#lyn answered

[starry-stormy-knight]

this piece caused me so much hell and pain lmaoo but this idea was the namesake of this blog so i persevered 💪😔

anyway the Battle of Narak inspired by van Gogh's style!

i don't remember how and when this idea popped up in my brain, but i guess i made some connection between the highstorm and Starry Night and i wanted to do my own take

i swear i did a thumbnail sketch to figure out what in the world i was going to do but apparently didn't do a value sketch, or not in a concrete way because i had so many lighting problems lmaoo like this whole affair would have been so much easier if i did the bright highstorm on the left with narak for contrast, rather than the dark on dark sigh. this isn't even going into the horrible time i had trying to do the everstorm because i wanted it to contrast in style as opposing forces

actually the thing that unlocked something in my brain was to go light to shadow (the opposite of my typical process) and i suppose it can tie into the dark otherness of voidlight perhaps?? anyway i just embraced the chaos, with the help of volcano eruptions with storms for references lol

i did have the shattered plains more brown, but i did the distant background to reflect van Gogh's Wheat Field vibes and it was so weird to look at, but when i made them more cool toned it kinda brought everything together?? i hope??

anyway hope you guys like this hahah <3 bon appetit or whatever

The Starry Night (1889) and Wheat Field with Cypresses (1889) by Vincent van Gogh

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 25 Perpetuity

(Spoilers for the end of Endwalker's Myths of the Realm)

Aeryn stood in Omphalos and watched the engine work. Its motions were hypnotic as it circled around itself, drawing in hopes and prayers, and dispersing that energy back into the world to aid humanity. A device of akasha and aether, elegant and lovely.

A familiar step sounded on the stone behind her, accompanied by the equally familiar pitter-patter of smaller feet, making her smile and hold out a hand to let the tiny opo-opo leap up and scramble up her arm to give her a friendly nuzzle.

“No treats, no matter how the little fellow begs,” Deryk said lightly. “He’s coming off a bout of upset stomach.”

“Poor baby,” Aeryn cooed, leaning her head against the creature, who chirred against her neck.

The wanderer stopped next to her, also looking up at the instrument of blessing. The collaborative work of ages, she was never sure he was aware of the slight smile and melancholic light in his eyes when he gazed upon it.

“So,” he said. “We meet here yet again. And again I ask: come to a conclusion yet?”

“No,” Aeryn replied, as shaking her head would dislodge the opo-opo, who was now playing with her hair. “When you first brought us here, and revealed the Twelve and their heavens, I’d hoped to find some answer. But it seemed more of the same. Divinity is just a construct of man, formed in desperation and empowered by prayer.”

Deryk nodded. “I can say there is a world of difference between what I was, and who I am now.”

“That’s a matter of power scale, which can be overcome.”

“In part, certainly,” he agreed. “But it’s more than that.” He looked aside, his gaze falling on the gate to the Heaven of Wind. “Sometimes the memories seem more like dreams, and too much for my fragile mortal mind. The time is incomprehensible—and that’s even before taking into account the man whose soul inspired Oschon’s existence.” He turned to Aeryn again. “Am I still not real, merely a construct?”

“Of course you’re real. And so was Oschon. Just born of humanity, like anyone else.”

“Hydaelyn created the Twelve,” he reminded her.

“From the energies of Her comrades. To perform roles and duties for which mankind worshiped them for, and in so doing, altered irrevocably.” She sighed. “And my feelings on Hydaelyn—on Venat—are likewise still complicated.”

“I understand that,” Deryk agreed. “I did not feel so before, but now? It’s a strange thing indeed. I’m not the man who aided in Hydaelyn’s creation; he is long dead, his aether given to form Hers, a fragment of his remnant soul used to create that which men called Oschon. Me, with an omnipresent view and ability to stride across this world we so loved as either the concept of wind, or in this form.” He gestured to his body. “I sometimes wonder if we took on avatars because some part of us yet remembered and yearned to be mortal again.”

