#or really do gold/metallic shading

[karimelthefloof]

[dreaminginmysoup]

People always like to theorize who in the cast Silver is a descendant of and ignore the truth: he's related to all of them.

[bitegore]

he is so fucking pretty!!!!

he is so goddamn pretty

[swanscript]

in which you're aegon's legally-wedded and never-bedded wife - who cares so little for him that even he's noticed.

It is the hour of the bat, deep into the velvety night, and you'd had it all planned out. Your sheets are fresh. You've bathed in lavender scented water, and spent half the day drying your hair carefully by the fireside so it won't become ruffled. You've just slipped on a rose-coloured robe of the finest Dornish silk, and wriggled delightedly into bed when it happens.

The door to your bedchambers explodes open, and Aegon staggers in, roaring a drunken sea shanty.

Oh, how you hate men.

"So hey, the bonny sailors go

To Sothoryos with a rising 'ho'!"

"Aegon," you start, pushing yourself up on your pillows with the air of someone explaining something to a very stupid child. "It's late. I'm tired."

Aegon stops dead when he sees you, sitting prettily in his bed with your arms folded in bemusement. You don't think he expected to see you here. You often sleep in a different room, and when sharing his bedchambers you make it a point to keep him firmly on the other side of the mattress.

Aegon and you both know the castle staff whispers rumours of your strange and sex-less relationship. You don't care.

Aegon might, but you've decided not to care about him either. He's aware of your cold indifference - which is why he's so surprised to see you here.

"....well," he says, swaying where he stands. "If it isn't...my frigid lady-wife. Here to ice me out again?"

You don't rise to the bait. "I'm here to sleep. You're welcome to do the same."

"Oh, I'm welcome, am I? Welcome in my own bed?" Aegon hiccoughs, slowly undoing the clasps on his velvet jerkin. He lets it thud to the floor (you can bet a hundred gold dragons he'll trip over it first thing tomorrow) and begins to traipse your way. "Am I permitted to finally lay a finger on my lawful wife, or will she only let me hold her hand for appearance's sake at banquets?"

Hackles rising, you bite back at once. "Am I permitted to have a husband who doesn't fuck a different whore every night? Who doesn't reek of of alcohol? Am I permitted to not be abandoned each day for taverns and brothels? Am I permitted to sleep or must I take your leave for that too, lord-husband?"

If Aegon were sober, he might have a scalding remark in response. But the ale has filled his mind with mush, and all he can do is scowl and sulk. It doesn't please you to see him so miserable. Your heart isn't in the fight either.

Your husband thuds onto the bed with a heavy sigh, narrowly missing squashing you.

"...help me with the clasp then, if nothing else," he mutters, pointing at his bejeweled belt buckle.

Sighing, you concede, reaching forward and undoing the cool metal. It clicks apart under your deft hand, and you steal a glance up at your supposed husband.

Months of marriage, and the times when you've ever really looked at him are few and far in between. After a disasterous bedding ceremony and so many days of neglect, the two of you have learnt to not acknowledge each other's presence. As a result, Aegon's face never fails to stand out as unique to you.

Soft cloud of wispy silver hair. Eyes of pale amethyst. The classic Targaryen look - striking colour palette, ghostly shades of old Valayria. The hint of feminine features from his mother softens him. He looks lost now, his pouty mouth softly sagging with defeat. A little verbal joust with you has leeched all the revelry out of him. Right, now, soundly beaten as he is, Aegon is difficult to despise.

You tug the belt out of its loops and he mutters his slurred gratitudes.

"Can you do the rest on your own?"

He grunts in affirmative. You retreat back to your side. Both of you feel the invisible wall being drawn up between once more.

You know, when you really think about it, you suppose Aegon is a handsome man. When he's not drunk. Or bothering you just before you sleep with sappy, obnoxious questions.

"Do you love me?"

You stop in the middle of adjusting your coverlet. "What?"

Aegon is looking at you with not a hint of a joke in his eyes. He repeats the impossible possibility. "Do you love me?"

In daylight, you would have sneered at his question and swept off in a swirl of silk skirts to resume your royal day. Now, with moonshine softening the need for sharp exteriors, you decide to humour his question. No one is around to use your words against you, at least. You feel your guard lift an inch.

"Love you?" you ponder, leaning back against your richly embroidered pillows. "...I think I would be...distressed, if you died. But love you- I don't even like you." You glance his way, contemplating. "Yet."

Aegon looks at you with doubtful lilac eyes. "So there's hope?"

"Don't be too optimistic."

His face, already miserable with the weight of alcohol and fractured familial relationships, turns slightly more sour. You're not foolish. Aegon's agonies don't have much to do with you. His mother, hell-bent on making him king, and his brother, hell-bent on undermining and embarrassing him at every opportunity are his chief worries. You've never seeked to hurt him politically. But you've always remained distant, watching him carefully like a narrow-eyed cat and hissing if he gets too close. There's only so much your pride can allow after being man-handled into a strategic marriage so roughly.

But right now, weak and addled as he is, you can afford some kindness.

"Don't look so down, Aegon," you say softly. "Perhaps I'm Dorne. Eternally un-won by Targaryens."

The gentleness works - Aegon unticks like a clam and lets words come pouring out.

"I keep thinking... really feeling as though you would prefer my brother Aemond over me. Or that he would like you, at the very least. And that grasping bastard, Jacaerys." A flash of anger splits Aegon's face. "I see how he moons over you across the dinner table. Like he'd like you lay you out on his dinner plate and take bites out your skin. Take what's mine. My wife, by law if not by her own will. Mine. My skin. My soft, soft skin. I should kill him. Cunt."

Weak, you think, watching his messy torrent of emotions. Your father would have flayed you living for such risky honesty in a world so tightly controlled by reputation. Always say less than necessary. Never trust anyone, ever.

As it is, you carefully file this new information away in your head. Aemond desiring you in a marriage seems in line with his ambitious nature - your family's legendary wealth would serve him well. You doubt he cares for you as a person.

And Jacaerys.... you've seen him ogling at you a couple of times when you're really dressed to the nines, but you doubt it's anything worth thinking about. Men have always watched you in that hungry way. You have genetics to thank for that, nothing more. It doesn't aid you, ultimately.

Aegon is still muttering away darkly. "I should kill him. Cut off his riding chains so he goes screaming into the sea the next time he mounts his dragon. I think that'll fix him-"

"Don't think," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You're not particularly excellent at it, from what I've heard. I heard you thought Sir Arryk was a particularly buxom woman from behind."

Aegon sniffs. "An engraved band in his hair. What was he prettying up for, the flagstones in the corridors? I don't fancy a preening peacock guarding me."

"See, Aegon, you're lying again. And it's unneeded and strange. You were only drunk and made a wine-swayed misjudgement," you say wearily. "And you don't think he's a peacock. You think you're a peacock. You've been matching your socks with your shoes since the day I knew you."

Aegon laughs, soft and bitter.

"If you know me so well, why do you pretend your dislike is only from distance? ...you hate me because you know me. You've always...always hated me."

In sulking speech, Aegon has slowly tipped in your direction, his head inches from yours. He's too drunk and too non-commital to rearrange himself. You allow his hair to touch your silk sleeve. Pink fabric, his ash white hair fanning across it.

Then, without even really thinking or caring, you sigh and pull him onto your chest to hold him there like a babe.

"I've already said, I don't hate you."

Aegon is too drunk to jab or pull back. He lays there. You run fingers through his hair, smoothening the scattered strands into place, sorting his thoughts into neat furrows. Sleepy tears spread a wet spot onto your robe. You allow it, even through fuzzled bafflement at such weakness. What does he want, to suck on your teat? He's older than you, yet you're centuries harder. Aegon - too soft a boy for his over-reaching mother - falls asleep in barely sated turmoil, on your chest like a barely grown child.

You allow it.

