#i need to design his armour still

[bubblevoid651]

New OC yay! Hope you like him he doesn't have a name yet lmao

[lemon-plort]

Miqo'te OC ref sheet ready for art fight :))

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[a-shade-of-blue]

Terrifying news coming out of Nuseirat Refugee Camp today. Israeli fighter jets have bombed 3 family homes in Nuseirat, killing at least 7 people and injuring many more. That's not all. There have been helicopter air strikes as well as armoured vehicles firing at civilians in Nuseirat as well. 6 more people have been killed in the overnight airstrikes.

Israel has ordered people at Nuseirat to evacuate again. They were told to go to designated 'humanitarian zones'. We know from Israel's past actions that they will not hesitate to drop bombs and murder displaced families in these so-called safe zones, and that they will target people trying to evacuate.

I'm not joking, I'm really really scared for Mahmoud's family (@mahmoudfamily1) in Gaza. He has 17 family members at Nuseirat right now, including 10 children! Their makeshift tent has been hit by bullets and sharpnel, and the land they were staying on was bombed. They managed to leave before the bombs came, but it was a really close call.

I don't want them to survive on luck alone. Mahmoud has had his GoFundMe campaign since May and still he has only reached 1% of his campaign goal! His campaign is always stagnant and donations are coming in so very slowly. Please help. They have 10 children and on top of all the bombings they don't even have money for food, medical treatment and other basic necessities.

Only $1,312 CAD raised of $80,000 goal!

Mahmoud's campaign is vetted by association. Mahmoud is a friend of @hazempalestine (vetted by @/el-shab-hussein and is listed as #281 on the verified fundraiser list by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi)! I've also been talking with him frequently both on and off Tumblr! Please at least share, and donate if you can!!

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Tagging for reach, please message me if you want off the mailing list! We thank you in advance.

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[theremustbeabear]

a lot of monster media has a hard time with balancing making their monster incredibly dangerous but also keeping the most important characters alive without it seeming like obvious plot armour

but i think the terror does a really great job--not just because they do allow it to kill a number of important characters, but because of the composition of the two scenes where tuunbaq is beaten

the first, in ep 5, is when tuunbaq chases blanky up the foremast, which, on the surface, seems like a very obvious case of plot armour. tuunbaq kills several other crewmen with incredible ease in that very same scene, but then blanky is spared long enough to escape from it, simply because he's an important character.

but that's not what's going on there. all of the easy deaths, so far, prior to this, have occurred on tuunbaq's territory. on flat ground, on the ice, and now tuunbaq is staking its claim on terror. but terror is still occupied, and blanky, especially, is a man who is more at home on a ship than land. tuunbaq is beaten, here, because blanky is playing with a home turf advantage. blanky does have armour, but it's not because he's an important character--it's because tuunbaq has invaded the space where he's most comfortable, and so he goes up, to where he knows a bear can still follow him, but it'll be exposed, and too heavy to follow him all the way.

and this show has done a great job of setting the stakes, already, by this point--the first time i watched this scene, even though blanky was so far surviving the confrontation, i was incredibly sure that he wasn't going to make it out. i thought for certain that he was going to have to sacrifice himself in order for them to hit tuunbaq with the cannon, and so it was deeply satisfying when he actually survived. i was so fucking happy, because i was already starting to get sad about him being dead, even though he wasn't dead yet, lol. it feels earned, when he makes it out, and fair enough that he loses a leg in the process, too.

the second, in the final episode, is i think a bit more obvious, and considering how many other major characters get torn apart, it doesn't feel quite so much like crozier has plot armour. but tuunbaq is once again beaten by using the things that are not native to its land, that tuunbaq isn't designed to deal with. the sick and poisoned flesh of the seamen it's already consumed, for one, and then the boat chain.

and, for the second time, in order to beat tuunbaq, a limb must be sacrificed--crozier's hand, i think, counts, even though he loses it after the confrontation is long over, because blanky only loses his leg properly after the fact as well. and i think this can be brought around to how tuunbaq's shaman must remove their own tongue to communicate with it--if one wishes to have any sort of dominance over tuunbaq, a part of their body must be given in exchange. silna and her father give their tongues, blanky gives his leg, and crozier gives his hand.

and it is emphasized through hickey's failure that tuunbaq cannot be controlled by the expeditioners. the colonizers. it can be beaten back, and suppressed, and killed, through sacrifice, but it cannot be harnessed. it belongs to silna's people, to the inuit, and cannot truly be taken away. the only way to beat it is by invading its home with foreign powers and losing something of yourself in the process.

tl;dr thomas blanky doesn't need plot armour because he's just that good /silly and also this show is just. awesome.

[salethe2]

I’ve seen a lot of takes on this scene, and honestly they’re all so interesting, so I decided to give my perspective.

Okay, starting with Armand’s costume, which Carol Cutshall absolutely nailed. Here’s what she said about Armand’s costume design:

—“One of the things about Armand is he is so ancient and so powerful that he always presents himself as very open. Whereas some of the other characters are very covered up, he’s always very open because he really doesn’t see anyone as a threat to himself. He didn’t have any predators or any reason to be on guard, or be armoured.”

Personally, I find this design choice fascinating because, despite being a predator at the top of the food chain, vampires like Armand, especially as a coven leader, would normally need to remain vigilant. Yet, he’s completely at ease, even surrounded by other vampires.

I mean, look at him here. Sure, it’s not the deep, open V-neck shirts he wears in the interview scenes, but his outfit is still loose and open. And he’s literally surrounded by a group of vampires he knows are plotting against him. He even has his back to said vampires and yet, he’s not the least bit nervous in either situation!

Even with Daniel, he’s not nervous or afraid because he doesn’t initially see him as a threat.

So, if Armand isn’t scared of his own coven—a bunch of vampires ready to kill him at the first opportunity—or Daniel, who could potentially expose all his manipulations, then why on earth does he go into full armor mode to meet a seemingly inconsequential human he’s never encountered before? He’s literally in a turtleneck, shielding his most vulnerable area for crying at loud!

A for body language—honestly, Assad Zaman deserved an Emmy for this scene. We see Armand being aloof, a little suave and condescending, employing the whole, “I’m a four-century-old vampire; you’re just a lowly human” tactic. It’s like he’s sizing her up, wanting to understand who she is while simultaneously aiming to provoke her, curious to see how she will react.

As for his questions, he frames them in the way you might expect a coven leader to interrogate a human he’s about to turn. Questions like, “How will you survive? Are you okay with killing people and being a monster?” It almost seems like he’s trying to make her reconsider her decision to turn, but it’s all a facade.

Because the question he really wants to ask is the last one, and when he finally approaches it, his entire demeanor shifts.

He sheds the suave demeanor and shifts to a more serious tone, embodying what Louis describes as his "post-apocalyptic look." He towers over Madeleine, gazing down at her in an attempt to intimidate. At this point, Madeleine's expression turns genuinely nervous, perhaps even frightened—and understandably so. Yet, she holds her ground. It's then that Armand poses the crucial question he had come specifically to ask.

“And what will you do in a few decades when she throws herself into the fire? Because she will.”

Now, why does this question seem familiar? It’s because Armand has previously made a similar statement to Louis. He had forewarned Louis that Claudia’s mind was bound to deteriorate over time. Now, Louis tearfully countered that Armand couldn’t be sure of this, yet part of him probably recognized the truth in Armand’s words, which likely contributed to his emotional plea for Armand to look after her.

Armand realized then that Louis, despite his deep love for Claudia, lacked the resolve to keep her grounded, effectively sealing her fate, which seemed all but inevitable by that point. He even assigns Claudia the role of Lulu as a way to infantilize her and further break her spirit—almost as a test to gauge Louis’ reaction. Unfortunately, Louis does nothing about it, while Madeleine clearly recognizes it for the manipulation it is.

And what does she do next? Madeleine quickly gets Claudia out of that outfit and into one more fitting for her. By doing this, she threatens Armand’s plans without even realizing it.

