn to his hair. you imagined it felt like silk sheets, caressing over one’s hands as smoothly as honey. you were glad he grew it out; in fact, upon seeing his teenage photos, you had laughed so hard you ended up getting a nosebleed from hitting your face. illumi had been left in confusion for a while.

- you realized how random you sounded. why were you reminiscing so much? 

- shaking yourself back to your senses, you admired as he artfully twisted his hair into a loose bun, strands of hair cupping his elegant, pale face.

- what a beautiful koi fish.

- most people couldn’t compute that illumi had true, human feelings. after all, it would be hard to believe a man like him felt anything. but, of course, he did, unhealthily so. he channeled all his trauma and hurt into his villainy, and received happiness from his villainy, anger from his villainy and occasionally fear from his villainy.  however, there was one emotion he could never grasp. he hated himself for it, but soon realised he could manipulate his hatred into villainy, too.

- illumi was a man who could manipulate anyone or anything he wished. 

- except himself.

- internally, he had always felt at a loss whenever he confronted his emotions. but, after he had met you, something had changed. as he caught you staring at his hair through the hotel mirror, he couldn’t help but feel something small stir inside of his stomach. not evil, not happiness, not hatred, not anger. perhaps, friendship?

- this tinge of new emotion inside of him initially made him feel uneasy, but that worry morphed into giddiness, a childish high buzzing somewhere in his core.

- eventually, he stood up to face you and suggested going to sleep. you checked the time on the wall clock. 8 in the evening. well, illumi had always been particular. you agreed that rest was essential for tomorrow.

- you hesitantly took the left side, and, upon seeing your choice, illumi followed to lie on the right.

- after a few minutes, you looked back at him, noticing illumi fell asleep abnormally quickly. you furrowed your brow quizzically at the rock-like manner he was in. frankly, he looked like a plank when he slept. you almost laughed, but held it in for his sake. 

- he had a very specific sleep schedule, as did the other zoldycks. he could go to sleep immediately at his own command, and stayed perfectly still as he did so. he woke up at 5 in the morning every single day, without fail, almost like he had some sort of alarm clock planted in his body. 

- looking at him lying there like a block, you smiled softly. illumi was quite the conundrum to you. you often speculated whether he ever got what he deserved; love, affection, anything really. you knew about his past from when he had told you nonchalantly, within a few weeks of your acquaintance. you always hoped he’d find someone to love him, but doubted whether people would bother looking beyond his bleak surface, and into his excellent mind. lost in thought, you found yourself getting drowsier. you also fell asleep generally quickly, limbs aching from the stupid car ride.

- the night passed.

- illumi was the first to wake up at 5am, stoic and in the same place he had fallen asleep in. no surprise there.

- but you. 

- that was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened.

- he did not expect you to be lying on him lazily, snuggling into his body, arm and leg comfortably wrapped around his side. you were breathing lightly, face burrowing onto the ridge of his chest.

- i suppose you didn’t expect to be there either, which he realized, but the point still remained.

- why were on you his chest.

- “y/n.”

- no answer.

- illumi could have pushed you away; in fact, he could have blown you 983 metres away (his personal record). 

- but he didn’t.

- it wasn’t the thought of disturbing your comfort that stopped illumi from hurling you into oblivion. it wasn’t the fact that he explicitly enjoyed it, either. he remembered that the mission was today; if he were to wake you, and you hadn’t slept enough, you wouldn’t be at your upmost performance.

- the murder of the ten dons was his priority, right? yes. it was. there was no doubt about it. that was the only and final reason he wouldn’t wake you. end of discussion. 

- so, illumi stayed there, waiting for you to wake up and get off of him. 30 minutes passed, and he watched you for every single one.

- hard as it was to admit, watching you rise and fall in sync with his chest made the spark of emotion in his core grow fervently. what had that foreign feeling been? yesterday, he had settled at friendship, but now he wasn’t so sure.

