#masks...gloves...cravats

[hallahart]

MASQUERADE ~~~

[diejager]

wdyt of the idea of high society victorian cod characters cus i saw one glimpse of the idea and thought hmmm occult ghost and im praying we get it

I can’t believe I went google searching for this Drabble XD

PS. I wrote this before seeing @justadeadreaper ‘s AU!

The Past Cw: SLIGHT DARK, DUB-CON, spiritualism, occult, sex magic, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, oral sex, tell me if I missed any.

You’d heard from other women that the dark and mystery-shrouded man was one of the best spiritualists in England —if not the only man practicing the dark arts. You were warned through loose lips and gossiping whispered that he was a giant for your time, dressed in the finest silks a man could buy for himself and portrayed an aura of pride and excellence, holding an air of finesse and savagery in every words he spoke. You had your own expectations before you met him, fingers trembling as you wrote your letter, a grieving tear rolling down your powdered cheek.

You waited with bated breath and tense shoulders for his reply, and when a letter arrived, the little skull wax seal playing a part to your excitement, you ripped in open and settled in your desk in an unladylike manner. For a man you didn’t know, you couldn’t help but admire his calligraphy, the hand which he used to write was skilfully gentle, his words curled with a gracefulness you envied. In the black lettering, he gave you a date and location, touched by your plight, he invited you to his house in an unknown part of Manchester.

You rode out a few days early to meet him, being aware that he’d extended his invitation to a week long stay after your second exchange. He expressed his solemnity and sympathy towards you, promising that he’d be able to help you and you couldn’t be any happier to be able to let the past rest.

But your expectations of him fell the moment he greeted you at the wide mahogany doors of his house, he was broad and talks, a giant dressed in black. The cuffs and collar of his long coat were woven with silver roses and vines, gracing pant-clad thighs, thick and strong as a tree’s tough bark. He wore leather gloves - black as the rest of his attire - and a gem-clipped cravat stuffed under his black waist coat, buttons holding it to his sculpted chest and a flared end with silver intricacies, silver flowers and plants sown into the fabric. He was dressed beautifully, like a phantom of the opera, but when you gazed up, his dark eyes stared back, skin painted black and face hidden with a mask, a smooth skull stitched into the fabric of his cover.

He was a masterpiece in dark garments, handsome and mysterious when he ushered you in, the rumble of his voice making your body tingle, warmth filling your abdomen. He was a quiet man, eyes expressing more than words could, he had a gentle silence to him with tender and guiding hands, herding you to his seance room —or so you thought. There weren’t any tables, only plush cushions and soft-padded chairs in the dimly lit room, shadows dancing on the dark walls when he laid you down, coaxing you to relax under his care.

“I need you to relax,” he whispered, pressing his covered mouth you your forehead, brushing your locks off your sweaty skin, “do you trust me, love?”

You felt light-headed, mind dazed with the warmth and comfort he provided you, you choked down a sob, your voice dying in your throat. So you gave him a small nod, shuddering when his hands grazed up your hips to cradle your cheek, brushing away your stray tear.

“Good, close your eyes for me, yeah?”

Darkness embraced you with soothing calmness as he cradled you in his arms, feeling you up until his hands slipped under your petticoat, his calloused - when had he taken his gloves off? - fingers hooking the band of your lacy underwear. He spread your legs, hanging them over his wide shoulders, his hot breath hitting your sensitive mound. You flinched when he pressed his lips to your covered slit, burying his nose in your thick bush as he drew a calming pattern on your inner thighs.

The fire brewing in your core boiled, strong and coming forth in giant waves. It was unknown, a strange sensation that rocked you whole. He dragged his tongue up your wet hole, circling your blinking cunt and to your twitching clit, lifting the hood to have better access to your sensitive nerve. You shuddered and jerked with every touch, little mewls and whimpers slipping past your painted lips and graced his ears with your pretty sounds.

His tongue was skilled, nimble as he dove into you, pumping your tight cunt with his hot muscle, slurping up your slick and rolling your virgin clit with his thumb, rough and calloused, yet gentle with you. You squirmed and murmured incoherent words, something about it feeling weird, about your body burning and your mind lost to it, but he only coaxed you further, praising you for being so good and compliant for him.

“Good girl, telling me how good you feel,” he panted, diving back into your gummy walls, tongue brushing your softness before he replaced them with his strong and thick finger, plunging into you and hitting your sweet spot, “M name’s Ghost, love. Scream my name, yeah?”

His soft praises and talented fingers had you tipping over, the fire spilling over the edge with a blinding light. You cried out his name - is moniker - with mewls and gasps, arching beneath him and wrapped your legs tightly around his head as you came, gushing around his fingers. He slowly pumped his fingers, tongue lapping and drinking up your slick, gorging on your drooling cunt as if it were the sacred waters of the fountain of youth.

He left you limp and numb, lashes fluttering, peering at him with tired eyes, bathing in the adoring eyes of the spiritualist that made you come with his mouth and fingers alone —something new to you, a stranger in your heart and throbbing core. With his mask pulled over his tongue, mouth and chin still wet with your slick, he mumbled to you, tender words coaxing you to sit up for him.

“Reckon we get started, love?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[sewerwolfx]

SEVEN DEADLY SIMS

inspired by @bothersim's post <3

WRATH: horns, hair, gauges, skeleton, top, knuckle dusters R L, bracelets, pants, boots

GLUTTONY: donuts, hair, sprinkles, toast, choker, fishnets, dress, socks, uggs

GREED: crown, horns, hair, mask, earrings, cravat, top, pants, rings, gloves (bg), chain, shoes*

ENVY: horns + spikes, hair, necklace, top, wristbands, gloves, thong, shorts*, boots

SLOTH: hat, hair, earrings, scarf, top, pants, pillow, slippers

PRIDE: horns, hair, necklace, top, mesh top, skirt, rings, heels

LUST: horns, hair, ribbons, mesh top, skirt, pants, rings*, gloves*, shoes

[raziraphale]

I know I got a lot done and will finish in time but it's stressful having a bunch of smaller tasks left because yeah I'm almost done yet I cannot post a selfie yet so the finish line seems so distant...

I love how last year I was like I'm not putting off working on my cosplay like that again that was so stressful. yet here I am again with one week left and so much sewing to do lmao

[cookieeks-art]

Sorry for the delay, but here it finally is! A synopsis for the superhero au! (please note that details like names of locations can very much change in the future):

The strange case (title pending)

Our story takes place on a fairy tale island which has since long gone through it’s own sort of industrial revolution, and where the stories of kings and queens are for the most part ancient history. F7 is a group of hero’s who’s main headquarters is in Goldcity in the small central country of Mitlandia, which is also the county where the security company White Apple originates and is still mainly situated. White Apple was mainly ran by Mr White, but after Mr White is suddenly placed into a coma it’s taken over by his wife Regina White. As Regina steps into her new role the daughter of Mr White, Snow White, starts to grow suspicious of her stepmother, noticing how dismissive she seems of her fathers situation, and the strange decisions she’s made for the company since taking control.

At the same time a few smaller White Apple facilities have started to experience thefts and break ins by an unidentified masked individual. This individuals civilian identity is that of Dr Edda Andersdotter PhD, a analytical chemist who moved to Mitlandia for work at Silva labs, a small independent lab, and to put some more distance between herself and her relatives.

One day F7 in alerted to a break-in in the main White Apple building, and goes to stop it, in which they begin to uncover what Regina has truly been up to alongside Snow White and has their first encounter with the strange masked individual who introduces themselves as Doctor Hyde.