It’s also interesting to note that the only time Armand is ever truly angry with Claudia is when he sees her with Madeleine. This reaction underscores the threat he perceives in their bond, disrupting his control of the situation, and here is why.

When Armand posed the question to Madeleine about what she would do when Claudia throws herself into the fire, her response was:

“Or maybe she won’t. You don’t know. Maybe I’m what she needs to survive.”

And the way she meets his gaze as she says this marks a shift in their conversation. Throughout their entire conversation, Madeleine often looks away and breaks eye contact, but not in this moment. Here, she meets his gaze head-on. Even though she is clearly nervous, and likely a bit scared, she holds his gaze because she is sure of her words. This is a powerful moment where Madeleine not only asserts her belief but also turns the tables—now, it’s Armand’s turn to feel uneasy.

Of course, you don’t see it in his face, but it’s evident in his body language. The way he becomes closed off, his hand fidgeting, and his gaze fixed ahead as if deep in thought. He doesn’t even refute her.

Even with Lestat, when he warns him about Nicky, Armand doesn’t stay silent; he confidently affirms his insights, and Lestat—of all people—clearly believes him. But with Madeleine, it’s a different story. He goes silent, not uttering a word in response. He doesn’t attempt to persuade her because he recognizes that her mind is made up, her resolve unshakable. But perhaps the words that really hit home for him were “You don’t know.” This was probably the words that sealed Madeleine’s fate because the last thing you want to say to a master manipulator and control freak like Armand is that they don’t know something. Because now, all of a sudden Claudia’s death isn’t a certainty anymore and he can’t just sit back and wait for her to lose her sanity. He must take matters into his own hands now.

Anyway, one might think that Madeleine and Claudia leaving, thereby leaving Louis all to Armand, would satisfy him. After all, one of the first things he asks Claudia and Madeleine is if they’re considering returning to Paris, and you might assume Madeleine’s answer pleased him. However, her answer doesn’t satisfy him, not after what Madeleine says soon after.

Madeleine’s words confirm that Claudia indeed loves Louis, and because Madeleine loves Claudia, she persuades her to return to Paris despite her obvious and valid disdain for the city. This revelation proves to Armand, even if they leave Louis, Madeleine and Claudia will always remain a significant part of Louis’s life. For Armand, this is intolerable. To him, Claudia is a dangerous manipulator and a competitor of Louis’s attention.

So even if they all lived happy, separate lives, Armand’s nature is such that he cannot live with the doubt and fear that Claudia might draw Louis away from him. Having been abandoned too many times in his life, deeply wounded by those closest to him, and left behind for others, he cannot risk experiencing that pain again.

Thus, in that moment when he speaks to Madeleine in the apartment, he decides that both she and Claudia need to be eliminated. I believe this was the real reason Armand was there under the pretense of turning her. He needed to evaluate how much of a threat Madeleine posed to his plans, and upon realizing she was basically a live grenade, he knew he needed to act swiftly to get rid of her. Because as long as Madeleine is present, so will Claudia, and as long as Claudia exists, Louis will never truly belong to Armand.

[temis-de-leon]

Gn!MC with super long hair

Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Beel and Diavolo (x reader, separately; written as romantic, but could be read as platonic)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: ¡Buenas! I was wondering if you could do a gender neutral mc with lucifer,beel, Levi, satan n dia with head cannons about a mc with suppeerrr long hair? :D take care of yourself n remember to take breaks :)

A/N: I'm killing so many birds with this stone. This one has Lucifer and Satan, who are long overdue, and I'm posting a months-old request, which is way long overdue. Also, I want to thank Beyonce for giving me the motivation necessary to do this.

.

Lucifer

He can’t help but be impressed at first, even though his unbelievable age has allowed him to meet all sorts of living beings and see their diverse features first-hand.

Hair helps express oneself and represents different cultures, so he wonders what motivates you to keep yours so lengthy. Of course, at first, it stays at that, wondering and imagining, since it isn’t something that keeps him awake at night.

Plus, your impressively long hair only proves to be bothersome as days pass.

It’s on the furniture, the floors, the rugs, the laundry, the food… It. Clogs. The. Shower.

He’ll make you clean everything whether you like it or not and will absolutely throw that sadistic smile of his if you dare complain, sitting in a chair and reading the newspaper while you’re on your knees fishing clumps of hair out of the drains.

Legit him.

But in all seriousness, his attitude towards you will improve drastically the moment you start to clean your messes; and if you already do that from the start, then he holds you on a much higher level of respect.

You are cleaner and more responsible than his brothers, who would’ve thought?

He will feel beyond honoured if you ask him for help brushing or styling it; a bonding moment he’ll cherish very much.

Levi

He is fangirling hard and is not even embarrassed about it.

There are multiple fictional characters with hair as long as yours, both male and female and everything in between, and he wastes no time in comparing you to all of them regardless of your gender.

He’ll be considerably disappointed if you haven’t watched or read any of the anime, manga or novels he’s referencing, but if you’re willing to learn or if you’re already experienced in the matter, then prepare to never know peace again.

There are marathons, online shopping, gaming sessions, plot debates and, of course, his absolute favourite, cosplay.

You don’t need to dress up if it isn’t up your alley, although you should consider it. Levi is an excellent tailor and, as shy as he is, he has observation skills good enough to know what character resonates with you the most, both appearance and personality-wise.

Villains or heroes, leaders or sidekicks… It doesn’t matter. He would implode with excitement if he ever saw you dressed in armour, sparky or leathery clothes (or even all of them at once) with your hair styled in an intricate design that would normally have to be achieved with a wig.

If you want to watch him passed out on the floor with a worryingly deep blush on his face, you should try making a harness with your braided hair. His nerves won’t allow him to help, but he’ll make up in enthusiasm and admiration.

Satan

As far as he knows, hair holds great symbolism and, according to some, memories as well.

He is one curious demon with an extensive academic background and room to spare for more knowledge, so he’s very interested in knowing whether the length of your hair is determined by personal preference, culture, religion or something else.

Sure, you’re close and cherish each other for the way you are, but he has seen a feature of yours in his books, in history museums and even fashion exhibits. There’s something about seeing an object of interest in real life that makes him pay more attention than he would otherwise.

Even if the reason why your hair is so long is purely aesthetical, he’ll still be interested.

That just means he can tell you everything he knows instead.

Of course, your hair won’t be present in every single one of your conversations; Satan doesn’t want to be exhausting and, after all, it being part of you doesn’t make it you.

However, you will be aware of all the times he thinks of it.

“MC, hypothetically, if you were trapped in a tower, could your hair support the weight of another person? No, right? That’s what I thought! Of course!”

He isn’t fooling anyone.

Beel

Using a scented shampoo is considered a sacrifice in the House of Lamentation and everyone expects you to be aware of that.

He will eat it.

Legitimately.

It’s unavoidable.

Not directly, mostly, but it will happen as you grow closer.

It’s more noticeable when it’s your turn to cook. The brothers feel the visceral need to implement a new rule where you are obligated to wear a hairnet whenever you’re in the kitchen. Obviously, accidents still happen and threads of hair still fall to the simmering pots and pans in the stove while you’re distracted.

And Beel will be the only one to not realise. Thinking it’s just a really long and thin noodle, he will slurp that strand and enjoy it while everyone stares at him in horror.

His sin is a blessing in disguise.

Another example takes place when you’re close enough to share a bed; a situation you need to be careful with.

It improves if you braid your hair or if you use a bonnet at night, keeping it guarded and safe from the tossing and the fraction with the bedsheets, but the risk of it being mistaken for some weird-shaped food still exists.

On the other hand, if your hair is loose while you sleep for whatever reason, you can kiss it goodbye; since Beel will probably want to cuddle you and your impressive mane will inevitably directly be in his face.

He nibbles in his sleep, what can we do about it?

Diavolo

He is amazed by the beauty of it; it’s mesmerizing.