[cypressmoons]

wriothesley is observant.

some may attribute his attentiveness to the nature of his job, having to keep an eye on the antics of the prisoners to maintain the fortress’ order.

but if you ask him, he’ll only dismiss it as a habit, a necessity, something he barely thinks about but always finds himself doing anyway. whether it’s remembering the name of a prisoner’s daughter, or avoiding that one squeaky floorboard in the hallway outside the infirmary, he pays no mind to the how behind his knowledge, but rather the consequences of them.

perhaps it really is a habit from his job. but what he doesn’t acknowledge is that he only pays attention when he cares. he had personally escorted the prisoner in question to the fortress, his daughter too young to understand why her father is going away for a long time. despite the complete lack of sympathy towards the prisoner - he did that to himself, really, wriothesley feels a duty to ensure the small child still holds a fond image of her father, being escorted away by two nicely dressed men rather than by a horde of mechanical gardes. he cares for the child, her name a reminder to uphold the law and justice he swore his life to.

he remembers the creaky floorboard not to avoid the unpleasant sound, but rather because sigewinne once mentioned that the high pitched squeal of metal scratching against metal was especially harsh on her ears. he can’t say to the other people entering and leaving the infirmary, but for as long as the maintenance request paper remains buried under the mountain of other things needing fixing, he will make sure to avoid stepping on it, even if he is only one of a hundred people passing the infirmary that day.

and to you, oh how he cares for you.

he remembers the exact shade of your eyes when you met him by the fountain of luciene, specks of gold highlighting your pupils in the bright sunlight. he remembers the scent of your hair when he pulls you into an embrace for the first time, not quite flowery but so sweet that he can smell it in his dreams. he remembers the ring you wore on your left index finger when he held your hand, a thin silver band with a small moon-shaped crystal, gleaming under the sunlight that once illuminated every colour in your eyes.

you prefer the petits pains au chocolat over the mille feuilles because you love the slight bitterness of the dark chocolate on your tongue. your favourite beverage from café lucèrne is a latte with extra foam, and more than once he has kissed away the bubbles that cling to your lips after that first delightful sip. you dislike foods of different flavours touching each other in your plate, absolutely despise touching door handles and elevator buttons, and are especially fond of the colour sarcoline.

he savours the taste of your lips, between his own and tasting like honey; the feel of your hair sliding through his fingertips, silky and soft like the clearest spring water. he memorizes the shape of your skin against his palms, every little breath and hum, the contour of your body fitting so perfectly with his own.

he pays no extra attention to the whys, but somehow always ends up knowing exactly what you want without ever having to ask you. when he finally returns to the surface after days spent underwater, he always makes sure to grab some freshly baked pains au chocolat from the bakery, the butter seeping through and leaving oil blots on the brown paper bags. the new ribbon he buys for your hair is a soft ivory yellow, almost colour matched from the walls of your home and the fabric of your favourite dress.

and when he sees your smile that can brighten the entire underwater fortress and chase away the storm clouds, he knows he would spend a thousand lifetimes by your side until he memorizes each and every part of you.

© cypressmoons 2023, do not copy, steal, repost, or translate.

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[distant--shadow]

The witch and the widow chapters 1-4 author’s notes

Ok, so first off I feel I gotta preface this by saying I am absolutely not a history buff. Kinda the opposite of one really. I was one of less than 10% of the kids in my year of 300 or so that didn’t take history at GCSEs, mostly caus a subject taught and based around names and dates etc is the definition of something not suited for my type of brain, also I hugely lost interest in it caus we moved past the fun trebuchet eras and all that real fast and it became of slog of me falling asleep in lessons caus I had a teacher whose method was putting on movies and shutting the blinds (I’d always fall asleep and he was later jailed for being a p*edophile, so that’s a thing.) Anyway, all that to say I’m not good at this shit, but as ive gotten older I have taken a bigger interest in queer history in particular, and that often if not always links into other areas such as fashion, women’s rights, religion,the arts, class, and race etc. (I’m still not good at names and dates though!)

They are outfitted and arsenalled - the stones of the wall - in a manner to rival any army; tapestries of red and gold perhaps once brandished on battlefield as banners promenading around death now retired and indoor-still-air-still as taxidermy giving colour between all of the shades of metal, burnished and polished and in some cases rusting, some still purposefully left blood-stained, swords and pikes and maces arranged in wallpaper patterns as though flowers or fans, sword-sheath beams spreading from chest-plate armour suns.

Let’s start with something easy and recent. The Baron’s armoury was inspired by a few castles I’ve visited, these rooms are always so bizarre to me. I don’t know if this is at all of the time/how they were decorated or a more recent thing, but either way it’s pretty wild but I do love the visual and metaphor of it. In this one castle I found out from talking about the carpentry to an attendant that the decorative ceiling work around the chandelier above the dining room table actually hid a trapdoor - and there was other hidden doorways for passages and to secret rooms in this castle, that’s not that unusual - but this particular trapdoor was to allow for the chandeliers to be switched out. Why? Caus they had them in multiple colours of glass, and the lady of the castle liked the chandelier to co-ordinate with her dress if they were having guests round. Aint that such a flex? Definitely some food for future thought.

Aight. Clothing. So anyone that chats fic/au to me or is in my server has probably heard me yell to go watch Kaz Rowe’s videos many times. As I’ve said this fic aint meant to be historically accurate but it does kinda straddle histories, one of which being our own; so women wearing trousers and the like at this time would still be a crime, and draw a lot of attention . Imogen in men’s clothing genuinely isn’t meant to be much of a gender thing but a thing of practicality, and she has mostly lived in the countryside or in the outskirts, so she does not get into the trouble she would should she go into the towns and cities (another reason to keep away past the potential noise, but this Imogen will happily don a dress or skirts if she needs to, she’s just usually working – and maybe it’s a bonus that dressing as a man acts as a sort of flagging for any women who might be interested lol.)

I guess here I should mention how I think this version of Imogen's powers and how they’ve manifested (along with everyone else being unaware of them) will have somewhat changed her disposition and personality, it is a lot more aligned with later campaign Imogen who has more confidence and empowerment, she hasn’t been ostracised for her abilities or particularly bombarded by them, think more like when she has her circlet on, she chooses to listen in (mostly), although of course she has still heard many terrible things (and her life has still been pretty brutal but that’s to be written still).

(it’ll be really fun in this regard getting to explore and explain this version of Laudna, but early days for giving much away on that yet!)

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

A little note as to say that Laudna’s appearance is heavily influenced by Victorian mourning wear, with some of the clothes cuts altered to be a little bit more regency and earlier in places. (her  attire is a little outdated, further suggesting her distancing from society and fashion)

A couple of days ago Imogen happened upon a bird with an injured wing, crying helplessly and rolling in circles, feathers taking flight away from the bird that could not, settling around it as it panicked itself bald-

The bird could not live without the use of its wing, and it didn’t, whether that was by Prosciutto or a fox, only its feathers were left in a pile.

Imogen had gathered them into an empty burlap sack; taken them to one of the maids downstairs to clean, repurpose them for filling pillows.

Here’s a silly little easter egg for my p(r)oof reader. Last time he visited we was enjoying a cinnamon roll from the local bakery by the city river (as you do) and a cyclist hit a seagull. It was real distressing, the seagull was distressed too. A handfull of middle aged women stood around it not wanting or knowing how to intervene as its wing was twisted at a crazy angle and it flapped about in a pile of its own feathers, there’s still bird flu about so it is wise to not touch wild birds, and as bleak as it is I was saying to freshy that a wild bird who’s wings broken like that is gonna die, and probably slowly and painfully. Some man came along and lifted up the bird to take the bird off the path and laid it to rest behind an old bridge building, I think he must have mercy killed it too as the bird was already dead when we walked past 10 or so minutes later after finishing our cinnamon roll and giving a cautious glance. So there’s a nice happy memory thrown in there for him.

what appears to be driftwood breaches the surface, then another point, then another

the water belches

Ceviche scares, whinnying as he rears onto his back legs, the Lady leaning forward and clinging to his harness. Imogen stands in her stirrups, leaning across the gap over to the black stallion, grasping his reins and cooing

“All good, boy, all good-”

What had appeared to be driftwood lands on the surface with a slap, looking like the carcass of an old boat left to rot in the muddy bed of a dock, timber ribcaged and leathered skin cladding.