This, is also a romance.

Now, here’s some small sketches!:

I might change designs for the super hero suits in the future, as I’m currently going back and forth on if they should have masks or not. I don’t really imagine any of them having any secret identities, so the masks might the sort of pointless, but it’s about the aesthetic you know.

(ID in alt and under cut)

[ID:

A collection of pencil sketches that have been photographed and digitally shaded with warm grey tones.

First sketch depicts my oc Edda (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes) and Snow White from Red shoes and the seven dwarfs, but from my superhero au. Edda’s hair is cut short, and she’s dressed in a dark button up shirt, a knee length office skirt, an open lab coat, and a lanyard with an attached card. She’s standing with her hands inside her pockets. Snow is wearing a blouse with short puffy arms, a belt, an office skirt and a lanyard with an attached card as well. She’s holding a file under her arm as she waves at the viewer. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

Second sketch depicts my oc Edda and Arthur from Red shoes, in the superhero au. Edda is dressed in a dark button up, belt, dark pants and shoes. Arthur is dressed in full plate armour, carrying a helmet under his arm. He’s holding out a flower to Edda, smiling with hearts in-front of his face, while Edda looks down at the flower in confusion. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The third sketch depicts my oc Edda and Arthur from Red shoes, in the superhero au. Edda is dressed in a double-breasted vest, dark shirt, and dark cravat, with her hair pulled back with a hair band. She’s looking at something off screen with a perturbed expression. Arthur is dressed in full plate armour, and is holding a sword in front of Edda, while holding his cape over her back and looking at something off screen. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The fourth sketch features Merlin from Red shoes in the superhero au. He’s dressed in a super suit with lightning designs over his shoulders and waist, with the swirl designs from is original outfit on his stomach, along with a belt, a pair of gloves and a mask covering his eyes. He’s smiling at the viewer while making a finger heart. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The fifth sketch is of Jack from Red shoes in the superhero au. He’s wearing a super suit styled like is original clothes from the movie, but with dark accent to the sides, a par of diamonds encrusted gloves, a mask that covers all but his lower face (safe his chin) and the top of his hair, the swirls from his original vest placed on his arms under a dark pair of shoulder pads, and the invisibly cloak which he now carries around his neck. He’s looking at something off screen with a serious expression, lifting up his fist as if readying for a fight. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

End of ID]

[randomperson0k]

the evil thoughts got me fucked up and shit

OH forgot to mention: top 2 images are the final 'redesign', 2 images below are concept sketches i made for the 'redesigns'

tgs jekyll and hyde but they got evaporated by my evil headcanon beam and stitched back together by somebody who has no experience with using a needle and thread to the point where theyre more just like a seperate character

im sorry for my sins

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT BEFORE BITING A CHUNK OUT OF MY ARM. if anybody wants to read about my evil headcanon world all the stuff is below. wasnt really exaggerating when i said i ripped their character apart and stitched them back together though.

i do have a google doc full of everything i headcanon for tgs but some of that is embarrassing as hell so im just slapping the important stuff here

most of these 'headcanons' are here more because they make me happy than to actually make any sense. as a warning.

smokes fat blunt puffs it in your face anyways uh trans henry jekyll yeah (gets shot) ty person from the j&h community i was messaging that dragged me to the dark side and introduced me to the world of embracing my j&h trans headcanons. a true angel.

i really like more book inspired takes on j&h than the musical ones soo uhh.. yeah theyre the same person fully no j&h arguing thing. im soooorrrrryyy its just my preference for adaptations and i find it a lot more fun to play with story wise. also some other reasons but i wont get into those

polyamorous and bisexual (bi because... obvious reasons. poly because of that one couple they meet up with in the comic every now and then. my favourite ... ship (i think thats the right term?) in the comic. i love them.)

gas mask because it looks cool + chemical shenanigans ("oh but those didnt exist" shh. shhhhh.")

speaking of chemicals! they are much more into science. mostly does science-y stuff when theyre hyde though. they like to break into lodgers rooms and contribute to experiments.

facial hair. thats it. no further reasoning will be given

tried making jekyll in the concept redesign of him look older. failed SO bad im sorry i know its horrible.

hyde has pointy ears + pointer teeth (and green tongue because potion goop) + slit pupils because i am incapable of designing a human hyde. i have no idea why but i just cant.

earrings because 1: i have a bad habit of giving designs earrings and 2: i remember seeing a few headcanons of j&h with earrings and they were so tasty to look at so i had to do my own

bandage scarf thing from the beta tgs hyde design + newer tgs design that only shows up in the mind... world.... thing.

added the uhhh goggles from the old design too.

red and green hat because i couldnt decide if i wanted hyde to have the red hat from the old design of tgs hyde or the green hat from the current design. ripped it in half and chose both. great decision making i know

chunks of brown hair in hydes because why not. also red ring around one eye as like a weird variant of half heterchomia.

hyde has weird patches of green colored skin idk it just looked cool when i was fiddling with colors so i kept it

hyde has red scales in certain spots of the design. no further explanation

gave hyde black gloves to contrast jekylls white gloves + cmon. hyde probably touches the most gross revolting shit with the places they go to. they deserve some gloves.

changed their body type a litttttle bit just a smudge

i was going to give jekyll a cravat around the neck (a really bad designing habit of mine is to give characters cravats. not my fault they look so cool) both as a fancy thing + to hide lack of a adams apple buuttt the design felt way too clumped so im scrapping that. ignore the cravat in the drawing. grrr bARKBAKRABK

actually does sparkle visually/not just as a non-existent visual effect and people can actually see it. lanyon always swats them away because the sparkles get in his face.

hyde is more shorter than shown in the comic, more like book hydes height. like a foot or more shorter than jekyll. jekyll stays around the same height though. hydes probably the shortest one in the society.

permanent eyebags. does not sleep but cmon we all already knew that

hyde has a strong scottish accent instead of the other accent he fakes in the comic that i always forget the name of

has a cane like the og book. its a sword cane.... yeah i have a addiction, im sorry. (like half my own personal characters have sword canes)

i suck so bad at drawing shoes so hydes shoes look like ass but theyre supposed to be big boots since this guy probably walks through yucky mucky areas and stuff

i would totally write some oneshots or something like that of these guys going on adventures doing experiments and stuff yknow . (stuff like lodgers content and interactions, lanyon and hyde interactions because i enjoy secret identity and person said secret identity personal knows outside of their secret identity interactions, that one couple i talked about before interactions with jekyll/hyde and just in general random oneshots that make no sense) if i actually had any literacy skill

anyways im done my ramble. now you guys can shoot me

[efverse]

Do you have any tips/suggestions about drawing pokemon OC's? Specifically about how to make them distinct and more than just a copy of the official pokemon design.

hmm i think my biggest thing is taking the personality into account and centering the design on that and how to get that across while utilizing what the canon design has already given me...

for example, with those sableye designs i posted a little while ago :)

sableyes have different kinds of gems growing on their bodies! use that! smaller kinds of gems for the eyes. or bigger ones! red, green, blue, yellow, etc etc. can have more gems or less in different places! play around w the big concepts of the designs like the gemstones on a sableye..