“I’m certain I met Nymeia and Althyk’s original selves in Elpis,” Aeryn said, scratching under the opo-opo’s chin. “I helped with creations they were evaluating, and described the rite of flowers for the departed when some creatures were lost in an accident with others. There was familiarity in their divine personas, but they didn’t remember. Not really.”

“Yet they never lost sight of who they were to one another,” Deryk said, that sad smile on his face again. “They never struggled with it, unlike Menphina and myself.”

Aeryn raised a questioning brow.

“Of course I loved her—who didn’t?” he laughed. “In our first life, she was a brilliant young woman, and it was no wonder her divine self became who she was, and set to the tasks Hydaelyn chose. And we cared for one another, as we Twelve were family in our way. But was any romance our own, or determined by the prayers of man?” he shrugged. “Divinity is malleable.”

“That’s one of the things I struggle with,” Aeryn said. “Should it be, or shouldn’t gods be set, in order to form and order the world, and guide their creations and humanity? Shouldn’t they be...something beyond man? Not just in power, but in origin as well?”

“The more we discuss this, what it feels like you most resent is the loss of unknowing,” Deryk replied. “That you feel faith must include the question of origin.”

Aeryn mulled that over for a moment. “That would be part of taking it on faith, wouldn’t it? Of deciding to give trust based on a hope there’s something more to guide the way.” She looked up at the instrument of blessing again. “But I know so much of the origins of our world, of the divinities, and how and why they came to be. I know what can be manifested with enough aether, but warped by those requests.” The opo-opo chirred as her shoulders slumped.

“And you know too well what has been lost—in most cases, by your own hand.”

She winced at that. “On request.”

“Who else could be trusted? Not just in power, but on...faith.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“It goes both ways, you know,” he said mildly. “Even if I know your origins—born of man, with dragon’s blood running in your veins, raised outside this land where we held the most sway, but rising in it to become the one who could learn the truth, see it clearly, and grant us our greatest desire.” He gestured to the engine swirling above them. “And now we have laid down our burdens, while ensuring our duty is secured forevermore. Because we believed in you—as She did.”

Aeryn frowned. “That’s not the same as faith in divinity.”

“Isn’t it?”

[hattiestgal]

What are your feelings on musclechub? Particularly when it's 30% muscle and 70% chub >:3

Funnily enough, I used to be VERY MUCH into the look of muscles before I saw the light of strongfat beasts. I mean, my real old art of Violette and Alex is very... muscle-y

So yeah, I suppose it's obvious, but I like strong women and well... that really only got MORE potent when I started drawing my beasts strongfat

And then well... I only started descending further further down the pit from there, ehehe

So yeah, you could say I like it a littttle

[lofi-toast]

I wonder... If i threw Convictor at a wall would he stick to the wall or immediately slide down. Asking for a friend. Grins

-doostyaudi

looney toons type shit

[saijspellhart]

Lyndis x Hector and number 46

46. Kisses that are interrupted by an unsuspecting party walking in. (Hector x Lyn)

“Ow, ow ow…” Hector held the saddle horn in a death grip as they crested the last rocky moor overlooking the low forests of the Caelin march. They could finally see castle Caelin in the distance. Without much prompting his horse started down the winding, rocky trail towards a dense forest below, where there was no doubt a stream with fresh water.

Eliwood and his steed followed Hector’s lead, starting down the path with a little more care than Hector’s mare exhibited. “You doing alright there, friend?”

“Peachy,” Hector grunted as the horse barreled none too gracefully over a particularly rough patch of path.

“Won’t be long until we reach castle Caelin. Lady Lyndis will no doubt have meal and a room waiting for us.”

Eliwood and Hector had come to visit for both a Caelin rain festival, as well as a newly implemented Sacaen Moon and Sky celebration. Lady Lyndis was fighting tooth and nail to incorporate a part of her culture in this new march she’d inherited; Hector and Eliwood came to show their support. They would be staying in Caelin for the next month.