Of course, he has seen plenty of demons and witches with hair as long as yours, a symbol of beauty alone and power in the hierarchy of nobility; although that last one is tied to old customs, since the longer the hair the more time and servants you had to take care of it.

And you attend to it on your own? That’s impressive!

He wants to know everything, hence the huge amount of questions in so little time, almost like an eager child on a school trip to the zoo; shining bright eyes focused entirely on you and fingers twitching to grab a lock and softly stretch it until the very end.

If you let him do just that, he will treat it like a delicate treasure, never pulling harshly and observing with care. He doesn’t bother hiding the blush on his cheeks or the warmth in his gaze, mainly because he wants you to know how much affection he guards for you and how much he loves being able to be so close.

It’s a true pity you don’t have horns. Some demons use theirs as support for their hair, coiling it around them and making interesting designs.

He could give you a crown, though.

Show him what you can do with it.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[circeyoru]

Maker of His Eyes = Requested

The Request

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Hunter Gear Maker!Reader]

The moment things like gates, dungeons, and mana appeared, everyday people evolved to what people will now call as ‘Hunters’. From then point on, control over these powerful individuals were needed, so then came the ‘Hunter Association’ appeared, soon there were ‘Guilds’ and more other terms that people have long grown accustom to. 

What makes a Hunter? Their rank? Their class? Their power? Their wealth? Their fame? Themselves? The answer is all of the above. However, they were like unpolished stones. They—regardless of their rank—still require a safety net of sorts. Being in the Hunter business is no joke. Perhaps in the beginning, most could just punch monsters with their bare hands and throw random objects at monsters to complete the job, now when these things would return from time to time.

Protection was needed, not only that, but also equipment. Like how a firefighter would gear full gear before rushing into fire or a surgeon would don in protective suits, Hunters needed something similar. Such creations were requested and given to the brave Hunters, albeit not as effective, it was something. 

Soon came the emergence of Crafter—either an Artisan or Blacksmith—that changed the playing field.

“Who’s request are you doing now, Apprentice?” Your master, Warwick, questioned as he put away his tools on the rack nailed into the wall of the workshop. “Don’t tell me it’s for that E-Rank again. Your talents are better placed elsewhere.”

“I’ve done all the requests I got and preparations for some of yours, Sir.” You shouted over the continuous working, you paused and craned your head to eye your teacher in the art of weapon making for Hunters. “You can cut my salary if that’s what you want. I’m still making this.”

Warwick sighed and scratched the back of his head, groaning as he spoke like the grumpy man he is. “That’s not what I meant. If you’re this soft hearted, people will just take advantage of your kindness. You’re a well sought out Crafter, heck, it’s never rarer for a ‘Creator’ to be found.”

You rolled your eyes at the title again. When you awakened, you felt nothing different, but you were more perceive when it came to news and concepts about the newly emergence of Gates, the things inside, and Hunters. Nevertheless, you were evaluated. When your result came back as <Unknown>, you were sent to another room, it was there that you were tested to be an Artisan and a Blacksmith after knowing you were a Crafter. Because of your rarity, you were taken in by the Hunter Association for protection. 

Unlike an S-Rank Hunter, you were an ordinary citizen when outside on the streets or in a dungeon. You couldn’t defend yourself and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, your friend was unable to protect you as well. You honed your skills and craftsmanship, your teacher/master Warwick taking full responsibility as the best Weapon and Armour maker in Korea.

Soon, he was outmatched by your raw talent and many started to request your creations. With your wide range of work, you were later dubbed ‘Creator’, a class that set you apart from the others that where separated into Artisan or Blacksmith. Artisans craft artifacts like gears ranging from armour to jewelery, and Blacksmiths craft weapons, what the two have in common is that both could invent and create items that make use of the new elements found in dungeons.

You, however, could do all and more. While at random, you grant effects to your creations and sometimes controllable by the request given. Not only that, but you could identify the useful spoils from bad. Even going as far as to have a unique design in your head and start working. Such was your power and talent.

Now you mentioned about a friend of yours. He was a Hunter and had awakened earlier than you have, but as an E-Rank, later gaining the title that labelled him as the lowest of low. You heard whispers of association members that your friend’s mana level was worse than that of the Artisans or Blacksmith. You would bite the inside of your lower lip and leave.

Sung Jinwoo. E-Rank. The Weakest Hunter of All Mankind.

It was that one that when your friend was visiting your workshop and delivering some food for you that you snapped. It happened too abruptly. There was a Blacksmith newbie that was assigned to be watched by you and supervised by Warwick, mainly you, but the newbie loved following you around. That newbie was berating Jinwoo when you left the room momentarily, however, you returned earlier than expected and had the newbie fired by your authority. You even staked your job at the association. So of course, your request was fulfilled.

Somehow though, you managed to have missed that dark and obsessed look in his eyes in that moment you protected him. Good for him, but… Well, ignorant is bliss.

From then on, you had Jinwoo use anything of your creation to show that he was protected.

It was a day like any other, Jinwoo got up and ready for work as a Hunter. He arrived at the site, faking ignorant from the whispers and gossips of the Hunters around him when he made his appearance. He’ll admit, he was weak but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t even afford to quit because he needed money to support his family.

Then there was you. A Hunter—he mistakenly thought—dressed too causal for a raid, you were also idly standing by and maybe observing? He made his way over to exchange greeting with you. “Hi, I’m Sung Jinwoo, E-Rank. You should change into some protective gear or bring a weapon before heading into the Gate.”

You raised a brow at him and chuckled as if you understood a joke. “Oh, no no. I’m not a Hunter. I’m just observing what Hunters use as gears and stuff. Thanks for worrying though.”

Jinwoo noticed that you seemed to have avoided the whole topic of him being an E-Rank, like you didn’t register his rank but only picked up that he was a Hunter. He found himself sheepishly laughing along, “Haha, sorry, I thought you’re a Hunter because people need authorization to be in here.”

“Oh.” Your head jerked a bit and you looked back to where a safety line was visible. You turned back to Jinwoo and spoke a bit softer. “I think I might have crossed the line… In a literal sense.” You clapped your hands and your head bowed as like a prayer. “Please don’t tell anyone or report me.” Your head raised and you stared at him in the eye, “How about this? I’ll treat you after your raid’s done. I’ll be here waiting.”

Under normal circumstances, he would refuse and decline it. Truthfully, he wouldn’t even tell anyone on you since he knew no one would care for the word of an E-Rank. Yet, he nodded with a smile, “I’ll hold you to that.”

You smiled back at him. A sight that made his heart flutter and beat faster than danger. 

Never had he looked forward to the end of a raid because of someone other than his family was waiting for him. There was you today. When the raid declared clear and the team went back to the entrance, he stayed at the back and swiftly left to where you’d be waiting. He was a bit disappointed when you were nowhere in sight, but when he walked further away from the site and pass the safety line…

You jumped on him with a scare and shocked the daylights out of him. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt much this time. You laughed for a solid minute before you wiped away your tears and smiled softly at him, “Job well done on a successful raid.”

He didn’t bring himself to say his teammates did most of the work while he was at the back doing nothing to help. He just smiled along and thanked you, getting up and asked where you’d take him. He remembered your smooth hands that grabbed his rough one as you dragged him away from his Hunter work to the pleasures he would have enjoyed. A moment in his trying times that he could relax and smile carefreely.

So started a friendship he slowly grow and twisted.

Any form of attention you give him, he ate it up like a starving stray. From time to time, you’d ask him about where he’d be raiding at and he would give you a location. You told him you purposefully target the lower ranked Gates without claim to a guild so you would be able to observe easily since security was more laxed. 

A day he drended and prayed to never come happened sooner than he’d like. He was carried out by his teammates, the healers that joined the raid that time wasn’t as skilled. Wounds all over him and he was losing blood, not to mention consciousness. You, like every other time, were standing at the site waiting for him. His blurry sight caught your panicked look and rush to him, he heard your cries and gave you a soft smile to reassure you. 

