#this colour scheme looks very good for him

[hostilemuppet]

Christina "Bliss" Utonium

(Nickname given by Bubbles, who is her favourite sister (don't tell anyone!))

Once a normal and perfect little girl, the daughter of Professor Utonium (whether adopted or from a previous relationship is up to audience interpretation) was accidentally exposed to various chemicals of the alphabet variety and, after being infused with Chemical W, mutated into what would later be known as the very first Powerpuff Girl. After living the first five years of her life with no powers and suddenly capable of more than she could have possibly imagined, she was unstable, but more than that she was scared. Scared of destroying everything she touched, scared of getting hurt, scared of hurting her dad. So after blowing yet another hole in the house, she fled to somewhere she could be alone and could gain control of her powers without hurting anyone she cared about.

since theyre made of different chemicals, she doesnt have the exact same powers as the other three girls. bliss cant fly, but she can teleport. she doesnt have laser eyes, but her... explosive personality more than makes up for it. she may not be the strongest or the fastest, but her telekenesis means she can hold her own just fine. she is not the ultimate powerpuff who makes the others look weak in comparison, she is just another member of the team - she has not been sent off to space - who is capable but not invincible

or, she would be. after being alone on a deserted island (Him was not communicating with her through Mih, but she did talk to herself. a lot.) for a decade, shed really prefer to focus on the luxuries of civilian life. and who can blame her? if i was eating nothing but fish and coconut for 10 years, id want a good burger or ice cream too. and shes missed out on sooooooo many movies... hey, have you girls heard of tiktok? bliss would never shy away from a fight, but shes not exactly seeking it out. shes too busy trying to adjust back into society, for better or for worse. and trust me, romance is the LAST thing on her mind right now

for the most part, the powerpuff girls remain a terrific trio, with bliss aiding them now and then, the same as in the show how she pops back to earth every so often for the plot. except she is still on earth and lives at the utonium residence, because after being separated from her family for 10 years, why would she give that up again? this is the best of both worlds; she gets to be around her family instead of being put on a bus, and shes not forced into the main group permanently

in terms of design, she was inspired by the Perfect Little Girl from the original whoopass shorts; she was the first after all! this is mostly shown in her colour scheme but an earlier draft had a similar hairstyle for her island look. since she was at one point a normal human, unlike the other ppg she has five fingers, a nose, and she lacks the iconic ppg eye design, along with all the other traits i use to separate the x-creations from regular humans. what makes bliss special is how normal she seems (if you ignore the teleporting and the levitating of course). design process:

[abby118]

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔅𝔦𝔩𝔩.

❝ Rather be in Hell than alone. ❞ - sza.

This fic was inspired by the song Kill Bill by SZA.

yandere! modern au! phainon x fem! reader.

How did he get here?

The white haired man often asked himself that very same question for what seemed like ages now. Standing hidden away underneath the shadows like some crazed phantom became a nightly routine of his ever since his heart got shattered into a million pieces.

Phainon was popular, well liked and respected. He had a good life all things considered - a stable job, good friends and a lovely girl to come back home to.

With the realization that last bit was no longer the case, a sharp pang coursed through his chest. He watched your bedroom window closely, hands in his pockets as he noticed the fresh bouquet of flowers placed on your window. Fresh flowers from what he could tell, the pretty colours seemed to pop so cutely with the glow of the light coming from your living room and the wine red vase only added the blooms even more charm.

The same vase that he got you.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He can recall the sensation of the comfortable armchair as it creaked underneath his weight. The sound of the clock on the wall set him off as Phainon twirled with his thumbs, his gaze cascaded downwards as a heavy silence hung in the air. That silence would soon be a blissful past as it was soon broken by a gentle voice, a sad attempt at sounding compassionate.

"Phainon? It's alright to be upset, that is a natural reaction to such a messy break up."

The voice of his therapist echoed slightly in the overly white office, which only set him even more on edge. He grumbled in annoyance, cursing his meddling friends for forcing him to seek professional help instead of just letting his anger bubble inside him.

Besides, he was never angry for too long. His anger always comes and goes.

That's just the kind of guy he is.

Phainon snorted, a pained grin on his face, a pathetic attempt at trying to lighten the situation. "Sorry Doc, guess I just lost myself for a second there!"

From the corner of his eye, Phainon could see the worried looks his therapist was giving him. It was horrendously obvious that he was doing a poor job at trying to mask his concerns with that faux smile and the stench of his cheap cologne made him grateful for having a better sense of smell. His own was so much better, he figured. A truly childish thought in the grand scheme of things but he really could not be bothered to think like an adult at the moment.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tiny wine red ribbon hanging subtly on the Doctor's right hand, a stark contrast to his otherwise crisp and perfect exterior.

It didn't suit him whatsoever, Phainon thought flatly, his eyes still glued to his shoes.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

With a startle, Phainon realized that he was now standing in front of your door. His heart thumped in his chest, it made him wonder if he was going to die from cardiac arrest right then and there. All of the wonderful memories of his love came back to him, all of the sweetness he had soaked up only to lose it all in the end. It wasn't fair how much of an effect you had on him, even after all this time Phainon was still wholeheartedly yours.

And you did not want him. Not anymore.

He bit his lip, hard. The taste of blood filled his mouth as a few droplets of the thick liquid fell on his jet black hoodie, the dark material masking it.

This really was not his best idea.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

His hour was almost up. Huh. He figured he should be more ecstatic about that. The last hour felt like a century due to the incessant nagging of his therapist, who kept trying to get Phainon to open up. It was beyond clear that he was a rookie but he was trying, which just added insult to injury. It was fascinating how hard the man was trying to help him, how desperately he tried to offer up some solution to Phainon's sea of endless heartbreak.

None of which was working.

Looking back at the clock, Phainon strained his ears to see if there was perhaps someone else waiting in front of the good Doctor's door. Another lost soul seeking some sort of refuge, a comforting ear of someone who actually cared.

A true rarity in such a business, as he found out not too long ago.

He gritted his teeth as his ears picked up nothing. No sound of any eager on uneasy footsteps, not even a hint of a cough, the only sign of life was right here, in this white box he was stuck in.

... Perfect.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He did not even feel the thousands of splinters of the wooden door clinging to his skin as he broke into his old flame's apartment. He did not feel how the sticky fabric of his clothes clung to his being, thick sweat and something more heavy trying to weigh him down.

The only thing he could focus on was the shrill scream of the one he holds so dear.

He looked at his old flame and his eyes were suddenly brought back to life. Gone was the lifeless tint of grey in his eye, his mouth forming into an overly happy grin as he rushed straight towards his sweetheart, large hands grabbing onto the shrieking person who was trying to hit him.

How mean. But it was a reasonable reaction, he supposed.

For the first time in forever, things felt right. Phainon wanted to scream from the rooftops that he had you, he finally was holding you in his arms once again. Gone was the pain, his sorrow melting away into a puddle of need as he kissed your face all over, salty tears staining the cheeks of the one most precious to him, which caused him great agony. He grabbed the hand which was now raised high up, his grip iron tight as he pleaded to just be heard -

- And then as the man turned his head, all he could see was red.

A small, dainty little piece of fabric clinging onto your wrist, the tiny red wine bow a stark reminder of why he came here in the first place. He chuckled maniacally, his chest reverberating back and forth as he tilted his head backwards, his gaze meeting the soft glow of the moonlight as he felt the white hot rage take over his whole being.

This is not the best idea.

But, he could not even think of that statement at the moment.

He had other things to do.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

The man thrashed helplessly beneath Phainon, the massive wooden desk now a mess of documents and spit as the Doctor tried to feebly break free from the chokehold in which he was held in. A pathetic trail of his own vomit drizzled down his busted lip as Phainon grinned like a mad man, pleased to see that the one who caused him so much pain was finally feeling a fraction of what he has been feeling these past few months.

Who did this pathetic waste of oxygen think he was? Big fancy doctor got his degree and gets and overly inflated ego to boot.

And his precious peach fell for it.

She fell for it and it hurt, it wounded him so revoltingly. In that office at that moment, Phainon was less of a man and more a beast. A true deliverer of suffering. If the stars had decided to place him into an overly dramatic Greek tragedy as the main hero, then so be it.

He was going to be the star. He was going to be the brightest, most brilliant fucking star anyone had ever seen.

And Phainon was going to burn so bright that he was going to suffocate the man beneath him with his light.

His knuckles twitched sickeningly, the disgusting sound of impending death reaching his ears as he felt the tears of his victim on his wrists. The cool liquid felt surprisingly pleasant against his overly hot flesh, giving him a brief sense of reprieve. Phainon wondered if the engorged vein on his arm was going to pop due to the strain he was putting on it, his perfectly white flesh a stark contrast against the dark blue seam. Suddenly , he snapped at himself, there was no time to waste on mindless idling - harder.

He needed to press harder. And so, he did.