like i mentioned with the eyes...think about the size and location of their features. how big are their ears? are they higher or lower on their head? do they smile with all their teeth? do you see their gums when they smile? long arms? short legs? is their nose(or in this case that line sableye has on their face) big or small? flat? curved? wide? thin? just mess with the proportions a bit :)

maybe just a personal thing but i dont like relying too much on intricate coat markings to make designs distinct...if it adds to the concept like giving the robber sableye a face mask marking or giving the fancy lady evening glove like markings than thats cool but otherwise i try to stay away from too many markings if i can?(go wild w em if you want tho i wont stop you)

kind of related to third bullet tho i do enjoy incorporating elements of a canon pokemons design that i had to cover or take away and or change into their attire/accessories if i can! for a small example giving the first sableye a red cravat in the general area where the canon design has that red gem on its chest :)

hope this makes sense.. but these are a few of the big things i try to play around w anyways...hope this was helpful ^.^

[andmineisyellow]

Some visuals I would like to see in season 3 (that we definitely won't see):

Episode 1: We see a shot of a full-length mirror in Colin's bedroom. Colin, dressed formally for a ball, walks into the frame. He puts on his coat, adjusts his cravat, and takes a good look at himself. Still not quite satisfied, he lets out a deep sigh, puts on one of his charming smiles, and then winks at himself. From there, we immediately cut to another shot of a mirror. This time in Penelope's bedroom. Penelope is already in-frame. She's in her ballgown (still a dress of her mother's choosing), but it's covered by her purple cape. Trying to shake off some nerves and insecurities, she lets out her own deep sigh. She puts up her hood and swiftly walks out of frame, off to do some Whistledown business.

Episode 2 or 3: During one of Colin and Penelope's confidence lessons, we get a shot of a mirror with Colin pulling Penelope into the frame with him. He's trying to build her up and they're making each other laugh while doing so. They've become quite comfortable being alone together at this point. Penelope is now in a dress she picked out for herself and at some point during the lesson, she removes her gloves. Colin's coat is off, his cravat is slightly loose, and his sleeves are rolled up. The goofy grin on his face is more genuine than the charming mask we saw in episode 1.

Some Episodes Later (the start of the mirror scene/Colin and Pen's first time): Penelope walks into the frame first. She's wearing her nightdress with her robe open. Colin walks into the frame behind her. His shirt is on but fully unbuttoned. He kisses down her neck, murmuring all of the little things he loves about her, and she slowly starts to disrobe herself. He helps her. And when she turns around to kiss him, she starts helping him remove his own clothes.

I've been thinking a lot recently about how we're probably not going to get the love confession with them laying naked in bed (for various reasons). That also got me thinking about how the show could still convey that level of vulnerability through the use of mirror symbolism (something we are likely to see utilized in season 3). I love that when they confess their love for one another they're literally and metaphorically stripped down to their most honest forms. There's no hiding behind their armor anymore. With the benefit of tv being a visual medium, I think there's an even larger opportunity to convey not only their love for each other through mirrors but the journey of self-love they will have gone on as well.

There's no chance my idea makes it onto the screen, but anything with these kinds of vibes would make me happy.

[shmowder]

Pathologic x reader: Hysteria pt.2

Continuation of this

[ Daniil x Reader x Artemy] Poly.

[ Smut, fluff, oral kink, eating out, medical malpractice, gender neutral reader, breeding kink ]

After a long night of Daniil attending to your body every half hour with practised gloved hands and a restless mind, he was so confident in this treatment proving effective to curing your clearly hysterical fragile mental state Orgasm after orgasm milked out of you at a merciless pace. The more overstimulated and oversensitive you've become, the more his whispered apologies frequented as he told you to bear with him, how this is necessary for the treatment. 

By morning, your legs were shaking, and knees long gave out. The once clean sanitised towel below you was drenched in your mess, various disposable rubber gloves covered in your cum. 

Daniil's proding and personal questions came non-stop. He thought he was making progress at first, but now he seems frustrated. He is convinced that his treatment went wrong somewhere. Halfway through the night, he even restored to using both of his hands, three fingers thrusting in and out of your hole, drenched in lube as the sound of him fucking you with his fingers could be heard in the room. His other hand rubbing at your sensitive heat, be it flickering your clit and pressing down or moving up and down your cock with his hand, pressing against the head with his thumb.

Somehow keeping the mask of professionalism on even as his cravat was pulled loose and sweat droplets trickled down his neck, even as the bulge in his treasures became too obvious to ignore, even as he crawled on top of you on the bed to position his hands better, even then he refused to grant himself a thread of pleasure and refused to lift the figurative curtain between you the patient and him the doctor.

Addressing you only by your last time, requesting you do the same with him. It's not Daniil, it's Dr. Dankovsky. 

In the end he was beyond frustrated with his lack of progress, he still helped you clean yourself before leading you towards the bathroom and telling you to take your time in the shower while he attended to the room. It feels like he failed himself more than he failed you.

Hysteria was supposed to be an easy thing to cure god dammit, can't he do this one simple thing? what was all of his degrees and studying for.

Sure, his area of expertise is focused on vaccine research and the thanatology field, and sure technically, his one year of psychology study wouldn't make him an expert. But he didn't imagine something as emotional outbursts would be this stubborn to resolve!

...he requires assistance, as much as it shames him to admit, he refuses to let his arrogance be his downfall.

Luckily there is a certain healer in this town who owes him a favour or two.

That's how you end up on the same bed the next day, not with just one but with two doctors looming over you and bickering with each other as if you weren't there.

"No, it's useless. I've tried that." Daniil handed the stack of papers held by a corner clip to Artemy, "Of course I asked about their history and sexual activities, what do you think I was doing last night? twiddling my thumbs?"

"You're approaching this the wrong way, Oynon.'' Taking one glance at the files Daniil painstakingly put together and filled with as much information about you as he could manage in one day, Artemy immediately discarded them on the nearby bed table.

"Do enlighten me, dear colleague" Daniil scoffed, "What could I have possibly missed?" 

Artemy's hand cupped your face, leaning closer until your lips were mere inches apart. His gaze softened as he stared into your eyes, a silent understanding of the emotions swarming inside. 

Then his hand trailed down, thumb pressing against your lips, going down your neck and resting against your chest. pulling back as he sat on the edge of the bed, you were laying one, asking for permission to remove your top. 

You noticed the unusual...shyness in his request, as if he hasn't spent a lifetime digging through guts and cutting organs open. Still, you nodded nonetheless and let him coax your upper clothes off of you.

Daniil's eyes remained detached and calculating as always. Even if you were half naked, he viewed you through the lenses of a doctor peering down from above. Meanwhile Artemy's gaze was more...intimate, one of a healer.

His hands were bare as they traced invisible lines up your stomach, you felt their intense heat melt away the knots in your muscles, their rough texture contrasting your soft skin. His touch stopped shy of your chest, carefully setting down his palm in-between where your heart laid beneath your skin.

Daniil has already measured your heart rate through your wrist this morning, but Artemy preferred to directly feel the organ release and contrast against your bare chest.

"This is what you missed. How do you expect to cure an illness of the heart through crude methods alone?" Artemy's other hand traced up and down your sides, soothing touches growing more confident with time.

"Hysteria is a psychological disorder, Burakh, an excessive release of emotional outbursts, anxiety, and paranoia prone episodes. It's an illness of the brain where the responsible hormones are being processed and made, that's why these crude methods are effective to encourage the release of Prolactin." 

"I respect you as a knowledgeable man, Oynon, but everything in the body is connected in ways beyond comprehension." Pulling his hands away, Artemy coaxes the bachelor into sitting at the edge of the bed in the same gentleness he used with you. "Try something different instead, something from the soul. Leave the gloves and precautions at the door."