- you looked so peaceful while you slept. less confusing. he remembered the time you had accidentally complimented his hair when the two of you had first met. he had found that amusing. he remembered the time you got a nosebleed from hitting your face too hard - it was after laughing at his teenage pictures, which perplexed him greatly. he remembered the times you two had sat together, working and theorizing on missions, accidentally meeting eyes or brushing hands. one time, you had dipped one of his pins in ink and scratched his name on some paper “for fun”. you had handed it to him and, for some unknown reason, the scrap was still tucked safely in his wallet. your unrivaled intelligence, your idiotic sense of humour, your smile, your lack of common sense, your twinkling eyes that so ironically contrasted his, everything. everything crossed his mind while he lay there.

- illumi found it strange how people remembered the oddest things at the oddest times. 

- why did he think of that now, as you were sleeping? even worse, on the day of a meticulously planned assassination. why couldn’t he manipulate his emotions to stop fluctuating around you so much?

- it all frustrated him.

- why had he let you call him by “illumi” so quickly? mr zoldyck would have been fine. and why had he been so lenient with your antics? no one else got to touch his pins. why did he feel like keeping you on his chest forever, and keeping you safe? most importantly, why was he thinking about you so much?

- his contemplation came to a halt when he heard you stir a little in your sleep.

-  finally, you’d wake up and he could forget about this entire problem.

- he watched you, expecting you to get up soon.

- you began shuffling around, brushing against his chest, and soon your eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed over. it almost seemed like you were still in a dream, in some sort of half-sleep.

- “huh?” you whispered quietly, still lying on illumi. you looked up lazily, meeting eyes with him.

- “oh... i get it...” you hummed quietly, falling back onto his chest.

- he furrowed his brows.

- “why are you here?” you hugged him from the side, softly laughing at your ridiculous dream. he tensed up at you embracing him, but soon relaxed after realizing what was going on.

- illumi looked at you, one eyebrow raised. did you... think you were dreaming?

- to be honest, he found it kind of entertaining, the way you were fawning over him. if he let you stay there, he could figure out a lot of things about his newly found emotion. it could be worth it. just not today.

- illumi came back to his senses fairly quickly; you were obviously awake now, so why couldn’t you get off of him already?

- “y/n.”

- “mmm? what? so serious all the damn timeee, illum-” 

- “you aren’t dreaming. get off.”

- SHIT

- SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

- you jolted off him immediately, staring down at illumi zoldyck. 

- the real illumi zoldyck.

- oh my god what. what. what. what.

- every nerve in your body began to panic, and, in the stress of trying to find the correct words to say, you just ended up making some sort of incomputable “aaaahhh” noise and jumping off the bed.

-  illumi had finally gotten up and was now staring concernedly at you.

- an awkward pause.

- “let me just start by saying i did not-”

- “y/n. we have more pressing priorities for today. i don’t care.”

- illumi zoldyck had lied. even to himself. he did care. and so what if he ignored it until it festered so intensely inside of him he couldn’t do anything but tell you? he cared about you. and he knew it.

- “ok. you’re right. you’re right! illumi. one question. was i like that the whole night?”

- “i don’t know. i woke up at 5 and you were there.”

- you looked at the clock. it was 6am? what had he been doing for an hour? you opened your mouth to ask but closed it soon after. you recalled your thoughts about illumi growing up void of affection, or love, or appreciation. 

- some questions were best left unanswered.

- “how long was i... mumbling like that?”

- “a few minutes.”

- you gulped. there were a few things you had to come to terms with. shutting your eyes firmly, you apologised profusely, annoyed at yourself.

- “y/n. i don’t care.” he lied once again.

- “you’re right!” you rambled - “the ten dons are today! it doesn’t matter what i said... none of it matters, we can both just forget it!”

- you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone.

- “so all we need to do is go over the plan one last time, get kalluto, and then we’ll carry it out, and soon enou-”

- “stop it. you’re wasting time. just go and get ready.”

- you sighed and smiled weakly. on the inside, you were sure your soul had died a little.

- while you left to change, overcome by embarrassment, illumi lingered by the bed for a few seconds. he tried to push down whatever he was currently feeling, but it was no use. the feeling in his core had risen up to his throat, a burst of something waiting to leave his lips. 

- for the first time in a while, illumi zoldyck smiled. not at murder, or at power, or fulfillment, or achievement, or even villainy.

- illumi zoldyck had smiled at the thought of you.