He needed to see the life out of the man's eyes being snuffed out. He needed to feel the sensation of his spirit leaving his stupid body, he needed to make sure that in this life and in all the others that this man would never reach you. Never, not ever.

With a sick thud, the Doctor went limp in Phainon's embrace. The silence was so thick and heavy that it felt as though it could be cut with a dull butter knife. Phainon held the fresh corpse in his hands, the broken neck of the man he had just savagely killed being lulled side to side like a broken souvenir one would get at a cheap pawn shop.

Once he was sure that the man was gone for good, Phainon stood up. He drooped the body carelessly onto the green carpet, the fuzzy fabric now stained crimson. The Doctor's hand was next to his head, that stupidly cute ribbon still clinging onto him even in death. Phainon roared in anger, heavenly blue eyes shining with fury as he grabbed his victim's hand and ripped the ribbon off. Stuffing it into his pocket, he turned his back away from the gruesome scene and made his way out the door, his steps thick and heavy.

He'd rather be in jail than feel this pain.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

Phainon was weeping. He didn't know what he was doing, hell, he didn't even know why he was doing it in the first place. He did not understand why he had his arms wrapped around your neck, he did not understand why he was choking the life out of you with that same wine red ribbon which he had taken earlier.

All he could focus on was your face. That beautiful, ethereal, angelic face. The face which haunts his dreams and nightmares, the once cheerful face which was turning plum purple by the second. Phainon heaved, his body heavy with regret and sorrow but the anger... Oh how he choked back on a sob, thick snot escaping his nose as he gripped his peach even harder, the soft flesh becoming more and more dull in his grotesque hold. Gone was the lovesick puppy, banished deep within the darkest pits of Hell the moment he snuffed the life out of his first victim. Standing now was a man who had lost his will to live.

He had nothing. He had lost you. Once upon a time, he vowed to you that no one was ever going to lay a single finger on you. In some macabre way, he kept his word. For as long as he walked on this Earth, not a single soul dared to harm you.

Never once did he think that he was going to be the one who was going to end it all.

Phainon watched you take your last breath and he wondered if this was perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen you. No one could take you from him, not even he himself could do that now. The thought of having no one, it made his soul whimper in morbid misery. But right here, right now, he had you. He was never going to be alone, never again.

Phainon had made up his mind ages ago. He'd rather be in Hell than be alone.

A/N: Ah, there really is no better tension between a girl who has to study for an important exam vs getting a fic idea right in the middle of her study session.

I literally got screwed over by SZA for showing up on my playlist because this fic just popped in my head. I made it a modern AU because I thought it fit the tone of the song better, hope y'all don't mind. I'm also having a bad creative block as of late so I've no idea if this fic is actually any good or not! Everything I write looks wrong these days and I had to go back and rewrite this multiple times because I just could not get it to look right.

If anything, it was at least fun to edit.

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bill’s schemes try once more to tear you two apart. But Ford swears that nothing will come between you again, not even the end of the world. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Show-typical injury 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Reunion, fluff, romanceeeee 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k 𝐀/𝐍: Weirdmageddon time! I know I could’ve written about the date, but I want to wrap this up neatly. Everyone’s support has been amazing, I haven’t written in a while so thank you so much for reading! (I rewatched the Weirdmageddon episodes for this so it should be pretty accurate? Although maybe a tad dramatic but that’s just my flare)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

It has been a good few weeks since Ford returned. The best few weeks. Even before Ford fell through the portal he was never this romantic, the scientist now reduced to flushed cheeks and soft hands reaching out whenever he saw you. Even when you were a little ways apart, you’d catch him staring at your profile, or coming up from his work just to place a silent kiss on your forehead. You giggle and shove him playfully, but you truly enjoy the little gestures. In return for the vases of wildflowers and cups of steaming coffee you wake up to find on your bedside cabinet, you’ve begun to annotate the books you read, hiding them around the shack for Ford to find. To your delight, when you go down to the basement to touch base with him, you tend to find the book you left the very night before open-paged to the side of his desk.

The man makes you dizzy. Electrified yet soporific, thrilled yet comfortable. Your lives have re-entwined together after far too long apart, and it can’t be more perfect. You will spend the rest of your life with the man you love, safe and content in his arms.

For Ford, he will spend the rest of his life ensuring nothing will come in the way of that happening.

You were in the forest, swabbing the cheeks of a local colony of redcaps for a research paper on gnomish tuberculosis, when a wave of nausea floods over you. The sunlight pierces, fractured, through your eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colour and madness.

As the feeling subsides, you realise that the wave wasn’t purely physical; there really was a vivid wave of madness washing down the Gravity Falls basin.

As you stand stock still, squinting eyes trying to work out what the hell that was, the notebook in your hand begins to quiver.

Looking down, you’re horrified to see that the bendy little writing pad has sprouted beady eyes and a gaping mouth, and is ripping out its own pages.

“GAH!” You squeal, dropping the notebook like it’s hot to the mossy floor. The loose papers now scattered around must be like some fucked-up version of reproduction for the crazed notebook, because each of them have eyes of their own. They begin swirling towards your ankles, small gnawing sounds being emitted as they bite into your ankles with sharp little teeth.

“EEEE! Get off of me!” You scream, shaking out your legs hopelessly as the pages seemingly multiply, crawling up your legs until your lower half resembles a mummy. Tiny teeth like acid on skin.

The madness continues, your tearing hands useless as you’re cocooned in note paper. Your screams are muffled, and you soon slip into unconsciousness. The last thing you see through the gaps in the paper is a large cross in the sky.

Bill.

Cool air trickles into your mouth, your aching lungs reacting by attempting to suck every molecule of oxygen from the atmosphere. Choking on the stink of smog, you try to open your stinging eyes and rip the swathes of paper from your skin. Your second pair of hands quickly help you peel the sweat-soaked sheets from your face.

Wait.

“Whoa, whoa dude. Calm down, breathe.” Startled, your cloudy vision tries to focus on the face of the person helping you. His face is shadowed from the soupy, apocalyptic sunlight. His hands are deftly stripping you of your papery scales.

“Who—” Your hand tentatively rubs your throat when your voice comes out a hoarse gargle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, dude! It’s me,” Soos pulls back his hood. “Handyman of the apocalypse, at your service!”

You sag with relief. “Soos! Thank god,” you say, pulling him in for a hug. “Where are we? How… long was I out?” The landscape around you is barren, a strange wasteland.

“I don’t know, ‘found you here just now. We’re a few days into Weirdmageddon, if that helps jog your memory?” Soos replies sympathetically. You must look like a wreck.

“A few days? I— How— How have I survived so long?” The binding around your mouth and nose was surely tight enough to prevent air getting in completely, your body quickly losing consciousness. Your tissue should’ve experienced hypoxia within the first few hours, yet your cognitive functions seem fine. How did you not succumb to asphyxiation? During the period of time suggested, the symptoms of dehydration and exposure would’ve surely exacerbated the danger of this situation exponentially! It’s a paradox of biological resilience! A miracle! “There must have been some sort of supernatural intervention. Bill’s presence in our realm suggests an anomaly, this ‘Weirdmageddon’… I’m just not sure. I’d need my notes, and more data. Surely other people experienced what I did?” You vocalise, rhetorically.

Soos looks a little lost. “I don’t know, dude. But I have been helping stragglers for the past few days, and it seems to me anyone affected by those weirdness bubbles and that wack-o wave recover just fine. I think Bill’s magic things are really just illusions that mess with your brain?” He offered.

“Fascinating,” you murmur. “If only Ford was here, between us he’s the expert in anomalous— Wait, Ford!” You break off, jumping to your feet. “God, where’s Ford? Have you seen him?”

Soos shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him.” You sag, heart split and stinging like your chapped lips. “But, hey dude, I think we should worry about that later… there are two suspiciously car-shaped dots speeding this way.”

Looking over your shoulder, you see that Soos is correct. Two vehicles are erratically approaching, slamming into each other with thuds that reverberate across the flatland. You hold onto his hand as you wait to face what’s going on; you’re in the middle of the apocalypse, there isn’t anywhere to run if there’s trouble. You have to face it head on.

“Not-Mrs-Pines?”

“Yes, Soos?”

“You were totally nerding out just now,” he says. “You and Mr. Pines are really perfect for each other, y’know?”

You smile softly. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bill laughs through Ford’s howls, unrelenting as the man is bombarded by electricity. “Ready to talk now?” The demon cackles, Stanford limp in the shackles around his wrists.

Ford’s voice is husky, body spent, but he is equally as resolute. “I won’t. I won’t let you into my mind!”

Bill rolls his eye, spinning to survey the minions crowded around him. Pointed tongues slide hungrily over teeth, gleaming talons fidget eagerly. “What do you think pals? Another 500 volts?!” The triangle calls. His kinsmen jeer in response.