Hector hoped they had a doctor that could amputate his saddle sore ass. “She’ll have a room for you.” He told Eliwood, “I bet six gold pieces that she puts me up in a chicken coop.”

Eliwood laughed, and patted the side of his steed. “And put out the chickens?”

0000

Lyn was going through a mountain of paperwork when a big blue-maned berserker stormed into her study.

“Lyn!”

She tried to catch a wobbling stack of papers before it toppled over the edge of her desk and onto the floor. She failed.

Lyn ran a hand through her bangs, and looked up as the man stalked over to her massive cluttered desk. “Hello Hector, an elegant entrance as always.”

“What are you doing in here? Eliwood and I have been here for nearly two hours and we’ve not seen hide nor hair of y—gods this place is a wreck.” Hector shook one of his boots to dislodge a letter that had attached itself. He tried to carefully step around the flurry of papers on the floor.

“Not all of us have an Oswin to manage our affairs while we galavant across the countryside.”

“Oh,” Hector leaned a giant palm on Lyn’s desk. “Kent not working out? Tell Sain to pick up the slack.”

“If I did that the only papers leaving this office would be raunchy love letters.”

“A marked improvement over the letters Ostia has received from Caelin of late,” Hector snipped back. He revealed a beautifully carved and stained oak box and slammed it down on Lyn’s desk. He opened the box, plucked out a letter, and waved it at Lyn.

“Why Hector,” she raised her brows and smiled coyly, “I wasn’t aware you desired raunchy letters from me.”

Hector sputtered, and attempted (and failed) to hide the blush that stained his cheeks. She could see him trying to quash an embarrassed smile.

He proceeded to unfold the letter in his hand, a letter marked with the Caelin seal. In fact every letter in the chest was marked with a Caelin seal. “‘Dear Hector,’” he read “‘I find myself at a loss for words that you would propose becoming pen-pals. Delighted as I am, Sir Oswin is busy enough with Ostian affairs, surely he doesn’t have the time to transcribe these letters for you.’” Hector tossed the letter on her messy desk. “Implying I can’t write, Lyn?”

She opened her mouth to answer with a barbed remark, but Hector didn’t even finish the first letter before opening another letter from his box.

“‘The coffee stain footnoting your recent letter was a bold flourish to compliment the elegance of your brigand prose.’” He proceeded to dump the entire contents of his box over the top of her desk. There were a lot of letters. “Say it to my face, Lyn. Tell me again how my penmanship brightens your day like a parade of drunken caterpillars.”

She turned her face, an attempt to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

While Hector prattled on about the contents of her letters, Lyn slowly and carefully placed a hand on her own stack of letters sitting on the corner of her desk. Every letter in the stack bore the Ostian seal, and the bundle was tied up neatly and lovingly with a ribbon of dyed and woven Sacaen grasses. She very slowly slid the stack to the edge of her desk, where she had toed open a drawer to receive them.

“‘It’s lonely in Caelin these days.’” Hector unfolded yet another letter in his quest to make up for lost time. As if she hadn’t written these all herself, and knew exactly what she’d put in them, “‘The castle is so dreadfully quiet since Grandfather passed. Sometimes I find myself reminiscing about our adventure, longing for the companionship we had then. Tragically I’d even prefer your snoring, that could shake the walls of a tent, over this mind-numbing solitude.’”

She didn’t normally keep the stack of Ostian letters on her desktop where anyone could find them. But she’d just recently received a letter from Hector, mailed off just before he and Eliwood had departed for Caelin. It had arrived just the other day, but she’d been so inundated with paperwork, she’d only just managed to sit down to read his letter and really appreciate the message today. And like every other letter she received from Hector…it joined a slowly growing collection.

But Hector didn’t need to know that.

Actually, there was a giddy flip in her stomach to find out that Hector kept all her letters in such an ornate box. Or maybe the box was just for the ease of transport while they traveled.