A femur surfaces, followed by a jaw.

Second easter egg for the p(r)oof is a quick one (I’m such a considerate writer, I know.) On a train ride to a loch we went to for a day out there is a stop that is on another lake/body of water, and right by the train tracks (which are at water height) there are 4 or 5 old ships stuck in the mud, most of them just the frames/structures of the old boats, mostly wood and some bits of metal, but they’re pretty big boats! It really looks like whale carcasses. I’ve always wanted to get of there and check it out, and we were gonna stop by on the way back but my health being what it is was giving me some grief that day so we missed 2 trains and then soon the daylight, so hopefully next time buddy.

There’s alotta meat and gore talk and Imogen being a vegetarian without the label for such is just another way of me playing round with all of her complex feelings about what the Lady might be doing, her feelings towards Angharad butchering and nourishing the women with these communal stews and all of that. I’ve been vegetarian myself for 20 years now, and it was all triggered by an existential crisis in my mid teens (still a huge fan of leather and blood though) – Imogen greatly cares about animals, struggles with the thought of anything being slaughtered, she is in some ways more empathetic than most because she knows those she does on so much more of a personal level, really feels how someone is reacting to a situation they are in, but also because of this she knows humans are often corrupt and vile and she is spared such thoughts from animals, only knows their instincts and the love and comfort and service they bring – and yet she will obsess over the Lady’s (potential) tooling on that saddlework leather that’s really fucking brutal if she thinks about it one way and beautiful if she thinks about it another hmmm what if everything’s not black and white.

Oh, and the stew is a homage to @picturesofthegoneworlds’ pre-campaign fic Intertwined which I am lucky enough to co-parent and her writing is hugely influential on mine.

There’s a few things being bread crumb trailed here that I can’t explain in the author notes yet, but I’m looking forward to when I can. One small detail I will give away is just a silly thing about the chapter headings. They are something of significance from within the chapter, given in its ‘proper’ name – maybe someone gets access to some books to do research at some point?

anyways, thanks @astoriacolumnstaircase for enabling me. will do another post like this for future chapters if folks find it interesting.

[suzukiblu]

More Kara and Kal "two-for-one special" kids for the Kents, this time for @qwertynerd97 and @kamkong.

Ma and Pa help Kara pick out clothes for herself and Kal, and a strange child-sized seat with straps and fasteners on it, and something she thinks is a crib, and more little toys that she has to not cry over, and then a pretty bracelet made of colored glass beads all in all the shades of a prism. Kara isn't sure what it's for–she still hasn't figured out where the aliens wear their house signifiers–but Ma puts it on her, so she chocks up another point towards jewelry having more signifiers than clothing on this planet. 

It's pretty, so even though she doesn't know what it means, she doesn't mind wearing it. And–she thinks she can trust Ma and Pa. Or hopes she can, anyway. So letting them pick signifiers for her is something she thinks she can do. 

They don't pick out any jewelry for Kal, but she supposes he is a little young to wear it. And maybe the aliens don't bother with house signifiers for children anyway. She's seen a few more people with various styles of rings and necklaces and bracelets in the settlement so far, but mostly just adults and teenagers; not too many children. 

She does glimpse a girl(?) on the sidewalk with shiny pink and gold beads in her hair, but no one else seems to be wearing that particular style. Maybe she's not from around here either, Kara thinks. That might be what beads mean in general. 

The girl's are pretty too, either way. 

Ma pays the shop clerk with what Kara thinks might actually be paper money, of all things, and gets a small handful of metal tokens back. Pa straps the little chair into the back of his and Ma's transport, and Kara realizes it must be a safety seat of some kind for Kal, and her heart hurts as Ma shows her how to buckle him into it. 

They really don't need to be this kind, but she doesn't know how to tell them that.

Ma and Pa take them to another, bigger store, and Ma takes a metal cart from a stall, directs Kara to put Kal inside it, and then leads them to an aisle with a section of packages covered in pictures of alien infants. It takes Kara a moment to figure it out, but it looks like boxes of diapers and very small containers of baby food and cans of . . . some kind of nutritional powders, maybe? Kal is uninterested and only cares about his soft little dog, but Kara is relieved. She needs to be able to care for him, so she needs these things. If Ma and Pa are willing to help her get them . . . 

Well, she really doesn't know how she'll be able to pay that back, but she'll do her best to. 

Ma fills the metal cart with several different packages, and Pa walks off again. Kara tries not to worry about it and pays very close attention to the packages Ma is carefully picking out. She seems to know what she's doing, and if nothing else seems to be able to read the labels, which Kara herself definitely can't and Kal definitely can't–he can't even read Kryptonian yet. 

He'll maybe never be able to read Kryptonian, she realizes distantly. 

He'll . . . 

Ma picks up a sturdy-looking little drinking cup made of an odd, clear material that looks a bit like glass but definitely isn't. There's a lid with a small spout on it, and a handle on either side. It has funny little shapes stamped on it in bright colors. Ma makes sure Kal can hold the handles, then puts the cup and a couple more like it in the cart with him. 

Kal chirps in bright approval and pats at the cups, then returns his attention to petting and cuddling the soft dog in his arms, purring happily to himself. Kara croons back to him in acknowledgment. Ma looks briefly puzzled, for some reason, but goes back to carefully picking out packages of little cloths. 

Pa comes back with a cart of his own stocked with cans and jars and packages of food, and Ma says something approving-sounding to him and then points towards the other side of the store. He says something back with a nod, then heads off again. It still makes Kara nervous when he leaves, but it's . . . it's fine, she tells herself. Pa keeps coming back. So it's fine. 

She still isn't sure when Kal is going to start missing Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor. He's an independent baby, and usually confident in new situations, but he's still a baby. And they're still his parents. And . . . and . . . 

She wants hers so badly, but she's the one who knows they'll never be seeing their family again. 

Kal . . . doesn't know that yet. 

It might be a long, long time before Kal knows that. 

She can't decide what's worse; the idea of him crying and crying for them, or the idea of him finally deciding that they've abandoned him and then not crying for them ever again. 

Kal’s still just a baby, after all. He won't understand why Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor won't come when he cries for them. Won't understand why they'd leave him. Won't understand . . . 

He won't even remember them. Or her parents, or Krypto, or even Krypton itself. He won't remember a single thing about any of it or any of them or . . . or . . . 

Kara swallows. Steels herself. 

Doesn't cry. 

Ma puts a few more packages in the cart. Kal baps his dog against them, then hugs it again. 

"Is that Krypto's puppy, Kal?" Kara asks him as lightly as she can, trying to sound anything less than brokenhearted, and Ma glances over at her. She looks concerned, but maybe Kara's reading her wrong. The people of this planet all seem to be unusually expressive, but that doesn't mean their expressions mean the same things that Kryptonian ones do. 

Kal squeals happily and hugs his dog again, burying his face against its soft synthetic fur for a moment before beaming up at Kara. She shouldn't have mentioned Krypto to him, maybe–shouldn't have reminded him of him–but . . . 

Well. She's going to make worse mistakes than that, she knows. She has to take care of him now. Has to make sure he's safe above all else, and then as healthy and happy as she can make him. Has to do right by him, and not let down their family. 

She's here to take care of him. Here to protect him. Here to make sure he grows up and lives a good life and–and just lives. 

No matter what. 

Kal trills for attention, and Ma looks down at him curiously. She says something. The aliens' voices have an odd flatness to them, compared to the rich resonance of Kryptonian voices, but Ma and Pa both still just sound so kind. 

Kara doesn't understand why they're being so kind. 

They really don't have to be so kind. 

Pa comes back again, a few more little boxes and bottles in his cart. Kara doesn't know what any of them are, though they don't look like food this time. The decorations on the boxes are mostly abstract and aren't proving helpful. 