Bill raises a finger, sparks flickering on the tip. As he lowers his arm to direct it at the dying man, a thunder shakes the chamber. His body rotates, form quickly turning red as he sees that blasted Mystery Hack interrupting his interrogation. Large animatronic arms and legs have turned the building into a Demon-Quasher-3000. Who do you think you are?!

You're standing at one of the small windows, Mabel’s friend controlling the limbs via a motion capture suit. You’re her eyes, telling her what to do from your viewpoint. 

“Candy! 8-Ball on your ten o’clock!” You shout.

With a grunt, Candy takes him out with a powerful swing. For the first time since Dipper, Wendy, Soos and you regrouped and found the Mystery Shack, faith flares in your chest. The machine is working! We’re coming for you, Ford.

McGucket’s monstrosity really does work perfectly. One by one it picks off the interdimensional hellspawn, craters appearing in the wasteland’s dry earth. You clutch the windowpane tighter with every jolt, knuckles pale. At one point your eye catches them, lingering on your ringless finger. For the second time in your life, you think about how as soon as you get yourselves out of here, Ford better get his act together or you’ll get down on one knee yourself!

Up in Bill’s palace, the demon is livid. “One job! They had one job!”

Ford’s body has perked up, eyes shiny with hope. Bill does not miss this, eye narrowing as he examines the man.

“Well,” he drawls, “would you look at that! Those playthings of yours really care about you. And you care about them, don’t you!?”

Ford’s breath catches. “What are you— No. Oh, no!” Sweat beads on his forehead, fists clenched and trembling. Bill Cipher, however, was quivering with barely contained glee.

“Perhaps torturing those kids will make you talk!” He taunts giddily, floating behind Ford and gently lifting his chin to point his gaze at the Mystery Shack. He leans into his ear, “or… say, Fordsy, how about that doll of yours?”

“No, not her! Cipher, you can’t—” Ford’s cry is silenced as he turns gold inside out, his shimmering figure a cruel contrast to the horror twisting his features.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Sixer.” Bill says, not looking back. Looking out at the shack malevolently, he cracks his fingers. “Now. Let’s get this over with.”

A chill washes through you as you enter the chamber, behind you the Mystery Shack attempts to ward off Bill. You brace your legs as your vibrant parachute sets you down on the concrete, but you still fall over.

“Plegh!” You bite your tongue as your jaw hits the floor, and you lay still for a moment waiting for the breath to return to your body.

“It looks even worse in person,” you hear Dipper say. Looking up, you see he’s right. A throne of petrified corpses looms above you, the townsfolk’s pupiless faces staring out. You immediately look for Ford.

“Ford? Can anyone see him? Is he in a separate room?” You immediately start questioning, hauling yourself to stand and looking around. The cracks in your heart deepen. “Ford?”

Mabel grits her teeth, “on it!” She raises her grappling hook, pulling her up to the dias.

A moment goes by, and then another. Your heart is almost done crawling up your throat when Mabel calls out.

“I found him! He’s golden!” Her face peeks over the edge. “But… not in the good way!”

Mable disappears again, and Dipper is quickly helped up to join her. The rest of the team agrees that you’re the next to go.

With the help of a grappling hook and four twelve-year-old hands, you join them at the top. 

There, on the arm of the throne, is the love of your life, gilded and frozen in time.

“Oh, Ford!” You croak. Dipper places a reassuring hand on your arm. You smile back at him, bravely stepping forward to try and get Stanford out of this mess.

The twins quickly notice a young boy trapped in a cage, his shoes clinking against the suspended metal floor. While they discuss something, you examine the base of the throne, squinting skyward as you try to find a way up.

While studying the structure, you fail to notice the twin’s warning before it’s too late. One victim is pulled from the edifice, and the entire thing begins to collapse. Your shout of surprise is swallowed as a cascade of bodies covers you, burying you in the screaming mass.

Disturbed by the chaos, the golden stature of Ford Pines is released from its curse, his body doubling over from relief. Dipper and Mabel quickly locate him, rushing to his side to support him.

Ford coughs, the pain from the electrocutions still ailing him. “Kids! Thank heavens you’re okay!” Despite himself, he scoops them both up, hugging them tightly.

“Great Uncle Ford! We’ve got him distracted, but Bill could get here any minute! You said you knew his weakness..?” Dipper asks.

“Yeah! A secret way to defeat him?” Mabel chimes in. Ford pauses.

“Yes, I do. But— kids, where’s ____?” Ford asks, dread leaching into his features as his eyes dart around.

Dipper’s face pales, his eyes darting toward the remnants of Bill's psychotic throne. “I... I don’t know. She was with us a moment ago.”

“She was here?!” Ford cries, hastening over to the wreckage. A thousand unknown bodies are searching around for their loved ones, but Ford’s eyes are only looking for you. His voice carries above everyone else’s cries, your name echoing the loudest through the chamber. Frantic hands part bodies, his search not sparing a second to apologise for treaded-on fingers or too-rough shoves.

Little did Ford know you were 538 bodies away on the other side of the carnage, battered and bruised, trying to muster up a cry loud enough to ask for help. There are too many people on top of you, and every effort you give to rise to the surface is hopeless as others tamp you back down in their own attempts.

Buried and afraid, your last hope is to peel off Ford’s red turtleneck you’d been wearing and try to use it as a beacon. You’d put it on upon reaching the Mystery Shack, as it still smelled like your beloved’s scent of pine, parchment, and ink. Now, you ball it up in your fist and use all your energy to push it through the tumult, its scarlet fabric disappearing to the surface.

You curl up into a ball, eyes scrunched shut as you wait for unguaranteed help. You don’t even know whether Ford got saved…

“Great Aunt ____!” The twins call, nimbly hopping through the human rubble. People are slowly recovering and dispersing, only a few pockets are left.

“____?” Stanley echoes without much conviction, internally battling the helplessness he feels. However, his brother’s search grows more frantic with every passing minute. Ford felt he was going mad at the thought of losing you, not after finally getting you back.

A flash of red hauls him immediately from his spiral.

“The sweater!” Mabel’s excited voice repeats his thoughts moments after. “That’s her sweater!”

In retrospect, Ford never remembers travelling over to it. He just remembers picking up the turtleneck, looking around for your face. He remembers his hands wrapping around you and hauling you into his arms. He remembers pressing a messy kiss to your lips, eyes brushing over your form for injury.

“My dearest,” he mumbles quietly into your hair, his eyes closed as his skin presses to yours. You're too exhausted to cry, but Ford holds you as if you are. He’s a restless soul, hands always fidgeting for a new project, so when you hug his fingers are always moving; gentle swirls on your lower back, combing through your hair as you kiss him. You sink into this familiar touch, hoping that he understands your wordless relief by the way your fingers trace his jaw, sinking to smooth then grip his coat’s lapel.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you murmur eventually, looking up into his face. The shadows from your youth have reappeared beneath his eyes, his hair is mussed, his jaw bears a rough shadow. Your eyebrows crease. “What did he do to you,” you whisper.

His eyes are weary, yet they look at you so very softly. “Please, let’s not talk of him right now.” He gently takes one of your hands from his chest, delicately cupping it like a precious stone. His eyes don’t leave yours while he presses his lips to your knuckles. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over your fingers thoughtfully. “Do you know what else I was retrieving from the alien bunker? The afternoon the rift cracked?”

You’re taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, and the deepness swirling in Ford’s pupils. It’s like he’s staring straight through you. Hesitantly, you humour him. “You mean, other than the adhesive?”

Ford hums a confirmation, eyes still glued to you.

You’re trying to think, but his finger swirling absently over the top of one of your left fingers is awfully distracting. “Mmm… I don’t know, honey,” you attempt.

He smiles again, bringing you in for another kiss. Your head is swirling, but before you know it Ford is sinking down to the floor, your hand still resting in his large, warm palm.

He lets out a timid, breathy laugh at the look on your face. You’re slack jawed, staring at your beloved (who has always been much taller than you) bowed on one knee before you.

“Sweetness—” He is interrupted by a sound escaping your lips. “—Sweetness,” he continues fondly. “Before I met you, I was a mess. A terrible, unravelled mess that you carefully wove together.” Your spare hand goes to cover your mouth. “It’s been thirty years since I was last torn from you, thirty years since I fell through that portal while you, my heart, were holding the end of my thread. As I fell through the heavens, I came undone, and quickly comprehended how much I need you, ____. I’m—I’m not as smooth with words as others, but… what I’ve been meaning to say from that moment is… you’ve loved me at my best and my worst; And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of that.”

With impressively little fumbling, Ford reaches into his interior pocket and extracts a glimmering silver ring, a rich burgundy stone set into it. As it shimmers you swear you see galaxies of stars swirling within.

“Oh Ford,” you breathe, reeling.