Daniil seems like a fish out of water as he Artemy guides his hands to part open your exposed legs, squeeze your thighs, and feel your skin directly. Taking a deep breath, he quickly regains his mask of composure as he moves even closer to your sensitive area, you feel his breathing against your heat.

An experimental lick has you arching your back from the surprise. Like a flood gate was torn open, it's all the conformation Daniil needs before his hot mouth is against you, sucking and swallowing your wetness down, hungry and demanding as his tongue trails up and down your sensitive spots, eating you out like a man starved after throwing all of his decorum out the window.

You've never seen him this...desperate, this focused with an iron grip on your hips to keep you in place. He's barely satisfied with the whimpers slipping past your lips, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, eyes staring directly into yours as he swallows you down.

Artemy's fingers move through Daniil's black hair strands, before a harsh grip pushes him deeper between your legs, forcing him deeper inside and keeping his head in place. 

The pleasure is building up through you with each gulp you watch go down Daniil's throat. uncontrollable moans pouring out your throat, the intense feeling making your eyes glossy with tears as you're sucked and eaten out for all you're worth by the same man who still refused to address you on a first name basis.

You don't realise you're crying until the same gentle hand cups your face, Artemy's thumb wiping your tears as he whispers how you're doing wonderful, it will be okay. The same thumb pressing past your lips and into your mouth, making you suck on it to calm your nerves down. Brushing against your tongue and the roof of your mouth, never going deep enough to make you gag but remaining there as the waves of pleasure go through.

Pulling his thumb out with a pop, his lips meet yours instead in desperation as he swallows your sounds down. Stealing your breath away with his tongue down your throat, making you cling your arms around him. Legs twitching as Daniil kisses between your legs through your spasms, licking up and down your heat, swallowing down your cum like it was ambrosia down his throat.

His hair is a complete mess when he sits back up, breathless as if he just underwent a revelation.  "You may have had a point." Daniil admits.

The treatment was supposed to be for you and yet, both of them seem more calmed down by it. Body relaxed with clear mind, for once they're not at each other's throat as they have a conversation of mutual understanding, of their discoveries and the potential on how to cure your state.

If you're being honest, you're not even sure what state they've been referring to all the time. Sure you had your ups and downs in days but mostly your mind was safe and sound, no paranoia or any of those symptoms Daniil has been referring to.

Well, you did mention to the bachelor once how you might just develop hysteria from all of these increased prices while you were shopping from groceries once, you know, as a joke. He might have taken it too seriously and ended up sending orderlies to bring you to his house the very next morning.

Not that you were complaining. If anything you were enjoying this too much to want it to stop, not to mention it's as good of an excuse as any for the two of them to get a break and loosen down...even if their means of a break was unconventional.

But hey, what's the worst that could happen? 

"So what do you suggest our next step will be? How should we approach this moving forward if this treatment too fails to deliver results."

"Something more intimate, a sacred joining of bodies."

"hmm...unprotected Intercourse should be stimulating enough, or in your words, intimate. Biology aside, if we trick the brain into thinking it's capable of impregnation, then it should resolve the hormonal imbalance issue."

Both of their heads turned to look at you, on the bed, naked and exposed. 

Would Daniil's self-control falter and break when he's engulfed by your insides? Would he insist on using protection and attempting to keep an apathetic facade through the whole act as his brain is turned into mush with every thrust into your core. Fulfilling his role in the act by talking about what a wonderful parent you would be to this child, his own, and no one's else.

Would Artemy stretch you open more than you could've imagined? feel the shape of his cock slightly bulging against your stomach as he gets lost in the fantasy of breeding you, filling you to the brim with his cum and fucking all of his daily frustration and repressed emotions out. 

Wordlessly, Daniil went to set the sand hourglass down. Ordering Artemy around like one of his nurses to clean you up and prepare for the next operation while he goes out and buys the necessary supplies.

Artemy offers to carry you to the shower, setting you inside the tub when the water is warm and cuffing his sleeves upwards so he helps you wash down. Running the warm cloth over your body with care, thoughtful of the bruises on your thighs where Daniil got more than excited, smoothing down your skin with a lovely scented bar of soap that smells just like the Bachelor does deep below his perfumed clothes.

He's gentle with you, unbelievably so. This same man who must be frustrated with running errands all day just to prove he is deserving of his father's inheritances, the same so proclaimed fearsome ripper. How hard his life must have been, how cruel the fates were to him. 

You extend a wet hand covered in soap and cup his face with tenderness, Artemy melts into your palm. He must be so tired, so exhausted and unused to kindness nor shown love.

He asks how you're feeling, reassures you that your treatment will be successful. That he'll do his best.

For once in a long time, he truly feels like a healer rather than a butcher. Bringing someone else warmth, calming down their paranoia prone mind. Feeling someone's heartbeat below his hand, knowing you trust him enough with it to let him close when others are terrified to just meet his gaze.

He noticed it in Daniil when he came to him this morning requesting medical consultation, the brightness in his eyes.  While Artemy loves this town, he clearly knows how much it sucked the soul of the bachelor's dry and twisted his love for medicine around. But today, Artemy saw a glimpse of the passion Daniil held for the craft as they exchanged theories and discussed possibilities together. When Daniil found himself lacking knowledge in this field, he decided to research and ask around with a hunger for learning. Completely proving Artemy's first impression of him being arrogant and self-centred, he expected the other to ignore any outside input, yet Daniil took every word the surgeon gave to heart.

-

Thanks to @/firebird963 for the ideas, inspirational and encouragement to continue this piece.

[aroace-percy-de-rolo]

Round 2, Bracket 4

Design notes/propaganda under read more

Gunslinger Percy

-lacks a coat which is an interesting detail

-beard scruff! As well as some swept up hair

-striped shirt button up shirt underneath his waistcoat, with a dress shirt under that. Plenty of belts for holding ammunition and a version of his plague mask over his shoulder!

- a cuff on his left arm with designs and buttons that notably leads to his current gun (I’m assuming the list since it’s iconic) has a ring attached to the handle. Additionally diplomacy is back :)

- extra fabric strapped and buttoned into his boots on the sides of his legs, possibly a version of leather armour. Also the boots seem to have tips to them, possibly metal tips !

Figure Percy

-red inner lining of his coat, and with gold for trim as usual.

-the waistcoat is also red !

-a black and gold Cape with a shoulder pad on top of it! It’s fastened with a De Rolo emblem which is a fun detail

-gloves again! But only his right hands glove is tucked under the coat sleeve

-striped pants return! This time it’s black pants with dark brown stripes, ending with the start of boots.