Ma says something to her and pats her arm. Kara tries to smile at her. She and Pa are being very kind, so Kara should smile at her. 

It's just . . . getting harder and harder to smile. 

If she weren't making herself do it now, though, she'd never do it again. 

Maybe she wouldn't ever do it again, if she were a better daughter. A better Kryptonian. But Kal should see her smiling, if nothing else, so–so. 

So she's smiling. 

They're refugees from an apocalypse, from a world-ending tragedy, from a kind of grief that only the tiniest, tiniest fraction of people could ever feel, and Kal won't even remember what they've lost. 

So yes. He should see her smiling. 

Ma and Pa pay with paper money again, and the shop clerk talks to them. They respond with pleasant smiles to–her? Kara thinks the clerk is a woman. So was the clerk at the first store, come to think, so she wonders if that's a coincidence or just the cultural standard on this planet. Or if she's just still confused about this species' sexual characteristics, maybe. 

For all she knows their species has dozens of sexes and genders and she's just oblivious to whatever way they display or communicate them, of course. Krypton is–was–very insular and isolated, and its people almost never traveled or traded or even communicated between planets, so she doesn't know much about aliens. 

More of Krypton probably would've survived, if they'd ever done that. 

The clerk says something to her. She attempts to smile again. Ma and Pa redirect the woman and Kara is very, very grateful to not have to try and figure out how to communicate with her right now.

[themisimagines]

labyrinth

content: you and vyn attend a birthday party hosted in his honour but end up doing something rather more fun in a garden labyrinth. wink wink nudge nudge. again inspired by anna karenina (2012) film but also labyrinth (1986). maybe a companion to 'i could sleep inside the cold of you'. some spoilers for episode 10. total porn without plot. characters: vyn x fem!reader warnings: public sex, hunter-prey relationship, breeding kink, minor knife play

On your second last day in Svart, Vyn's father hosts a birthday party for Vyn – all to keep up appearances, of course. His father isn't present, and Vyn dislikes half, if not most of the people there. You've made your way through most of the evening by his side, and finally things have begun to wind down, the guests suitably drunk and starting to do unspeakable things, sure to forget everything by tomorrow. Vyn has told you to keep close – he doesn't trust half the people here, and your kidnap by his uncle is still fresh in the forefront of his mind.

Then the next moment, you find yourself wandering the grounds of a large garden maze, heart beating out of your chest as you run as fast as you can, trying to get to the heart of the labyrinth before you get caught. Every single twitch of the leaves and hedges beside you makes you jump. You've dropped pieces of clothing slowly to make a trail, so you don't get lost. Thank goodness they dressed you like an iced cake – layers upon layers of silk, lace, underskirt, petticoats, gloves, ornaments, brocade, outer layers, inner layers, not to mention the hoops used to prop up the voluminous skirts.

Just as you shed one of your outer layers, exposing your bare skin to the chill night air, a low whistle sounds behind you. Without looking, you decide to run, going further and further into the maze, not caring if you get lost now. But just as you see you've hit a dead end, you turn around, but Vyn is there, blocking the entrance.

Vyn stands in front of you, slowly approaching and twirling a decorative blade between his fingers. Even though you know he would never hurt you, there is a tantalising whisper of fear running up your spine, which is deliciously arousing.

'I found you,' he sing songs softly. In the moonlight, his eyes glint as he gets closer, the most delicious shade of honey gold. You love seeing him like this, like a cat who has gotten the cream, a mischievous boy reliving the childhood he never really got to have.

You consider making a dash for it, but he closes the distance and grips your wrists over your head tightly, breath skimming against your ear and neck as he whispers, 'Don't even try... I've hunted down my prey and I intend on enjoying every single moment...'

He turns you around and secures your wrists to a branch with his abandoned bowtie, manoeuvring expertly around your hooped skirts to run his hands up your bodice and corset, slicing open the corset ribbons and stripping your layers back. Standing there, unable to move, you feel especially vulnerable, feeling the cool metal of the blade just barely grazing your skin. Under his careful unwrapping, you are soon completely naked, bared to the moonlight.

'What a marvellous birthday present,' he whispers against your skin, pressing soft kisses throughout your back. 'Thank you.'

You can hear other people have entered the maze, laughing drunkenly from some distance away. Vyn sees you notice them, and chuckles in a low voice. 'You didn't manage to find the heart of the maze so you're all mine. If I choose to let anyone else watch me fuck you, then you can't do anything about it.'

'Pretty words,' you retort, squirming at the feeling of his gloved hands running over your body, squeezing at your tits, ghosting over your thighs, flicking at your clit. 'I bet if anyone actually dared to come over, you would have their head cut off or something.'

He growls at the thought and bites down hard on your neck, definitely leaving a bruise there. 'You're not wrong.'

Vyn pulls away and you whine at the lack of contact, turning around to see what he's up to, but without any warning, he lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance and thrusts up into you, making you cry out in surprise.

The pace he's taking is breathless, cock sliding out fully before slamming into you, setting a desperate pace like he's trying to punish you, forcing small cries from your throat. You are pressed up tightly against the hedge, pain mingling with pleasure, twigs and branches scratching at your delicate skin, feeling like a thousand hands clawing at you, which somehow is a huge turn on.

'That's it,' Vyn purrs. 'Make those beautiful noises for me, darling. I want everyone to hear you.'

You try to bite your tongue just to defy him, but then he grabs your breasts in each hand, forcing you against him and bending your back impossibly as he fucks you fast and hard. Your nipples are in his clever fingers, and he is playing with them in the way that makes you want to scream, because it feels too good, and you are terribly overstimulated from everything. You squirm relentlessly on his cock and you hear him pant shallowly, quietly whispering about how wonderful you are over and over again under his breath, hips thrusting into you endlessly.

You're not content with letting him have his way completely, so you turn your head around to look at his face, which is dark with desire, completely focused on every single sensation as if he's a beast and you're his prey.

'Is that all you've got?' You challenge him.

Upon hearing that, he growls and stops to untie your hands, looking to punish you even further, but the moment you are free you tackle him onto the ground, knocking all the air out of his lungs and mounting him. His face is surprised, but he doesn't resist, and this time it's your turn to pin his arms above his head with his own bowtie as he watches you hungrily, not resisting although you know he could easily break free of your sloppy knots, wanting to see what you do next. It's a strange sight – you are completely nude, having been stripped so thoroughly by Vyn earlier, but he is almost fully clothed. It almost makes you feel like a wild woman who has hunted down her prey and is ready to enjoy the spoils.

You slide down onto his cock, relishing the feeling of fucking outdoors – being fucked from behind always feels so animalistic, but being on top tonight drives you wild, and you lift yourself off his cock and plunge back down, watching Vyn bite his lip and watch you move up and down, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your thighs burning with exertion. 'Nghh-' you moan, feeling him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. 'I love watching you like this,' you tease him breathlessly. 'Helpless beneath me, completely at my mercy...' You grind your hips in a circular motion, drawing your lovemaking out.

There are more voices approaching, they seem to be getting closer, but you're quite sure that they aren't about to find you anytime soon. Cries of pleasure ring out from other corners of the maze, other lovers having found secret spots to release their desires. You see Vyn's eyes glint as you tease him, a smile on the corner of his lips, rising to the challenge. He shifts his feet upwards, thighs grazing your buttocks, and you are just about to ask him what kind of tricks he's trying when his hips thrust upwards, sending you bouncing upwards, and seeing stars from how deeply his cock is buried inside you.

'I can hardly let my prey get away with everything,' Vyn bites down, cock ramming into you, leaving you breathless and begging him to slow down.

'Ah - Vyn - Ah - ah - mmmh!' You cry out, as he drives faster and faster, not letting you gather yourself for a single moment, thrusting so hard that you lose your balance and are pressed against him, hands scrabbling for purchase in the soil as he just uses you mercilessly, chasing his own release while pushing you closer and closer off the edge. 'Ready to scream for our audience?' He chuckles in a low voice. A pair of voices comes so close that you swear they are about to turn the corner, and the thought of getting caught is so deliciously tantalising that Vyn just has to thrust a few more times before you come undone around his cock, trying to stifle your cries in his neck, clenching and throbbing so hard that you see flashes at the side of your vision.

