#robes and cloaks and armors and shit

[antixabound]

actually I’ve made the elective decision to make some kind of bullshit where I combine homestuck and 40k into some sort of au thing. I don’t have the slightest clue what I should make each of the humans, I have no idea what to do for the trolls or carapacians, and frankly the cohesion of the entire concept is flimsy at best. but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try and think up of some outfits and shit that slay. outfits that serve cunt on a golden platter of which is adorned with itty bitty skulls around the rim. only thing I got so far is I want to make Rose a Navigator Psyker, which for every homestuck person who doesn’t want to do a google search, a Psyker is a space wizard that if they wizard too hard their head explodes or they tear a hole in reality and get dragged into it and get torn apart by daemons for eternity. and a Navigator is a very specific and rare kind of psyker that can use its funny powers to peer into the endless abyss of the immaterium known as the Warp, to chart a course for the space ship so that the ship does not wind up lost or some shit.

I guess also technically I also want to make Jake a Rogue trader, which is a funny rich guy whose job it is to go around in space and make deals and just kinda fuck around but watch out. 

uh so yeah if you want if you manage to read this and are not utterly repulsed by the concept, feel free to give me ideas so that I can make funny plastic models and then just kinda leave them there in a box until the sun explodes.

I am not going to make any of them space marines I just wanna get that clear.

[inigostears]

bgs 3 is fun have some warm up sketches of my tav. her name is celestella and she loves ac stacking

[frostiwars]

let's pretend i live on the west coast and it's still DAY 5: AU!!

do you think we're gay in every universe?

in which i turn insane and draw 5 different drawings for one prompt. and as a result, the rendering is a lot rougher, but oh well! i hope the designs are fun enough!!

GORE WARNING!!!!! and design ramblings under the cut

Role Swap: i referenced hanyuu from higurashi for king metata because, while dedede has no idea about how to properly dress in traditional voidborn-based royalty attire (because his parents never taught him), metata wears EVEN MORE traditional garb, fancified, and a tiara rather than a crown cap. instead of hiding his wings in his cape, he hides them in his silk scarf. i didn’t even have to change his hime cut. he’s still cocky and arrogant but less traumatized so he’s less serious and more haughty. also his bow tying his hakama is shaped like an M haha. meanwhile, knight dede is far more armored, aiming for bulk over dps, and of course his armor has his classic triangular patterning all over the place. instead of the jaw scar, his eyes are clawed over. i wonder how that happened...

Species Swap: voidborn dedede is shorty mcshort short, even shorter than regular meta. he’s so short he doesn’t even wear hakama cuz he’d just trip over them, so he sticks with just a kimono and obi (once again adding to the androgyny common in most voidborn designs). his geta are less bulky as well. it’s not seen fully because his wings are out but his cloak goes all the way to his ankles instead of his knees. additionally, his wings have a blue gradient that matches the new color of his robe. his hammer is more embellished, like if galaxia was a giant mallet instead of a sword. and to keep with the ‘circular’ feeling for the hair common to my puffball gijinkas, i gave him kinda croissanty hair. meanwhile, avian meta has eschewed much of his armor for the sake of piercing and aerodynamics. he’s much lighter and his sleeves flow out to make room for the wings he can spawn on his arms. and of course his hair is slicked back and feathery like Coo and Vul. even his mask has a few more spikes to imitate bird talons.

dedede is a negatively-to-neutrally charged voidborn. i talked with my sibling @clutzicone-dts and they suggested denial as a birth emotion. i also like @moonmacabre01's idea of using regret. very fitting for a redeemable character

Gender Swap: normal dedede wears his garb in a feminine fashion, wearing the kimono over the hakama, so fem dedede does it in reverse, tucking the kimono inside the hakama. different sandals again, and wearing just the crown while eschewing the cap, mostly so i can have her long flowing braids more visible. at least she has a top knot to resemble the pom pom tho. meta meanwhile is largely unchanged physically (duh, voidborns don't have physical sex) with outfit adjustments. she keeps some design aspects from her younger days to distinguish her from normal meta while still seeming in character. tassels on the shoulder pads, and a hood on the cape instead of the frill. plus her lower body armor is longer and more decorated to give the illusion of a skirt without actually being one and i gave her low double buns to keep the round hair shape without just leaving it as a bowl cut

Mirror Versions: i have a whole ass complicated headcanon for the mirror dimension. i think it would be best described that, in this gijinkaverse, the mirror dimension is less an alternate universe and more an alternate timeline that went wrong at a very specific point. it's led to shadow dedede being much more... in tune, let's say, with the dark matter blade within his heart. and dameta isn't very pleased about that. after all, the two never got the chance to reconcile over Meta Knight's Revenge before things went to shit in that world. so they have a very complicated, somewhat tragic relationship. but i can talk about that more another time. let's just say that all of this is why i made certain slight changes to the two's designs. but i also gave dameta striped legs because stripes are for evil people

Bad Ending:

:)

no spoilers. feel free to theorize about it. i'm sure there are plenty of clues to let you figure it out on your own.

[seigephoenix]

Kinktober 2024: Monster Fucking

If you've managed to be on my blog for long enough, you will understand that I am a monster and alien fucker. Also this is the direct sequel to this Kinktober piece: Marking

Ship: Aurelia Tullius/Farkas Content Warning: werewolf smut, p in v, monster cunnilingus, knotting, biting, consent! Length: 3k

“What the hell happened?” Aurelia asked quietly as she lifted her hand from Roscar’s side after healing the wound there.  She kept the blanket wound tightly around her and looked over at Farkas who was struggling to rein in his temper.  He wasn’t one to get so angry but whatever he sensed had him on edge.  Either that or he was pissed about being interrupted, but if Roscar was hurt then Aurelia wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Skjor suddenly transformed inside Jorrvaskr.”  Aurelia’s hands went slack at the news, the blanket pooled at her feet as she struggled to wrap her mind around what could have happened.  She’d delved into his soul!  She hadn’t sensed anything evil, but now she was second guessing everything.  “He wore a ring.”  Aurelia’s eyes snapped to Roscar’s and he nodded.  They’d encountered a similar ring in Falkreath back when they first started their journey together.  She grasped his shoulders and urged him to sit on the bed while she grasped her chin.  Aurelia paced in front of the bed as she thought about what could have happened and how to stop it without getting hurt in the process.  She barely noticed her nudity, but Farkas did and he scooped the blanket up to wrap it back around her shoulders.  Aurelia tilted her head up to look at Farkas who looked over her head at Roscar almost menacingly.  Roscar rolled his eyes as he held his side.

“Is there anything to stop him?” Farkas asked.  All three froze as the screams lifted in the air from Jorrvaskr and the Cloud District.

“Shit!” Aurelia cursed as she hastily tugged on her clothes and armor.  Roscar almost laughed at how awkward she looked trying to tug the heavy chest plate over her head.  “Screw it!” She tossed her chest plate in the corner and grabbed the robes by the door.  Roscar noted the shimmer threading through the fabric and his jaw dropped as she put it on.  Aurelia didn’t notice what Farkas did.  The deep plunging neckline stopped at her abdomen and the runes embroidered on the fabric practically glowed as soon as the material made contact with her skin.  Her hand grasped the cloak and she tugged it around her as she fastened the brooch to keep it in place.  “It’ll have to do.  I can’t get my armor on right now and we don’t have time for you to help me,” she said as Farkas held out her gauntlets.

“Skjor’s claws will tear through you in that,” Roscar told her as he stood once the pain dulled to a faint throbbing.  He couldn’t imagine her just waltzing into battle with no armor on.  That wasn’t the Aurelia Tullius he knew.

“He won’t get the chance to get near me.  Now come on.” Aurelia hurried down the stairs with the two warriors close at her heels.  Farkas noted she hadn’t even bothered to pull on her boots before running towards the chaos in the Cloud District.  They spotted Vilkas standing outside with a few of the older members who hadn’t been initiated into the inner circle yet.  Aurelia was already thinking of how to play up the ring aspect of what happened.  She knew by studying the one in Falkreath that it would give someone lycanthropy if they didn’t already possess it, and that was the story she’d have to spin for the jarl.

“We managed to lock Skjor in Jorrvaskr.  He was in a blood frenzy.”  Aurelia sensed the fear in his voice and she looked over at the double doors leading into the mead hall.  Guilt weighed down on her.  If only she’d been more careful, searched for more magic on him than just restoration and necromancy.  She’d never forgive herself if Skjor killed anyone.

“I should have sensed that damned ring.” Aurelia didn’t see the way Roscar stared at her back in dismay as she blamed herself.  Farkas wanted to tell her it was not her fault; she was not all knowing.  She was a human and humans made mistakes.  Aurelia looked around the area and saw the area around the Gildergreen devoid of anyone.  Vilkas told her the younger recruits had taken to escorting people out of the area for their safety.  They spotted the Jarl’s wizard running down the steps towards them, only stopping when he reached their small group.  He was already wheezing as he approached.

“Farengar.  How knowledgeable are you with Hircine?” Aurelia asked as the two faced the door together.  Farengar was clearly nervous by the sounds they heard coming from inside the mead hall, and Aurelia couldn’t risk him trying to run.  Running would be the worst thing to do when facing an angry werewolf.