- let’s just say illumi had trouble focusing on his mission. 

i am honestly so fucking sorry you had to read that whole thing. the way i am literally in love with illumi zoldyck and ended up writing 2857 words bye bye bye i’m so sorry!!! PLZ what?? anyways,, i feel like i heavily underwrote hisoka now, since i did such a prologue thing for this! honestly i feel like this one came out a little boring, im sorry again AAAAA just agh; chrollo should b coming when i have time but i have exams rn so idkkkk hh

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

[catebees]

Hello hi I found the post with the elven LI’s and I have taken your recommendation to ask about clothing references. I would very much like to see said folders. Also your art is very pretty :)

Hello! first of all, thanks so much <3 very appreciated! Second, this is gonna be long, so let me add a read more

Alright I'm gonna try to keep this brief but I think I'll fail

Like with all of the other character art I did, I referenced a bunch of real world folk/traditional costumes and mixed them with fantasy stuff. City elves are a bit more mish-mash than, say, the dalish, especially considering that these three travel a lot and some of them don't feel very connected with their hometowns.

Zevran

He was probably the easiest to do, since I had already drawn him before

His clothes are inspired by castillan traditional clothes, which I sort of turned into an excuse to give him those torero pants with the highest high waist I ever saw.

The boots are supposed to be the antivan leather ones the Warden can gift him, and they're inspired by spanish half chaps (from the lower left picture, that's a costume from Granada)

The dalish gloves are also there, but they're a bit less detailed, I just added some little Mythal trees to make them dalish-y

He has little strings of pearls in his hair because it's another renaissance Spain/Italy thing i really like

My favourite thing i gave him is the hip chain with the little charms. I forget where I saw this headcanon but it basically talked about how Zevran holds small trinkets very dear and that he probably uses the metal you can gift him by melting it into keepsakes of his adventures. they're really tiny but you can see the Denerim shield, the Circle symbol, a hammer for Orzammar, the Redcliffe windmill, the Dalish mask and of course the Grey Warden griffin

Fenris

He's the least traditional one, I doubt he'd want to wear Tevinter clothes after years in Kirkwall.

I used more-or-less accurate references for the armor, mostly for the wide use of leather that seems to make up most of Fenris's canon outfit. Still gave him a gambeson because I'm not a savage.

Originally I wanted to dress him in looser clothes, considering his marks might hurt from all the friction on his skin, but It's very hard to give loose fitting clothes to someone wearing so many straps, so I stayed sort of middle ground

I still kept some of his original design details, like the clawed gauntlets, the feathers in the braces and the bare feet, plus! Hawke's red favor and the Amell crest (it's on his shoulder now, where crests usually are)

Also he has a regular big sword instead of a fuckoff big sword because uh I'm a stickler for rules

The tip of the scabbard has a little metal hawk decoration :)

Sera

She doesn't like speaking of Denerim, but at the same time I feel like she would sill hold on to some of the little fashion quirks from there (which I also made up by making my Tabris wear Kurdish-inspired clothes and spreading it to the whole alienage)

So yes, the vest and some of the jewellery are inspired by Kurdish costume, while the rest comes mostly from her concept art

There is a Lot of Sera concept art, and I get it! cause it's very hard to keep to one singular idea while designing her. I brought back some of the combat archery armor that she had at some point in her development, plus the makeup stripe over her eyes (which I added at the very end and forgot to save the picture i took it from)

The asymmetrical gloves are sort of what an archer would wear, with the arm that holds the bow being more covered to avoid injuries from the bowstring and the drawing hand only covered around the fingers.

The pants are inspired by the medieval multicolored hose because listen, she's a little jester at heart and she would totally wear those

The HAIR was hard to decide, because the bowl cut is nice, but the side-shave is also very badass. the mullet/ponytail one was very close to being the final choice though.

[mmvalentine]

Fifty-Six part 2 | Feysand

Smut-fest continues, if you're enjoying this go say happy birthday to @asteria-of-mars!

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter 2: Chafing a bit?

Rhys was right about one thing- the inner circle were already seated and half way through their breakfast when they got downstairs. At the couple’s arrival, everyone looked up and greeted them warmly. They took their usual seats opposite each other, and Rhys caught Feyre’s ankles between his under the table and winked at her.

Feyre settled in between Cassian and Mor, but when the former leaned his elbow on the table and looked at her with a goofy grin, Rhys’s lips thinned.