Vyn speeds up for his last few thrusts, and he whispers how good you are, how amazing your cunt feels around his cock, about how much he loves you, and surely you have another one in there for him, he wants to feel you come again. He has freed his own hands and one now snakes down to your clit, the other tearing your hand away from your mouth - 'Don't you dare hold back, I want everyone to hear that you're mine.' He rubs your clit as his cock grows and throbs inside your cunt and that pushes you over the edge again, crying out in earnest this time - 'Fuck yes, Vyn - oh!' and Vyn cums with a guttural groan, growling deeply and squeezing his eyes in pleasure.

The voices trail off, giggling to themselves. There is no way that they didn't hear their lovemaking, but also the hedges are so thick that they couldn't possibly have seen who it was. You collapse onto Vyn, and he embraces you in his arms, both of you panting heavily. He gives you his jacket, and drags over the remains of your dress to keep you warm. 'It would be a shame if you caught a cold,' he says. 'I would feel rather responsible.' You giggle against his chest, buried in layers of silk and tulle. You both look up at the sky, watching the stars and feeling so lucky to be in love.

[sohnric]

[TEASER] partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. acquaintances to lovers. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: for the teaser :: 1k || for the full fic :: approx. 32k

warnings: for the teaser :: existential dread, a fake gun, robbery || for the full fic :: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), more to be added as i edit lmao

SEND AN ASK/COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST! Posting when the editing is done and my beta reader gives me the approval and validation <3 (end of may??)

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

[musekicker]

Ended up writing this because I couldn't sleep. Set in the Bill wins scenario au. And honestly, more written to try to iron out a look for decorated by Bill, Ford.

Ford's coat had been taken. Perhaps taken wasn't the correct word. More like snapped out of existence. Ford was sad to see it go. It had been a part of his wardrobe for so long. It felt weird to not have it. But Bill taking away something that was a part of Ford's "old" life was not a unusual thing for him to do. What was different was that somehow Bill had gotten it in his mind that Ford needed a new look.

His new clothes were in the shades of gold and black. Black pants, satin like material with embedded gold colored, metal shapes decorating the cuffs of the legs. A gold fabric sash around his waist. His shirt was a gold, sheer fabric. It was so light that it didn't even feel like it was there.

Instead of his boots he wore gold sandals, straps crossing over each other, a bit a past the ankles.

Jewelry took on the form of one earring on his right ear, a small curtain of tiny, gold triangles. The tag to his collar did have yet another presence of a triangle. Though with a difference. The triangle with formed out of bright blue jewels in the center of a gold, six fingered hand symbol.

The final thing that Bill had done was the presence of the markings. Ford would call them tattoos as they did not smear or rub off. But there was certainly no ink involved in the process. Just a finger snap and there were there.

The markings were all a bright blue color. In the same shade of blue that Bill's power sometimes took on.

Back of his neck and on both arms were lines one small triangles facing vertically. On the back of his hands were a single eye marking on each hand, the irises of the eyes bright gold. A bulk of the markings were located on his chest. A large triangle shape with a slew of eyes and tiny, tiny writing that from far away looked like mere squiggles According to Bill the writing simply said "If found, return to Bill Cipher.". A fail safe of sorts if Ford did manage to get out.

It made Ford feel like the pet that Bill was claiming him to be. Speaking of Bill, the triangle was still there, admiring his work.

"Oh look at you" Bill cooed. "You look perfect."

Ford scowled, not looking Bill in the eye.

He did not like how much he was exposed. Not to a lurid degree. But his scarred hands and chest were a part of himself he did not enjoy showing off. Bill did not mind though. Ford had never thought Bill to be someone to leer before. Yet here they were.

"But really. You're perfect." Bill said.

Bill took one of Ford's hands, and the fingers of Bill's right hand laced between some of Ford's fingers. A almost soft gesture. And it was for someone like Bill.

It brought up a memory of when he was much younger. The time he tried to hold someones hand. It had been part of a plan Stan had to help Ford get a date. Take the girls hand, offer a smooth line. It would work he promised.

Instead the girl had winced at the touch of his hand, staring at his fingers. These days Ford understood that her reaction most likely was more to the fact that he had made a unwanted move and not as much his fingers. But then.. he also couldn't help but feel like his fingers had been a part of the equation.

Bill had no such problems. No wincing at the sixth finger. As much as Bill would poke fun at the existence of Ford's six fingers on each hand, it was hardly the weirdest thing that Bill had seen. Not just in his experiences but in himself.

Ford was tempted to let Bill keep holding his hand. Then the disgust at both Bill and himself hit and he pulled his hand away. Ford could feel his face grow hot. Bill was smug, not missing the signs of embarrassment.

"You know, the offer to be equals still stands. No more chains, no more being locked up." Bill said. "You could even have your own little patch of land to rule over. Do whatever you want with it. Oh! You like that weird game with the dice and math right? You could play a game of it where your rolls and decisions affect actual people. Gives a little more interest to the game I think. Even I would give that game a try then." Bill said.

Ford was shocked that Bill had even remembered anything Ford had liked hobby wise. What wasn't surprise that Bill would find a way to twist it to be something that could be horrific and hurt people.

"I will tell you again Cipher. No." Ford said.

Bill seemed to scowl, even without a mouth. In the next moment the same hand that had been holding Ford's hand was gripping Ford's chin.Bill's grip was painful. For a moment Ford wondered if Bill was trying to break his jaw. It would not be the first time Bill had broken something, only to heal it when he had enough of the screaming that would follow. This time though that was not the case. Bill sensed that Ford's jaw would not hold up to this kind of pressure and his grip grew a bit less severe.

"I'll have your heart, Stanford Pines."

Ford expected something like Bill shoving his hand into his chest and pulling his heart out. In fact he braced himself for it. He would not know what Bill had planned to do in that moment as Bill's attention seemed to be elsewhere all of a sudden. As if he sensed something amiss.

"I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere."

With a snap of his fingers, Bill was gone. Ford looked to the mirror he was still standing in front of. He stared at his reflection for a good while. Not at all feeling good about his look.

The line of triangle markings on Ford's left arm suddenly had a single eye in the middle of each one. A feature that had not been there a second ago. The markings blinked, or they winked. Ford couldn't help but think that winking was what they were doing.

In the span of time that the markings winked, the eyes disappeared. A sign to Ford that Bill was always watching him.

Always.

[datapacks]

Hey! I really adore the way you draw textures, as they usually fit with the vanilla art style flawlessly, and wanted to ask for advice. I want to make addons/mods, and maybe a full texture pack someday, but my textures always end up looking kind of flat, lack depth, and look weird when next to vanilla stuff.

Thank you so much :3 as far as advice, I'm afraid I've been doing pixel art for ~15 years now so unfortunately a lot of it is just experience... I do have some tips though! but I am in no place to do a full tutorial at the moment.

Prerequisite: Use paint dot net. It's super beginner friendly, since it's based off of Paint, and it's what has been used for Minecraft textures since the very beginning.

First off, you want to have a block-out palette! For me, it's these 5 colours here:

From here, you'll want to go darkest to lightest; use the darkest tone to outline, then fill in with the 4th tone. Eventually, you'll want to make it so that there are 2-3 outline tones, from darkest to lightest, in accordance to however you're shading. Anything overlapping with the main shape should not use the darkest two tones!

Then you'll want to hit the bright spots not with your mid-tone or your highlight, but with your second lightest tone! This way, you leave room to highlight And shade your highlights. You've effectively made 5 different palettes to use to shade different parts (1-2, 1-2-3, 2-3-4, 3-4-5, 4-5). Whenever you feel like you're ready, switch out this palette for something more in line with what you're doing- depending on what material you're going for, this can happen super early on or way late. Whenever I do something Metallic, I like to switch to a gold palette as soon as possible.