- a small blue jewel on his cravat :)

[sleepsart]

My guy my dude my silly funtime boy my favorite child

[ ID 1: A drawing of Oskar from the calves up, sitting on a dark purple-red bench-like surface. She's wearing a fancy-looking outfit consisting of an indigo cropped embroidered suit jacket, a light blue button up shirt with ruffled sleeves, a light purple ruffled cravat, an indigo cumberband, indigo dress pants, dark purple gloves, a small black hair bow, a purple mesh shawl, and a light purple crescent moon mask. She's looking down and away from the viewer at her hair, obscuring most of the moon part of the mask. She has very long wavy orange hair in a partly up style, but mostly it is down. She's holding a section of it in one hand and leaning on the other. The background is a purple starry sky. There's a red light shining from the top corner behind Oskar. End ID 1 ]

[ ID 2: An exact copy of image one without shading or lighting. End ID 2 ]

Tag list: @luna-spacedoodles @convexers @renchanters @cuuno @grey-nova @chimbamuerto @gardenergulfie @oakskull @sadgeish @im-troublesome @griancraft

[theluckywizard]

Hello! Here is a prompt if you would like one: Rose/Hawke, Florence and the Machine prompts, "And for a moment, When I'm dancing, I am free"

This is all for you, Ammy! My fill for @dadrunkwriting

The Assassin's Masque (or Highfalutin Hawke and his Foxy Boss Try Subterfuge at Halamshiral)

Rating: Teen

Genre: Sexy fluff and subterfuge

Word Count: 3736 words

Warnings: N/A

Pairings: Rose Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke

Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan must conduct herself carefully at the Winter Palace as they work to collect the necessary intelligence to find and stop the Tevinter assassin. Luckily Inquisition agent Hawke is there to lend a hand.

Please enjoy my OCs Rose x m!Hawke (he hates his first name) as they get up to their usual mischief.

Illustrations by yours truly!

“I’ve heard they let these olives ferment in the gut of an august ram before harvesting for fancy canapes,” says Hawke from behind his mask, sidling up next to me. He whispers the next bit behind his hand. “They go digging for them in their shit, you know.” I know he’s not trying to blow our cover, but he damn well can’t resist can he.

“Delightful. Orlesian gastronomy is so inventive,” I answer, not taking the obvious bait. “And you are…?”

“Hawke,” he replies, beaming underneath shadowy peacock eyes. 

“The illustrious Champion?” I ask. He inclines his head once in a tidy nod.

“And you– I feel as though I’ve seen you somewhere. Contessa Ophelia perhaps?” he says. Maker, I’d love to swat him. He’d love it too. I can feel the insipid weight of nosy eyes upon us. Everyone's a critic here and everyone’s a show, our interaction being dissected fifty ways already. The Champion of Kirkwall is hard to miss, easily one of the tallest men in attendance, his attire somehow perfectly Free Marches and yet perfectly flamboyant as well and he’s been working the crowd for hours already. Eyes follow him wherever he goes and I can hardly blame them. His vibrant plum colored justaucorps falls nearly to his knees, fitted over a waistcoat embroidered elaborately in gold and his starched white cravat and ruffled cuffs are equally garish. His hair is tied back with an elegant plum ribbon in a darling little queue. Hawke certainly knows how to make a statement.

“Lady Rose Trevelyan,” I reply with a measured smile.

“The Inquisitor? The Herald of Andraste? Maker’s breath, I figured if you somehow finagled your way into this affair you’d show up in some manner of pompous uniform, not this gorgeous getup,” he says, surveying me up and down as frankly as ever, pleased as punch to pop off a compliment. “Is that your infamous hand!?” He gestures to my right hand. I consider whether it would be all right to laugh at the intensity of his antics. I’ve seen him entertain multiple guests, each of them effortlessly charmed by his exuberance left giggling and fanning themselves. I shake my head with a smile and hold up my left hand to him. He makes a show of beholding it like the holy weapon many consider it to be and then bows elegantly before me with his foot extended forward, raising my gloved hand to his lips.

“Your worship,” he says, and his smolder is hidden behind that ridiculous peacock mask but I can feel it bearing down on me, probing for that weak spot he knows I have for him. “Let me see your dance card. ” Forceful as ever, too. If I’m to present myself with the proper clout, I’ll have to match him somehow, spar with him.

“I’m not sure there’s space for a personality as colossal as yours,” I tease him. He shakes his head with a grin.

“Oh I’ll make it fit, I promise you, Inquisitor,” he says, scrawling his name gleefully onto the next spot. “I see the Duchess has claimed a dance! She’s a delight. I’ve danced with her once already. If you dip her, she’ll be putty in your hands. Do with that bit of info what you will. If your fancy leans that way.”

“My fancy is leaning toward these petit fours.”

“Watch you only have one. The variety of deep mushroom in it can have a moving effect,” he says, suppressing his giggle. I contain my smile and retract my hand from them which he immediately claims and boldly tucks into his elbow as the music breaks before the next dance begins. I know he’s a competent dancer having taught me to lead, but I’m anxious with all these eyes upon us that our familiarity with one another will be difficult to conceal. Perhaps I should just look as starry-eyed as every other guest he interacts with. It wouldn’t be a terrible stretch, though resisting all the terrible jokes I wish to make with him will be a challenge.

Hawke bows low before me on the ballroom floor, and I catch a glint of playful pale blue from behind the peacock. The music pipes up, a lively uptempo waltz that prompts an immediate smile in me. There’s no feeling as liberating as a breathless waltz, flying about the floor on light feet. He tugs me taut against him, his dashing smile properly contagious.

“And how did you secure an invitation to such an illustrious affair?” I ask him. 

“Now, now, Your Worship. I have an air of mystery to maintain,” he replies. I feel slightly admonished, remembering Josephine and Leliana’s careful instruction in the Game. Being forthright shows naivete, reveals too much. One must choose words carefully, couching them in riddles, relegating the truth to the barest subtext. My eyes drift up to the wall where Cullen’s installed himself, and I consider how difficult speaking that way must be for him. In fact, I feel certain that Josie and Leliana have instructed him to stay by that very wall, keep his mouth shut and look pretty. An easy sell for a man who’s interest in the Game amounts to less than nothing. “I don’t understand why people don’t just say what they mean,” he’d said and the women had looked at each other with anxious eye rolls and patiently explained its uses while he scowled and huffed in protest.

“So, in a race between a Bull, a Halla, and an Orlesian Courser, who’s going to win?” Hawke asks, his wit sharpened to a fine point in this setting, abandoning some of the goofiness I normally adore about him.

“Depends on whether one of them gets shanked in the starting gate,” I mutter, glancing around as he sweeps me weightlessly across the floor.

“Interesting! That would be poor sportsmanship, but certainly within the official rules,” he remarks. He pulls me closer and speaks in a low voice as if only to me. “You dance like a dream, Inquisitor.” The involuntary flutter in my stomach was already poised for action by the spiritedness of our dance, but the compliment unleashes it. We have an entire audience, party guests pressing against the rail above the ballroom to watch as the Inquisitor is swept away by the Champion of Kirkwall. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. He may be leading, but I’m now aware of the effect I have on him. Hawke pushes me out for a heady spin and then reels me back in exuberantly, and I feel the heaviness of the stress of the affair easing, like he’s charging me with confidence and courage for the covert tasks to come.

“Perhaps you and I might disappear after this,” he says in my ear and it’s not quite quiet enough. I see at least one guest cover their mouth in shock and delight and turn to the person next to them to point at us. Even as we dance I mentally freeze, trying to understand his angle, what he could possibly mean beyond actually wandering off for a quick fuck. “Find a quiet corner out of sight. The guest garden looked rather inviting.” If he was sincere he’d be grinning, but there isn’t a smile on his face. He’s sharing the next move and creating cover. And a torrent of rumors, but cover.

“Are all Fereldans as presumptuous as you?”

“I can think of at least one who is not nearly presumptuous enough,” he replies, with a cheeky glance at Cullen’s side of the mezzanine. “But no. I’m incorrigible. And I find you… most bewitching.” I manage to control my blush, remembering that the Game is an act, no matter how much truth there is lurking underneath it all.