“I don’t want any more close calls. ____ __ ____, will you ma—” the rest of the question is mumbled against the lips you press to his, your body crouched down to wrap your arms around his neck. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses that precede, a ‘yes’ is uttered and a ring is blindly slid onto a finger, but really. It’s the end of the world and you just want to kiss your fiancé.

“If we’re all about to die, I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

Ford’s eyes harden defiantly. He rises to stand, offering you a hand to pull you up. “I won’t let that happen.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

@snake-in-a-flower-crown @shadowsandswords @darling-eos @bloodspatteredprincess @yasuuuudere

@space1crow @fries11

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[meo-eiru]

heyy!! here I am with some more thoughts, this time about Elias.

honestly, for some reason, he seems like a very lonely person to me. you mentioned his will to change himself (and go to extreme lengths in that); also his almost paranoid fear of darling leaving him, (delete all of your contacts except for him, etc) – usually such level of jealousy is a sign of very low self-esteem. dunno if it's true, I just had a feeling that he's super insecure deep down. (he's afraid to look bad in our eyes, remember? to an unhealthy extent.)

and he's so empty. so beautiful on the outside, but so so empty. he loves you, he exists for you, isn't that enough? it isn't. you can't feel genuine affection for someone just because they look good. and Elias knows that! he's actually self conscious (unlike some elf with big tatas), but he can't offer you anything else, which must make him feel even more insecure, because deep down he knows that he won't be able to keep you by his side forever.

actually that will of his to go to extreme lengths for us is pretty frightening. how toxic it can be? depends on the darling! because if you are a normal person, you'd be patient with him, change him, and have a happy ever after and all those boring things. but what if Elias happens to fall in love with an unreasonable and possessive monster?

I feel like he'd go very well with a darling who's yandere for him too. and a stereotypical one at that, who'd want to keep him by their side like a pretty doll. get it? not a life partner, not even a human. a doll, a pretty thing to take care of. they would choose pretty clothes for him, brush his hair, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more but a pretty thing, an object.

I really like the doll metaphor for Elias. (I'm a huge doll lover, I ever have one of that super expensive bjd) dolls are beautiful, but aren't alive. they can't be someone you'd open your heart to; under their shiny porcelain skin, they're hollow.

unlike Silas, Elias is a more tragic character in my eyes. he's willing to carve his bones to whatever shape you desire, because if he isn't validated and noticed by you, he has no value. and you (if you are a normal person) will grow tired and bored of him, sooner or later. he wants to be loved, when there's pretty much nothing to love in him.

unlike Silas, his love can ruin only himself.

(I swear it's not like I want to see him suffer in particular. I'm open to all kinds of despair, pain and sadness, whether it yan's or darling's!)

(also I tried to find his colour scheme, but all I found was you mention his hair, so it's just how I think he looks like.)

DHDKDHDKYS NOT ONLY IS YOUR ANALYZES AMAZING YOU ALSO DREW ELIAS??? AND HOW DID YOU GET HIS COLOR SCHEME SO RIGHT???

I love you thank you god I love asks like yours.

You’re very on point, Elias is like a pretty doll. Beautiful on the outside but completely empty inside, and that beauty is the only thing that gives him any kind of worth. He’s aware of this more than anyone.

He’s not rich, he doesn’t have an amazingly successful career, no hobbies, no specialities, no interests. He’s extremely pathetic and all he can do is pitifully attempt to pull you down to his level.

That’s why committing self harm comes so easily to him even if he doesn’t yearn for it. Endangering himself, his only value, his body, is the only way he can keep you with him. He doesn’t have any power over you he can use against you. He only has this disgustingly and pathetically beautiful body.

He wants to be loved by you, he wants you to be obsessed with him as much as he is with you, but deep down he knows he doesn’t have any qualities that could deserve such love. That is why he leans into his appearance so hard, since the moment he was born that face of his was the only thing that gave him any sort of value.

If you find any part of him ugly he’ll have no choice but to try to fix it even if it completely ruins him. Because he thinks that’s the only way for him to keep your eyes on him. He’s just through and through pathetic. Extremely pitiful.

He would indeed roll well with a yandere reader who treats him like a living doll. Because Elias wants to be values by you, even if it means getting stripped of the little sense of identity he had. He wants you to keep your eyes on him and see him as an object who exists for your satisfaction. Because at the end of the day that is what he is. An empty shell who was unfortunate enough to be born with the ability to love.

Elias’ existence can’t handle his own love. He’ll start breaking from inside out like a doll under pressure. That’s why he needs your reassurance, he needs you to reaffirm his worth. He can’t exist for himself so he needs to exist for you. He might be a beautiful shell of a human but he too can have some sort of value if he’s being used like a tool by you.

But watching you also makes him feel extremely jealous and frustrated. Because you have everything he doesn’t have. You have hobbies, things you enjoy, things you do for yourself, people who stay with you not for your outer shell but for who you are inside. Everything Elias never had and never will.

That’s why he tries so hard to ruin your relationships and threaten you to stay with him, to keep you at his level like a pathetic bug. Because you’re not like him. You can abandon him any day of the week and continue your life like you lost nothing, but Elias isn’t like that. If he loses you he truly will have nothing left.

So please love him, ruin him, break him, treat him right, use him, make him feel alive, give him some sort of value. Please be kind to Elias. He needs you more than anyone on this world

[balrogballs]

One of my most why do I do this to myself headcanons is that Elrond talks to Celebrìan all the time, from the day she sails to the day he sails. That he tries to do it silently, but sometimes slips up.

Not in the way of sorrowful monologues, no, but in remarkably mundane ways. Sometimes he’s at dinner and the dessert is over-sweet and he’d mumble in disgust “god, you’d love this, wouldn’t you?” Sometimes he’d walk in the garden and see some awfully large bug and go “yes, yes, calm down, I’ll get Glorfindel to kill it”.

When he first set eyes on Bilbo Baggins he marvelled “oh, Cel, you’re right! they do have hairy feet, I owe you a gold piece!” and then immediately turned bright crimson upon remembering that in addition to hairy feet, Bilbo Baggins also had working ears.

He’d have five minutes in bed before getting up just complaining to her about all he had to do that day, and then later in the evening he’d stand at the sink with a mouthful of toothbrush, complaining about all he didn’t manage to get done. He’d chatter away about anything and everything, but always in the present tense.

It made Elladan and Elrohir very sad — after all, they knew what it was like to always have someone to turn to and discuss everything and anything, and the idea of losing that terrified them. Arwen and Galadriel would indulge him, in that they wouldn’t comment on it, and leave him to it when he slipped up.

Most surprising, however, is Celeborn’s reaction. They had had a mildly tense relationship the year after Cel was rescued, both blaming the other as cover for their own immense guilt. But any time Elrond accidentally addresses a comment to a phantasmal Celebrìan in front of him, Celeborn would do the same, to the same patch of thin air. Elrond loves him very, very much for that.

Aragorn, who had the luck misfortune of being raised by Elrond, understandably began copying his mannerisms as a toddler. This is what led to Gilraen coming across her five year old son having a full conversation with absolutely nobody whilst he played with his toy horses. Nervously, fearing for his sanity, she asks him who he was talking to, only for him to say “oh, it’s Cel, she’s a crazy lady and she’s me and Ada’s invisible friend. She hates bugs”.

Gilraen, not knowing Elrond used to call his wife Cel, spent a good two years absolutely certain that there was a poltergeist in Rivendell.

At Arwen’s wedding, as he leads her to Aragorn, he can’t help but whisper “look at our marvellous girl”. Arwen squeezes his hand, tight enough for two.

To his utter mortification, Elrond accidentally mutters “oh look at this wonderful tapestry, Cel, your favourite colour scheme!” whilst on a visit to Thranduil’s court. Thranduil politely pretends to not notice, feels a tinge of sorrow for his kind-of-friend, but also says a silent thanks to the Valar for “allowing me to avoid the Elrond approach to widowhood”.

Legolas convinces Gimli that Elrond is talking to a poltergeist, and offers him ten gold pieces to go and ask him if he’d like an exorcism.

In Valinor, two months after he arrives, Elrond is reading in his study when he’s struck soundly on the temple by a bedroom slipper. He looks up to see Cel, (his) dressing gown wrapped around her, her other slipper folded in her hand like a club: “who the hell are you calling darling at two in the morning?”

[darqx]

Well i talk about it talk about it talk about it

The beginning of FUNKY TOWN is still stuck in my head.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Thanks, I'm glad my art improvement is noticeable :D I have actually KIND OF redrawn scenes before such as

and a bunch of frames from

so who knows i might do some more at some point lol!

YOU GUYS STILL SEND THEM TO ME :d

I don't actually get that many, i just tend to answer months worth all at once so it looks like a lot haha. I also don't answer a bunch of them if I've already answered something similar before or the answer is in my FAQ. Though I'm going to be honest some of the asks that get sent to me I don't think anyone expects me to actually answer, because they're just weird enough that if i turned off anon i'm pretty sure no one would be asking them.