While he was laid on a stretcher, you ran off to where the loot was and grabbed a few items. The Hunters and workers around you didn’t interrupt you as they obviously saw the glowing aura around your form. When you returned, you pulled along the healer and tied what you gotten on them in some way and ordered for them to heal him again. The familiar glow surrounded him and he felt light and his body relaxed from stiffness.

Before his eyes closed and his consciousness faded, he just knew you were being pushed to be evaluated for your deeds while you tried to get to him. To be by his side instead of theirs. 

How troublesome.

Note: A bit short and dull for my liking, but hope you guys like this.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[bastart13]

How did you go about redesigning the clothes in you remaster?

Ooh great question! I'll go into more detail below, but the gist is that I broke down each character into their vibes and general aesthetic and tried fitting it to my design biases.

I tend towards more grounded designs than the original JRPG-inspired armour and clothes, so I referenced a lot of medieval fashion for the setting. You'll usually see me covering bared skin in battle outfits or toning down extra details I struggle to draw

Then, using those references, I'd try to thumbnail basic shapes and colours to figure out which works best

(More specific character notes below)

For some characters like Iseul, I didn't feel much need to change his outfit so I mostly toned down the detail to suit my style. I shifted the colour scheme to something warmer and removed the fur and extra armour to serve his image as animal-loving and battle-avoidant. This serves as great contrast to his timeskip outfit where he then commits to being both a warrior and a prince, with more ornamentation and practical armour

I designed Helena and Alain as contrasts. They have very similar themes and designs, so I decided to smooth Alain down into the picture-perfect metal knight while Helena's wilder and asymmetric. I referenced more realistic armour for Alain but overall I wanted to keep his clothes similar.

For Helena, my design style is more practical and thematically I want to avoid Helena baring skin and vulnerability so I extended her corset into more of a chest armour and covered her other thigh. To add to her duality of magic and metal, I gave one arm armour and bared the other to show off magical scars.

August and Altea's designs are where I start to venture off into more vibes-based outfits. August is humble and traditional, a knight with proud loyalty to his Lord and family, so I gave him medieval colours to represent both on his tabard. The armour is still there, but it's less focus on metal and more on "cheaper" materials to serve as a contrast to his timeskip where he becomes a proper knight in shining armour. For that reason, I took away the cape and other unnecessary decoration.

Then Altea is flashy, wealthy, and bright. I kept the focus on light armour, with scalemail as the only obvious protection. I've mentioned before but I took inspiration from south east asian fashion (mostly cambodia and malaysia) as a grounded but ornate basis for her magical girl theme. Here the colour scheme and fabrics are what mostly connects it to the original

Similarly, Lennox is where vibes rule and the overal aesthetic changes quite a bit. He's often described with "choir boy" hair, so I wanted to combine choir robes with ornate priestly outfits to sell him as a vain cult-leader. I kept the symmetry, long coat, and lack of obvious armour, but I wanted him to look less modern and stick with less structured outfits.

One thing specific to the generals, is that I wanted to give them more of a variety to colour palettes to sell that while they're working together, they're not exactly happy about it. While they all have a focus of blue and silver to keep them cohesive, they each have a motif: Alain - silver, Helena - pale blue, Jinhai - brown, Lennox - dark blue, Magnus - turquoise

[gumbootillustrations]

UGH I FUCKING FINALLY FINISHED THIS

so yeah, have the divine warriors of the second war of the magi!!

more deets n closeups under the cut :3

aph!! i like to think that although the incarnations of the divine warriors r generally pretty similar, they do have some minor differences. for example, whereas the matron of the first war of the magi (irene) had one of the sets of wings on her head covering her eyes, the matron of the second war (mcd!aphmau) has both of them held back. this is bc whereas irene had lost her humanity (and therefore the ability to connect with mortals), aph hasn't - and, therefore, her eyes are open to the struggles of humanity. additionally, i took a lot of inspiration from honkai impact 3rd for these designs - in aph's case, i was inspired by elysia's herrscher of human: ego battlesuit and how it looks like a wedding dress (which a lot of folks have interpreted as an expression of her love for humanity, which is smth i want to convey w aph).

i think my favourite part of aaron's destroyer form is his seal (the thingy behind his head like a halo). i wanted to rlly play into the whole destroyer/devourer aspect of his abilities and domains, and i thought a black hole would fit perfectly! it also sort of (unintentionally) plays into how i see the dynamic between the matron and the destroyer and how they're both mirrors of each other; whereas the destroyer, well, destroys (and his black hole devours everything in sight), the matron creates and nurtures (seen in how aph's seal is almost like a white hole). i also wanted his armour to look a lot like the armour that shadow knights wear, albeit without all the spikes and spines and whatnot given that he isn't a shadow knight himself (shad's destroyer form from the first war probably looks a lot more similar to traditional shadow knight armour).

i'm lowkey suuper proud of how travis's keeper form turned out (even if i had to go back right at the end n fix it bc i forgot to add his tail 😭). i wanted this form to sort of be a mix between a high mage and a rogue: whereas the keeper embodies knowledge and magick, travis himself is a prankster who relies on cunning and trickery to gain the upper hand on his opponents. as a result, he's the only one who doesn't automatically manifest a weapon when he shifts into this form - instead, i feel like he chooses to rely more on magicks and witchcraft during combat.

katelyn's design was lowkey the hardest to pin down. originally, i wanted to go for something that was suuuper inspired by roman armour and had a copper and teal/turquoise colour scheme, but it wound up feeling too magical girl-ish and i scrapped it. i've retained the roman inspirations, but i headcanon that her flames are so hot they burn blue, so i settled on a blue-and-white colour scheme w some purple elements. i think my favourite part is her gauntlets! i feel like she uses them as an extension of herself/another pair of hands to punch with. the blue elements also lean into menphia's association with the moon - in ashes, ashes, tu'la is based on the roman empire and, as a result, is where werewolves originate from, and with werewolves having such close ties to the moon.... yeah. i'll probably do a post on tu'la later on at some point.

my blorbo

garroth's design is probably the one that's changed the least, but i'll still need to update his ref sheet anyway. i don't know if i conveyed it very well but the sort-of wing-things on his back are slabs of earth that can be shaped into a shield - originally i had him holding a shield but i wanted him to look a bit more divine warrior-ish so i retooled his design.

the boy! i was tossing up between having vylad or dante fill the role of the wanderer, but i settled on dante as i feel like vylad fits better as a sort of weird guide sort of figure within the narrative. plus, i have a real soft spot for dante and wanted him to remain in the limelight a little bit - i love his dynamic with garroth and laurance and i wanted to explore that further. i sort of wanted to play into his whole red-and-blue colour scheme that we see in canon diaries, but bc kul'zak is a nature deity (specifically of the wilderness), i wanted to incorporate some greenery into his design. i hope i've done an okay-ish job here - overall i'm pretty happy tho, but i can't promise that there won't be any tweaks in the future.

this is a redhead laurance propaganda spreading blog and i Refuse to apologise for it. i'd like to think that laurance's original colour scheme is similar to his justiciar form - lots of beautiful reds and golds and oranges to match the flames of his father's forge - but after he comes back from the nether with a Severe fear of fire he switches to the greens and browns that he's known for in canon. eventually he slowly begins to reclaim his fire and returns to the golds and oranges that he's introduced with (haha colour symbolism go brrrrrr).

but yeah. the special interest is special interesting. let me know if u have any questions!

[julicity]

SEBEK ZIGVOLT - OVERBLOT -

full size version

Please see the full sized version linked above! Since it’s been compressed pretty badly here...

And here’s a version without the unnecessary lightning background, and a face close-up without the glow effects.

ALRIGHT, so this is one of the biggest pieces I’ve done in a long while. I put a lot of work into this so I hope you all enjoy~

I’ve got a lot to say about this one, so read at your own leisure lol.

I think it’s worth leaving notes on my design choices for this one, so I’ll start with that.