“I’ve far too many people to meet still. Perhaps. If you can track me down.”

“I’m famous for my investigative abilities, you know,” he says, beaming again.

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t bother trying to hide?” I reply, gathering up the social credit earned by this playful, titillating exchange.

“Tell you what. I’ll take care of the introductions and then we can claim a corner of the guest garden.”

“The guest garden. I’ve been told it’s gorgeous.”

“Yes, it’s divine. We can cozy up. Plop some caprice coins in the fountain. I’ve got a pocketful to share,” he says. 

“Sounds rather lovely, actually,” I say, allowing myself to smile.

“I’ve heard the library is next to none. It’s just upstairs from the garden,” he continues, spinning me again and then catches my eyes again with meaning. “Containing rare untold works you might enjoy.”

“The library?” I confirm.

“Yes, the library! Great big room. Stuffed with books. You know.” I lean back to scold him as the music reaches its rousing conclusion. He dips me low, his face close enough that I feel his breath soft against me, his eyes locked to mine. (cont below)

“Want to get out of here?” he asks. The mere thought of it causes waves of heat to wash slowly over me from down low as I recall our last tumble before leaving Crestwood. Aware of the attention fixed upon us, I allow my smile to tease at one corner of my mouth, attempting something of a sultry look under my mask and I nod very slightly, allowing him to lead me from the dance floor by the elbow.

As we make our way back out of the ballroom into the Vestibule, we are stopped several times for introductions by suddenly solicitous guests. Anyone on the arm of the Champion must be worthwhile, I surmise, as I’m now showered with attention I did not previously merit. An hour ago I was a spurious connection at best; a minor noble from a quaint and distant land with some very odd markings who may or may not have walked out of the Fade. Even the fact that I’d successfully closed the Breach seemed like a distant achievement; what makes me an icon in Fereldan is more dubious here in Orlais, far removed from the eyes of most guests. We haven’t pressed into Orlesian territory to resolve rifts yet. But on the arm of the Champion of Kirkwall, I’m instantly more compelling, elevated by his own legendary status. Surely a beauty, perhaps a wit.

We continue through the Antechamber, past the guest wing toward the grand staircase in the rear. Hawke leans down as if to graze my ear with his lips, sliding his hand around my waist provocatively.

“We should try this way first,” he says softly. “Otherwise we have a date with a trellis.” He takes me obviously by the hand and whisks me around the corner of the staircase, sweeping me up the stairs and into his arms. “If you giggle a little bit it will sell it.” He backs me against the wall between two doors and fumbles in the pocket of his elaborate jacket. “The number of things one can hide in this jack is truly astounding. I can’t be happier.”

“What are we doing?” I hiss. He leans down so it looks like he’s kissing my neck, but he looks over my shoulder and begins to pick the lock.

“Visiting the library of course,” he whispers. My heart knocks against the inside of my chest with both the thrill of the moment– breaking into a restricted area of the Winter Palace and my occasional lover looming over me so provocatively. A pick clatters on the floor after a particularly forceful crank of his arm. “Shit.”

The noisy footsteps of guard boots sound at the bottom of the stairs and begin to ascend. I step on the errant pick and grasp Hawke by the neck, hooking a leg over his hip and pull him down for the most theatrically passionate kiss I can dredge from within me, our ridiculous masks knocking into each other until they’re crooked. And of course he responds as if it was his idea all along, grasping my thigh with convincing fervor, shoving me gently against the marble column behind me.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” demands a guard, emerging from below in a pair. We break apart like teenagers caught, adjusting our masks, smoothing our clothes.

“Desolé, desolé,” says Hawke, which, by his strained accent, is probably one fifth of all the Orlesian he knows. One guard elbows the other, gesturing to us with his head.

“Euhhh, c’est le Champion, n’est-ce pas? Avec une amoureuse, en plus.” 

“Le Champion? Ah, bon. Si, bon.” The guards wave us onward with their blessing and I’m once again reminded of the permissiveness of Orlesian sex culture. It was spoken of in somewhat horrified hushed whispers in Ostwick and laughably I’m now I’m the direct beneficiary.

“Le Champion de Kirkwall. More like le *Champignon* de Kirkwall,” I snort to myself, when he turns to trap me again.

“Think you’re funny, eh?” he says, bracing himself against the wall on an elbow over my head and bending to brush his lips over mine lightly.

“Mm hmm,” I tell him, rooting around in both of his pockets for his picks. I’m met with two cavernous bags full of Maker knows what. “There’s a lot going on in here. I need your picks.”

“Oh it’s fine. I’ll let you rummage around for a bit,” he says with a grin, breathing in the floral and cinnamon scent on my hair deeply. “You smell like pie. Or those ginger biscuits from Starkhaven that come in little tins. Shockingly edible.Was that on purpose?”

“Hawke,” I tell him, grasping his chin and meeting his eyes. “Focus.” He shoves his hand into his right pocket while my hand is still in there, running his fingers lightly down my palm like a proper rogue before feeling around for the picks in question. He folds them into my hand inside the pocket and I know he’s gazing at me from under his brow the way he usually does when he wants something from me. I turn around to attempt the lock. He presses his lips to my neck, his breath whispering across my skin. Maker, Hawke.

“We don’t have an audience, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, nudging my ear with his nose. “We have to be prepared. One could arrive at any moment.” I’ll allow it. He could be right. They could be just around the corner.

The lock should be within my skill at this point, but I talk it out in case he wants to weigh in. 

“Five pins,” I remark quietly. “Did you drop your tensioner?” It stands to reason that the library wouldn’t have a particularly complex lock on it. It’s a library after all. 

“Let me grab it.” I lift my foot so he can reach down for it, his hands skimming over my waist and hips on the way. He holds it out to me from under my arm. I slide the tensioner in and feel delicately for the first binding pin, which clicks satisfyingly into place. I clutch a couple tools between my lips so I can see what I have available and pick out a bent snake for the next couple pins.

“This is unbelievably provocative,” says Hawke in my ear. “Mouthful of tools and all.”

“It would be a lot more so if I actually crack it,” I answer, glancing at him over my shoulder. He kisses my cheek, breaking the sultry act for a hot minute. My look lingers on him, a quietly affectionate smile crossing my lips before I go back to the lock. I drop to my knees for better leverage. 

“Raising the stakes on our emergency theatrics, don’t you think?” he says above me, earning a swift smack on the boot. The pins click into place one after another and the cylinder rotates smoothly, the door unlatching and drifting open slightly.

“Et voilà,” I mutter with a grin. We both glance askance and then slip through the entry. Even in the darkness a guard perks up across the length of the grandiose library, calling out in Orlesian as if we were common party guests who’d just bumbled our way in, his sword at the ready just in case. Hawke strides confidently toward him and in a swift motion shockingly reminiscent of our earlier dancing, slips behind the guard, eases him into a reclined position with his neck inside the belt of his arm and rapidly renders him unconscious. He steps this way and that, looking for other inconvenient eyes and then pushes his mask up, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Right. That should give us ten or fifteen minutes or so,” he says, dragging the guard into a nook between a towering bookshelf and a table and binding his feet and wrists with lengths of cord he had tucked in his carpet bag sized pockets.

“Leliana mentioned Celene’s occult advisor, is that what we’re looking for here?” I ask, pushing my mask up. He nods, suddenly all business.

“Apparently she keeps an office up here. I had it from a pair of elven servants I bribed.”