Alright there? she asked him.

Fine, was the terse and completely unconvincing reply.

You sure you’re ready to be around other people?

Yeah, he said. I’m fine.

“So,” Cassian said, his eyes sparkling. “Mates, huh?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know all of you guys knew before I did.”

“We’re sorry,” Mor blurted. “We never meant to deceive you.”

Feyre softened. “I know,” she said. “It’s okay.” Mor grinned, and heaped muffins onto Feyre’s plate.

“Welcome to the family,” she said, and it was the best thing Feyre had ever heard.

“Congratulations, both of you,” Azriel chimed in, offering her a rare smile. Feyre beamed at him.

“We’re glad to have you,” Amren said quietly, and from her, it meant the world.

The whole time, Rhys kept his eyes on Feyre, and sipped his coffee.

“We missed you guys,” Feyre said affectionately.

“Oh you did not,” Mor smiled.

But Cassian said, “Especially me, right Feyre?” and Rhys snarled.

Everyone at the table stilled, and looked at the High Lord.

“Rhys,” Feyre said. “It’s okay.” Rhys locked eyes with her for a moment, and finally nodded once. Their friends continued eating, but kept flicking wary glances in his direction. Azriel cleared his throat.

“So, since you’re back Rhys, I was hoping to have a moment to discuss Jurian’s movements. My spies in the human realm have been keeping tabs on the human queens and-”

Azriel’s attempt at distraction was interrupted by another snarl, ripping from Rhys’s throat.

“What now?” Cassian hissed at him, dropping his roll to his plate.

“Would you mind keeping your great big ape-arms to yourself?” Rhys spat back at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time you move, you’re in Feyre’s space.”

“Rhys,” Feyre warned. “He’s fine.” It’s just the bond, love, she said in his mind. You’re not jealous of your brothers, remember?

Rhys did not reply. Just stared Cassian down until he shuffled further away from Feyre. Which was not very far, since the table was only so long and he was hitting the outside leg already.

“Uh, so… the human realm…” Azriel tried again.

“What about it?” Rhys asked irritably. Mor shifted in her seat. Feyre wasn’t sure whether to try to soothe or reprimand Rhys, but as Azriel talked he did seem to calm down a little. Even made a few comments on his spymaster’s plans going forward, and Feyre relaxed enough that when Cassian asked her to pass the eggs, she didn’t think too much of it. But then when Cassian took the plate from her, their fingers brushed, and in the next second Rhys was exploding across the table.

Glasses spilled and fruit rolled, and the everyone jumped back as Rhys lunged with clawed fingers and feral eyes. Amren grabbed a hold of Mor and said “Right girlie, that’s our cue to leave.” Mor shot a sympathetic glance at Feyre, then they winnowed. Az took a step forward as if he might get in between his brothers, but then thought better of it and left, too. Cassian, his nose bloodied and with egg splattered over his chest, shoved Rhys off of him with a great heave.

“Alright, alright I’m going. You big bloody baby,” he said, and then stalked out the door.

���Rhys,” Feyre began, and his head whipped round to her, teeth still bared. She held her hands up. “Rhys please calm down,” she said.

“Like hell I will,” Rhys growled, and then he lifted her by the waist and set her on the table, pushing her back among the ruined plates and stray danishes. Feyre thought to protest, but there was still testosterone rolling of Rhys in waves, and although her brain did not exactly approve of what had just happened, her body was fast taking over and by the time his lips crashed against hers, she was wrapping her legs around him and clothes were torn from their bodies in shreds.

Rhys sent apologies round after the breakfast debacle, but also stubbornly refused to admit that the mating bond was getting the better of him.

“It was just too many people at once,” he said to Feyre, after she she had taken him back to their room to wash the jam off his chest. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, while she wiped at him with a washcloth.

“It was too soon,” Feyre argued, looking him over for missed debris.

“Maybe I’ll just have them round one at a time, for now,” Rhys went on. Feyre sighed, and rinsed out the cloth. “Okay your turn,” he said, pulling her down and switching places with her. Feyre handed him the little towel, but Rhys, surveying the mix of breakfast smears and lovebites decorating her torso, decided there were better ways of cleaning her up. He licked her from navel to chin, and there was no further discussion about visitors that day.