Another thing to keep in mind is minecraft's palette limitations! Generally speaking, try to keep textures to 5-9 colours, filling in between as needed. If you use more base colours, feel free to expand, but do not go over 15 if you can help it. A good rule of thumb for adding additional colours is that you should try to limit them to 3 tones.

When choosing a palette, there's no problem with going with any pre-existing item's colours! In fact, this can be super helpful even when you want to use your own colours, just as a reference.

When you do want to make your own palette, my advice is to choose a strong colour, any hue, saturation in the 60-80 range, value in the 70-90 range. To get strong shading in your palette, drop the value by ~5, increase the saturation by ~5, and shift the hue towards blue by ~5. Do this each time from your base colour. Go in the opposite direction to Increase the perceived brightness. Here, I started with the 5th tone.

Obviously, you can tweak these to your liking; your outline colours should end up a lot darker than this generally speaking, and you might want to ramp all the way up to white for your highlights. You'll also generally want your outline colour to end up with like, max 30 Value & at Full Saturation, with your highlight colour at 100 Value & ~50 saturation if you aren't going for Full White. Lets see what that might look like after changing the most extreme values & then blending accordingly.

At the end of the day, my biggest tips are 1) to look at references constantly in both minecraft's existing sprites and other people's sprites! Take what you like, improve on it where you think it could use improvements. & 2) always zoom out! Even if a texture is perfect, if you've been staring at it too long so up close, it's going to feel weird. Minecraft's most common GUI scale is 2x, so scale the image on your screen somewhere where each pixel is exactly 2x2 and you'll get a good feel for how it'll actually look in-game.

One last tip on a more advanced level: if you're using multiple different base colours, always shift to grayscale very often. Your tones should look indistinguishable in grayscale so that you know that the shapes themselves are strong enough to warrant the multiple colours. This is also very good for accessibility!

[shycroissanti]

How do you do your coloring, if you dont mind me asking? Im still learning a lot abt art at the moment

I love asks like this, I just don't know how to answer them properly... I apologize in advance if what I write doesn't make much sense (*´∀｀*) *shy croissant noises*

Well, I'll start with the most basic, I really like to color my characters with several neutral colors and then add 1 or 2 more vibrant colors :3

Here I made a small demonstration of when I color Takahiro✨️

1. Lineart

2. Base colors (I put them as contrast because blue and yellow are the two vibrant colors that draw the most attention)

3. Shadows (I make the shadows either with a very dark shade of red/brown, or dark blue/purple)

4. Then I modify the layer and leave it in "Linear Burn" at 40% opacity

5. Highlights (I usually choose lighter shades of each color)

6. I modify the layer to "Color Dodge" at 80% opacity

7. Now for the gold, I always use these same colors.

8. This part is a bit messier, but it's like this. With the darker tones, I use a layer of "Color Dodge" and "Color Burn" and change the opacity to the one that fits best. For the other two lighter tones, I use layers of "Add", also varying the opacity to see which one looks best.

(One day I'll do a better tutorial on painting metals (T▽T))

9. Some small sparkles and that's it! :D

I hope this is useful and I'm sorry if it's too bad (*ﾉ▽ﾉ*)

[sanctus-ingenium]

I was wondering how achieve such a wonderful textured finish on your pieces? They are wonderful and I love their resemblance to aged photographs and the speckles of colors in the backgrounds. Your art is mesmerizing :)

you can see some of the texture brush sets i use in my #info_asks tag but i have some more (procreate) tips aside from just brushes

also hi i made this whole thing and then stupidly hit ctrl z to erase ONE word and i lost the entire bottom half of the post and all my image descriptions so fuck you tumblr i had to make this twice

to get a faded photo or old digital screen look, consider duplicating the canvas (once all the layers are merged) and using a gaussian blur tool on the new duplicated layer. then set that to low opacity to add a misty sort of look. looks nice in combination with some chromatic abberation and a small bloom effect. then a subtle noise filter on top:

for faded print effects, it's really worthwhile to learn how to use layer masks. you can use a layer mask to non-destructively 'weather' blocks of colour or lineart, without erasing the layer itself. the weathered ink/block print effect here was made using layer masks which means that if i just hide the mask, the lineart becomes solid black again and easy to alter or colour in:

for old paper effects you can just set a paper texture on multiply over the art sure, but you can also combine it with the blur & bloom thing, a really subtle drop shadow and canvas tilt, and highlights to make it look like an aged photograph of a card. this originally had a transparent bg but i'll post it here with a white bg so that the drop shadow is more obvious. the scuffed edges of the card (left) were hand drawn, simple white stucco brush. the bigger patch of scuffed ink (top right) was a texture stamp.

for block print looks you can move the colour layer out of alignment by a few pixels - but only after you're absolutely sure you're done with it, otherwise you'll get something like this -

i forgot to erase out her eye before i moved the red layer so now her eye defeats the 'look' of a misaligned print. the black lineart and red layer were also given the same layer mask treatment as described above to make them look faded or like the ink didn't stick down right to the paper

you can do this with multiple colour layers too. if the colour layers are separated and set to multiply (as in this cmyk example), it'll leave halos and edges around each shape which mimic old comic book print

just to show what you can do WITHOUT any special brushes, here's a piece of one of my mez tarot cards from before i got any extra brushsets at all. for this one, i added a green tint over everything to mimic a sun-bleached or faded print (my actual goal wasn't 'medieval illustration' but actually 'trading card from the 60s that got left on someone's windowsill for decades'). the background texture is the procreate noise brush. the texture under the green lion drawing is the procreate concrete brush (to make it look painted onto a wall). the lettering and lineart is procreate's 6B pencil. but to properly aim for The Look of it being a printed physical object, i also used a perspective blur so that the edges are out of focus, and metallic gold highlights which don't match the lighting of the actual illustration and appear to be catching some other external light. that texture was made from the procreate noise brush

it's pretty simple compared to my later stuff but i still really like the effect

in terms of colours, you need to keep them unified so that they all appear to be acting under the same external light source, like if someone is holding up a torch to a painting then the painting colours will be glazed with firelight even if there's no painted fire. a really easy way to do this is to slap a multiply layer over everything in one shade - grey-yellow for a weathered paper look, or greenish blue for sunbleached photos. this unifies all the colours of the drawing. or you can apply a gradient map at a low opacity so that there's only a subtle change. or just do it by hand - if you want everything to be slightly tinted yellow, just pick the colours you normally would, but move the colour wheel towards yellow to get a yellowfied version of the base colour. easy

it's really important to consider how fading and weathering can affect printed colour. white paper yellows, black fades. you will rarely see pure black or pure white. which means you can use pure black or pure white to add external effects like the white scuff marks on the hierophant card. if the whole drawing is yellowed from age but there's some white somewhere, it's an easy shorthand to show that the scuff mark or whatever was not originally part of the drawing (great way to add some nasty stains lol)

[thefandomdirtymind]

Sanji x reader where shes a bit of a spoiled girl with high standards, who was raised by a group of pirates who couldn’t have children of their own. When they retire, they encourage reader to go out on her own and she meets the straw hats and joins them because of her talent for stealing without getting caught. When Sanji joins the crew, he forms a crush on reader and does everything he can to impress her from his cooking to flowers to small gifts, but reader isn’t impressed one bit because her family always went big and made sure she never settled for the small things.

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi anon ! Thank you for your request ! You seem to have a precise idea so I hope you will accept the little modification I did. It at first start very well and then I get sick and to be fair I had kind of a hard time with the end. But I hope you will like it .

His High Standard Princess

OPLA - Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

If we were asking your adoptive fathers and their crew of fearsome pirates, they would call you their little miracle. Lost in the sea, booping on the wave like a message in a bottle, they had found you, infant in your little basket, crying with all the force of your small lungs. Not so far, they also found the rest of the wreckage of what seemed like two ships. They never had truly searched for what happened. Accidents weren't uncommon on the East blue, it suffice of an abordage going wrong, waking a sea monster of his nap or a storm to finish your life with the fishes.  