“‘I miss those late nights~,’” Hector quoted in a ridiculously wistful impression. Lyn made a choking noise, ears catching fire, and fumbled her stack of letters, flinging them over the front of her desk instead of into the drawer. Hector continued reading as he blindly bent to scoop the stack of letters from the ground, “‘sparring with you under the stars. Exhausted but determined, pushing ourselves to our respective limits. There was a language between us in those moments that I fear I lose a piece of day by day.’” It was from one of her more recent letters to him. A letter she wrote on a night when she’d been more sentimental and melancholy than usual.

Her face heated when she thought of the letter Hector had sent her in response. She buried her face in her hands and willed the fire in her skin to die out. It still made her heart stutter thinking about it. Regardless of his boorish prose, he certainly had knack for…

“What’s the matter Lyn, can’t stomach your own words?” Hector loomed over the desk, sneer pulling his mouth. “What’s this anyway?” He held up the bundle of letters he’d rescued from the floor.

“They’re nothing!” Lyn bolted up from her seat and made a grab for them.

Hector dodged her. “Ostian seal…” a spark ignited behind Hector’s eyes. She swore his gaze was burning as it shifted between her and the bundle of letters. The biggest grin spread across his face. “No way…is this a Sacaen ribbon? This has to be imported, unless… you made this yourself? But then you definitely imported Sacaen grasses to make it…”

“Give them to me!” She practically leapt over the desk at him.

Hector danced away, escaped papers crunching under his boots. “You keep all my letters!”

“So what,” Lyn snipped, “you kept all mine! In a fancy box no less. I thought for sure you’d burn them.”

“But you’re my best friend.”

Lyn about tripped, and actually did slip on a few papers. Her heart hammered erratically within her chest, knocking the air from her lungs. When she found her voice she said, albeit roughly, “I thought Eliwood was your best friend.”

“He is. I can have two best friends. Don’t put me in a box.”

Clearly the definition of “best” eluded Hector. Despite herself, Lyn began to shake as she broke into a fit of silent giggles. She shut her eyes as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. Leave it to Hector to say something so recklessly sincere.

“Wh-what’s wrong.” Hector crossed the room in a couple of strides, he placed a large hand on Lyn’s shaking shoulder. “Gods, I didn’t say something stupid again did I?”

Of course not you oaf. Somehow you say the exact thing I needed to hear. She couldn’t put into words how worn thin she’d felt, running Caelin all by herself after her grandfather passed. How she’d had to hold everyone, even Kent and Sain, at arms length while she erected an icy barrier around herself bit by bit; her only defense from the other nobility and their ever present scrutiny. Everyone around her was pretension. Their words a dagger dipped in honey and poison. She realized quickly she couldn’t trust anyone no matter how flowery and sweet their words.

Hector’s letters were never that.

They were brutish and playfully antagonistic, much like the man himself. But they were also honest and heartfelt. And the longer they traded letters the funnier and sweeter his words had become. She’d be lying if his letters weren’t the highlight of her every week.

She wanted to tell him he was the only person she felt like she could be “just Lyn” with.

Instead, her near hysterical giggling just devolved into straight up sobbing when Hector pulled her into the most awkward hug. He held her like his strength might break her.

Lyn buried her face in his shoulder, blotting tears against his shirt. “H-hug me f-f-for…real, mo-oron.”

The air was forced from her lungs as Hector wrapped her in a crushing embrace. He smelled of horses and sweat and fresh clean linen. A mix of scents that were as grounding as they were familiar.

She needed this. Gods, she needed this. Lyn buried her her fingers in the front of hector’s shirt. In his embrace she finally felt safe enough to let out all the tears she’d kept bottled up inside. Vulnerability she could never let anyone else in Caelin see.

Hector’s body was so warm, radiating heat like a furnace.

Lyn didn’t want to let him go.

He held her until her sobs abated. Until all she felt was the heavy weariness coming down from the emotional high.

“I’m here,” Hector whispered into her hair. “I’m right here.”

“Everyone is so…fake,” Lyn whispered hoarsely back.

As if Hector finally understood, the tension in his body relaxed. He pressed his cheek to the top of Lyn’s head and replied, “I know.”