But the next day, Feyre answered the door to Azriel while Rhys was in the bath. She was surprised to see him, and Azriel, for his part, actually looked nervous. Feyre wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him nervous.

“High Lady,” the Shadowsinger greeted her, ducking his head.

“Azriel,” she said warmly, and grasped his hand in hers. Azriel’s eyes widened, and peered through the doorway behind her. Feyre laughed.

“Don’t worry, he’s upstairs,” Feyre said. Azriel smiled.

“One can never be too careful with new mating bonds,” he said. “And Rhys… well, Rhys has taken my head off for less. Granted, that was a long time ago, but I’m assuming he’s basically a hormone-addled eighteen-year-old again.”

“That’s probably a safe assumption,” Feyre agreed, and showed him in. "Rhys is expecting you?"

“Yes, he asked me to come. I’ll, ah, wait in the study,” Azriel said, and disappeared round the corner. Feyre headed back up the stairs, where Rhys was walking out of their room towelling his hair off. Still naked and steaming from the bath. Feyre’s eyes followed the contours of his abs.

“See something you like, Feyre darling?” Rhys grinned, disappearing the towel with magic.

“Ah…” Feyre stuttered, forgetting what she was supposed to tell him. Gods, he really was a beautiful male. Rhys’s smile turned feline as he stalked toward her. Feyre stepped back as he approached, still watching the muscles shift under his tattoos. He walked her back out to the landing, and leaned her against the bannister as he bent to circle his arms around her waist.

“Cat got your tongue?” he whispered. He was so incredibly warm around her, and Feyre let her head fall back as he kissed under her ear. She struggled to remember what she came to get Rhys for.

“Oh!” she put her hands on his biceps. “Azriel…”

Rhys’s head snapped up, and his eyes were ablaze.

“Azriel?” he demanded. Before she could explain, Rhys had spun her around so fast her hands caught the bannister as she fell forward. He yanked her hips back and threw the edge of her skirt up. “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on your lips, not now and not ever,” he growled in her ear. And then he smacked her lightly across the ass. “Okay?”

Feyre was going to laugh it off and explain, but then something unfurled in her chest. “Do that again,” she breathed.

“What?” Rhys asked, dangerously low. “This?” He smacked her again, a little harder this time. Feyre’s eyes went wide, and to her surprise, heat gathered between her legs. Rhys saw it all, and a very slow, very wicked grin spread across his face.

“Do you like to be spanked, my love?” he asked. Feyre didn’t know how to answer. Rhys pushed her underwear up to expose her backside, and smoothed his hand over it. And then landed a tight slap on her bare skin.

“Oh,” Feyre gasped, arching her back. Rhys pulled her hips back further, rubbing his now hard cock against her from behind. Feyre gripped the railing more tightly, and completely forgot about the spymaster in the study. “More,” she breathed.

“You want more?” Rhys echoed. He spanked her again, and she moaned. “Is this what you were looking for?” He pushed the rest of her skirt up her back and smacked the other side of her ass. “Is this why you’re being so cruel to me,” spank, “coming to me with another male’s name in your mouth,” spank, “looking for punishment?” He yanked her underwear down so it dropped around her ankles, and landed another three slaps, each harder than the one before. Feyre cried out again and again, and was getting so wet she knew he could smell her.

“Spread your legs, darling,” he instructed her. Feyre stepped out of her underwear and leaned her forearms against the bannister. Rhys spanked her again without warning and her eyes watered.

"Oh!"

“Wider,” he snarled. Feyre obeyed, widening her stance. Rhys rubbed his hands gently over her stinging skin, and then his cock was nudging at her entrance.

“Good girl,” he crooned, and then he spanked her one more time and when she yelled out he threaded his fingers through her hair and plunged inside her.

Rhys fucked her hard, bent over the railing, tugging her head back by the hair while his free hand worked her clit. The now sensitive and reddened skin of her ass bounced against the tops of his thighs, and when her knees started to buckle Rhys let go of her hair to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her up. Every physical sensation seemed heightened unbearably, and Feyre screamed as she came.

“Who’s name, Feyre?” he asked her. “Who’s name belongs in your mouth?”

“Yours,” she gasped between spasms.

“Say it,” Rhys bit out.