First of all, Sebek's character is based off of lightning/thunder (obviously) and also Maleficent's crocodile minion, the latter which I incorporated more parts of (like the halberd and the pointed coattails like his croc tail). Also his phantom would be based on the croc minion character.

I originally wanted to give him more actual crocodile features, like a tail or scales or something, but it wasn't really working out the way I wanted, so I scrapped it.

Most OB’s have long, ripped clothing so I gave him more of a cloak akin to Maleficent’s, the shape of the collar specifically being the same as hers.

I added some spikes on the coat like crocodiles have down their back and tail.

I really like the leg pieces that Riddle & Leona had for their OB’s, and the weaving pattern also happens to make a zigzag lightning shape, so it fits.

I also like the OB designs that have super drippy blot on their arms.

Some things are just copied from his dorm uniform, like the waistband and belts, and the shoulder armour (not the spools of thread though...).

The left shoulder armour doesn't exist in the normal dorm uniform. OB Sebek has one made of blot because Sebek's biggest insecurity is that he's incomplete and will never be good enough due to being half-blood and he wants to be whole T^T

Lightning-shaped blot markings on his face of course. Mostly I just tried to make something that didn't look ugly... 

Lastly, I wanted to make his hair messier, but it would end up covering his beautiful face so I let it remain swept back - 3- (aka I couldn’t make it look nice).

So in terms of why Sebek might OB... he clearly has an intense, unresolved internal hatred for his human blood, due to the environment he grew up in. And the way he copes with these emotions is by taking it out on the people around him. It just seems like with the intensity of these feelings, if he were to keep it internalized, it would completely destroy him from the inside. And he just has NOT had the chance or know-how to learn to accept himself and therefore others. So of course, this is something he needs to work on but he definitely cannot do it alone. I think something traumatic does need to happen for him to realize and learn from his ways honestly. In terms of the canon, this will probably be due to Malleus' overblot or whatever shenanigans will happen in Book 7.... but Sebek himself overblotting would do just as well.

I think this fic does a really good job with building up Sebek's OB and his mindset throughout it all getting worse and worse... --> READ HERE It’s still in progress at the moment of posting but the after-blot plot is really wholesome too for us Sebek fans. EVEN IF you are not one you should still give it a read. (Just for full disclosure, my OB design is not based on the one described in this fic.)

Thank you for reading my rambles. I’ve got more angst coming ;>

[katyahina]

The 'haired' helmets are strange..

It IS odd how we get to wear the characters' hairstyles, as it is just really unlikely they're scalps! I suppose the explanation is the same as why we are able to completely change upon looking into a mirror at Roundtable's Hold; as long as the Tarnished is guided by Greater Will, they'll have its aid and be transformed into whatever they see fit to keep carrying on! So I think the implication here is that we do, physically, grow the hair of the demigods (or champions) upon trying to tap on their power! I think if GW abandons a Tarnished, or if they abandon it, they lose this 'ability', which our playable character never does, so..

I am not sure whether it is Maliketh's own long mane or also a decoration! I'd like to think the former, in which case, same logic as with hair of Malenia, Godfrey and Radahn applies! Vargram's "hair" definitely is a decoration, and specifically for the purpose of imitating shadowbeasts:

Ensha's armour goes even further and not only gives us a hairdo, but makes us a skeleton:

We even get his power of slight regeneration, similar to Erdtree's normal powers:

All implications considered, I really doubt that this is just how armour looks, especially considering no change in size. We are not 'wearing' the skull, we ARE the skull now fhhsfd And this time the NPC data inside simply exists because Ensha does use NPC code and mechanics. So, we turn into a corpse! Again, should not matter much since as long as we're carried by GW we don't need to eat or sleep or... anything, really. (I'll also die on the hill of the theory that Ensha was one of the deceased Marika's offspring whose Mausoleum crashed and what was left from him crawled out but that's another story fdhfhds)

Here are other instances of hair simply decorating a helm:

Niall is that one guy we fight in Castle Sol, so similarity in this case ALSO checks out! Also cute idea: what if decoration for the helmets of Godrick's Knights IS his own hair? ;-;

That could also be speculated about Redmane Knights, but I feel like it'd be more appropriate for Godrick's. Radahn would be stingy about his amazing lion mane whereas Godrick can not only take body parts but also give them XDDDD yeah yeah terrible whatever

The black hair on Night Cavalry's helmet can be removed, also confirming that in this case it is a decoration. This hair does have interesting flowing animation though! Maybe it IS the hair of Night Cavalry themselves, still having their shadowy energy, but cut and attached again to their own helmets (kind of like Ciaran from DS1 decorated her helmet with her own braid!)

Another case of hair not being actual hair but part of the mask; the way hair is placed, it'd had to grow from like, eyebrows level and face itself or something fdhfdsdfh Maybe this style with braids and grey hair was intended to refer at Godfrey's? Alternatively, what IF their faces are actually furry/animalistic despite otherwise human build, so the hair doubles as fur? We don't see them behind the mask, after all? A food for a thought lol

^ More of 100% 'mask' types of these

The water dancer in blue gave the sword to Malenia's teacher, the blind guy that once sealed the God of Rot himself, and these warriors in blue appear to be following the same philosophy of "ever running water preventing stagnation, so, rot itself" as him! Although this head piece imitates just a follower and not the man himself (as far as we are aware....), perhaps the sentiment is strong enough to give us the hairdo too x) Again, funny enough, it seems to resemble the Lady of the Lake fairy herself!

I suspected the case of 'sharing hair' with Cleanrot Knights too, but upon closer look I can tell it is supposed to be some fabric/rags, rather than hair or hairlike accessory! Probably more efficient to imitate the look with rags rather than something hairlike tbh, considering the lenght of the thing! So I think the design is more meant to represent Malenia's own unhappy fate, with short tuft being the "hair" and the longer tails being the "wings" :

_______________

In conclusion, it is kind of easy to deduce which hair become our actual hair for the time being because of golden grace 'reshaping' us and which hair is just decor! But it is really interesting stuff to think about all the way!

[mothiir]

put Cato in the cuck chair

….but this time with sex pollen. I’m sorry for this. Inspired ofc by @moodymisty, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams and all others who have got me into bully boy cato

cw: gangbang, sex pollen, Cato being a sexist prick.

—

—

The first indication you have that the mission has gone very, very wrong is the sight of Roboute sans helmet, cheeks flushed red, blue eyes spangling like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion — he practically barrels into Sicarius’ quarters, where you are mending a tear in an Ultramarine’s undergarment, while Sicarius himself fumes quietly in the corner, clearly still rankling from being excluded from the planet side drop. We need someone to watch the diplomat, Roboute had said, in that tone that brooked no argument. 

The diplomat, Roboute calls you. The lady, the squad say. And yet Cato Sicarius still has no shame whatsoever in calling you the woman — or, when he is especially vexed (and Roboute is not within earshot) the whore. 

Sicarius is on his feet at once. “My lord —?”

The rest of the squad follows in, collapsing into the room like a pack of hounds returned from the chase. One of them yanks his helm off, revealing a face flushed just as Roboute’s, nostrils flared and panting. 

“Daemon,” the young recruit manages, only for one of his brothers to shush him frantically. 

“Died,” another astartes supplies. His helm is already long gone; his sandy hair plastered to his scalp with sweat. His eyes are shining. 

“Yes, died but afterwards —“

”Spores,” manages a third, shucking off his gauntlets. “Father, it is too hot.” The last sentence is directed towards Roboute; it lilts almost into a whine, a sound so incongruous with the marine’s bulk that you may have found it funny, in less dramatic circumstances. “Father it is too hot, and it hurts — “

”Be at ease, Augustus — we will be fine. We will all be fine.”

Roboute moves in a blur of blue. It still shocks you how a man of such bulk can dash with the speed and grace of a hare. He grabs Sicarius by the scruff, and lifts him bodily off the ground, dropping him without ceremony into a chair, pressing a strange gun into his hands. It’s all sharp angles and edges — Eldar make? Sicarius eyes it with deep suspicion. 