My free time (...when I'm not procrastinating |D ) is trying to be spent on BP so I currently dont have any plans beyond the fun little doodles and animatics and stuff that I usually do. Gato is working on YKMET so if you guys like Strade then you have that to look forward to :)

(Why thank you!)

The armour follows his usual colour scheme which is gold on black.

You can tell this ask is from January lol.

Thanks haha my colouring style layers colour over colour so colour over grayscale always just looks oddly muddy in my POV |D ESPECIALLY LIGHT COLOURS LIKE YELLOW.

Demons can traditionally reproduce within the same species or with a compatible species.

Psychology, Law or Politics. I think these are the top normal majors you could take where the info you learn from them could be really useful in not getting fucked over and/or fucking someone else over.

I haven't been asked to make chibis for Gato this time around so you'll probably be getting something different for your finished runs!

Demon Commons.

All demons have some sort of specific mark that they are born with (anywhere on their body). The exact reason why has been lost to time, but it often gets used for identification. Here are some of the rest of my demon characs:

Hm, if I have to consider real life anatomy (nooooooo XD) the yellow is probably his iris.

Man i've answered so many asks i sometimes only remember saying something when another asks sounds familiar lmao 🤔 Ok; Rire, as a demon of station, has been captured in the background of some historical paintings and photographs, sometimes without his knowledge but always to his amusement later when he finds out. Like just imagine you are intensely studying art history and in those paintings of events with lots of people in it, suddenly your eye happens to catch upon a tall dark haired figure wearing sunglasses from that time period somehow blending in amongst everyone else there.

He has no particular preference in this regard.

Rire doesn't have like 🤔...a set criteria as it depends entirely on certain whims; like whether he is looking for business or pleasure, what he's feeling like at the time etc. If it's purely business then there are types of people he would approach that he wouldn't otherwise if it was for mainly entertainment.

They probably average out at about room temperature - they tend to reflect environment temp a bit and the main part that's closest to his back will always be a bit warmer than the rest of the ichor.

Probably not

They are evenly matched

Thanks very much! :D

Rire has been around for a while so yes he would have witnessed a bunch of things in human history. Who he met and who he made deals with is up for debate.

He is "polite" so he would thank you, at the very least. And yes they are his signature flower lol. It wouldnt be any special..er than receiving any other flowers though to him - we are the ones ascribing the meaning to it.

Two for the price of one 🤌🏻 Also this is an insanely old ask but yes you have permission to do fancomics or whatever with him |D

Anon, considering most people know him from a weird "dating sim", I dont think this is as startling an ask as you might think haha.

if it makes you happy.

Pick a nice smell that you particularly jive with and it would be that. This is individual specific so if a whole bunch of people are around Rire they may each perceive something different.

I get asked this question a lot |D I'm gonna be real with you guys - i haven't actively thought about a canon design for his parents because i'm kind of lazy to (since right now i dont need to know what they look like). Until that happens you guys will just have to go off the vague text descriptions i've given before :p

[grandline-fics]

Do you think I can request a seamstress y/n being part of the strawhat crew and how they need to make new outfits for the crew as disguises and when it came to luffys turn, it was kinda difficult for them because they have a huge crush on him and seeing him bare for measurements kills them a little-

Kinda just a sorta oblivious luffy witnessing y/n get flustered a little!

Really curious how you’re going to make it end lol

(Love your writing sm! Thank you for advanced!)

DESCRIPTION: You’re the crew’s seamstress and measuring Luffy leaves you flustered 

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 934

A/N:  Sorry this took so long but I hope it was worth it and that you like how it all turned out

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When it came to your passion of designing and making clothes you were unbelievably focussed. It was to the point that if the crew wanted to distract you from something they’d bring up the topic of a new design they had in mind. Some of the crew were more subtle about this tactic than others, for instance when Sanji needed you away from the kitchen for a few hours so he could work on your surprise birthday banquet, Robin expertly brought up a floral skirt and top combination she wanted to wear but couldn’t find the right colour scheme anywhere.

On that occasion you’d gotten so motivated that by the time you were needed for the banquet you had to be physically dragged out of your workshop. Oppositely there was one time Zoro had stolen your dressmaker’s mannequin to test out which angle would be best to attack someone from for his new technique. When you’d found out and went to rescue your possession Zoro had tried the distraction method but merely said ‘buttons’ which only bewildered you for the briefest of moments before you took back what was yours while it was thankfully still in tact. Yes, there was no way your focus could be shaken when it came to your work…well except when it came to your Captain. Your very oblivious Captain. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just a crush, that he didn’t feel that way about you and he was just affectionate and energetic by nature and you were good with that, you really were. The last thing you ever wanted to do was jeopardise the amazing friendship you’d made with Luffy. So you kept your crush to yourself and things continued as normal. The only time things threatened to reveal themselves was at moments like these. The ship was heading into dangerous territory governed by another rival pirate which meant keeping as low a profile as possible and that meant they were depending on you for appropriate disguises. 

“Luffy please just stand still.” You lightly begged, watching your Captain excitedly move about your workspace, touching the bolts of different fabrics and flicking through your design book with glee like it was his very first time in the room when in reality you’d lost count how often his presence had been in and out. At your plea he stopped running his fingers through the soft patterned material that had caught his attention and turned to face you with his usual carefree grin. You sighed in relief and slowly reached for your measuring tape while trying to keep your expression as relaxed as possible. This was always the hard part so you just tried to go as quickly as possible. “Shirt off.”

You had no problem seeing any of the other guys shirtless, yeah most of them were impressive but the only one to get you  to be a shaking, blushing mess was Luffy. When Luffy’s hands moved to his shirt you dropped your gaze away, mostly out of respect but also because you could already hear your heart slamming against your chest and feel your skin begin to heat. When you heard the fabric of his shirt fall on the ground you looked up, trying to keep your gaze focussed on Luffy’s eyes but you couldn’t help but let it drop for the briefest of moments to peek at his impressive physique. Snapping out of it you instructed quickly. “Arms out.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl when Luffy grinned and extended his arms out to you as though inviting you in for a hug as opposed to putting his arms outward so you could accurately measure his frame. You knew it wasn’t his intention to fluster you like this, it was just Luffy being Luffy but it made things so much harder to deal with. Resisting the urge to give in to temptation you took hold of Luffy’s wrist and pulled to manoeuvre him correctly. Quickly you stood behind him and began to lift your tape towards him. With every adventure and fight meant Luffy’s body got only more and more defined and it made measuring him a greater struggle.

It was a relief that you managed to make it through most of the process without making too much of an idiot of yourself but by the end of it all you were beet red and trying to look anywhere but the cause. Through it all Luffy was his happy, oblivious self, talking excitedly about the disguise he wanted but when you stepped away he finally took a proper look at you. “Huh? Are you feeling okay?” He asked, leaning in closer and pressing his hand against your head. However that action meant his still bare chest was against you too which only made your condition worse. “You shouldn’t have been working if you’re sick. I’ll go get Chopper, okay?”

“N-no! I’ll be fine!” Your guilt for making him worry managed to pull you back from your inner spiral. “I’m just…too warm! Something cool to drink and I’ll be back to normal.” You reassured only for Luffy to grin and pull you out of your workshop and straight to the kitchen so you could cool down. Finally feeling more yourself and no longer overheating thanks to Luffy sitting back you could focus on the design. “So you never said what colours you wanted for this disguise, Luffy.”

Luffy blinked at you and gave you a look as though you were the oblivious one. “Well as long as it matches you I’ll be happy.”

[radioactiverats]

Curious question, (First, I love your mentor Starscream x seeker reader fics) what would it be like if Thundercracker and Skywarp were around? Because I keep imagining them as those weird uncles who decided to annoy Starscream by pulling reader into their shenanigans.

Hello, first of all thank you so much for reading! I absolutely love the idea of elite uncles. Starscream moaning that Skywarp has led you astray (shitty flying habits. Taking you out for your first drink of engex and trying to hide the fact that ur shitfaced before Starscream comes to skin you both. Oooh there's an idea). For now my brain vomited this out but thank u for the prompt I will prob return to it again!!

------

You’ve never formally met Starscream’s trine. The first reason being that he is fiercely protective of you, even if he’ll never admit it. Despite the bond he shares with his trine, he wants to keep outsider interference to a minimum - he gets one chance at keeping you safe, and if even one of Skywarp’s pranks go awry… in the privacy of his own processor, Starscream has never dared to finish that thought.

However, things have changed. As Megatron’s bloodthirstiness grows by the day, Starscream, like any good tactician, knows that the current strategy won’t work for much longer. With only him standing between you and Megatron’s idle and violent whims, he is regrettably forced to admit that he needs help to guarantee your survival. So what if a teensy part of him doesn’t want to share your attention? If you offline, he won’t have any of your attention at all.