“You’re not.” She turned her face until her nose brushed his throat.

Hector swallowed thickly and she could feel it. “I’m not,” he agreed. “I promise you, I’m not.”

“Your last letter…” Lyn trailed off, she struggled to say out loud what he’d written.

“I meant it all. Every letter, it was me, Lyn.”

They both fell into pensive silence then, their breathing punctuating the moments. Lyn was pressed so close she could feel Hector’s heartbeat in her own chest. It was a steady thump-thump that comforted her.

Hector loosened his hold just enough to run a hand down her back, smoothing the fabric of her Sacaen clothing. So touch starved, Lyn had to resist the urge to arch into that touch like a cat.

Normally, while in Caelin she wore Lycian fashion. Mostly to appease the Lycian nobles. But lately, homesickness had set in, and she’d begun blending Sacaen and Lycian fashion. Today though, she wore a familiar ensemble. Clothing she’d kept from her late tribe, the Lorca. She’d wanted to dress in something familiar to greet the boys; something from the time she’d spent traveling with Hector and Eliwood.

“The Lycian nobles,” she started to say.

Hector gave a hum of acknowledgment, his hand caressing her back paused briefly to comb through her long ponytail. She shivered, and he must have felt it.

“I’m so tired of the feigned niceties, their insincere flattery; flowery but otherwise shallow talk.” She tilted her face to trace her nose along the corner of Hector’s jaw, causing his breath to hitch. It was a modicum more forward than appropriate, but given the contents of the last couple letters he’d sent…well. When her nose reached his ear she spoke lowly, “I’d trade a million pretty words for one touch that is real.”

Hector made a very tortured noise in the back of his throat.

All at once he twisted his face down and to the side to press a kiss to Lyn’s cheek.

Had her mouth not been at his ear, he might have kissed her lips.

Regardless, the chaste kiss sent a pleased shock from the base of her skull down to her toes.

“Lyn…” he breathed, voice low and throaty at her ear. “Can I touch you?”

Lyn could only nod, pulling back just enough for Hector to capture her mouth in a proper kiss.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

Months of pent-up restrained emotions—having been stoked to a fever pitch by their respective letters—boiled over and set ablaze.

Hector’s fingers dug into her back as he kissed her with all the desperation of a man drowning. She met his enthusiasm in kind, throwing her arms around his neck and burying one hand in his stupidly coiffed hair.

He let out a covetous groan, both his hands running down her body, over her hips, until they reached her exposed thighs. His touch ignited fire against her skin. With strength akin to a bear he gripped her thighs and hoisted her up off the ground effortlessly.

Lyn unconsciously hooked her legs over his hips. She pressed her body to his, chest flush against him, delighting in the touch of someone real.

Nights spent fantasizing paled in comparison to this moment.

Hector tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His lips were rough, almost chapped, no doubt from elements during the long trip from Ostia. But Lyn didn’t mind because this too felt so real. It was him, and he was actually here in Caelin, and he wanted her the way he’d alluded in all his letters. The same way she wanted him.

She tugged at his hair as she kissed him back, matching his energy. When he gasped into her mouth she savored the noise.

Lyn took the opportunity to slip her tongue past Hector’s lips, drawing a throaty moan from him. His grip on her thighs tightened.

Hector took a step back towards her desk, his boots crunching papers.

She should have been concerned about those papers—and she had no idea where Hector had placed her bundle of letters—but found herself too blissed out to give a damn.

She knew the moment his backside reached her desk, because her shins struck it too. The scandal of making out on her desk sent a crack of heat straight to Lyn’s stomach.

With the added support of the desk, Hector shifted her weight to his hips and one arm, so his other hand was free to tug at the saffron colored sash around her waist.

With the shift, their kisses lessened to a series of smaller sweet sensual ones. The glide and pop of lips pulling over lips.

Hector was struggling to find the ends of the sash, and Lyn dropped her hand from his hair, fingers over his, to guide him where to start.