“Not as well versed as I might like.  Lycanthropy never interested me.  Why?” Aurelia wanted to scream in frustration but she explained about the ring.  “Wearing it will bestow Hircine’s curse?” She nodded.  “This is alarming.  Based on what I am hearing, I doubt the wearer retains any semblance of sanity?”  Aurelia shook her head with a heavy sigh.  The snarls and one lone angry howl should have been answer enough.

“I’m afraid not.”  Farengar took a step back.  “If you are uneasy about this, you may remain out here.  Someone will need to in the event I fail at stopping this person.”  She saw the relief in his eyes and he agreed to remain outside the building.  “I’ve encountered this before.  Did anyone remain in the building?” Vilkas nodded and Aurelia felt her heart sinking.  She knew Aela would never abandon Skjor.  Even if he was a mindless beast at the moment.  “Fine.  I shall go and see for myself.” Aurelia stepped to the door and was stunned when Farkas joined her side.  “I’m afraid you can’t.”

“I’m going with you,” Farkas said.  He tried to shake off Roscar’s hand when he pulled him back.  Vilkas joined in and they both held Farkas back when Aurelia stepped into Jorrvaskr.  Panic set in and he fought viciously against them.

“You can’t.  The ring makes him mindless.  Aurelia will have a better shot by herself than worrying about you,” Roscar whispered and Farkas bared his teeth against his Harbinger.  “We will go in, if she needs us.”

“Let me go.” Farkas snarled but Vilkas tightened his grip.

“I understand you want to go, but you can’t brother,” he said and strained to hold him back.  Farkas broke free from their grip and he shoved inside before they could stop him.  Inside he walked into chaos.

Aurelia threw a spell at Skjor that froze him in place, all but his eyes that followed her with a crazed light in them.  Farkas saw Aela in the corner holding her side.  The blood pooling beneath her worried him and he hurried over to his shield sister.  “Farkas?  You can’t be here.  It’s too dangerous for us with Hircine’s gift,” Aela whispered and Farkas felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in alarm.  He looked over his shoulder as he saw Aurelia approach Skjor in his beast form.  He noticed what she didn’t, the way his claws twitched as movement came back to him.  He acted without thought and his own body shifted as Skjor swung for her.

Farkas’s large, clawed hand grasped Skjor’s wrist before his claws reached Aurelia.  “Farkas!” Aurelia yelled as the two werewolves began fighting.  She was knocked aside and landed hard on her hip with a cry of pain.  “I have to get the ring off him!” Aurelia yelled as she scrambled to her feet.  Farkas roared out in pain when Skjor’s fangs sank into his shoulder and her stomach dropped at the sight.

“I don’t fucking think so!” Aurelia yelled as she leapt over the long tables and planted her feet beside the two werewolves.  She brought her hands up and placed them against Skjor’s side while his teeth were still sunken in Farkas’s shoulder.  Aela watched helplessly as Skjor lashed out at Aurelia but she ignored the pain his claws caused.  She had to save Farkas.  She concentrated her mana into the blast and sent Skjor flying across the hall, his back slammed into the wall before he sank down to the floor.  Farkas let out a roar of pain when his teeth were ripped from his shoulder.

“Farkas!” Aurelia reached for him without a drop of fear on her face.  Aela noticed it as well and she was in awe that she showed absolutely no hesitation next to Farkas.  Even when he growled and snapped at her for using her restoration magic.  “Now.  I have to get the ring off Skjor.”  She spun on her heel and threw her hands out in front of her.

Farkas was stunned when Skjor bounced off the shield of magic that floated in front of them.  Aurelia twisted her hands and the shield spun up, slamming into Skjor’s jaw knocking the werewolf backwards.  To him it seemed almost like a dance as she turned and moved across the grand hall.  Until she backed Skjor into a corner.

“Forgive me Skjor,” Aurelia whispered.  Aela heard her and Farkas lunged forward but Aurelia already plunged the spear into his shoulder.  Aela’s sharp cry filled the great hall but Aurelia couldn’t hesitate.  She forced the magic back until the magical spear was embedded in the wall.  Skjor wasn’t moving with this.  She grabbed his hand, snatched the ring off using her magic, and tossed it aside before snapping her fingers.  The spear dissipated as Skjor began shifting back to his human form.  Aela scrambled to get over to him, almost throwing herself at Skjor’s side.

“Skjor!” Aela yelled and she looked up at Aurelia desperately.

“He’ll be fine.  He’ll sleep for a long time, it’s due to how much energy the ring makes the wearer exert.  First.”  Aurelia slowly put her hands in front of her until her palms were touching.  The soft white circle glowed at her feet before the light spread and washed over everyone.  Aela was stunned to feel her wounds closing and the pain washed away under the soft glow.  “There.  His shoulder is healed too.”  Aurelia smiled as she dusted her hands off and propped them on her hips before she looked around for the damned ring.

“What was that spell?” Aela asked as she helped Skjor to stand as he tried to gain his bearings.

“Which one?” Aurelia asked as she spotted the damned thing and scooped it up.  “The healing spell?”

“All of it.  I knew you were a talented mage but Aurie…” Aela trailed off as the ring floated in her friend’s hand before melting away to molten gold and dripping harmlessly to the floor as her mana cooled it as soon as it left her palm.  “What?”

“Well…  It’s a long story.  And I’ll be glad to share it another day, however, Skjor will need to sleep for about a day.  Maybe longer depending on how much energy the ring used.  Aurelia felt his presence at her back and she tilted her face to look at him.  Farkas already towered over her as a human but as a werewolf?  She would get a neck cramp from looking at him.

Aela shook her head and helped Skjor limp towards the quarters, leaving the two love birds to quarrel.  Aurelia opened her mouth to say something when Farkas simply scooped her up.  He tossed her over his shoulder as she demanded he put her down.  “Quit manhandling me!  I am not a sack of potatoes!” Aurelia smacked his back but it felt like hitting stone.  “Where are you going?”  Farkas marched down to the quarters and passed Aela.  “Farkas!” Aurelia pushed at his shoulder as he turned towards his room.

“I will relay what happened to Roscar and Vilkas,” Aela told him as the door shut behind them.  She shook her head.  Did Farkas really think Aurelia would accept him in his beast form?  Aela thought about it for a moment before shaking her head and walking away to find Roscar and Vilkas.

Farkas’s Room

“Alright, you put me down right now!”  Aurelia yelped when Farkas tossed her onto his bed before he leaned over her with his lip pulled back in a snarl.  She huffed and cast a spell on herself.  “You quit that!”

“No.”  Her jaw dropped and she sent him a seething glare.  “Do you understand me?”

“Of course I do.  I cast a spell that allows me to understand what you’re saying,” Aurelia told him.  Any other argument died on her lips when he loomed over her on the bed, his claws scant inches from her hips.  In an instant, his hands shredded the robes on her body.  Instead of fear, heat flooded her system.  The primal instinct to claim him and have him claim her rose up.  Farkas leaned in and his thick tongue flattened against her nipple.  A needy whimper escaped her lips as his teeth nipped against the sensitive flesh.  Her fingers tangled in his coat as he trailed lower and lower on her body.

Aurelia let out a sharp cry when his muzzle pressed against her clit that was already throbbing with a desperate need to be touched.  She curled over him when his teeth set against the sensitive nub, pushing her closer to the edge.  Aurelia came with a cry of his name, a keening sound that bounced off the walls of the room.  Her thighs squeezed his head as her mind was lost to lust and heat. 

She gasped when his hand pushed her back against the bed.  “Turn over.”  Aurelia hastily flipped over onto her stomach, whining when his hands pulled her up to her knees.  She cast a glance backwards and her body clenched in need at the look and size of him.  He was a large man in his human form, but now?  Now her body dripped and clenched at the sight of him.  Long, red, and already dripping.  A needy whimper left her lips when the head bumped against her clit.  Aurelia dropped her forehead to the bed as he slowly inched inside.  His claws barely registered as they dug deep into her hips with each slow torturous inch he slipped inside of her body.

“Farkas,” she whined as he took his time.  “Fuck me already damn it!”  She reached back and grabbed his wrist, barely circling it with her fingers.  “Please.”

That breathy whisper broke something in him.  He slammed his hips forward to the hilt as his teeth sank into her shoulder.  A moan left her as her body clenched tight around his cock with each thrust, as if she didn’t want to let him go.  His name spilled from her lips whether as a curse or a prayer he couldn’t be sure anymore.

“Fuck.  I’m going.” She barely got it out before her needy walls tightened around him.  Her lips parted on a soft scream at the pleasure that flooded her system.  Her body milked his cock with each languid wave that pulsed through her.  Aurelia gasped when she felt him shift behind her.  He slammed his hips against hers with a low growl, his teeth and claws tightening on her body.  Her eyes widened as she felt it.  The swelling at the base of his cock, stretching her until she swore, he was going to break her.  Instead, he shifted and a burst of pleasure had her clamping down on his cock.  He let out a vicious snarl and she felt his cock twitching.  Her head dropped to the bed as she struggled to regain her breathing, but it was impossible.