As SIC, any overt moves will attract Megatron’s attention - so Starscream finds a tactical excuse. Your first group mission, he proposes under the guise of ‘training’ - to tag along with the Elite Trine.

Starscream is incredibly stiff when he informs you of the meeting - he’s usually forthcoming with details in your presence as he rants freely about something or other. But this time, he remains oddly tight-lipped, refusing to tell you who you’re about to see.

“As long as it’s not Megatron, I think it’ll be fine,” You finally mutter when you grow exasperated with his evasiveness. It seems to ease the mood a little because Starscream pauses, and you watch some of the tension bleed from his wings.

“It’s not,” He says at last. “Thank Primus for that.”

With that out of the way, you assure yourself it can't be that bad, beginning to grow curious as you follow Starscream to the open, grassy plain that has now become very familiar to you. Would it be someone you already knew? Or someone you’ve never met before?

Starscream stops when you reach the scuffed circle of earth that has more or less been forcibly converted into a landing pad. A sudden gust of wind ruffles the dry grass and Starscream nods curtly, although the expression on his faceplate seems slightly pinched. “Here they come.”

The distant roar of jet engines reach your audials and you squint as you spy to rapidly approaching blurs from the horizon. Blue and… was that… purple? There’s only two jets with this colour scheme that you know of. Your helm whips up to stare at Starscream in disbelief, but he stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, optics tracking the approaching jets.

The clicking and whirring of transformation replaces the screech of fiery thrusters - with an impact that shakes the very earth, Skywarp and Thundercracker are standing before you. It's your first time being face to face with them - you're instantly struck by how similar they look to Starscream, all at once familiar and unfamiliar. It's uncanny, and you shrink back a little, choosing instead to study the freshly turned dirt circle around you. At least your landing pad is much bigger now.

“Screamer!”

“You call that a landing?” Screamer snaps. “I’ve seen sparklings do better than that.”

“Aw, lay off,” Thundercracker mutters. “It’s been ages since we last met.”

He turns to Skywarp. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hey!”

The Elite Trine. To ordinary seekers, they were the stuff of legend - that aside though, you were busy drinking in this side of Starscream. Arms crossed, trading banter with Thundercracker - more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. Distracted, you don’t notice Skywarp sidling closer to you, and you yelp when his voice comes right next to your audial.

“This the ‘sparkling’?”

Starscream whips around so fast that you can’t help but flinch at the further damage done to your landing pad.

"Hello," you greet awkwardly. Should you be going for formality? You may have the privilege of being familiar with Starscream, but these are still your superiors, after all. Skywarp, however, has no such qualms, a smirk on his faceplate as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the one Screamer won’t stop talking about, huh?” You blink, and the words are out before you can stop them. “He talks about me?”

You both look over at Starscream, who’s looking more and more constipated by the nanoklik, an undeniable flush of energon on his faceplate dampening the might of his scowl - you looking with an expression of puppy-eyed wonder and Skywarp with a shit-eating grin.

“Sure he does. He tells us tons of stuff - okay, okay - stop glaring at me like that. Does he talk about us? You know who I am?”

“Um,” You say. Of course you know who he is. But Starscream has… not talked about them, for reasons that he has deliberately kept from you. You’re not sure where you stand in this, but before you really begin to flounder, Thundercracker mercifully comes to your rescue.

“Let go, Skywarp,” He scolds. “You’re throttling the poor thing.” You gratefully stagger towards Starscream, who’d already taken a step forwards when Skywarp sulkily releases you - his enthusiasm had been rapidly turning into a very friendly headlock. Thundercracker sighs, finally turning to you.

“My designation is Thundercracker. We are a trine - you don’t need to worry about formalities. Your trust in Starscream can be extended to us, too.”

You know his designation as well, of course, but find yourself nodding along to the gentle cadence of his tone. It seemed that Thundercracker had a way of making others feel at ease. Even Starscream, whose wings had been twitchy all week in preparation to tell you of the meeting - was looking calm. Well, calmer. He’d nodded at you as Thundercracker spoke, looking relieved that someone more well-versed in emotions had translated his intentions into words before he had to do it himself.

Tentatively, you decide that you like them - independent of their relationship to Starscream. The more time you spend with them, the more distinct they're becoming, in personality, in the details of their frames and faceplates.

“What he said,” Skywarp added, serious for a nanoklik before promptly growing bored of the conversation. All three of you watch with trepidation as his expression grows mischievous.

“Hey, kid. You like me best, right?”

Starscream’s wings promptly flare, EM field prickly as the cacti in the Terran desert. This escapes absolutely nobody’s notice, and Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker buries his faceplate in a servo to emit a long-suffering sigh. You shuffle closer to Starscream as Thundercracker wearily goes to haul Skywarp up from where he’d collapsed in howling laughter on the ground.

“You’ll always be my favourite,” You mumble.

The pulse of his EM field reaches you even if he’s drawn it tightly against his plating.

“Yes, well,” He splutters, suddenly caught off guard. “I… I should hope so.”

Feelings are neither of your strong suits, but the silence that falls on you both is companionable and you allow yourself to enjoy Skywarp’s antics, Thundercracker’s exasperated attempts to get him to behave.

“Okay! Okay,” Skywarp wheezes. “I’m done. You should have seen the look on your faceplate, Screamer-”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Thundercracker interrupts quickly.

“Thank you,” Starscream growls. He sighs dramatically, but his wings remain relaxed, hip cocked. You glance over at Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker shakes his head fondly, and Skywarp winks at you. There’s a strange sense of unity, a comfort in knowing that you’re all familiar enough with Starscream to know that the irritation is merely an act. Like you've been let in on a precious secret.

Starscream strides leisurely over to his trine, the three of them standing in front of you. It’s a takeoff formation - Starscream in the lead, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp. It’s the most common flight formation for trines, but it seems that they’ve purposely left an open space towards the back. A flash of recognition overtakes your processor - you’d studied this one night in the academy, holed up in the library. Trine formations were designed to be flexible, and one of the adaptations allowed the inclusion of a fourth when necessary.

There’s a glint in Starscream’s optics as he addresses you, a hand on his cocked hip.

“Your mission,” He drawls, “Is to keep up.”

[stargirlygirl]

their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter one: good purchase

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, hurt/comfort, you get dropped off to your new home, smau + fic, 1.7k words

m.list

a/n: '🌽⭐️s' gc from denki's pov

fic underneath smau

You open the passenger door of the dealer’s car, looking out at the beautiful house that you will soon call home. Not willingly of course. The dealer grunts at you to get out of the car, and you obey. Your skin is like porcelain it’s so flawless and delicate looking. That is of the skin revealed by your basic dress. The dress that is worn by all of the omegas when they’re taken to their new ‘home’. But beneath that dress was bruised skin and aching muscles.

You shut the door beside you and do your best to remain expressionless as you walk to the black-coloured gate. It slides open, revealing a blond man. He looks sheepish and you can smell him from where you are. His scent is overwhelming. Something sharp, tangy, citrusy even. It makes you gulp.

He comes over to you both and shakes the dealer’s hand.

“Hey,” he says, drawing his hand back. He turns to look at you, his golden eyes focused on your own. He holds your gaze, making you whine. At the high-pitched sound, he chuckles nervously and looks back at the dealer.

“So,” he starts. “Do I need to sign anything or?” The dealer nods and pulls out the contract. The contract signing your life away to this alpha. You notice how agitated the blond seems, tapping his foot as he reads over the agreement.

“Didn’t I sign this last night?” he asks with a creased brow.

The dealer replies, “That was for the buying price and handling fees. This is the terms and conditions of your purchase.” The blond nods and signs the paper, officially taking ownership of you. The thought, the sight has you crying out internally. You want to scream and run; escape. It doesn’t matter if you get caught later, you have to try now.

You gulp and start looking around with wide, frenzied eyes. You notice the neighbourhood isn’t busy. You have no idea where you are, of course. You are fairly new to Japan, and then you happened to get kidnapped and well… Even if you run for it right now, there’s no way you can make it down the street before the dealer drags you back here.

“You’ve made a fine choice, Mr Kaminari,” the dealer grins. He shakes the blond’s hand again before giving him his copy of the contract. The dealer then turns to you and says, “You.” He grabs your elbow tight and pulls you into his side. You yelp out in pain. Your eyes are even wider than before as you stare at the blond before you. He watches this interaction with a frown.

The dealer whispers in your ear, “Be good. Just like we practised, yea?”

The blond clears his throat and says, “She’s mine now, so you can back off.” The dealer lets go of you and leaves. As you watch his car drive away, the man in front of you stares at you. His eyes trail over you, taking in how god-awful that dress looks on you. Maybe it’s their marketing scheme, he thinks. Present wrapped so terribly you gotta tear it off immediately.