He made an appreciative noise against her mouth, and they both felt the fabric begin to fall away when the door to the office creaked open.

“Excuse me, Lady Lyndis?” A familiar shock of red hair poked into the study. “I don’t mean to intrude while you’re busy, but have you seen Hector, I can’t find-“ Eliwood froze in the threshold, hand still on the door handle, and words stuck in his throat.

“Shit!” Lyn cursed, breaking away from Hector so fast that pain lanced through her neck. She pushed against his chest.

The brute of a man didn’t release her.

Instead he had the audacity to give his best friend an exasperated look.

“I-I am—excuse me. Gods, I’m sorry.” Eliwood clapped a hand over his eyes, “I should have knocked!” He fumbled blindly for the handle of the door with his other hand. The speed in which he slammed the door caused a rush of air that displaced a bunch of the papers littered over the floor. “You have my blessing. Carry on!” They both heard his muffled call from the other side.

Lyn’s whole face, ears neck and shoulders all burned with shame.

Honestly the state of the room looked about as compromising as their position.

“Someone put me to death,” she whined, pushing once more against Hector’s immovable chest.

Hector frowned, turning his cobalt gaze to Lyn. “Why? It was only Eliwood.”

Lyn fixed him with a glare that could have cleaved steel, “because the Marchioness of Caelin was just caught in a compromising position with the Marquess of Ostia! This is a scandal. Never mind that I’ll be seen a Sacaen “dog” whose seduced the most powerful Marquis in Lycia. The other Lycian nobility have been waiting for me screw up, be given reason to depose me from Caelin. Hector, we’re neither engaged, nor courting!”

“Then let me court you,” Hector stated bluntly.

Lyn went slack jawed, stunned silent.

0000

Thank you so so much for the ask! You’re the best CapnQuaggles! You’ve always been so supportive and kind. Following me through every fandom I’ve been in over the last decade. You’re so dear to me. Thanks for indulging my rekindled interest in these old Fire Emblem games. I hope you like both the art and the fic.

[trailblczed]

oh. congrats on the transition (she saw stelle earlier)

Cue a head tilt and several confused blinks. It's obviously meant to be a positive reaction to.. something.. huh? Does she mean he's being reassigned to somewhere else? A whine settles in the back of his throat.

❛ Transition....? What do you mean? Am I being transferred to a new job?

But I liked working with everyone on the Express... ❜

[penumbramewtwos]

So- I'm new to the blog, so please forgive me if this has already been answered...

What happened to Racheal?

She looked like she was still quite young in the pictures you've shown...

You're all good m8, and welcome to the blog ^^ It's humbling to have people come across it and want to know more!

Rachael in her 60's still looks like she would be in her adult years mostly due to better skin care and healthcare in the future. some of the shitposts I've made with her, she's been younger but sometimes older. The photo of them together in the comic, she's probably 40ish. (I do have to make it a habit of marking her age more often lol) The more unsatisfying answer to her age is: When I designed her, my art skills weren't (and still probably aren't) capable of aging her up in a fashion I was happy with, she was stuck in an uncanny valley. I'll retry it one day soon :> but I'll stick with the skincare lore XD

In regards to what happened to Rachael? (assuming you mean what was her cause of death?) I can give the vague answer (below) or the nitty gritty truth under the 'keep reading'. Spoilers for that one (as it's meant to happen in the fanfic).

Rachael was severely poisoned when battling Okita's creator (Professor Drake) and her Deoxys. Rachael and Okita were trespassing in the early hours, before they were caught and a fight broke out.

Thanks for the ask! [spoiler content under here]

Both Rachael and Okita were sneaking into Professor Drake's mansion to retrieve documents to prove that Aunuran mewtwos were created by her, to incriminate both her and Team Helix Rocket. Rachael was both severely poisoned by an enhanced poison jab from Deoxys. In an attempt to save her from Deoxys' attack, Okita used her black hole attack for the first time in battle, hitting both of them; breaking their bones in the process. The difference being, Deoxys are immortal, just like mewtwos.