“Farkas?” Aurelia whispered his name as he lifted his mouth away from her shoulder.  His rough tongue came out to soothe the stinging there with a soft whine of apology rumbling in his chest.  She could only laugh weakly.  “It’s fine.  I’ve got potions to take care of this,” Aurelia murmured.  With the heat and lust slowly fading away she found herself exhausted.  Her body was still stinging and throbbing from his biting her earlier before Roscar interrupted them.  Aurelia gasped when his cock slipped out of her and she slowly turned over with shaky movements.  She was ready to sleep.

Aurelia looked up as he shifted back into his human form, kneeling in front of her and cupping her cheek in his hand.  “I’m okay.”  She reached up and covered the back of his hand and gave him a wobbly smile.  “But can I sleep here?  I’m tired.”

“Yes.  Here.”  He pulled the blankets back and eased her onto the mattress.  She smiled at him and pulled him down for a gentle kiss.  He was stunned but tangled his hands in her hair as he returned the kiss, pouring everything in his heart into it.  He leaned back and stared down at her with his heart lodged in his throat.  “I love you.”  Her eyes widened at his words and she propped herself up on her elbow, letting the blanket fall away from her.

“Farkas?”

“I do.  I love you.  Words aren’t easy when they matter.”  He reached up to her face, stroking her cheek as her eyes held a thousand words in their depths.  If she could accept him as a werewolf, then he could accept her as a mage.  His life would be empty without her in it, and he didn’t want to think about life without her.  “Rest.”

“But someone has to tell the Jarl what happened,” Aurelia murmured as he pushed her back down.

“Roscar can.”  She put up a token argument but he saw how tired she was.  The fight wiped her out more than she cared to admit.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good.”  He leaned down until his forehead rested against hers.  “I love you too.”  He paused at her words letting them roll over him once again.  He felt humbled by her feelings, this woman could have anyone she wanted in Skyrim, hell, Tamriel.  Yet, she picked him.  “When you get done, just climb into bed with me.  I want to wake up next to you for once,” Aurelia told him and Farkas nodded.

“Alright.”  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her to sleep while he dealt with the Jarl and clean up.

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #6: You can find me in the Club

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 3.5K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

__________________________________________

VI. Gwellis Bagnoro is waiting for you near the front of the club and waves you over. Neon Dreams. Good name for a nightclub in Daiyu City. 

It’s a clusterfuck inside. This dark, cavernous warehouse that looks like it might have been some kind of industrial factory in a previous life. 

Despite the crush, everyone steps aside to give Mando a path without looking up from their drinks. 

Must be nice. 

You, on the other hand, have to quickstep to follow in his wake before the press of bodies can drag you away like a riptide into this sea of black silhouettes and glitter.

“Gwellis,” is the extent of the Mandalorian’s greeting. He tosses the cloak over his shoulder so his holster remains within reach before sliding into the booth and making sure he had a clear line of sight toward the entrance. 

Once again, there’s only one way in or out of this establishment. Why did no one in this godsforsaken town worry about safe and unobstructed exit routes? 

A server soon arrives with a bottle of cloudy liquor and three glasses. He gives the Mandalorian a sly wink before heading back to the bar. Because no one in this galaxy is immune to a six-foot-three hunk of muscle in shining Beskar armor, ladies and gentlemen.

Gwellis uses a vocoder, so you’ll actually be able to keep up with this conversation. If you don’t go deaf from the throbbing bass coming through the club’s sound system. It’s clear why this place is popular with folks engaged in the...clandestine economy. Unlike the cosmopolitan nightclubs of the Inner Rim, there are no elevated lounges or platforms for elite clientele to preen and exhibit. Visibility is terrible, and you can’t hear a fucking thing. 

“Mandalorian, I am glad we can do business.”

Gwellis helps himself to the liquor and pours you a drink. A thoughtful gesture considering the Onodone immediately pulls his trunk up from his lap and drops it down the neck of the bottle to suck up the remaining liquid inside. You’re kind of a lightweight, so you decide to sip yours. And, of course, Mando’s glass goes untouched.

Having sucked the bottle dry, Gwellis gets down to business. From beneath his robes, he pulls out a data-pad and scrolls over the screen. “I was surprised to receive this commission. Disguise is not the way of a Mandalorian.”

“It’s not for a job,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “My friend, she needs some new identification. ID, chaincode, and an implant.”

Gwellis studies you and taps something into the data-pad. “A war orphan from Saleucami, I think. Gone missing amidst the rubble from the siege.”

Fuck. Tragic but very plausible. You nod.

“Can you pass for human?”

When you nod again, Mando fixes his view plate on you. It was a subtle turn of his head, and someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t have caught the shift in his attention. But you do.

“Good. Human will be easier.”   

Gwellis regards you for a moment before launching into an incomprehensible stream of noises. The vocoder stays silent, so the high-pitched clicks and whistles are for the Mandalorian’s ears only.

“He says it’ll cost you fifty thousand credits.”

Shit! With Vos’ reward, you can afford it, sure, but that’s a lot of fucking money. And the fact that it’s exactly the same amount you just received from Vos feels like a weird fucking coincidence. 

Dammit, you had planned to save at least ten thousand of that for jewelry. Why must all your victories be so fleeting? 

“Arrive at my ship on the twenty-seventh hour.”

You finish your drink in one gulp as you watch the Onodone disappear back into the crowd. 

“I told you it wasn’t going to be cheap,” Mando says evenly. 

“You didn’t kick him under the table, so I’m sure it’s a fair price.”

“We’ll use funds for the job to cover it.”

“No, that’s okay. I know Nito needs money to buy some gear, and we should probably save the rest for Ubaa’s crew and payoffs.” You take a deep sigh. “Plus, it’s a good investment for me now anyway.” 

The Mandalorian pauses to take in your expression. Which must be challenging given how little of your face is visible with the hood and visor on.

“Don’t think it’ll withstand a serious background check, but you could probably get a straight job after this.”

After this? Working with Mando, life had been unfolding one day at a time. You hadn’t put much thought into the future. Yet here he was, anticipating the day you’d finally ‘come to your senses’ and choose safe, civilian life. It’s hard to believe that could be a possibility. 

“I already have a job,” you say wryly. 

Whatever he might think, right now, you’re not ready to imagine a life without him.   

“But, thank you. I’m relieved to have this kind of cover. I didn’t know anyone who could do this for me when I went underground. I mean…I knew that I must have ended up in some database…But, kriffing hell, it took months to coordinate our clinic deliveries. And yet the New Republic can just drop whatever they’re doing to run a cross-check?”

“Are you just now realizing how they hold this galaxy together?” He scoffed. “Surveillance and security is what they’ve got to offer.”

“Mando…that’s a shockingly pointed bit of social criticism. I didn’t take you for a revolutionary.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not blind to how this all works.” There’s a subtle switch in mood before he rests an elbow on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

“Um, sure. Yeah. I’d like to resume normal adult conversation.”

He sighs roughly and tosses his head.

“You know you’re not getting the deposit back for that room, Mando.”

You catch him mumbling something about cheap drywall and try not to snicker. While it’s absolutely ridiculous behavior for a grown man to punch holes in the wall…you can understand that Mandalorian warrior culture probably doesn’t impart a lot of wisdom about dealing with complex emotions like guilt and shame. 

And hell, this is coming from a woman whose coping response was to cry and masturbate in the shower, so who are you to judge?

You lean in over the table to hear him better, “What did you want to ask me?”

“How are you planning to pass for human?” 

You try not to blush when he leans closer, too, and you sit huddled together with your knees touching under the table.

“If I remove the reflective tissue from my eyes…that’s really the only visible difference.”

“Remove? How?”

“Do you want me to go into detail? Most people get the heebie-jeebies thinking about cutting—”

“Alright, fine.” He holds up a hand to stop you. “If it’s that simple, why didn’t…sorry, maybe that’s not something you want to talk about.”

“No, no! I’m never going discourage you from taking an interest in me,” you grin. Then, sigh. It’s a deeply personal topic to get into while trying to shout over a bass system. “I’ve probably been holding onto this delusion that someday I’d get to go back home. But there’s…not really anything to go back to…”

“What about your family? Your brother?”

That’s another topic you’re not prepared to get into at Neon Dreams, so you just shake your head no. 

“There’s nobody waiting for me—well, no one who’s waiting to welcome me back.” 

“Could you…reverse it?” Mando asks in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Make the tissue regrow?”

“Maybe,” you smile at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry you have to do this, Thuli, and that it feels like you’re losing a part of yourself,” he places a gloved hand over yours to stop you from twisting your fingers into knots. “But, it’s the right choice. The smart choice.”  

Is this what Mando told himself when he swore the Creed? He took so much pride in being Mandalorian…had it been an easy decision for him to leave the life and dreams of that little boy behind. Your heart clenches in your chest, overwhelmed with this realization of your shared loss. 

Is that why you don’t want to give up on him? Because you’re hoping that mending his heart will somehow make yours whole again? Wouldn’t that be nice…

“Didn’t think this would be your scene, Mando.” You attempt a coy tone to lighten the mood and change the subject. Not too coy, though. You’re afraid to flirt with him that openly after all your talk about respecting boundaries. “Are we about to embark on a wild night of partying without the kids?”

Even though he hasn’t had anything to drink, Mando does seem more relaxed despite the chaotic surroundings. He extends an arm across the back of the booth and stretches his legs out under the table, crossing them at the ankle. Of course, he’s even sexier in this casual, languid pose.    