The pirate ship wasn’t, of course, the best place for raising a child, but they both did their best, searching at each port they made a halt, to ask mothers about tricks and parental advice. Soon, you become a brave, smart and skilled woman, returning to your fathers their love, with the interest that you have grown to be one of the best thieves the world has ever seen. And it was a good thing that you were as quiet as a mouse on your feet, because being the little princess of a group of pirates meant they had cherished you and covered you in gold, giving you a strong appetite for the precious metal and some pretty high standard. Or, like your adoptive fathers always said, you knew your worth and didn’t settle for less. 

That’s why you knew, when you saw the golden pendant in his bed of velvet, that you had to steal it, because you deserved it. It didn’t take you more than fifteen minutes, in broad daylight, for it to be your. Of course, you already had multiple necklaces, even one that looked like this one, but the truth was that you were bored and the stone in the center had your favorite shade of blue.

The action in your life was in a dangerous decline since your adoptive parent had decided to retire. You could understand, their life had been rough, with all the battles, storms and adventures. They deserve their peaceful life and as much as they encourage you to abandon them and go explore the world, you couldn’t bring in you the force to let them. But as you walk for the fifth time that road sinding the village in two, you can't help yourself to wonder what you could see and steal if you leave to live your own adventure.

You were taking a little snack, previously the propriety of the mayor's daughter, when you heard words you hadn't heard outside of your own house for a long time.  

“ Nami, how far do you think we are from the Grand Line ? “  A young man wearing a straw hat, but nothing apparently valuable, said, passing in front of you. 

The grand line, the place where most of your children's fairy tales took place. Every member of the crew had told you stories about rumors of incredible treasure, sea monsters covered in gold, dangerous pirates and of course, the legendary One Piece. Child, all those stories had made you head spin, making you beg your fathers to bring you there. Now adults, you understand that it was way too dangerous with you on board. And, without a great crew ready to take you in, you hadn’t no way to leave this small village. That's why you had tried to forget as much as possible the idea of all the richesses and the mysterious treasure. Until now.

Turning on your heels, throwing your/not your half eaten sandwich in a trash can, you followed the small group from a safe distance, admiring their chemistry. As you try, as much as you can, to stay silent and learn what they know about your dream destination. Soon,you couldn’t help yourself, quietly approaching their group more and more at each change of direction. As much as you love your adoptive parents and guilt would hunt you down, you couldn’t deny that the quiet life was slowly killing you, and, if that was your exit ticket sent by fate, you will not step back. 

Taking another turn, now just behind them, you suddenly stop on your track as the orange haired girl spoke. 

“ I don’t know why you follow us, but I wouldn't try to rob us if I were you “

“ Nami, who do you talk to ? “ The young man asked, confused as he looked around him. 

“ That girl followed us for a while now, she isn’t a marine, neither a welcome committee and as her bag can assure you she’s a thief. And a good one, I didn’t hear her until a few streets away and it was because of a puddle. “ She said, facing you. Her expression wasn’t really friendly, and,as much as you were yourself embarrassed and hurt that she had unveiled you, you put your hands in fist and brave yourself. After all, you did nothing wrong. For once.

“ I didn’t want to rob you, I heard you talk about the Grand Line and I was curious,that's all. It’s my dream to discover its treasure. Did you really head there ?” You asked, your hope coloring your word. 

“ Yes,I’m Monkey D. Luffy, she’s Nami. We will go to the grand line, find the One Piece and I will become king of the pirates !  Do you want to join our crew ? “ Luffy happily proclaimed, asking you to join them like if it was a stroll in the park.

“Luffy, we didn’t even know her, we can’t take every dreamer who crosses our path“ Nami almost protested, his gaze more amical but still trying to determine if you were a threat or not.

“ Nami, she’s good, you said to yourself, that if it wasn’t from that puddle you could never have known she was following us. We will need a good ally and I trust her ! “

“ I’m Y/N. I swear I will not steal something which belongs to you “ You promised “ I will worth it , please it’s my dream. If I stay here I will die of boredom.” 

“ We have other crew members, it has to apply to them too “ Nami sighs, finally smiling at you. An understanding of your situation in her gaze “ We leave in two hours, will you be ready ?“ 

“ I will, “ You smiled. 

–

Your goodbye, emotional but proud, had been brief but full of happiness. You all knew that the world wasn’t prepared for you, but you were ready to steal it dry with a smile and without making a sound.After taking your bag, hearing your papa sad complaint that with your extraordinary talent he will not have a warrant to put on their wall, you leave for the port. 

–

The place was busy and noisy, many varieties of boat were leaving or arriving and the common sense of communication seemed to yell at each other, creating a brouhaha who gave Sanji a headache. As if he already had one at guiding Usopp and Zoro charging the crate of fresh provisions, while trying to stop Luffy from opening them and serving himself. Securing the rope of the last barrel, he heard a feminine voice.

“ I’m sorry sir, is that yours ? “

Turning himself to face you, his breath stayed stuck in his throat as you beauty caught him unguard. Sure, he had seen beautiful women pass the door of the Barratie and Nami in herself was a perpetual sunrise. But you, was a true vision. Sadly, the handkerchief in your hand wasn’t his and as stupid as it seems he was almost jealous of the mysterious owner. 

“ I...Hello Madam, I'm almost sorry that isn’t mine, but I would gladly help you if you need help returning it to its owner. You know... keeping you company during this kind quest “ He offered, tittling his head, his seductive smile already spreading his lips.

“ Y/N, didn’t we agree that you will not steal something from us, give it back to him, Sanji is our cook “ Nami joyfully yells from the Going Merry upper deck rail. 

“ Y/N, you made it ! “ Luffy joined, two pieces of bread in his hand. “ Sanji, it’s Y/N, she will go with us now “

“ Sorry Nami, I didn’t know ! Hi Luffy “ You replied, the tissue disappearing in your pocket as you pulled out Sanji’s golden lighter. “ Sorry for that…nice to meet you “ You smiled in front of his surprised face. Taking back his property, putting it back in his pocket, trying to understand at which moment you could have taken it without him noticing. 

“ Y/N, what a pretty name. I’m Sanji “ He introduced himself, your soft smile making him weak in the knees. “ May I offer you to help you come aboard “ 

“ I will be fine thank you, I grew up on a ship. I was kind of a small pirate princess. “ You confessed, climbing the ramp leading to the lower deck. 

“ Princess indeed suits you, you seem straight from a fairy tale “ Sanji flirts, following you, saving ,as he passes alongside Luffy, one of the small breeds. 

“ You have a hell of a silver tongue, be careful that nobody tries to steal it “ You joked. 

“ If I could, I would gladly give it to you “ He sweetly said, trying to help you with your bag. “ Sadly it would mean never tasting food so it was kind of a disadvantage for my job.”

Laughing, you made your way to the cabin where you put down your bag. 

“ What food do you like ? “ He asked, eager to know more about you “ I can do everything you want “

“ No offense,but, from the cook of a pirate ship, I doubt it. My father had kidnapped a reputable chef who had stayed in our crew until they retired. I never tasted food like his after that.” 

“Test me “ He replied, an amused smile on his lips. 

To his surprise, your response to his usual question wasn’t any basic dishes and would truly be worth it to be served in a five star restaurant. No meat directly in the bones or rice ball. But an actual meal who’s will required him to work his skill for hours to obtain the perfect result. And you wouldn’t stop at the main course, telling him stories of delicate desserts you had eaten.

It was that moment that Sanji knew that you were made for each other. Sure, you weren't the only woman with a delicate palate in all the east blue. But even if his talent in the kitchen wasn’t contested, he wanted you to enjoy his version of those dishes and forget all the memories of those lower poor attempts( in his opinion) you had before. And if at the same time he could win you over with his charm additionned to his food, it would even be better. 

It was on that base that he was starting his crusade. Months passed without you even being impressed by his effort. Sure you had been surprised that he was a great cook, but that was all. Days after days, he made for your favorite meals and dishes Zeff would never allow past the door of the Baratie kitchen, judging it too fancy for his clientèle.