“What is —?”

”If things seem to be going too far — if she is in peril of mortal wounds — I want you to shoot us,” says Roboute, his voice low and serious, and yet somehow wrenched. He clasps Sicarius’s face with one hand, pinching his cheeks together. “This is a bio-weapon — it will only effect those with Ultramarine DNA. She’ll be fine, but it will knock the men out and a few shots will slow even myself down. I would rather not use it — I would rather solve this using more old-fashioned means — but I do not want her to perish in such an ignoble way. ”

Sicarius is so rarely at a loss for words. His mouth pops open, apparently to ask something, but he’s silenced when Roboute —

When Roboute kisses him. Hard. On the mouth. Your eyes widen, and Roboute curses, shoving the other marine away. 

“Apologies, Cato — it’s all — it’s a ll a little much at present.”

Roboute turns to you. He has positioned the chair so it is facing the chaise lounge on which you perch, mending in your lap. The furniture here is all too large for you, designed for Space Marine bulk, and you are suddenly, profoundly aware of your own smallness. 

“My Lord,” Sicarius manages. “What was —“

”Slaneeshi daemon. Last minute defence strategy. It — it will wear off eventually, but we need to redirect the urges, lest it tear us apart. Augustus, stop touching Cicero — Cicero, get your hand out of your damn pants. Have some dignity.”

”But you just kissed —“

”Nevermind that, you heard the Primarch get your hands off my arse —“

Three of the squad are directly behind the chaise lounge, slap-fighting with each other as they scramble to remove their armour, dropping it directly onto the floor in a manner that would have a tech-priest weeping at the flagrant disrespect shown to the machine-spirit within. Two others are practically glued to the door, huddled together like lambs, apparently afraid to move, quivering —

Quivering with fear, or with the effort of restraining themselves? Neither are wearing their helmets, and both are staring directly at you with a focus that is damn unnerving. It seems almost — almost hungry —

In another blur of preternatural speed, Roboute is before you, removing the mending from your lap with deliberate care. His smile is somewhat fixed, and doesn’t touch his manic eyes. 

“My lady, when you took this position you swore that you would give your life up for the Ultramarines, and in service of the Emperor,” he says, his voice still rough and low. Normally, the Primarch deliberately pitches his voice a little higher, avoiding his normal voice, which is clearly inhuman, a rumbling bass that speaks of deep lungs and a biology almost as alien to you as the Eldar. 

“Of course. Always.”

”Good. Good. Then I ask this of you as. I would ask my men to go to battle. You are strong, and I know you will endure.”

”I — I’ll do anything, of course I will,” you say, lost in the magnificent glow of his eyes, unable to deny him even if you wanted to. Primarchs are practically hypnotic to their own legions; a baseline human stands no chance. 

“Good girl,” he says, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So willing to please.”

”Father, can I —“

”Primarch gets dibs, shut up —“

You look back again at the bickering astartes, and your heart stutters at the sight: they’re all naked; skin flushed and glossy with sweat. The two by the door have joined their brothers, disrobing with shaking hands. 

“When you said…when you said service,” you say, pieces starting to click into place just a little too late. “Uh —“

”Hush, little one,” Roboute says. “Drink this.”

He shoves a bottle up at your face. You swallow instinctively, and Roboute stares at the movement of your throat, the flex and pull of muscles. It’s tea — you recognise the smell, if not the taste. Relationships between human women and Space Marines are rarely spoken of but by no means rare, and this tea is infamous among certain circles for making thing s a little easier. It’s a variation on an old Ultramarine recipe that aids with childbirth. It eases pain and opens you up.

”There. Good. Swallow that. Swallow it all.”

Roboute, apparently unable to wait any longer, sits beside you and pulls you into his lap. His mouth on yours is eager and demanding, his tongue sliding past your lips, filling your mouth. You close your eyes and kiss back, wondering if this is all a fantastical dream. The Primarch tugs at your dress, pulling it off your shoulders, bearing your breasts, and you hear five astartes moan in harmony. 

No. Not a dream. 

”Hold her —“ Roboute orders, lifting you up, and another astartes gathers you into his arms, his prick rigid against your thigh. He cradles you to his chest, his mouth seeking your nape, his tongue along your jugular. You squirm in his grasp, panting as his hand goes straight between your legs, thick fingers probing along your cunt, only to withdraw. Primarch’s dibs, you realise, and bite back a shrill of hysterical laughter. 

Roboute has rid himself of his own armour, his cock standing up in his lap; you try to eyeball measurements, planting a hand on your stomach. He grabs you back, and replaces your hand with his. 

“You’ll take me, little one. I have faith in you. You’ll take all of us.”

—

—

Cato Sicarius is going to shoot himself. He’s decided — it is the only honourable thing to do. The xenos weapon is cool in his hand, and he caresses the trigger in slow, circular motions that certainly aren’t meant to be echoing the movements of your slender hips. 

You took Roboute up to the hilt with no small amount of effort, puffing and mewling, and growing teary eyed — but his gene-father kept urging you down, cooing about what a good girl you were, what a loyal servant, how well you took him — and, demonstrating once more that the Avenging Son can achieve the impossible, you ended up with the full length of a Primarch in your guts, your belly bulging around him. Your thighs were stretched to their limit as you straddled him, and — lazy thing that you are — you didn’t have the strength to ride him. That did not seem to matter to Gulliman, who simply picked you up and slid you back down, using you like a toy. He started off as slow as possible, but soon abandoned that, jerking his hips up to meet you as he yanked you down again, and again, and again. 

The tears soon broke into full on sobs. Gulliman hushed and soothed you — patently ridiculous, in Sicarius’s opinion, since you were only doing your duty, and no one (least of all a damn woman) should be praised for doing their part for the Emperor’s will — and you tried your best to swallow back your cries, lips swollen and puffy as he kissed you, nipping and sucking at your flesh. Sicarius’s battle brothers flocked closer, clearly wanting to touch but not daring, not yet, instinctively waiting for Roboute to have his fill. 

As Sicarius is counting the threads on the chaise lounge — and only because your moans and whimpers irritate him so, not to distract himself — Roboute finally cums. Your belly is stretched so tightly around him that Sicarius sees the Primarch’s seed slip inside you, pulse after pulse. He wonders what that feels like. How you feel —

No he does not. One hundred and twenty, one hundred and eighteen, two hundred and eighty six —

“Your turn, Augustus,” Roboute pants, and the next battle brother practically yanks you off his gene-father’s prick. Apparently unbothered by the fact that you are leaking Roboute’s seed down your thighs, like the worst kind of degenerate whore, Augustus crams himself inside, taking you as he stands, one hand supporting your arse, the other holding his cock steady as he lets gravity do its work, sinking you onto him. You squeal with astonishment. 

“S’big,” you slur. All a show — he bets you’ve been dreaming of something like this. Dreaming of an excuse to bed your betters, to spread your legs and take them, to do what you are meant to do. No attempts at diplomacy here, no pretence at being more than you are, just spread thighs and a wet, greedy cunt, and a womb to be filled, and filled again. Disgusting. Disgraceful. 

He’s never been so hard in his entire life. 

He bites the inner part of his cheek, to — to try and avoid shouting at you. That’s it. He wants to shout at you, to call you a filthy little slut for tempting his Primarch so. His battle-brothers should be with an apothecary, being treated for the aftermath of their mission, not here, rutting against you like animals. When Augustus finishes — quicker than he intended, judging by the sound of frustration he makes as his balls gather up and he empties himself inside you — Hadrian and Decimus take ahold of you. The two youngest members of the squad could be twins, with hair that shades more to red than blonde, and the pale skin of Ultramar’s northern, rain-soaked wastes.