“We have three hours to kill. I’m getting comfortable.” He nods behind you towards the back of the club, where the pulsing vibrations emanate. “Knock yourself out.”

You look over at the dance floor, where shimmering neon incandescence rains down on the revelers below. It looks fun, actually. Like the kind of place you’d go to on leave with some of your fellow medics. Get drunk, dance, sing badly, find someone to bring home for the night, and forget the brutality and brushes with death for a night.

“Do you like dancing?” You ask on a whim. “Or, do Mandalorians not dance?”

“After game hunting, there is usually a…ceremony.”

“Ah, so liturgical dance!” Your eyes go wide. “Hmmmm, I don’t think the DJ plays Mandalorian chants. Guess I’m on my own.” 

“You like this kinda of place?” He asks, sounding almost disdainful. Good. It’s easier to maintain the distance between you when you’re reminded that despite some shared trauma, your personalities are still galaxies apart.

“Yeah,” you grin defiantly. “You don’t have to be some club kid to enjoy the distraction of getting drunk and rubbing up against beautiful strangers. It's a good way to wash the taste of war out of your mouth.”   

“I can understand that,” he says earnestly. 

And you begin to wonder what, exactly, does a Mandalorian do to decompress? 

You’ve known some elite soldiers, and their work always burned holes into them—which needed to be filled. Sometimes, they’d filled those holes in their hearts with you. But that wasn’t the case for Mando. Ditto on drinking, drugs, and dancing, apparently.     

“So you don’t go clubbing. What’s something you do do for fun? 

“Fun?”

“Yes. There’s a word for it in Mando’a. Nuhur? Good times? So I know Mandalorians are familiar with the concept.” He sighs as though you’ve asked him to perform long division. “You love throwing knives, isn’t that a Mandalorian game?”

He laughs—an actual, audible laugh. “When did you learn Mando’a?”

“We spend literally days at a time in hyperspace.”

“And this is what you do when you aren’t playing cards with Nito?” 

“Yes. I read. I learn things.” Lately, you’ve become particularly interested in researching Mandalorian mating customs. “Don’t you want the kid to know your culture?” 

“He’s a foundling, and I’m in his debt for saving me from the Mudhorn. My duty, by Creed, is to protect him. But this is no life for a child. Once it’s safe, I’ll find a real home for him.”

“Home is who you make it with, not where.” Whether he admits it or not, Mando loves that kid like a father, and you’re not going to let him just dismiss the depth of that relationship. “You seem pretty real to me.”

“What made you leave?” 

“Huh?”

“What made you leave Hapes?” 

Dammit, he’s too good at catching you off guard with these probing questions. You reach for an easy answer, but when you begin to respond, he cuts you off with a raised hand. “I know you ran away to join the Rebellion. That’s not the whole story. Not with the home you left behind.”

“Everyone expects life inside a royal palace to be so glamorous, but it is, above all else, exceedingly tedious.”

“Getting attacked by lions is tedious?”

Wow. You hadn’t expected him to acknowledge that conversation at all, given what happened afterward.

“Can I ask you about one of your scars?” You look up at him timidly. “Like how you got that one on your calf?”

It was a jagged white thunderbolt running from his heel to the back of his knee. 

“I killed an Altagak. At the time, our Covert was located on Altora. They can consume entire herds—and villages. The locals asked us to rid them of the beast. The scar running along my calf is from its tusk.”

“How old were you?”

“I was fourteen. It was…an important trial for me.” 

“I imagine it's hard?” You grimace, “to kill an Altagak? It’s an apex predator.”

“With tusks,” Mando nods. Which surprises you to a huff of laughter. He’s getting better at making jokes.

“You’re lucky it didn’t cripple you.”

“Lucky I wasn’t gored. Not everyone survived.”

You raise your glass and arch an eyebrow, “Thank the gods for skilled healers.”

“Hmmmm,” his exhalation hums through the modulator. “It’s always impressive how effortlessly you manage to avoid answering my questions.” 

Mando’s tone starts off playful when suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you see his body retract sharply. His elbows come to rest on his knees as though he’s poised to launch himself out of the booth. 

You look around to see a tall, stormy blue Twi’lek approaching your table, a gigantic grin spread across his face. The Mandalorian is a formidable warrior, but this guy could give him a run for his money—he’s big and broad, his tattoed arms clearly toned with use.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek places a hand on the Mandalorian’s shoulder. “It is you!” 

“Bril,” Mando sighs in exasperation but extends himself to clasp the man’s outstretched forearm in the most congenial gesture you’ve ever witnessed from the bounty hunter. “It’s been a while.” 

You can’t be sure if they’re friends, but Bril is at least confident he’s not about to be stabbed because he slides amicably into the booth next to Mando. 

“Your new business partner?” He winks at you, and before you can stop yourself, you smile back.

“Something like that,” the Mandalorian mutters. 

“You did always have a thing for the bad girls, Mando.”

Behind Bril is his female Twi’lek companion. She is stunningly beautiful.

Literally, you feel your breath catch in your throat when your eyes meet. Her skin is the color of sea coral, and she had adorned her lekku in gold thread, woven with gemstones, beads, and pearls, all braided through her golden headband. She takes a seat on the stool next to Bril, directly across the table from you, and you try your best not to gawk. 

Bril waves over a droid with another bottle of liquor. You probably shouldn’t look wasted in the photos for your forged identification, so you’re taking it slow. But whatever this beverage is, it’s pretty strong, and you definitely feel its effects.

“Thought you left all this behind, Mando? Working for the Guild. Keeping your hands clean,” the Twi’lek says conversationally, placing a hand on his companion’s thigh. “But, I still hear things.” 

While the Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate, Bril’s good spirit remains undeterred. You get the sense that they might, in fact, be friends. At least this is the first person you’ve met who wasn’t harboring some underlying hostility towards him.

It’s a tantalizing prospect. Maybe you’ll get to learn a little bit more about Mand—

“Like that shit with Ranzar. Handing your ex over to the feds, Mando? That’s cold even for you.”

Wait, what?

That, right there, how you nearly snap your neck from the speed with which you turn to look at Mando, is proof enough that you’ll never be able to play it cool with him. 

“I did what I had to,” the Mandalorian says smoothly without looking at you—or he could be staring you full in the face. How the fuck would you even know?

“Don’t you always,” Bril laughs and shakes his head. “Did you buy the fancy armor with Xi’an’s bounty? Didn’t think she’d fetch that much.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

You down your drink in one gulp and pour another in the hopes that you’ll be less visibly tense over this discovery if you’re drunk. For fucksake you are nearly trembling with shock. Breathe. You gotta slow your breathing. 

Ugh, you might throw up. 

Please, please, dear goddess, have mercy on me and prevent me from dissolving into a panic attack in front of all these people!  Okay, you’re tearing up a little bit, but no one can see behind your visor. 

Every muscle in your body is rigid. You can sense Bril’s companion watching you with concern.  

“I didn’t think Mandalorians coupled,” she purrs in a low voice. 

Yeah, neither did you. 

What is this bizarre weight settling onto your chest? The crush of rejection. And betrayal. 

As though he’s deceived you somehow? Because all this time, you’ve been telling yourself that this barrier between you is because the Mandalorian can’t be intimate—with anyone. That it's forbidden. And now you know that isn’t true. He just doesn’t want to be intimate with you. 

You always did like the bad girls, Mando.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. All your smirks and winks and stupid flirting…and all he wanted was some stone-cold bitch. Like Morrigan. 

That figures. Ironic. Just the completely exact opposite personality traits, contrary to the foundational core of your being. You couldn't even be her if you tried.

Gods, you are such an idiot. Throwing yourself at him. You fucking climbed on top of him! Ugh, the shame is so intense you can taste the bile roiling up your throat.  

Bril guffaws, and you're shocked to see him actually nudge the bounty hunter with his elbow. “Your armor doesn’t include a codpiece, does it, Mando?” 

It’s an objectively funny joke, and you’d love to smile away the devastation that’s probably written all over your face, but you refrain from laughing out of misplaced loyalty. 

“I’m here running Spice, of course.” Bril stops howling long enough to resume polite conversation. “You looking for work? I can always stand to elevate my game with a warrior of your caliber, Mando.”  

He'd said, "It wasn't just you" out of...pity? Did he feel sorry for you pathetically thirsting after him?

Aaaaaaaaah, that means you've been this creeper, sexually harassing him for the past how many months now?!

While you desperately search your brain to determine the exact moment in time when you started brazenly flirting with the Mandalorian, Bril’s companion moves around the table to crouch down next to you.

“Hey,” she looks up at you through her long, dark lashes. “Do you like MARTINE?”

“W-w-what?!” You stutter, surprised out of your shame spiral by the unexpected question. “Um, yeah. Of course. I lost my virginity listening to their second album.”

Fuck...you are such a stupid idiot. You really convinced yourself that Mando was a virgin.

“They're here–in the VIP lounge.”

“Seriously?! Like…performing?” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s their cousin’s birthday party or something.”

You crane your neck to see if you can spot a VIP section. 

“Let’s leave the boys to catch up,” she says, slipping her hand into yours. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and without a single glance at Mando, you slip off your jacket and let her pull you away from the table.  