If you go on a mission or just a resupply in an island, the man would come back to you, a flower bouquet bought or handmade in hand, every time different flowers that he proclaimed knew the significance. And, each time, the flower was an affirmation of his affection.  He even went to give you a small pendant of a golden rose.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t acknowledge his effort or his affection. His cooking was impeccable and yes, even better than you had previously tasted. But, even if you think it was indeed sweet that he always tries to prove himself to you, you couldn’t stop yourself to think that you could have stolen every one of those gifts he gave you. And, if it's that easy to steal, will you really settle for some easy stuff. Weren't you worth at least a or many treasure chests?

It didn’t take long, in a strange way, for you to have your answer.

You had been sent, in the cover of the night, in a stealing or like Luffy prefer to call it, a rescue artifact mission. The mayor of the village you currently stop at asks the straw hat crew for help and there you are, tip-toeing in the almost deserted rival ship, while the others were distracting the crew at the tavern or had your back walking the dock. Even if, when you had left a few minutes ago, Zoro and Sanji were more into annoying each other, than looking at the horizon for possible danger. 

The ship was mostly in the dark, helping you as much as causing you troubles. The only sound you could hear, beside the wave crashing slowly against the hull, was a distante snoring you couldn’t exactly pinpoint in the many rooms you had to explore. 

You could never have expected that it was in fact not a snore you had heard but the noise of the machine guarding the many treasure chests and the precious artifact.

Entering the room, you couldn’t believe your luck. Everywhere you were looking, open treasure chests full of gold and jewels were calling for you, making you put your guard down. Grabbing the golden statue, you didn’t notice the noise becoming slightly louder as you put a handful of coins in your pocket. 

“ Y/N ! Where are you ?! We have to go, it's bad ! “ You heard Sanji, somewhere behind you, his footsteps like he was running.

“ Sanji ? Lower your voice you will wake the sleepy dude somewhere “ You order him, seeing him pass the door.

“ We have to get out now ! It’s not a snore, it's the ship blocking every exit. When I came in, the hull was already covered in metal.” He explained. 

“ Shit, it must be something I miss when I check the security...okay okay, hm...take the handle of this chest, I take the other and we can go” You said, already moving to the larger one. 

“ What, no we don’t have time for this, we have to go now ! “ He repeat, looking at you confused that you didn’t take more seriously the closing ship problem. 

“ Sanji, look at all this gold. I don’t go without it, it could be insanity” You said, confusing yourself that he can’t understand that. “ If you don’t want to fine, I will take it by myself.”

“ Y/N, I don’t leave you behind and that gold is too heavy we have to go, now “ He still patiently tries to make you understand, advancing his hand to reach yours. 

“ Think of all the things we could do with that much gold, the quality ingredient you can buy “ 

“ Not if we are caught there and killed. You worth for me way more than that gold and ingredient, Y/N Please “ He pleaded, taking your free hand. “ Let’s go “

His words at first shock you, after all knowing your worth and not settling for less was almost the motto in your family. But, you had to admit it was right, all the gold was way too heavy and you couldn’t do anything with it if you end up being caught. It was then, still unsure that you took his hand, the artifact in your bag, you ran until you could see the star above your head. 

Few hours later, as the villagers were celebrating the return of their precious idol, you find a quiet place on the beach, admiring the stars and waves crashing on the sand. You had heard his footsteps coming your way, recognizable by his controlled but relaxed rhythm, but, you choose to not let him know, you gaze still lost in the wave. 

“ Still think about all the gold ? “ Sanji asked, taking a seat by your side. “ I know it isn’t even a quarter but it’s still gold. “ 

Turning your head, you notice the golden lighter in his hand, the same you had stolen from him the first day. But, your interest toward it has changed, his strange words earlier had stuck a sensible cord changing for you a lot of thought when it came to him. 

“ Did you mean it ? What you told earlier “ You asked. “ About me worthing more that all that gold” 

“ Of course “ He replied, putting back the lighter in his pocket seeing you hadn’t any interest in it. “ You’re more precious to me than those things. Sure I could have bought many high quality items for my kitchen and cooked dishes with five star ingredients.But it wasn't worth it if it put you in danger and resulted in you not being there anymore to enjoy those meals.” 

All your life, gold and treasure had always been given to you on a platter and your stealing service had usually been discussed with a large sum of Berries at the end. Then, the fact that Sanji wasn’t interested in either your talent or the gold but simply in you, was truly shocking to your core. 

Turning your gaze on him, seeing him, with the light of the moon illuminating his features gently, you smiled. 

“ I knew I should have stolen that silver tongue of yours” You joked, your heartbeat taking a faster beat.  

" I’m still afraid I still need it to pre-taste the food, but I gave my heart in exchange” He offered, happily watching you chuckle to his cheesy line. 

“ Fine, I accept the trade “ You answer finally “ But I still expected high quality meal “ 

“ Of course my Princess, I would never give you less than the best, ” Sanji replied, his adoration gaze fixed on you. After all, for him, you’re the most precious thing in the world.  

[trickstarbrave]

Gold Tutorial

hiiiii i got asked for how i color gold. tbh most of the time i just blob shapes in but i can try to explain my process too <:v

(i was trying to write more b4 giving up bc my handwriting is a mess)

here is an elf ear to start with! i just paint on top of my sketch for gold but feel free to line art or do whatever is your normal process

we need to keep in mind gold is reflective! so while picking a light source keep in mind there will be light bouncing back. typically i do this by not coloring the shadows all the way to the edge, but if there are multiple sources be ready for some bounce light action too

heres some colors! the second lightest shade is the base color we'll be working with. feel free to make the gold cool or warm toned, i just usually make my gold warm toned. in theory this also works with rose gold and silver, so feel free to play around with colors!

we're gonna keep in mind the light source, which i will be using the same as the example photo roughly. again i'm really messy with gold i just slap it on on top and it usually works okay but refine the shapes if you wanna!

first shadows! i keep these towards the middle to build shape. playing with different shapes of shadows will give different form to the metal but tbh.... i build most of my form in the highlights

second shadows: i focus these usually closer to the light source, but you can also do darker near the rebound light. again, try not to color directly to the edge to keep it looking very shiny

darkest shadows! like before, but smaller. here you can also add in different colors blobbed in the shadows if you want. i find its easiest to see reflections in the 'shadowed' parts of metal. add in your character's hair color, clothing color, or even the bg color if you want!

example with my nerevar picture of the reflections: you can see the blueish-grey of his collar in the gold to give it more dimension! even if you're working with abstract shapes it can help sell the illusion with more detail.

next up is highlights which i use a blending mode for (actually every highlight in anything i draw uses it but i feel for metal it REALLY helps): Add (glow)

or at least, it's called that in CSP. in other programs it might have a different name.

first highlights i like to draw rays of light from the light source and blend the parts furthest from the light. you can curve these according to shape but tbh most of the time i just do this. or you can softly add it in very blended like the nerevar picture above for a brighter look

second highlights: i add them in around the top and bottom. keep it organic really if im being honest.

ANDDDDD UR DONE! it should hopefully look like metal. tbh i have no idea what im doing <:v

i hope this helped a lil!

[dolljunk]

It took awhile for me to do much with my Vandala, especially since I wanted her to restyle to match my other Haunted MH characters.

I found this nude Vandala who luckily had her shoes and bracelet and I had to ruminate on how I would approach her fashion. Eventually, I leaned into her pirate theming, because duh, but this time I wanted her to have pants and puffy sleeves rather than her dress.

I eventually found her chest accessory but because it was in that shade of bright pink, I opted to paint it in metallic colours to better show it was chains rather than pink plastic. I also detailed her octopus and stuff so the sculpting could come out.

For her leg, I did a paint wash to deepen the detailing and dry brushed with gold to add attention to the sculpting. It's a really nice piece of sculpting I feel gets lost being translucent so I'm happy how it looks.

I debated about making a hat but for a New Scaremester style look I think a head scarf is a bit more casual feeling.