”Open your mouth,” says Decimus, and you obey, your tiny lips barely enough to cover the head of the astartes’ purple-flushed cock. “Swallow it, swallow me —“

Meanwhile, Hadrian is positioning you on the lounger, mounting you from behind, trying to ensure your mouth can reach his brother’s cock, but his cock can bury himself inside. It’s an endeavour that should be easy, but you make it difficult — as you always, always do — by squirming and whimpering as Hadrian aims for your cunt, slides on the seed his squad mates have left, and almost sinks into your arse instead. You should let him, Sicarius thinks. You should take him in the arse and thank him, you should take him in the arse and thank him, thank you Cato, my lord, thank you, I’m nothing, I’m —

He grips the gun a little tighter. Shifts from cheek to cheek. Tries to think of the least arousing things he can. Tyranid gene organs, tyranid gene organs — the weird goo that pulses out of a Nurgling when you shoot it — his genefather naked, his genefather buried inside you, his cock distending you, your expression fucked-stupid and slack and — 

Not helping. Not helping. Oh, he hates you, hates, you hates you —

“By the throne, that’s good. How are you still so tight?”

Hadrian has managed to penetrate you at least, and you cannot answer his question, even if you had the brains to: Decimus has his cock in your mouth, your jaw stretched so widely that tendons stand out in your neck, your eyes streaming with effort.

”That’s it — swallow, let me in, going to fuck your face,” Decimus promises, and you keen, with eagerness or distress. Maybe both. Sicarius hopes it is both. He hopes you want it, and hate how you want it, and hate how good you feel —

Count the stitches on the chaise lounge. Count the — the tiles on the floor. Count the number of his battle brothers who have cum inside you. With a low, drawn out groan, Hadrian makes three. And then he’s literally dragged away, Cicero taking his place. 

“You’ve made such a mess,” the astartes coos. You can only manage a gargling slurry of sound, Decimus now making good on his promise, one leg folded under him, the other dangling off the crunch to support him as he starts to hump into your throat. “I wonder if you’ll have a child after this — wonder if you’ll give us a nice little recruit —“

Slicking himself up with the spend pulsing out of you, he pushes in, and you arch your back, popping your hips up, making it easier for him. The sight of you submitting — of you presenting — or maybe the thought of you growing fat with child after this revolting display does something to Decimus, who cums in your mouth. Your throat bulges as his seed spills down inside you, but there is too much to swallow, and you hack and cough it up as he pulls out, your chin sticky and white. 

Decimus huffs, almost sulkily. “Don’t cough it up — lick it up. Go on.”

He gathers his own cum on his fingers, and pushes it onto your tongue. You’re too tired to move at first, but something registers, and you start licking his digits clean with swipes of your kitten pink tongue. Sicarius imagines you crawling to his feet, nuzzling your face against his crotch, begging him to give you a taste, just a taste — he would say no, of course, and backhand you across the face for your whorish temerity, but he would not mind the display. 

Titus is the last to take his due, settling himself down in Decimus’ place, stroking your hair, murmuring soft nonsense to you, like he is comforting you. You don’t need comfort, Sicarius wants to snarl, you want a cock in your throat. All the way down there. That’s what he would do, ram himself into your soft palette and keep going, keep going until your gag reflex was just a helpless little flutter around his shaft —

— that’s what he would do if he were a lesser man, that is. If he were — if he were tainted. If he was ordered. Would Gulliman order him to fuck you? Sicarius’ mouth goes dry at the thought. Maybe he would, maybe his Primarch would see you lying there in a pool of ejaculate and realise what Sicarius has known all along: that you aren’t a diplomat but a whore. That you’re more use to the Legion on your back. That you shouldn’t be using your sweet little tongue to convince xenos to co-operate with the cause of the Emperor, but to lick his balls until he came all over your face. 

Yes. If Gulliman ordered it of him he would. He would not be able to defy his Primarch — such a thing would be tantamount to heresy! He would take you from behind, but yank your head up so he could watch your face as he bullied inside. He would fuck you until even Titus realised that soft words were lost on you. He would —

He would try very hard not to cum in his armour like a neophyte as Titus petted your hair, your lips beginning to bleed from the stretch around his cock. Gulliman has returned to the fray, running his hands along your sides, spreading your cheeks to stare at the ruin they’ve no doubt made of your cunt. Maybe he will turn you about, just a little, so Sicarius can see — 

He does not. That’s fine. It’s fine. 

Instead, the Primarch slides a thumb into your arse, working it in and out, as you shift and mew, face boiled red and slick with drool. Titus’ eyes are closed, his head lolling back with pleasure, heedless of his brother’s impatient commentary. 

“Lieutenant, hurry up, I want her mouth again.”

”Father, Titus is hogging her, make him share.”

Roboute smiles indulgently at his men, now with a finger worked inside you. “Titus, if you don’t mind —?”

”Ah — apologies, my lord.” He strokes your hair back from your face, his fingers tracing the outline of his cock in your throat. “I’m going to cum in your mouth, darling. You can swallow it for me, can’t you?” Wide-eyed, and so eager to please, you nod as best you can. Titus starts moving his hips with intent, the wet glucking sounds of your throat audible even over the Ultramarine’s chatter and the obscene squelch of Roboute’s fingers butterflying you open. 

“That’s it — good girl —“

No sooner has he finished then Roboute snatches you up, arranging you once more on his lap — this time, however, starting to sink into a different hole. Your eyes bug with pain. “Lord —“

”Hush, little one. You can take me. And look!”

He gestures over to Sicarius. 

“Kind Sicarius is keeping watch to ensure nothing goes awry — don’t fret, I know that he does not  like you especially, but he does not wish to see his brothers dishonour themselves by killing you so. Isn’t that right, Sicarius? You’ll watch us most carefully — and I do appreciate it. As, I’m sure, does she.”

The Primarch’s burning eyes meet Sicarius’s over your shoulder as he starts once more to inch his way inside, your body struggling to accommodate him. And then — oh, it must be a trick of the light, or some of your witchery, because he swears that Roboute winks at him. 

[dunnowhatimdoin]

I made some redesigns for the whole comic cast (even if they don't need one, but eh). I sketched them all something like a month ago, then I completely forgot about it and came back to finish them only now. Oops.

Anyway, I tried pairing them up for opposing sides, poor Blitz got left out in the process.

Following are some design notes for how they ended up looking.

Ballister

-He got fancier 'cause he's a Lord, even if I'm not sure is it's just a title he gave himself or if he actually was born into nobility. The red in his jacket, belt drap and cape got darker to keep the villainous feel. The necklace holds the cape; realistically it would be very uncomfortable, but this is fiction.

- He keeps his armour but he gets a longer fauld, as a callback to the tunics of Middle Age nobles and also to the look of a lab coat. His boots were stolen from the movie concept art :)

- His figure is thicker in comparison to Ambrosius's, for contrast purposes.

Nimona

-The idea was that with a fancier Ballister she would get a complete, proper squire attire. Worn by her, it didn't last long...

She really isn't for the fancy look, especially the golden accents, but since it was all provided by Ballister, she feels guilty rejecting it.

- The tooth she wears as an earring is probably her own.

-I know she heals incredibly fast and doesn't leave marks, but it would be nice if she shaped on scars to "look cooler" and also more professional as a sidekick. Show off that she can fight, y'know?

Ambrosius

- His armour got more decorative than anything, with the sole purpose to make him look good, so that the Institution can look good. If he actually needs to work, he has an uglier armour for it. Still, he wears a braid because moving around a lot with long hair sucks.

- He's got his little diadem, fluffy collar, gradient cape and ribbons because he likes showing off how important of a person he is. Definitely not a sad orphan picked from the streets or anything.

- Gave him a couple beauty marks under his eye because come on, they suit him.

- The corset serves to give him a thinner and more elegant figure. It's something like two or three times smaller than his ideal size and that's not good for his health-

The Director

- In the comic Director is more of a political leader, rather than a religious one, so now she's a general. She's got her band and sword perpetually attached to her belt to show this off, being intimidating with the idea that she's caple of causing harm.

-Puffy sleeves to match Ambrosius's, with cuffs so they don't get in the way.

-Her metal collar and short cape are a callback to knights armours.