“This is such a sleazy ploy, but if we cause a stir, I think we can get the bouncer to let us in. Are you up for for it?”

Leading you across the room and past the bar, you're pulled underneath the showering lights of the dance floor. She moves with the artful grace of a trained professional, and from the way she looks in her catsuit, she just might be.

Everybody’s watching her dance, but she only has eyes for you.

It’s suddenly very important that she knows how amazing your hair is, so you release it from your hood and run your fingers through its length to shake it out until it cascades in pearlescent sheets around your hips. 

You still can’t hear a fucking thing, but you read her lips, exclaiming how much she loves it. She catches a strand in her outstretched fingers to trace its length. Her hand comes up again to tuck it behind your ear before tilting her head and leaning in slowly. Fixing you with her aquamarine eyes, she places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Wait. This isn’t just to get Bril gassed up, right?”

“What? Fuck, Bril. He’s not gonna get us past that bouncer.”

As you both continue dancing, intertwined, her hands trace over your waist and around the edges of your ribcage before grabbing the full swell of your breasts and squeezing. You gasp, but she catches it from your mouth with slow, languorous kisses. Her lips are full and soft. 

You realize that even if this is some elaborate performance for Bril, you don’t care. A deeply lonely place in your heart needs this kind of tenderness and attention. It feels good to be desired after the sting of...whatever it is you’re feeling about Mando. 

You wrap your arms around the small of her back and lean into her kisses. The drumbeat picks up, and your knees and hips begin to bob in time with the music. You jump and swivel, swinging your hips and pumping your arms until you're gasping. It felt so ecstatic to release this toxic energy from your body with each breath and drop of sweat.

Both of you keep moving through this endless cycle of dancing, laughter, and kisses while the crowd around you sways and rocks.

“Do you want to try to sneak in?” She asks with an excited gleam in her eye.

**************************

Continue reading, Volume 3 - Post #7: Counteroffer

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[herrfivehead]

i once again bring you a detailed build guide and itemization list for my most recent tactician party

TAV Classing: Abjuration Wizard 11/Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer 1 (best to take sorcerer level at level 6, and be sure to choose white bloodline for armor of agathys spell). 11 levels of Abjuration gives you a maximum of 22 arcane ward stacks at once. Combined with armor of agathys, not only will you be difficult to damage, but if someone manages to hit you with close combat, they'll take up to 30 cold damage per strike. Draconic bloodline also gives you +3 base AC so mage armor is unnecessary. Because multiclassing into sorcerer later makes CHA your new spellcasting modifier, it’s best to use spells learned from scrolls, which will scale off INT. Permanent Buffs: -Sweet Stone Features (permanent Bless condition from buying statue of self at the circus) -+2 DEX from Mirror of Loss Feats: -Dual Wielding (Because this build relies on defense and a tiefling wizard has no shield proficiency, it's important we get our buffed armor class from other sources. Dual wielding allows us to not only carry two important weapons, but gives us +1 AC when we do.) -ASI (to bring INT to 18) Items (the majority of these items are either for boosting evasiveness or inflicting conditions on enemies): -The Pointy Hat (gives player bonus persuasion equal to their INT modifier, great for wizard player characters) -Vest of Soul Rejuvenation (this armor would actually be better for a monk due to its reaction, but it gives +2 AC and heals the wearer on a spell save.) -Cloak of Displacement (inflicts disadvantage on enemy attacks until the wearer takes damage, which is rarely) -Bracers of Defence (+2 AC as long as wearer is unarmored and shieldless) -Evasive Shoes (+1 to AC and acrobatics) -Spineshudder Amulet (inflicts reverberation on ranged spell attacks) -Ring of Spiteful Thunder (dazes reverberated enemies upon dealing thunder damage to them) -Ring of Protection (+1 to AC and saving throws) -Markoheshkir (1 free spell cast per long rest, empowers spells of an element of your choice). Normally I would not recommend taking your sorcerer dip in the middle to get the most out of this weapon if you plan on using INT as your spellcasting modifier, but this character barely casts damage spells anyway. -Phalar Aluve (build uses the Shriek ability which makes enemies standing in a 5m radius take 1d4 extra thunder damage per attack or projectile) -Darkfire Shortbow (gives fire and cold resistance, gives 1 free cast of haste per long rest)

SHADOWHEART Classing: Life Cleric 1/Land Druid 11 (arctic at druid level 3, grassland at 5, desert at 7, and swamp at 9). Let life cleric be your first level for slightly better healing as well as first-level spells like bless and sanctuary. The other 11 levels of land druid are for land spells, moonbeam (which, depending on placement, doesn't break sanctuary), and heroes' feast. Permanent Buffs: -See Invisibility from volo's icepick lobotomy Feats: -Alert (clerics and druids generally have shit initiative, so it's good to put a +5 to initiative on your healer early.) -ASI (to bring WIS to 18) Items (the majority of these items are for boosting spell save DC and granting buffs on healing.): -Hood of the Weave (+2 to SSDC and spell attack rolls) -Cloak of the Weave (absorbs elements as a reaction, +1 to SSDC and spell attack rolls) -Robe of the Weave (+2 AC, heals on spell saves, +1 to SSDC and spell attack rolls) -Hellrider's Pride (+1 to strength saving throws, grants physical damage resistance to healed targets) -Boots of Aid and Comfort (grants 3 temporary HP to healed targets) -Amulet of the Devout (+2 to SSDC and an additional channel divinity charge) -The Whispering Promise (blesses healed targets) -Ring of Regeneration (heals wearer for 1d4 HP at the beginning of every combat turn) -Melf's First Staff (+1 to SSDC and attack rolls, can cast melf's acid arrow once per long rest) -Ketheric's Shield (+1 to SSDC, and attack rolls, advantage on DEX saving throws, grants shield bash as a reaction) GALE Classing: Evocation Wizard 11/Tempest Cleric 1 (cleric level best taken at level 5 or 6). evo for empowered evocation at level 10, tempest for heavy armor proficiency and wrath of the storm reaction. While multiclassing into cleric later changes spellcasting modifier to WIS, he almost exclusively uses magic missile, where it doesn’t matter much. Permanent Buffs: -Branded by the Absolute (required for one of the items to work) -Loviatar's Love from abdirak at the goblin camp (unlike other permanent buffs, this goes away if he dies, which he never has) -Tharchiate Vigour (20 temp HP per long rest) from reading the Tharchiate codex and removing Tharchiate Withering curse -+2 INT from Mirror of Loss Feats: -ASI x2 (to bring INT to 20) Items (the majority of these items are for making the magic missile spell more deadly): -Hat of Storm Scion's Power (grants arcane acuity upon dealing thunder damage) -Cloak of Protection (+1 to AC and saving throws) -Helldusk Armour (fire resistance, reduces all damage sources by 3, can cast fly once per long rest) -Gloves of Belligerent Skies (inflicts reverberation upon dealing thunder, lightning, or radiant damage) -Boots of Stormy Clamour (inflicts reverberation upon inflicting another condition) -Psychic Spark Amulet (grants an additional projectile to all magic missiles, gives free use of a first-level MM every long rest) -Ring of Absolute Force (deals 1 additional dmg to inflicting thunder damage if branded by the absolute, 1 free use of thunderwave every short rest) -Callous Glow Ring (deals a flat 2 radiant damage to illuminated targets per attack or projectile) -The Spellsparkler (generates lightning charges per spell attack or projectile) -Viconia's Walking Fortress (an extra AC compared to other shields, imposes disadvantage on enemies' spell attacks, deals 2d4 force damage as a reaction when wearer is hit) -Ne'er Misser (deals force damage instead of piercing, gives a free third-level magic missile once per short rest)

WYLL Classing: Gloom Stalker Ranger 4/Swords Bard 8 (important for your first level to be in ranger and not bard; the game uses the caster class you most recently multiclassed into as your SCM, so this build will use CHA from bard rather than WIS from ranger). gloom stalker for dread ambusher and hunter's mark, swords bard for extra attack and ranged slashing flourishes. Permanent Buffs: -+2 DEX from Mirror of Loss Feats: -ASI x 2 (to bring DEX to 20) -Sharpshooter (second feat, in between both ASI's) Items (the majority of these items are for survivability and making weapon damage more deadly): -Diadem of Arcane Synergy (Grants 2 turns of arcane synergy after inflicting condition on enemy) -Fleshmelter Cloak (Deals 1d4 acid damage to enemies who hit wearer in close combat) -Armour of Agility (17AC medium armor that uses full DEX modifier as an AC bonus) -Wondrous Gloves (+1 AC, gives an extra bardic inspiration point per short or long rest depending on bard level) -Boots of Speed (allows wearer to dash as a bonus action) -Periapt of Wound Closure (automatically stabilizes downed wearer at start of their turn, maximizes hit points when healing) -Strange Conduit Ring (deals an extra 1d4 psychic damage to weapon attacks when concentrating on a spell) -Risky Ring (advantage on all attacks, disadvantage on all saving throws) -Deva Mace (deals just a shit ton of bludgeoning and radiant damage) -Shield +1 (an extra AC compared to other shields) -Titanstring Bow (adds extra damage equivalent to STR modifier)

[b-radley66]

Nurse Enfys ministers to Meglann.