He laughs nervously as he says, “So…” You gaze back at him, expecting him to grab you and force you into his house just like all the other girls told you the alphas would once you were sold off. He has such sweet features, you think. Most alphas had sharp features, but he looked very boyish even though he would have been what? 25? 26?

“Do you, uh, wanna come in?” He finally says. You nod falsely. You want nothing more than to NOT go inside that house but you don’t have a choice. He owns you now.

You two walk through the gate and up to the house. You stay behind him, watching him carefully before looking at the exterior. The garden is overgrown but the house up ahead is quite nice. Minimalistic yet stylish.

Your quads cry out as you walk up the few steps to the front door. He opens the door and the scent inside washes over you. Like a riptide, it drags you under until you’re surrounded. And you realise it’s not just his scent but a mixture of them. You’re silently praying to the lords as you take a step inside that he had friends over last night or something. The last thing you want is to be owned by an alpha, let alone be shared between alphas.

You’re choking back tears as you take off your shoes, following the blond’s lead. You can hear the thump of footsteps drawing closer, confirming your suspicions. You gulp and look up at the blond with big, glassy eyes. And he looks back at you dumbfounded.

Your gaze flickers to the red-haired man who walks down the entrance hall towards you two. He’s tall and is wearing an apron with the words ‘MAN APRON’ on his chest. He smells earthy, you note. As he comes to the edge of the main level, the blond turns back to look at him.

The blond whines, “I told you to look presentable.”

The red-haired man laughs and says, “Like you look any better.” The blond grumbles as the other man chuckles.

“So,” the redhead says as he looks at you. “Where’re your bags?” You choke back a sob and you shake your head. You don’t think you’ll be able to stop yourself from breaking down if you speak. His short brows furrow as he stares at you. He gazes back to the blond and says, “Where the fuck are her bags?”

The blond exclaims, “Oh shit! I think the dealer drove off with them. Hang on—” He pulls out his phone. “I’ll call him now.” The redhead groans.

“No!” You cry out. Their attention snaps to you, both staring at you with wide eyes. You gulp and say, “You don’t need to do that. I-I don’t have any-any bags.” You got real quiet at the end there as your thin control over your emotions ceases to exist. All of it comes rushing forward at once and swallows you whole. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you look down at your bare feet. You sniffle and wipe your nose with your hand.

Someone clears their throat and you look up, catching the end of a glance between the two men. The redhead looks at you and motions you forward with his arm. You obey, stepping onto the platform. You sniffle as you slip on a pair of way too big house slippers.

He wraps a muscular arm around your shoulders and guides you into the house. He says softly, “I’m sorry. This must be very frightening for you, huh?” He rubs your shoulder as you walk. You keep sniffling and cry into your hands, paying zero attention to where you’re going.

He continues, “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” You rub your eyes with your hand and look down at the table and cushions. You nod and sit down on the first cushion, placing your elbows on the table and sobbing into your hands.

You feel a warm hand on your back and you flinch. You look up and see the blond kneeling next to you. His gaze is gentle, and his full lips are in a pout. You return to crying into your hands. Your shoulders tremble as your chest heaves from your sadness. You’re too focused on the fear and anxiety wracking through you to notice the red-haired man place a glass of water in front of you.

As you cry, the two alphas stare at each other and mouth their confusion. The redhead points to you while the blond while the blond shrugs. You stay like this for a bit, just getting out all of the feelings you have locked up deep within for the past month.

Once your sobs become quieter and trail off into jolty sniffles, you look up and reach for the glass of water. You gulp down the entire thing in one go before going to wipe your eyes with your hands. You whimper as a large hand catches your wrists. You see the redhead looking at you, gaze soft as he holds your hands.

He shakes his head at you before nodding to the tissue box the blond is holding. The redhead grabs one and starts dabbing your cheeks and eyes with it. His touch is careful and light like he’s afraid of breaking you. Like you’re so delicate, he doesn’t want to leave a mark behind if he’s too harsh.

The gesture has you on edge. A gesture so sweet and caring that has you second-guessing your impression of him. You were expecting them to tell you to shut up once you start crying, not be so patient and attentive. Did you misjudge him? Both of them? Or was this all an act to gain your trust and then breed you against your will?

Such thoughts trigger more sobs from you. The redhead lets go of your hands as you pull them back and return to your former position to cry.

The blond leans over to the redhead and whispers, “I think you made it worse.”

The redhead scowls at him. He stares the blond down before eventually sighing and saying low, “You should give up your room then so she can have some privacy.”

The blond scoffs. He whisper-shouts, “As if! Why don’t you give up your room, manliest man?” The redhead frowns at this but thinks it over. If it would get you to stop crying… But maybe it would make it worse since it smelled of him so strongly.

You sniffle particularly loudly and shift back, wiping your eyes with your arm. Your voice is heavy with sadness as you choke out, “Wh-where’s t-the bath-bathroom?” The alphas look at each other before the blond helps you stand up and leads you down the hall. He slides open the door and gestures for you to enter. You scramble inside, and he shuts it behind you.

You jump up onto the edge of the sink and sit there, crying and crying for what feels like forever.

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel

[shiongenkai]

City of Ill Omens Spoilers!

Lowkey turned into Hyde analysis

Truly tickles me how many people are fully in the 'Hyde is evil' camp bc of this chapter now. Bc like. TO ME? THIS ALL FEELS VERY NEUTRAL STILL.

Like I genuinely can read it as Benevolent or Malevolent and I really adore that aspect of TKDB's writing. BECAUSE LIKE?

Hodge and Podge were pissy with him. Could be evil! Could also be that they're pissy with him bc he's annoying (lovingly). They cut him off when he's asking to see the mark, which could honestly be a 'He's up to no good' moment or a 'He's a perv and they're about to throttle him' moment (like Rui @ Ed)

Hyde gives Romeo a 'fake' warding card. Malevolent reading says hey yeah, bitch lied about that. Benevolent reading says hey no, he did say anomalous damage could go either way, and Taiga's gun is An Anomaly. They were In The Anomalous Building. You know?

Even the warding card itself goes either way, which is the best thing of all. Snowdrops mean hope and comfort / consolation, etc. It is ALSO associated with death and can accidentally mean 'I hope you die'. Benevolent and Malevolent reading Still Works.

Honestly? I'm on the fence! Taiga hates him a ton which is interesting, but not damning to me. Hyde is rooting for Taiga and Romeo to reconcile in at least one way or another, and he does seem like the kinda guy who'd make himself the villain to give two students a common enemy, doesn't he?

For every Seemingly Bad thing he does, he does a Seemingly Good one. Lies to MC about some things, but lies to Darkwick about others (for his students' sakes). Seems carefree for some things, but intensely serious for others.

You can even read his actions in respect to reinstating the crown in this way. Malevolent reading says he forces us into that bunk deal so we fail at it and the gala isn't reinstated. Benevolent reading says he forces us into that bunk deal because it is genuinely important for the ghouls to Work Together. Malevolent reading says he's tearing Romeo and Taiga apart on purpose, Benevolent says the opposite. It's AWESOMEE.

I just love how often this dichotomy of 'Good or Bad' comes up with him. Black or White. Benevolent or Malevolent.

And I mean this very literally. His colour scheme is Black and White. His ID is black and white (Benkei's, notably, is in colour). His name is Hyde, derived from Jekyll and Hyde. Hodge and Podge are his companions and they are two vastly different personalities and looks. On one hand, on the other hand. This, or that.

He's also like.... His eyes are covered. Is he blinded himself? Or is he blinding Us? Is he covering his eyes so We don't know, or is he shielding them from Us? Kyklos reproduces by having you look at her eyes, the security cameras are Cyclops Eyes, Mesmer Matches require you to look into the flames for them to work... Seeing and sight and Looking are all deeply important to the world of Tokyo Debunker on both a physical and meta level (people are blind to the issues, things are hidden out of sight, etc) and so it's interesting to have a character like Hyde, especially contrasted against other characters like that!! Those who seem the most 'blind' to their circumstances are actually the ones who know the most. I'd argue in some ways MC fits this too. It's just so, so interesting.

It's fun! It's so fun. I genuinely can't make a judgement on him for certain yet. Is he good? Is he evil? Can't he be both? Is he pro-Darkwick or anti-Darkwick? Is he Helping us or Hurting us?

And like, we don't have answers yet to Big Important Questions. Shit like, hey, what's Sho's special mission? What's his involvement in the trial? What is his End Goal? And it's fun to poke at and look at and just explore. God Hyde is so fun. There's so many questions to ask about him and it's fun to try to piece together the answers.

I just love the staff in general too. I love how all of them have very unique motivations and viewpoints, and how many layers there are to it all. I think either version (Hyde is foe vs Hyde is friend) is really, really interesting, and I think TKDB can easily go either way. I love the idea that he's a red herring to somebody else but I also think evil Hyde goes hard. Ough. Hyde............ let me into your brain!!!!!