“They spoke Common?” I ask, perplexed. Hawke answers me competently in Orlesian.

“‘Blundering foreigner’ is a useful look in the right situations,” he says with a grin. He slides back into Common. “Don’t look so surprised, you monster. Back here.” We hurry quietly across the cavernous library, watching carefully for other guards and enter a room lined with urn-topped pedestals, fringed with moonlight that filters in through the impossibly tall windows. “Supposedly her lair is in this area somewhere. But this doesn’t look right for a witchy type, does it?”

“If she’s everything Leliana says she is, I’m sure her space is hidden away,” I say, heading toward the book shelf in the back and knocking on the wooden bits to hear for changes in reverberation. The shelf to the left gives the unmistakable hollow sound I’m looking for and I glance over at Hawke, who comes over to help look for the mechanism.

“Eye level or lower. Wouldn’t make sense to put it in a difficult to reach spot. Discreet would be chest to hip height,” he says with the confidence of someone who’s done this sort of thing before. 

“Nor would the mechanism likely be in the door itself. I’ll check the right side.” We comb over the books, checking for undue resistance or volumes that look out of place. My finger catches on one that feels sturdier than any of the others. I give it a stiff tug. The bookcase to my left swings inward. Hawke grins at me.

“I could get used to this you know,” he says as we peer our way into a darkened room.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Lurking about places with you all sneaky like.”

“We’ve done plenty of that already. You’re feeling nostalgic for Crestwood,” I say, poking him in the side. 

The entire space is cast in a dancing aquamarine light from an enchanted brazier on the right. Instruments of arcane significance are carefully arranged on both the advisor’s desk and a side table looking a little creepy if I’m being honest. Dried floral specimens hang tidily above the workbench which has rows of bottles of powders labeled in some manner of coded shorthand. The space smells of dawn lotus and sandalwood and recently extinguished candles. Rather lovely, really. 

“Smells like a Lowtown brothel,” grunts Hawke in response to my thoughts. I smirk at him with a raised brow.

“Familiar, is it?”

"What? My investigations have taken me to all manner of seedy establishments," he says, browsing through unlocked desk drawers. 

"Mm hmm."

“I couldn’t be arsed to pay for sex if that’s what you’re implying,” he answers, tapping my rear playfully. “Look at this.” He hunches over a massive book on her desk, bound in the skin of an animal with its hair intact almost like the smooth, spotted coat of one of father’s hunting hounds. The corners of the grimoire are secured with ornately filigreed metal fittings. Maker knows how old it is or what secrets are contained therein. I reach for it to open it but Hawke catches me by the wrist.

“I should have said– don’t touch anything. It could be rigged with spells for all we know,” he says softly. He withdraws a dagger out from under his jacket, gives it a tentative poke looking for a magical trap and then uses it to unfold a letter that sits partially curled on the desk. I swing around the desk to read it upside down.

“It’s from Celene,” I say. “She begs Morrigan to be by her side all night. Concerns about assassins.” I glance up at him. “So she knows already.” Hawke cranes his neck around me, his expression plainly perplexed by whatever he’s caught sight of.

“What?” I ask. He walks out of the office. “Hawke.”

“There’s a cat,” he says, over his shoulder. “A Maker forsaken cat. It’s a little weird, right? Don’t normally think of cats in these great palaces, do you? In the library no less.” A sense of uneasiness washes over me as he approaches a small gray tiger that walks curiously in our direction.

“Hawke,” I say again, my heart stopping. Hawke turns to me fully, gesturing behind him. 

“You don’t like cats?” In a whisper of motion, the cat silently grows into an elaborately, darkly adorned woman behind Hawke. Celene’s arcane advisor. Hawke turns back before I can warn him and he stumbles backward with a startled curse. I jog to Hawke’s side instinctively, feeling sure that I’m better off next to him in the presence of such a creature, whose office alone smacks of blood magic and competence.

“Well, well, well,” slinks a sultry, smoky voice across the silver-lit library, the figure gliding like an enigma embodied. “What do we have here? The Inquisitor, fabled Herald of the faith, delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the blessed Andraste herself and some… manner of lace-festooned brute? ‘Tis hardly the place for guests.”

Hawke tilts his head with dawning familiarity and taps his finger against his lips. 

“Mordred? Morgoth? Morgan is it? No, no. Give me a minute. I’ll get it.” All vestiges of mystery evaporate as Hawke disassembles her with his usual antics. She slumps her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “Morrigan."

"I should have guessed it was you.”

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Roman descended the staircase gracefully in a red silk gown,and as he was doing so,was holding up the extremely voluminous skirt with one of his white gloved hands, showing the sparkly red heels he was wearing underneath,as well as several lace trimmed petticoats. He wore a wig that was styled in an elaborate updo with curls cascading down the back and on his shoulders,as well as a ruby necklace with matching earrings,a full face of glamorous shimmery red and gold makeup,a silver tiara with red gemstones,and in his other hand,a red masquerade mask with gold lace trim.

"So Virgil" Roman said cheerfully "How do i look?"

"You look great Ro." Virgil said, blushing at his best friend. Virgil was dressed in a fancy black and purple 3 piece suit with a lace cravat around the collar of a ruffled shirt,and on his feet,sleek leather boots with a low heel,and on his face, a silver,black and purple masquerade mask.

"Alright!" Roman exclaimed, determined "Let's go save Logan from that dreaded Rat king!"

Logan needs no saving from the rat king, the rat King needs saving from Logan XD

[violetrose-art]

Last Line Tag

Thanks for the tag, @oceangirl24

I tag: @ibrithir-was-here, @princesspuresarahk, and anyone who wants to play

I got myself into a bit of a writing mood and this is what I have so far for the newest chapter of CinderAmity.

Lord Belos, Boscha, and Bria were finally ready. Belos wore a black button-up shirt, a golden yellow cravat, a dark gray jacket with golden buttons and accents, matching gray pants, a white leather belt with a gold buckle, and a pair of brand new dress shoes that seemed to be made from black snake skin. Boscha wore what appeared to be a red and black Asian styled outfit with long sleeves and poofy knee-length pants while Bria wore an outfit that resembled pirate garb with a brown vest, black gloves, and a bandana wrapped around her head. The trio made their way downstairs towards the front door.

“Oooh, it’s finally happening!” Boscha exclaimed as she grabbed her crab palisman.

“I know, I can’t wait!” Bria added, picking up her rhinoceros palisman.

“Girls, please.” Belos said as he draped a white and gold cape over his shoulders. He picked up three personalized masks from a nearby drawer and handed one to each girl; he kept the third. “This is meant to be a formal occasion. I understand your excitement, but you must remember to—”

“Hey, wait! Wait for me!” CinderAmity’s voice called out.

They all turned their heads to see CinderAmity running towards them with a big grin on her face. She was now wearing a medium-length magenta dress with long sleeves, lacey accents, a white vest, matching white gloves, pale pink leggings, and a pair of orchid colored shoes. She had used the clothes in the chest to create something new. Ghost was watching from behind the staircase. Boscha, Bria, and Belos stared unblinking at CinderAmity’s outfit before Boscha broke the silence with an appreciative whistle.

“Whoa.” Bria commented with wide eyes.

CinderAmity blushed and shyly smiled.

“Where did you…?” Belos started.

“It didn’t cost you anything, sire.” CinderAmity said, stepping forward. “This is just something I… put together last minute.”