(After stunning her with an electro-ripper to the face.)

Wonderful commission by @punkzcakes, based on the scene below with Enfys Nest and one of my OCs, Meglann Florlin, ace pilot (in her own mind), economics and military science major (and drama minor) at the University of Aldera, and diner-owner/cook. (About 3 years before the events in Solo: A Star Wars Story. From my story, N’er Spoke Again

Please go visit their site, they are hella talented and extremely easy to work with.

<hr>

There is softness surrounding me. I manage to open my eyes; it doesn’t seem to be too much of a mistake as a soft lamp light plays over my brain. A sharp smell; a slightly smoky animal smell moves into my nostrils. 

I pull myself up to my elbows. The soft fur—the source of the scent— drops down from my chest, as it does, I feel cold air on my skin.

Skin?

I look down and see that and see that I’m no longer in my flight suit, nor even in the tanktop that I’d been wearing under it, in defiance of the RAC’s regulations. I don’t focus on the two (too small) items that are immediately in my vision, but the huge bruises on my left and right side under them. I realize that the cold isn’t the only thing hitting me as I struggle back to full awareness. 

A sharp pain in both sides of my lower chest, pain that swells with every breath. I touch both sides ruefully. Both Nola and I had discovered one other thing in common besides snark and an affinity for certain Corellian-Mandalorian semi-nobles, Togruta huntresses, Pantoran pirates, and Zeltron-Corellian cops.

We both bruise like summer fruit on our pale skin. Usually this only manifests itself when one of that quartet that we have affinity for use their teeth, but occasionally the bruises show up in our other occupation as shit-bringers for the old order.

I can feel my own eyeroll amidst the fog as my mind goes to bite-marks. I definitely have been hanging around that Zeltron-Corellian too long. 

I lift the warm fur blanket and look down the length of my body. I at least still have my underwear (glad that I was wearing it). My eyes fall on the reason that my apparently broken left leg doesn’t hurt as much as my ribs. A small bacta infusion unit is attached to that bruise; the bone is starting to itch rather than hurt. I lift my hand up to my mouth at a sudden memory. 

My fingers come away without the bloody froth that I remembered. 

“There was just enough of the bacta in your system to heal your punctured lung. Apparently it wasn’t too bad. Not enough for the ribs, though,” an unfamiliar voice remarks from the door. 

An old woman, her wrinkled face blank, looks at me. I see a small bag in her hands. She is dressed in warm, colorful robes and furs, much like the other assholes that I’d seen had been. 

I was wrong. Her face wasn’t blank. It seems to be held together by wrinkles and blatant disapproval. She walks over to the pallet, her hands unrolling a small bandage.

Without a word, she reaches down and begins to wrap my rib cage, starting just under my breasts. She is none too gentle in her motions.

“She’s of the camp that thinks we shouldn’t have wasted our precious bacta on the likes of you,” says a familiar voice from the door. I see the teenager from before standing in the door. The young woman, her curly copper hair unbound in a cascade over her shoulders looks at me from her much older brown eyes, the many freckles dark against her skin. She is no longer clad in the half-armor and greaves that she’d been in when I first encountered her; she is wrapped in a large fur cloak, much like what had been covering me until Dr. Personality had started her torture session.  I can just make out some of the freckled skin of her torso underneath the tightly wrapped robe. 

She walks over to the bed, dropping the cloak on the foot of the bed. She is clad in loose trousers and some kind of a singlet that leaves her shoulders and arms bare. Her feet are bare, as well, like she was prepared for bed.

I concentrate on not screaming as she seizes the other end of the bandage around my ribs and adds her strength to it, pulling it tight.

The old woman looks at her handiwork as I catch my breath, and the pain lessens to a dull roar. She busies herself poking and prodding other areas, while the teenager watches her. 

“So what’s your story, Hammer?” she asks. I’m perplexed for about fifteen seconds as to how she knows my callsign; a legacy from my father, as well as from my status as one of the nine Corellian Hells, as our little social club is called. I debate about telling her about the Corellian version’s name, but I’m still not sure about being codenamed ‘Ina.’ The question is answered when I see my flightsuit draped over a chair, with the sole example of Aurabesh on it. 

“I’m on a galactic tour of lesser-traveled shitholes. Got lost.”

A brief smile quirks her serious features.  A part of me notes that it is a distinct improvement. I change the subject away from what the hell I was doing here. “So what are you going to tell that faction that seems to have wanted to cut my head off and let me bleed out in the snow?” I look at the doctor, who gives me another hard look of her own. “Is this one just healing me up for the beheading?” The healer says nothing. 

“Why do you think I stunned you?” At her mention of that, I look over at the mirror on the far wall. I see another manifestation of my imitation of summer fruit. A bruise on the side of my face. In a place where I last remember the young woman’s electroripper being placed with some hard intent.

I might just owe her for that. I catch a glimpse of a look between my two ‘caretakers.’ A look with a shared smirk.

“I figured you might survive if everyone believes that I’ve claimed you for my bed.” I can feel a blush, as well as a raised eyebrow at that. 

“Not that it might not be slightly enjoyable, dear,” I finally reply, “but I don’t rob the cradle. Come back in another three or four years or so.”

She laughs, an altogether pleasing sound, based on what I’d heard from her minions. “I’m the daughter of the chieftain of the Cloud Riders. I take what I want. Plus, I’m not sure about somebody who looks like she might be near my own age, lecturing me about cradle robbing. You’re what, eighteen?”

“Only one year off, pirate,” I reply. “Nineteen,” I add, just to clarify. I grin at her bravado, but see the look of uncertainty in her eyes. I catch the old prune looking at her with something like sympathy. 

“What is it?” I ask quietly. “If you’re about to have my head taken off, you can tell me, I guess.” I wonder how I’d ever gotten so nonchalant about the impending separation of my head from my body. Well, there’s no danger of falling from a great height, like there was when I once had a cable around my neck, so there’s not much to be afraid of. I wince at my own thoughts. I’m sure that there are at least three, maybe four beings who know me well enough to call bullshit on my own false bravado—especially where heights are concerned.

Maybe even more.

I see her start to speak, then stop. Finally I hear the whisper. “My mother. I think that she’s been captured, by someone who captured and killed her mother thirty years ago.” She looks up at me, her eyes suddenly hard again. “She’s on some damnfool quest trying to get rid of a threat from Rattatak.” She pulls something from around her neck. 

I find myself holding my breath as the something that I’d seen in a larger, more ornate version around Bryne Covenant’s neck, against his business suit or dress uniform, as well as the smaller version against the skin of his chest, alongside the tooth of a large beast. 

The Covenant Chain. The symbol of the Covenant-Hope of Corellia.

I release the breath and look up at her face as she continues. “I can’t seem to get the Cloud Riders to follow me to go after her.” She looks away, focusing on her own face in the mirror. “I’ve never been alone before. It’s like they’re different people.” I nod and then reach out to touch her shoulder. Her skin is warm on mine. I take a deep breath unsure as to how I feel about deceiving her for that object. “I can help. Since you decided to use the bacta on my leg.”

“How? Our carrier ship’s hyperdrive is down.” She chokes. “Some leader.”

“I got some ideas about that,” I reply. “I know a guy.”

Not to mention a trio of talented women. Plus maybe even one or two that I barely trust.

I see her motion to the healer. The healer pulls out a syringe and before I can protest, jams it into my neck. “It can wait until the morning,” the old woman rasps. 

The young woman pulls the furs over me and gently lays my head down. I feel my mind going fuzzy, my vision with it. 

I hear myself whisper, as if from a great distance. “What’s your name?”

She pulls up her own fur cloak and wraps it around her, sitting in a small chair, shifting it closer to the bed. 

As I fade, I hear her whisper in my mind, as her fingers move through the hair on my forehead. She pulls closer to me

“Enfys. Enfys Nest.”

My last sensation is of a slightly earthy, but not unpleasant smell. A smell of engine grease, mixed with a hint of bright citrus, ushers me into sleep.

[swordcoasts]

formal, armor and bling for arkem + stature, canvas, favorite for misty <33 evil gang day

Arkem

Formal: What’s your OC’s formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions? He does enjoy dressing up in formal attire, mostly because growing up in Candlekeep and the following years on the road deprived him of the luxuries of a well-tailored article of clothing or the feel of luxurious fabrics. He has separate formalwear for day-to-day dealings (after he establishes himself as nobility) and the religious rituals he has to perform. The first is quite simple - quality fabrics specifically tailored to his frame, usually in plain black, lots of angular shapes (so shoulderpads etc). For Sharran rituals, he has a much more intricate wardrobe - think ornamented robes in rich purples and deep black, generally low-cut and flowy; fabric-wise mostly silks and velvets.

Armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it? Again, he has two separate sets of armor - a simpler set of pure black plate with minimal purple accents on the gauntlets and boots. It looks quite simple, as comfort is a priority, but he always makes sure it's polished and properly maintained. The other set is his Sharran armor, which is pretty much the Dark Justiciar set from BG3 - all-black with large spiked pauldrons in a deep purple shade, the symbol of Shar on the chestplate and a rich, flowing purple cloak. If he wears this, you know your shit's about to get wrecked.

Bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning? He enjoys wearing rings, but because of the permanent stain to his hands he doesn't have the opportunity to show them off much. Aside from his wedding ring (which is pretty much a pure black Moebius band) he always wears a magical ring that protects against mind control - it's quite minimal, but has a beautiful amethyst gem. Other than that, he usually wears an amulet with Shar's symbol underneath his clothing (unless he's wearing something low-cut, lmao) + he has nipple piercings.

This accidentally got super long, so Misty's answers under the cut.

Misty

Stature: What’s your OC’s body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it? She is very short (around 160cm so 5'2) and has a pretty average build - not a lot of muscle definition, not a ton of curves. She always wears at least four or five layers of clothing, even when it's warm, so her shape is pretty obscured underneath all that. It's a way of creating another barrier between herself and the outside world, and she loathes undressing in front of others as it makes her feel very vulnerable.

Canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all? She has three drops of blood tattooed on her ribs near her heart - one for herself and two for her siblings. Kind of a reminder of their bond, despite her leaving them. She also has a burn scar from some acid on her left arm - a painful lesson in checking for traps before sticking her arm down holes, lmao.

Favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What’s the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe? Her large red shawl is her comfort blanket (and has served as an actual blanket more than once). A merchant in Waterdeep saw her begging for copper at the market when she was young and gave it to her. It's very ratty and worn from years of regular use, but she refuses to part with it. Another is a gold earring with a small skull dangling from it - a gift from a priestess of Bhaal and her once almost-lover, it now serves as a reminder to be careful about trusting others.

[tlaquetzqui]

Hmm. What if elves don’t wear cloaks of elvenkind, or helmets, but have shadow armor like a hooded, reinforced robe or coat?

Come to think of it I can maybe give the whole ensemble a name, like how Forgotten Realms drow call their cloaks piwafwi. Only in English because that shit should always translate (“saya, tsuba, tsuka” bitch say “sheath, guard, hilt” like a normal person, those are not some special cultural concept that doesn’t translate).

“Riding coat”, I’m thinking: when most of your merchants are fighters and rangers it makes sense that your travel clothes are armored by default.

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

i like it when samael has bluebells in his hair T_T he's so cute holy shit in his cassock and jeans what a cute weird hippie dude

meanwhile lu is in the seinfeld puffy shirt and bee is a armor nevernude

and mike is like... art clothes

ahriman is sassanid empire. asmo is cloak robe thingies from achaemenidad

why do i have so many roommates

[bugcatcherwill]

I must ask are you planning on some OC art like ashen’s or the OG group photo, we got a little bit of sterre’s look

But what would they all look like now as the OG group picture was taken BEFORE the hateno accident

Or how do the 3 new wizzrobes look? Would their robes be abit torn from flying though bushes, or they made some unique style for their robes? Make make makeshift masks or bags? On their journey to the lab?

Cross probably looks like a normal gibdo but with its scar, or how its moth Gibdo friend’s unique look is, or how Keene looks different from other queens. We seen in their chapters Gibdo weave silk like bags 

Recksin how it is written seems like a anime delinquent ready to fight or speaks its mind, with the missing arm I see it’s shorts being torn or having some holes in them, maybe for unique style give it a bandana around the neck and wrappings on its other arm as it seems how the recent chapter showed: horriblins might have been the malices blacksmiths or weapon designers next to the fire lizalfos. Hence the goggles which I see when indoors or in not bright areas it takes them off and there on its neck or on its forehead

Same goes for our yiga friends: gale, Dorian and wren

Monsters don’t really have clothing mostly loin cloths and Armor

Take lizalfos for example they have almost a zora like way in clothing: only Armor or chain/jewlery strings to decorate said Armor

But I bet like hyrule’s other non human or human races monsters have unique styles or looks and I can’t wait to see some of these ocs when you draw them

So I got some life & job shit going on rn so we'll see how I do on actually drawing

Which sucks cuz I HAVE SO MANY IDEAAAAASSSSSSS

I absolutely wanna do a "redux" of the initial photo of the OG group and how they've changed since along with the new monsters.

For the 3 Wizzrobe trio, I don't have an exact look for them yet, mainly because they're still in their "standard" Wizzrobe uniforms that have only gotten mildly tattered since defecting. I wanna have a bit of worldbuilding introduced sometime where Wizzrobes have the same cloak over their life they just stitch their robes to be bigger and/or patch it with new fabric.

I do plan on giving Recksin, Cross, and Kehwees more accessories and doodads so they're distinct. But I figured I'd have that happen naturally where they start broken from the Malice as still generic-looking, but after meeting with other monsters they sort of come into their own :3

[d1ssenter-be-damned]

Shrimp or shriek (writers edition >:] )

HI SHNRIMP this one is. more than what the og post said to give but alas there was not a great place to cut this LMAO from a gabe/minos fic im working on Before shit went down in lust. putting this one under a cut cus it is kinda long LMAO

"I do not wish to see thee in pain." Minos closed his book, setting it aside as he rose from his seat. He made his way to his wardrobe, shuffling through the articles inside. "Here," he said as he pulled out a white drape, "I do think white works well on thee."

Hesitantly, he took the robe, examining it carefully.

“It is a chiton. A remnant from my time,” Minos explained with a small smile. “Dost thou know how to put it on?”

“I think so.” Gabriel folded the garment over his arm and made his way to the bathroom. Prying his armor off was difficult, as expected, but he managed to undress with little fanfare. When it came to putting the chiton on, however, he experienced more blockages; getting the cloth to drape properly over his chest was one thing, but for all the angels in Heaven he could not stop it from simply sliding down his shoulder. Holding it in place with one hand, he exited the bathroom.

“Minos?” he called, drawing the king’s attention from where he had resumed his reading. “I can’t— how do you make it stay?”

“My apologies,” Minos said as he stood, briefly digging through a drawer at his side before pulling out a shimmering gold clasp. “I do believe this should suffice.”

Minos came to his front, drawing the fabric tight and pinning it in place. He smoothed a hand down Gabriel’s chest and he had to hold his breath to stop from shuddering.

“There. Does that help?”

The loose cloth was certainly more comfortable on his back; it didn’t touch the wounds nearly as much with how it draped over his skin, and when it did make contact the fabric was soft enough to bring little irritation. Gabriel twirled happily, but then he felt the air against his skin and became painfully aware of how exposed he felt. His torso was covered but his arms were not, leaving his skin bare to the world. He curled in on himself to cover what he could.

"I don't like showing this much skin," he said at last, drumming his fingers along his bicep. "It is unnatural to me."

Minos hummed in thought, stroking his beard. He clicked his tongue before returning to his wardrobe.

"I had meant to save this for a special occasion," he idly commented as he rummaged through his storage, "but I suppose now is as good a time as any."

He made an excited little "Ah-hah!" sound once he found whatever he was looking for, coming out of the darkness of the wardrobe with a bundle of folded fabric clutched in his arms. He took it by the corners and held it up— a long, flowing cloak patterned like space, deep indigos and blues and purples blending together to create little galaxies, speckled with tiny stars that seemed to shine in the candlelight. It was held together by an ornate golden broach, framed by delicate chains of shimmering gold that hung in decorative tassels along the edge of the fabric.

"I saw it in a shop nearby and it reminded me of thee," Minos smiled as he gently wrapped the cloak around Gabriel’s shoulders, fiddling with the clasp in the middle. "I meant to give it as a gift for the upcoming solstice.”

yeah even cutting it there is a little harsh but alas. fuck it its fine

[rukafais]

The guard at each point of the formation wore black robes emblazoned on the back with a large purple-and-red spider design—the robes of a high priestess. The dark elves of Menzoberranzan, particularly the lowly males, normally donned quiet, practical clothes, dark-hued robes adorned with spiders or webs, or plain black jerkins beneath supple chain mail armor, and almost always, both male and female drow wore camouflaging piwafwis, dark cloaks that could hide them from the probing eyes of their many enemies.

The drow line parted and between the warriors passed a female, dressed in fine black robes adorned with spider-shaped charms and elaborate designs. Even Doum’wielle, who had no experience with drow culture other than the teachings of her father, could not miss the significance. This was a priestess of the goddess Lolth, and one of great power.

IT SEEMED JUST ANOTHER DAY FOR MATRON MOTHER QUENTHEL BAENRE as she went to her evening prayers. Her magnificent black robes, laced like flowing spiderwebs, swirled around her as she regally moved along the center aisle, passing the inferior priestesses at the many side altars of the Baenre House Chapel. The slightest breeze could send the spidery ends of that robe drifting upward and outward, blurring the form of the matron mother, giving her the appearance of etherealness and otherworldliness.

Worry not, the actual text has your back, it's just that a lot of artists got really unfortunately horny and that telephone gamed into uhhhh, weird shit. Their clothing is all practical.

in a constant mental battle between putting my priestesses of lolth in lore accurate (read: very scandalous) clothing vs not wanting to seem like i’m designing my characters with one hand

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s01e22: Chrysalis

Table of Contents

I can't believe we're to the season finale already - and also am so impressed with this twenty-three episode season! It's been incredibly tightly written so far.

Londo and G’Kar fighting is comfortingly amusing now.

G’Kar’s shimmery green armor is gorgeous.

Yelling the dying, stabbed man’s name is absolutely the way to keep him alive and giving you info for a few extra seconds, Garibaldi. RIP Petrov.