That leads into the events that are 'dreamt' up by Okita in the first chapter. :>

[divine-lyn]

Hi! I really love your makers, they're amazing, but i've been wondering, if you're currently working on any games/remakes? There haven't been any updates for a while.

Hi! Thanks for the ask 🌟 I've got the Charmix game still in production at the moment. Though it's kinda ended up on the back burner by accident. I discovered Art Fight just before it started this year, so I fell head first into that 😅. It's been exciting to work on Art Fight pieces, so that's ended up taking all of my attention.

But I'll be back to working on the Charmix maker by the end of the month.

Here's a sketch from the Charmix maker in the meantime.

[wayward-sword]

yolo~

"U-Uh... Er... I wasn't really expecting... Huh."

Well, shit.

[koumeowkami]

girl W H A T

[all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone]

For the 'send me a ship' ask: Troy and Lyn :D

Thanks 🧡

This was really fun! Thanks for sending this in! 💚

Send me a ship(crack ships too)

Who was the one to propose: Lyn was 100% the one who purposed. Made makeshift rings out of some thin metal, and gave Troy and told him they were getting married at the Bazaar. Troy didn't fight her on this considering she had helped him end the ranch days before and well...its not like they would find people better suited to each other lol.

Who stressed more over wedding planning: Troy for SURE. The man was really freaking stressed especially while choosing his wedding ring from a stand at the Bazaar. It was a lot of stress over a simple silver band, but he knew it made Lyn happy so didn't complain. Although technically Nick planned their entire wedding and it turned out pretty nice.

Who decorated the house: I feel like Lyn would probably take the lead on decorations? But would also love and value Troy's input on how to decorate their house. Laurel would probably leave certain rooms like Troys study for him to decorate however he wanted. She would just have a lot of fun in just the mundaneness of decorating a house, she would be excited.

Who does the cooking: Lyn for sure. Troy burns stuff lol. Not all things, he can make noodle and stuff, but Lyn in the main person to cook. She can't make like intense dishes, but pretty simple everyday stuff.

Who is more organized: DEFINITELY TROY. The man is intense about organization. Laurel likes things clean and organized but she also doesn't mind a little mess.

Who initiates bedroom fun: Both really. In the beginning Lyn initiates more often, but then once everything is comfortable its a pretty even split.

Who suggested kids first: NO ONE. Tracy was not planned AT ALL. Both of them freaked the fuck out. Never even talked about kids, but got used to the idea. They both referred to Tracy as an 'it' while Lyn was pregnant and Troy kept calling her, 'the fertilized egg'.

Who’s more dominant: It's pretty evenly split between the both of them?

Who’s the cuddler: Lyn 100%! Her love language is physical touch, and Troy just had to adjust to that 😂 She literally sleeps on top of him most of the time, and becomes a lot much more touch oriented when she gets pregnant. Literally walks around the compound holding his hand. Lyn also plays with his hair a lot, and braids it when he sleeps.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Besides wrecking havoc, probably just reading together at night. They'll cuddle and read together before bed, Lyn usually running her fingers through Troy's hair until he falls asleep.

Who comes home drunk at 3am: Neither. Probably Nick 😂

Who kills the spiders: To be fair...I feel like this is Russells job 😂 Lyn isn't deathly afraid of spiders, but she doesn't like them, and tries to get Troy to kill them. But then Troy is like: "You kill walkers all the time! You can kill a goddamn spider." and leaves, so then Russell is the one that has to kill the spider 😂

Who falls asleep first: Depends but I feel like more often then not, it's Troy. Because one, he feels safe enough around and with Lyn to just fall asleep and sleep peacefully. Two, Lyn usually tries to fall asleep after Troy to make sure he actually sleeps.