-She gets a longer veil to distracts form the fact she's bald and diamond shaped ear caps because diamonds being the Institution symbol is a concept I stole from the movie :)

Blitzmeyer

-Big coat to reference her past as a traveller (the whole "journey over the mountains to the lands beyond" thing) and also 18th century clothing, which is  Illuminism period and the whole "science over superstition" ideal.

-Her ponytail got a little messier to reflect her chaotic nature. Speaking of chaos, the bandages are from experiments that got a little out of hand...

-Big, comfortable boots because maybe she isn't leaving anymore but you never know what might happen.

[and-so-he-rambled]

Costume

(Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters)

Masterlist

“You’re going to fight Batman?” Daniel’s curious eyes peeked over the table, watching Vlad feed material into the sewing machine.

“Not exactly, I’m planning to avoid him as much as possible, but I’m sure we will cross paths.”

“Are you going to fight him with your superpowers?”

“No, remember how no one can find out we’re special? Not even Batman, he’d turn us in to the bad men.”

“Oh.” Daniel continued to watch him as he cut and arranged black material. He’d gone light on any body armour since he didn’t need it and needed the extra movement. He did have some for appearances and in case his powers still were on the fritz by the time he went out. He was getting better with time, but it wasn’t perfect.

“You should be a Badger.”

Vlad paused, looking at the child.

“Pardon?”

“A badger! Wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Vlad staring after him.

He returned with his animal encyclopedia, plopping in on the table and pointing to a honey badger.

“You call me little badger and so Jazz showed me, I’m this one.” He pointed to the badger on the next page, a European badger. “But these ones are called Honey Badgers and they’re really cool and mean, and you should be one like Catwoman is a cat.”

Vlad thought that over. It did seem on brand for a Gotham rogue to have a theme, and while he was only planning on petty thievery it couldn’t hurt. He had gone more for the vampire look once his fangs had grown in but a badger was different enough that nobody would connect the two identities.

“I’m not calling myself Badgerman.” Daniel giggled at that, delighted. “Perhaps you’re on to something though.”

“Would you help me pick a design? I just can’t choose myself.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in joy as he ran away to go find his drawing pad.

Jazz and Daniel worked together for the next few hours, his sister keeping him from making it too complicated. They ended up with a catsuit with a gray stripe down the back with lots of secret pockets and zippers. The mask he had to make a few alterations on, but it had a more American badger design with white down the center of the face and up the cheeks, leaving two stripes of black over his eyes. Jazz vetoed the full cape, with both Vlad and Danny complained about, but he managed to sell her on the shoulder cape.

“I can’t believe I’m going to become a two bit criminal for a giant bat.” Vlad murmered at he started in on his sixth hour of costume creation. He’d cheated with being able to change his ghost clothing at will after a few years of trial and error, this was hard. “I was supposed to be a scientist.”

Jazz was face down on the table, but she raised an arm to synthetically pat at him.

“Th’ goal is t’ avoid th’ bat.” She reminded him sleepily before falling back alseep. He took a break to bring her to bed.

The first goal when they got a payout was to get an apartment with their new identities. As much as he wanted them to stay ghosts it wasn’t feasible for the kids. They needed lives, to be children. Daniel was getting better control of his powers with daily training and eventually he might be able to go to school.

Vlad knew they couldn’t stay in Gotham forever, that once day the government would catch up to them and they’d have to disappear again, he was pretty Jazz knew it too. He needed to give them something before that happened. This time he’d spread the money into off shore accounts, they’d never be left with nothing again.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is physically injured but it doesn't specify the cause, jason is big protective and tries so so hard to be gentle

a/n: alright alright y'all know the drill there's more written lemme know if you want it

You're staring at your reflection in the mirror, gnawing your bottom lip as you wonder how you'll explain the bruises across your cheekbone and around your eye. You hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that Jason doesn't get back when he says he will - that whatever work he's away doing as Redhood will take just a few extra days and you'll heal enough to be able to hide it.

Your thoughts screech to a halt, though, when the man himself steps into the doorway of the bathroom and lets his duffle bag drop to the floor when he sees you.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" Jason questions immediately as he stares at you, his eyes trailing over your form, scanning for more injuries. Instinctively, you go to cover your wrist and forearm, cursing internally when you realize that the only thing that did was bring his attention to the hand-shaped bruises littering your skin.

"Hi," you say quietly. "...how was your trip?" Jason all but snarls and stalks toward you, bringing his hand to your face so that he can gently, gently, hold your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilt your head, examining the bruises. You can tell he's noticed the small cuts from rings making contact with your skin when his jaw clenches even more and his eyes focus on yours.

"Baby," he starts, and the edge in his voice makes you still. He's angry, you realize, in a way you've never seen before. It's right there, under the surface, straining to get out, and the only thing stopping it is the fact that you haven't given him a direction to shoot in yet. "You are not going to pretend this is fine. We are not ignoring this. You need to tell me what happened."

"I know, Jase," you respond, shoulders slumping. You're tired, he realizes, and it's most likely that the adrenaline of whatever happened is wearing off. He slides an arm around you and lets you lean into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I just… I'm not just deflecting, you know. You're okay? Everything went okay?"

"Nothing worse than some scrapes" he soothes, going to wrap his other arm around your waist. You flinch, though, small enough that he wouldn't notice if he wasn't so attuned to you. But you're you, his person, and every fibre of his being is trained on you right now. So, of course, he notices. He notices the way you ever so slightly suck in a breath and tense in his arms.

"Baby…" he begins. You drop your gaze away from his. "Let me see, yea? We can wait to talk about what happened until you're ready, but I gotta make sure you're okay."

"I am okay," you mumble, still determinedly keeping your eyes away from his as you fiddle with the front of his Redhood armour.

"Can I check?" he prompts, and he's so gentle about it, so soft and caring and loving that it makes your bottom lip tremble. You nod in response and he presses a kiss against your forehead, murmuring thanks into your skin.

You step away from him so that you can begin to lift yourself onto the counter, but Jason makes a strained sort of noise and stops you, instead lifting you gently up onto it, keeping a careful eye on you to ensure he's not hurting you at all. Once you're sat on the counter, you spread your legs so that he can slot his hips between them and he places his hands on either side of your hips.

"Can I lift your shirt, sweetheart?" he asks softly and the whole thing, how kind and considerate he's being, chips away at you a little too much. Your breath hitches and your hands tighten their grip on the counter and you rip your gaze away from his.

"You just got home, Jase. You gotta be tired - why don't you shower, get out of your armour and stuff. We can do this later."

"Baby," Jason sighs as he cups your unbruised cheek in his palm and brings your face back to his. When you realize you can't avoid his gaze anymore you simply close your eyes, refusing to see the way he looks at you. "Can you look at me, sweetheart? Come on, hey, I'm here to keep you safe, yea? I'm gonna help you. I'm gotta make sure you're alright."

And that's all it takes for a sob to make its way out of your throat. You move to hide your face in your hands as you begin to cry, but Jason stops you gently, using a hand on the back of your head to guide you into his chest, letting you bury your face there and weep.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay. You go ahead and cry, get it all out. You're safe now, yea? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." Jason soothes as your hands grab at the jacket that serves as the outer layer of his armour. Truth be told, he is tired. He was away for a week dealing with this job and he can feel the way his body is aching and his head is swimming with exhaustion. But none of that, nothing else in the world matters when he has you, bruised and bloody and weeping into his chest.

Truthfully, there's not much that scares him more than this, and seeing you in this state has him rattled, forcing his own tiredness to the back of his mind. You, his baby, who is always so brave and stoic, who he remembers as a teenager getting into street fights and laughing through a mouthful of blood on several occasions, is trembling in his arms from fear and exhaustion and he's not even sure what else because he doesn't know what happened and you're in no state to tell him. So all he can do is stand there, keeping you in his arms and whispering any sort of reassurance he can think of into your hair. His aching legs be damned, there is nothing, nothing, that is going to make him move an inch until you are good and ready.