He furrowed his brow and scoffed. “I can see that.” He walked closer to his stepdaughter, which made her quite nervous. “…I’m sorry to have to tell you this, my dear… but this is a rather questionable choice, even for you.” He stopped a few inches from her and looked her in the eye. “I mean, this thing is so old fashioned… it’s practically falling to pieces.”

“W-what do you mea—?” CinderAmity started before Belos suddenly ripped the left sleeve of her dress. She gasped in shock.

“Oh dear, the shoulder’s fraying.” He said before violently tearing the vest open, causing the buttons to fall. “What did I tell you? It’s falling to bits.”

“What?! No! No, Belos! Stop, don’t!” CinderAmity cried as Belos proceeded to rip more and more parts of her outfit.

Boscha and Bria eventually joined in, but all they did was spill things on her like a flower vase of old water and even some abomination goo and pretended it was an accident. When they were through, CinderAmity looked at her ruined outfit in shock. She glanced back up at Belos with tears welling up in her eyes.

“How could you?” She asked.

He sneered as his eyes flashed blue. “…How could I otherwise? I refuse to associate myself with a ragged little thing like you.”

[ratsoh-writes]

The first act was the maskerade gowns. As both Sugar and Green were walking hand in hand, claps and cheers were hear.

Green was wearing a very pink pale robe with a high waist as the bodice, and a pink carpe over a white satin slip. Spanish slash sleeves with white crape foldings and finished at the ends with touches of gold, there was a black hourglass corset with gold rose patters on top of the gown with pink ribbons adorning the front. The skirt had golden rose patterns and it's fabric had pink and green motives, it was wide and parted in the middle, allowing the pink robe to be seen and, unlike the ankle length robe, the skirt was touching the floor.

For accessories, Green was wearing black gloves that reached his elbows, ending in frills, there was a golden rose ring on his index finger of his right arm, a golden bracelet in the other hand and two necklaces: one made of pearls with a golden golden pocket watch in the middle, and a green shawl with golden endings. In his free hand, he was carrying a reticule, a small drawstring green bag with a Gold chain as the handle. His pink shoes were flat with small heels and golden endings. For the mask:

Sugar was slaying wearing a white drop sleeve cotton shirt with a high collar and ruffles at the throat, a dark green waist coat with light green and gold leaf patterns and an black underbust corset with gold ends and three thin gold chains to accessory it. Above that he had a dark green tailcoat that was open and folded at the sleeves, letting the pretty black and pink pattern that the underside had. He was wearing black knee breachers and boots with golden motives.

For accessories, he had white leather gloves, a golden ring in his right index finger, a black cane that had a golden rose at the top, a pink cravat around the neck, and a golden rose pin on his tailcoat. For his hat and mask:

Anshdhdjhdjdd I have to draw that someday!!

The history buff judge us just eating them up. She’s all smiles as the two walk down.

Green is clearly nervous and has a thin smile but does keep his eyes wide and walks just like sugar taught.

Sugar is slaying the runway like a natural. His hips look amazing in the pants and he struts up with all the confidence. You and boss are impressed. You think you might even fall for him lol. Green blushes as they reach the end. Both do a few planned poses and give the judges a bow (and curtesy) before strutting back

[demcnsinmymind]

COLOURS .red . brown . orange . yellow . green . blue . purple . pink . black . white . teal . silver . gold . grey . lilac . metallic . matte . royal blue . strawberry red . charcoal grey . forest green . apple red . violet . navy blue . crimson . cream . mint green . bubblegum pink . sky blue . pale jade . heather grey . lavender purple . onyx .

ELEMENTS .fire . ice . water . air . earth . rain . snow . wind . moon .stars . sun . heat . cold . steam . frost . lightning . sunlight . moonlight . dawn . dusk . twilight . midnight . sunrise . sunset . dewdrops .

WEAPONS .fists . legs . sword . dagger . spear . lance . bow & arrow . hammer . shield . poison . guns . axes . throwing axes . whips . knives .throwing knives . pepper sprays . tasers . machine guns . slingshots . katanas . maces . staffs . wands . powers . magical items . magic . rocks . mud balls . claws . teeth . stealth . strategy . forehead . warhammer . polearm . flail .

MATERIALS .gold . silver . copper . platinum . titanium . rose gold . diamonds . pearls . rubies . sapphires . emeralds . amethyst . metal . iron . rust . steel . glass . wood . porcelain . paper . wool . fur . lace . leather . silk . velvet . denim . linen . cotton . charcoal . clay . stone . asphalt . brick . marble . dust . glitter . blood . dirt . mud . smoke . ash . shadow . carbonate . rubber . synthetics . ribbon . moonstone .

NATURE .grass . leaves . trees . bark . roses . daisies . sunflowers . tulips . lavender . petals . seeds . hay . sand . rocks . roots . flowers . fungi . ocean . river . frozen lake . meadow . valley .forest . desert . tundra . savanna . rain forest . caves . underwater . coral reef . beach . waves . space . clouds .mountains .snow . mist . pond .

ANIMALS .big cats . wolves .foxes . eagles . owls . falcons . hawks . swans . snakes . turtles . ducks . bugs . spiders . birds . whales . dolphins . fish . sharks . horses . cats . dogs . bunnies . penguins . crows . ravens . mice . lizards . werewolves . unicorns . pegasus . dragons . monkeys . raccoons . rats .

FOODS / DRINKS .sugar . salt . candy . bubblegum . wine . champagne . hard liquor . vodka . beer . coffee . sake . tea . spices . herbs . apples . orange . lemon . cherry . strawberry . watermelon . vegetables . fruits. meat . fish . pies . desserts . chocolate . lollies . cream . caramel . berries . nuts . cinnamon . burgers . surf ‘n ’ turf . burritos . pizza . ambrosia . eggs . milk . raspberries .

HOBBIES .music . art . watercolors . gardening . smithing . sculpting . painting . sketching . fighting . writing . composing . cooking . baking . sewing . training . dancing . acting . singing . martial arts . self - defense . war tactics . electronics . technology . cameras . video cameras . video games . computer . phone . movies . theater . libraries . books . magazines . cds . records . cassettes . piano . strings . violin . guitar . electronic guitar . bass guitar . harmonica . harp . woodwinds . brass . flute . bells . exploring . playing cards . poker chips . chess . dice . motorcycle riding . eating . sleeping . climbing . running . jogging . parkour . studying .

STYLE .lingerie . armor . cape . dress . tunic . vest . shirt . boots . ankle boots . heels . leggings . trousers . jeans . skirt . jewelry . earrings . necklace . bracelet . ring . pendant . hat . beanie hat . crown . circlet . helmet . scarf . brocade . cloaks . corsets . doublet . chest plate . gorget . bracers . belt . cravat . sash . coat . leather jacket . hood . gloves . socks . masks . mittens . cowls . braces . watches . glasses . sun glasses . straw hat . visor . eye contacts . makeup . ribbons . hoodie . sweater . converses . tennis shoes . boxers . briefs . boxer briefs . shorts . cargo . cropped pants . crop top . cuffed pants . clawed gauntlet . formal attire .

MISC .balloons . bubbles . cityscape . light . dark . candles . growth . decay . war . peace . money . power . percussion . clocks . photos . mirrors . pets . diary . journal . fairy lights . madness . sanity . sadness . happiness . optimism . pessimism . loneliness . family . friends . comrades . assistants . co - workers . enemies . loyalty . smoking . drugs . kindness . love . hugs . kisses . spring . summer . autumn . winter . farmland . countryside . suburban . village .