Their relationship summed up in a gif:

@otto-troy (I'm tagging you cause like...these ideas are also your creation😘}

[pumpkinspicelyn]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRoLWSoX/

The beginning is crazy, but I need him😭

I need Game!Joel and Show!Joel to squish me in a sammich. Also, T, you know my TikTok. I send you TikToks all the time. You can send me stuff there. 😂

[larissa-the-scribe]

Vexina is an epic science nerd. When the events of the story begin, most of the other characters are discombobulated and freaked out and are solely focused on trying to Get Out Of Here, but she's too busy fangirling - over random flora and fauna - to be bothered about accidental dimension hopping 🤣

I was going to try and keep this to characters from A Four-Dimensional Plot, but honestly it sounds like she and Lyn would get along swimmingly XD

Sometimes you just have priorities, okay?

Lyn's biggest problems are in remaining inconspicuous while worldhopping, and Sticking Out is usually caused by her sharing knowledge that she Should Not Know, or starting to ask the randomest questions about the inner workings of the world she's in or species she's interacting with.

As a freebie, Ffloyd, the head researcher from CENCA, would probably risk getting mauled by any number of strange creatures "for science" and "research." Observation and pictures are more important than running away and not dying, okay Moira? Sheesh the younger generation has no backbone these days.

[hattiestgal]

alex picking someone up?

Oh, easy! I mean, to be honest, he could probably lift a lot of my cast with relative ease, but who better else than her partner? Harlow is barely over half of Alex's height, which, while complicating their day to day a little dorm arrangement wise, means that Alex can pick his little cat partner up at any time, and has been known to just decide it's bedtime for the two of them and pick Harlow up like a plushie

[lofi-toast]

So you've shown what Caitlyn thinks about the other hanks before right? She finds pink annoying, she's intimidated by white (?). But what about Skittles? Or happy Hank?

She doesn't know what to feel about this one yet. If it's a Hank or anything closely related to hank, she automatically hates it. But, she's unsure about this one yet.

[cosmereplay]

For the 'I will write a kiss' ask game: Lyn/Laran for #17 or #18!

I will write them kissing… 17. …to distract.

Laran/Lyn, rated Mature for mild gore, 400 words

“TOSS ME TO DAMNATION!” Laran yelled, then grimaced from the pain. A Fused had shattered her ankle in combat and she’d been forced to use the very last of her Stormlight to get to the ground below the fighting. She tried to take another limping step, but her ankle screamed its resistance to that idea, and she was forced to stop.  What now? Blessedly, a familiar short, squat figure in blue had spotted her and was flying her way, calling her name. Laran waved wildly. Lyn landed hard, already pulling out her spherepouch, but Laran shook her head. “Lyn, I couldn’t. How low are you, anyway? Let me look in there.” She tugged the pouch open, and sure enough it was low on Light.  Lyn yanked it away. “Hey, you can’t just go sticking your dirty fingers in a lady’s spherepouch!” she said with mock outrage. “Fine, I’ll use the last of it to find someone who can bring an Edgedancer.”  Laran looked up as Lyn flew off again. Much better to look at Lyn's retreating form than to look down, where she was slowly bleeding out. Storms, that last attempt at walking had pushed a bone out further. Look away. Don’t pass out. Keep breathing. It’ll be over soon. Her saviour in blue landed again a short time later and kneeled beside her. “Okay, the Edgedancer’s on their way. Now you can stick your dirty fingers in my pouch,” Lyn said with a grin.  Gratefully, Laran breathed in what was left, and she felt the cold relief of Stormlight coursing through her as her broken bone retreated back under her skin. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to heal everything, but at least she wasn't bleeding out anymore. She moved to stand, but Lyn pushed her back down to sitting.  “You still can't walk,” Lyn said, a hand on Laran’s chest to push her back. “You stay right there.” “But…but the pain…” Laran said, making sad eyes. “How will I make it through?” Lyn smirked. “I know a way to make you forget the pain,” she said, and leaned forward. Her lips were dry and chapped from the wind, but Laran didn’t mind. She let Lyn push her the rest of the way back onto the ground, and between Lyn’s smiling kiss and her warm body, Laran didn’t even notice when the Edgedancer arrived.