I am such a fan of these transparent surgical masks. I would like for them to use it for scrubs, too.

A surprise…? He looks so happy I half expected him to say he’s pregnant. But it’s clearly going to be a proposal.

“Look. Do you want to get married, or don’t you?”

AHAHAHA. I had to hold my stitches. That’s fucking perfect, Sinclair, you dork.

Poor Londo. Probably pissed off all the gods by waving his tentacles around. That certainly offended me.

EW NO IT’S FAE EVIL GUY. Morden. Ugh, no.

Delenn did not look particularly happy to get a yes response from Kosh. Granted, it would be rather unnerving to get anything other than an unfathomable soliloquy out of Kosh.

Being an ambassador is pretty high position. A lot of stress. Do you really want more responsibility, ie stress, to interfere with all the boozing and womanizing, Ambassador? Don’t make deals with Morden. Bad news is written ALLLLLL OVER THIS GUY.

Kosh’s shoulder pad wings are so extra.

Delenn, did you promise to grow hair?! In exchange for looking at Kosh?!

If the situation is too big for the head of station security, maybe don’t murder station denizens? That’s guaranteed to get some officials involved.

Vir and I are on the same page. Although he’s totally out of the loop. Londo is smart. He’s got to be able to see how shady this is.

G’Kar’s robe is so slutty. Love the space slut a la Picard look.

IVANOVA. Oh she looks so cute. I wish Talia was here to see her stylin’ curly hair and that dress is just gorgeous.

Hmmm Devereaux could be special forces, or he could have stolen a special forces weapon.

SHIT Morden et al are bad, bad news. Do cloaking devices exist in B5? It seems massively overpowered for the tech we’ve seen so far. Even Vorlon tech. On par with DraalPlanet, for destructiveness.

Something is definitely going to happen to those boxes. And immediately! Inside man!

Delenn!!! And the mystery 24 hours!!! There is a lot going on. Poor Sinclair has had to do some masterful time management this season so far but this might take it to a whole new level. I will be delighted if his pedantry saves the day again.

RIP every single Narn at the outpost. Ten thousand! Very OP. Who the hell and what the hell kind of firepower? I’m surprised that G’Kar’s list of who could have done it include both the Minbari and humans. Perhaps they’re more of a real power than I’d realized.

You can do it, Garibaldi. Pass out on the party floor! What is the party for? I missed that, if it was mentioned.

Oh sheeeeeeeeet, they did not manage to prevent the presidential assassination. Chaos must be incoming. Inside Job Man is still around and fucking shit up and smearing his smirk around.

They are very into lipliner on B5.

Having A Bad Day Narn/Human solidarity:

I’m honestly surprised and impressed that Londo cares that 10,000 Narns were killed. There’s more decency in him for Narnuan lives than I’d thought.

Inside Guy doin Inside Murders.

What doin, Kosh?

There is SO much going on here.

A real, actual, physical, chrysalis?!

There is so much going on that I absolutely cannot predict at all. It’s a trip.

“He is an annoying man, but I would miss him if he…”

Londo Mollari, that was very nearly a genuine sentiment of affection!

I hate Inside Guy nearly as much as Morden at the moment.

Speak of the devil. Floating, invisible, squeaky aliens plus Morden. Only good things can come of this, I’m sure.

AND IT’S A CLIFFHANGER?! *screams and throws things*

y’all I had an extremely busy day for being this recently post-op and am actually having trouble tracking visually. Am going to have to watch the next one tomorrow.

But it will be tomorrow: pinky promise.

[via-the-ghoul]

All physical descriptions of the Brothers Death I could find, for fan art purposes (I want to redo my designs so they’re more accurate)

Across the hills so quiet

Small Death is pale with a dark shadowy cloak

His eyes are described as hard, empty, and sliver

His fingers are thin

This isn’t a physical description but he’s an asshole the whole time he’s there

Chapter 1: verse 1

Great Death’s face is “obscured by wrought metal and stone”

Small Death is pale as shit, his robe’s dark as shit, only one describes as carrying a sickle and its sliver as shit

All Death is dark as shit, his robes white as shit, “Above his head, shadows swirled about in the dark vaults of the heavens” which I’m choosing to interpret as like, a shadow halo,

Now you find out

Small Death’s barefoot

They has a big hat which “dramatically shadowed the details of their face”. They don’t always wear it apparently.

They have no tongue

Large Death has. Black. Overalls. I’m doing this because I want my designs for them to be more tale accurate but I’m ignoring this one, you’re lucky I’m even including it

On a more fitting note they have a scythe

All Death has a thousand eyes

Surgery

Small Death’s teeth look like tombstones

Scp-3301’s testing log

There’s a picture of them and it’s hilariously different from all other descriptions of them

Three Short scenes about Death

Small Death isn’t always barefoot they wear immaculate black boots sometimes

He also has gloves

I’m just gonna copy paste this one bit about the middle brother because I don’t know how to paraphrase it: “And there it was, towering directly above the warrior as if it was always there. A gargantuan armored shape that eclipsed the sun, a behemoth comprised of broken arms and shattered walls. War personified. Terror incarnate. Pain and desolation made manifest.”

All Death has really long legs

“Its hands were gloved in silk, in mail, in empty vacuum.”

Their robe is white, sky blue, and and the color of dusty flesh

There is fog! On! His! Shoulders!

When we came home

“Three brothers in black rode upon three white horses.”

[mangos-hat]

mentions of death :fearful:

fanfic below this stupidd thought keep in mind i cant wirte

what if like when dark choco & cacao have their reunion licorice and pome get in the way and are fucking like "its him or the castle" and licorice has his scythe to dark choco

"just kill me already." AND THEY OBLIGE WITH CACAO STANDING THERE WATCHING HIS SON FUCKING DIE

and hes just there in distraught cus he didnt even get to catch up w his SON

mf has like a whole breakdown after that

-----

heres a fic or smth

here dark choco goes by he/they btw

i apologize in advance if the characters are any ooc im just bad at writing fanfics

"...It has been quite some time... Father."

Dark Cacao looked up at the voice of someone he used to know. His son.

He stood there, different. Their hair cut short with a red fade. Cloak and armor blackened instead of the white it used to be. He was almost unrecognizable.

"Dark... Choco... Cookie..." Dark Cacao said. His eyes met with the red eye of Dark Choco.

Dark Choco stared at the ground, clutching the Strawberry Jam sword tightly.

There was an awkward silence between them.

Neither of them knew what to say.

The silence was broken abruptly by the sound of magic being casted into the air and the sound of Dark Choco's yell.

"Oh my, it seems I've interrupted a little 'reunion' with you two." A voice came.

Dark Cacao looked up at the figure. The cookie had red hair and was dressed in a robe and held a mirror, as if they were from the Pomegranate Village. Maybe they were.

"My my. It appears we've found the long-lost king of the Cacao Kingdom! What a pleasure." The cookie chuckled, green leaf charms glistening.

"Dark Choco! We aren't here to mess around, stop slacking already!!" Another voice came. They had black hair and gray skin. They held a massive scythe.

Dark Cacao didn't recognize these voices, but sure as hell Dark Choco did.

"Shit. Licorice..! What are you doing.." Dark Choco struggled to move. He was held back by the magic the red-haired cookie used as well as the scythe the "Licorice" held.

"Dark Choco... What is-"

"Oh, we have no need to explain. We only ask..." The red-haired cookie interrupted. "...your son or the kingdom." She pointed the mirror at Dark Cacao as if it was a threat.

"Pomegranate! Let me go this instant!" Dark Choco tried to break free of the magic, but it was too strong. A red.. energy circle around Dark Choco.

"Just choose already!!" Licorice cried. "I'm getting impatient!" He pressed the scythe's handle against Dark Choco's neck.

"Him or the kingdom. Choose." Pomegranate said, growing more demanding.

"...I-" Dark Cacao started. He can't afford to lose his son. No matter what the hell they did, they were still his son.

"Kill me." Dark Choco said in a stern tone.

"Son."

"Kill. Me." Dark Choco repeated.

"NO-" "Then it's settled!" Pomegranate clapped and gave a smirk. "We shall be taking your son's life." She eyed Licorice.

"Any last words Dark Choco??" Licorice pressed the scythe harder. "It's your dadd!" Licorice gave a wide grin.

"Son. Please." He pleaded for his son. Anything but to have his son's life taken. "Don't do this."

"I'm sorry."

"DARK CHOCO!"

The scythe was released from his neck and was aimed for his head. Its blade cut through his dough and Dark Choco fell to the floor, jam spilled out. It all happened so fast.

"Our job is done, Licorice." Pomegranate said, turning her back to Cacao.

"FINALLY!" Licorice exclaimed, hugging his jammed scythe.

The pair took their leave, leaving Cacao alone in the room.

"No." He stared at the body of Dark Choco that lay on the ground; jam seeped out of his head. "No." He can't be dead. He denied it.

He slowly got on his knees to pick up the body. He shook the body.

"Son. Wake up." He started shaking harder. "Please.. Dark Choco.."

This is fucking shit. Dark Choco lay in his arms dead. He broke. "I'm sorry Dark Choco." Tears streamed down his face as he cried over his once son.

"I'm so sorry."