“Rhys,” Feyre said. “Rhys, Rhys, oh fuck, Rhys,” and the last one drawn out in a moan. The sound of it had Rhys coming hard as she was, and she didn’t come down until he had emptied himself inside her and his forehead was damp on her back. Feyre tried to move but felt like a new foal. Rhys laughed softly and carried her back to their room in his arms.

He lay her down very gently, and pulled the blanket over her before softly stroking her hair.

“I didn’t know that about you,” he said quietly.

“What?” Feyre asked, luxuriating in his wandering touch. A laughing edge came into his voice.

“That you were such a glutton for punishment.”

Feyre blushed, and Rhys pressed his lips to her forehead. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Half the fun of being wicked is getting to take care of you afterward.” Feyre smiled.

“I like the sound of that,” she said.

“And I quite like teaching you not to talk about other males in front of me.”

Feyre’s eyes flew open. “Oh!” she said, sitting up. “I was supposed to tell you that Azriel is here and waiting for you in the study!”

They stared at each other for a second, and the burst out laughing. Feyre covered her face in her hands, suddenly remembering the wanton sounds she had been making minutes ago and how clearly Azriel must have heard them all. Rhys peppered kisses over her cheek, and jaw, and neck, and then rolled out of bed, pulling trousers on before going downstairs to see if the Shadowsinger had stuck around.

He had not.

****

Liz asked for spanking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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[ganymedesclock]

but consider this: kneepads are both functional and explicitly, inherently cool

You're not wrong and also, honestly, it does make a lot of sense to use in this case considering the Sonic franchise tends to involve people who do a lot of hard work.

There's not a lot of desk job types. Sure, you can say Tails is often depicted as less athletic than Sonic, but he's also personally servicing airplanes when he's not hurtling through shuttle loops himself; Eggman's sometimes characterized as lazy, but most continuities point to him as the personal inventor of the majority of his technology, or at least a person who's actively invested in servicing, tweaking, and repairing it.

The kneepads, in this case, are me coming back to certain common inspirations for a bunch of these characters, despite the differences.

Sonic is a mercenary in this one as kind of an extrapolation of how in canon he doesn't seem to have a job besides 'stopping bad guys' but clearly has money for necessities and also a lot of street food, so I looked at hard-wearing clothes that have a very sleek close-fitting style for both the leaping, tumbling, and running he does (minimal wind resistance) and stuff that's a bit cut-resistant, so the reinforced look naturally favors a big friction point- the knees. I looked up combat pants, but also wanted to suggest he's not wearing soldier fatigues- the guy's not really big on government organization so he's not a rank-and-file anything if he can help it.

In Blaze's case I had two very specific characters I was looking at: Lio Fotia from Promare, and Utena from Revolutionary Girl Utena, namely her dueling uniform/'prince' attire. The former, well, has a biker suit- which, much like Sonic's pants, is designed and reinforced for heavy guarding. For Lio's silhouette, the kneepads break up the negative space of his leg and serve to make him overall very sharp, dynamic, and threatening, in contrast with the soft ruffles of his hair, cuffs, and collar, and that's exactly what I wanted to go for with Blaze- someone whose softness is a carefully-guarded currency in an overall very dynamic, sharp, and deadly person. (And while I haven't drawn it yet, Blaze, much like Lio, does have the power to armor up into an even SPIKIER dark form). So in this case it was sort of grandfathered in, but the same pretense rules: if you're protecting a leg, knees are a high friction point and very vulnerable.

Eggman is more of an outlier in that he's not evoking athleticwear. His design is supposed to invoke several things: an old-fashioned wooden toy soldier, a circus ringmaster, and a marching band 'parade leader'- he's very flashy and performative, because he is generally seen presenting or showing off. Eggman is a loudmouth; it's basically his specialty. Outside of bringing a little color and interest to his otherwise nearly featureless lower body, his bright yellow kneepads are meant as a hint that he's a bit of a liar- the silhouette of mechanic's padding and steel-toed boots. The flashy miracle-maker actually does a lot of hard, unglamorous work behind the scenes- and that makes him very dangerous if you expect him to crumple once his box of tricks runs dry. You might be able to embarrass the ringmaster out of public spectacle, but the engineer doesn't have much face to lose by simply decking you in the face.