[hpdmguy]

ways they show each other love !

loads of rambles + clutter-less version below the cut

the yellow lines highlighting things is actually marking (almost) everywhere they touch since the primary theme of this piece is physical affection! the stars were just for fun

top left (kissing): pretty self explanatory! fun fact, it was the first thing i drew for this piece :)

top middle (hand on back): i was trying to sleep the other night and my brain suddenly went. drarry physical affection and that was the first thing i pictured! i kind of imagined this one as like... dracos stressed or something and harry just puts a nice comforting hand on his back

top right: the good ol pinkie hand hold,, link, ,think. yeah. no real thoughts behind this one. it fit the box and its cute

middle left (speech bubbles): one thing i see a lot (im pretty sure this is ((implied in)) canon as well, but dracos a big yapper! so its kinda showing here that harrys just listening to all hes got to say. probably my favourite one of the lot, i had fun rendering it. (looking at this post i too am a yapper)

middle (orange slices): theres this thing where you peel an orange for the people you love. you can look at it either way; draco providing food for harry, knowing his childhood food insecurity and always wanting to make sure he has something, or harry (whose love language is acts of service) giving something to draco, maybe after a long day

watermarked middle (draco constellation): just some fun symbolism i thought i might try to fit in

middle right (legs): in this theyre just chilling. dracos reading (the book didnt come across well ((i cant draw hands very well)).

right edge (flowers): these are narcissus flowers, also known as daffodils. a reference to narcissa malfoy, and also a reference i suppose to how she saved harry in the forest, because draco was alive, because harry saved him in the room of requirement

bottom left edge (flowers): these are lilies. partly to complete the circle of mothers saving sons saving the world, and partly because i wanted to fill space. (theyre fucking terrible to draw tho i do not recommend)

bottom left (hand in hair): well harrys hair is very luxurious as you can see and i imagine during cuddles draco cards his hand through it and teases out snarls and such. (i know hair pulling is something that can be seen as sexual, this isnt that and it isnt meant to be that and please dont see it as that :(

bottom watermark (stag): harrys patronus because why not

bottom middle: so this is a bit obscure but theres this post by @/iamnmbr3 that talks about a headcanon that they can share wands and its kind of special and intimate. so thats what ive depicted here. also for funsies harry has the draco constellation on his arm. not the big dipper. also i cant draw the dark mark for shit

bottom right (shoes): just a subtle way they can touch, not always big. just under the table or sitting on the sofa together, just to feel the other person there.

i knew i wanted a warm scheme and i knew i wanted orange and blue to play a big part in this. i was going to have warm colours on blue and cool colours on orange as a sort of contrast but that didnt end up working out.. the wand scene is an attempt at it except i mixed it up and made it cool on cool, its so washed out and i didnt bother to fix it

[pandasleepy07]

Papa V Theories

A reflection, Papa V has moonish vibes. What lights up the moon? A reflection of the sun. He follows Copia, whose colour scheme very much matched the sun, as did his songs. What if Papa V is a mix and a reflection of all the good and bad the papas had? I have this whole feeling that Perpetua is just them all living on through him. I've had a whole conversation with my roommate about him. He has something of everyone else before him. He has Primo's glittery robe front, Secondo's staff, Terzo's purple and claws and Copia's chest jewelry and cape style. Looking at his face, he has similar eye structure as Primo, the same nose as Secondo, some of Terzo's face paint, and Copia's lip style. Or maybe I was staring at this for too long. 

Perpetua is Latin, pulled from "perpetuus" which meanings "everlasting" or "eternal". So in my mind it's going "they all live on through him".

@ourfatherwhoartinhell I know you mentioned something about him not really knowing he was in the satanic ministry and there's a saint with the same name who wrote The Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicity which was a journal that told the story of her trial and imprisonment along with other Christians, including Felicity who was a pregnant slave. What does my mind do with that information? Papa V is a reincarnation of her and doesn't realize that he's in the wrong place but still has a message to spread. But what if, after she died, instead of going to heaven, something happened and she was sent to hell? What if Satan gave her a second chance because she was wronged and reincarnated her? Who knows

ss from @/im_ghostified on instagram

Now these are just my silly little thoughts, I'm sure they'll change as we get more of our new Papa, the new album and when I see him live in concert.

[imviotrash]

Woop woop another character sheet for my AU :3

And yes it is our dearly beloved. He's not super involved in the main plot but oh my god I have so many ideas for him.

Also, good thing about the 100 years later AU is that AGNI WILL LIVE! RAAAAAAAAAAAA

Yapping and old art under the cut:

Left: my first design. I wanted to give him a very fun vibe but I kinda failed in making it look remotely flattering. I think I did much better to encompass that travel/fun/filthy rich vibe I wanted to go with.

Right: another character sheet. I love the pose but idk what I was doing at that point. I quite like the current pose and colour scheme I picked for him, it seems to encompass most of what I attempted to do before.

Left: I my attempt of drawing the red house. It was certainly an attempt

Middle: some school uniform showcasing! The students can pick their own jacket if they wish to! I'm probably gonna give those two some new jackets though!

Right: as for all characters, a lil bit of an outfit mix. I really like his "going out" outfit

Well, you've seen Maurice's side of the room, here's Soma's! Very cozy I'd say and a lot less unhinged.

In this AU I focus on Soma's and Maurices "friendship" of sorts. It's complicated and messy of course. Maurice has to learn how to get his shit together and Soma has to learn to not take everything thrown at him.

Maurice reminds me a bit of Soma at the beginning of the manga. Entitled, aggressive and idealising someone who is...just a person. We've only seen them interact briefly in cannon, but I believe their dynamic could be interesting, if developed more.

[frenshushutoast]

minghao as your boyfriend

notes: happy new year! my first post in a Long time but here's to more writing in 2024... let's do this!

lots of quiet moments together. even in loud, crowded rooms, minghao still finds a way to give you little moments of solace with a hand in yours and quiet, whispered conversations.

art gallery dates! so many art gallery dates. every time a new one opens, you're equally excited to go visit. sometimes you'll both quietly share your interpretations of the different pieces with each other, and sometimes you'll just bask in the beauty of the creations and simply being able to experience it together.

very endeared by you. you will simply exist and he'll let out his soft giggle, burying his face in your shoulder, pinching your cheeks, and kissing all over your face when you guys are alone together. you're confused when he first does it, asking what you did for him to be so impossibly fond. he just responds with a you're so cute, baby and it makes you far more flustered than you're willing to admit.

very protective over you. not because he thinks you're weak–you're one of the strongest people he knows–but he's very gentle with you anyways. he does everything he can to make sure you don't get hurt, and is very, very attentive to you. you've been doing everything yourself for so long, he just wants to take care of you.

you're both a very fashionable couple. long trench coats, nail designs, matching colour schemes. everybody is intimidated by you until they catch you giggling together in a corner.

loves having you in his lap. he'll wrap his hands around your waist and rest his cheek on your shoulder, quietly telling you how much he appreciates everything about you.

he will casually say the most devastating things, randomly, while he traces little shapes on your hip. baobei, i'd give you all the stars if you ask. you're my warm patch of sunlight, my safe space. everything slows down when i'm with you. little i love you's scattered all over the things he says to you.

he gets uncharacteristically shy when you compliment him. the first time you do it, it's when he got his nails done differently and you told him it was pretty and his ears went very red. you've taken advantage of it ever since.

takes you on romantic dinner dates, well thought out and so, so perfect.

he teaches you how to slow dance, even through all the times you accidentally step on his foot. he twirls you and kisses you so sweetly, you could turn to putty in his hands.

a Very good kisser. i could expand on this but the brain worms are simply too strong. but he's Good with his tongue. the first time you really kiss him, you pull away very breathless and tell him just that. the only thing he answers you with is a small smug smile and a gentle peck, so different from the heated makeout session.

takes the best photos of you and hypes you up while he does it. the only reason your instagram feed looks so good is because of his amazing photography skills.

[catcherwrites]

The first batch of my Arc 3 concept designs are finally done! It felt fitting to begin with the three who started it all: Rayla, Callum, and Ezran

Check out the more in-depth story and design choices below

Rayla

Story Choices

In the wake of S7’s Finale, Azymondias wasn’t just a 2-year-old King of the Dragons, but the only surviving Archdragon. That means he’s a very important figure across Xadia and the Human Kingdoms – and needs to be protected. Shortly after the events of S7, Rayla reclaims her title as ‘The Last Dragonguard’ and resurrects the order to act as Zym’s attendants, advisors, and protectors. She’s spent the last few years travelling between the Storm Spire, the Silvergrove, and Evrkynd, helping where she can and leading her fellow guards (who may be revealed in a later post). Rayla’s relationship with Callum has grown stronger than ever. Even though they’re holding off on marriage until Aaravos is dealt with for good, Callum gives her the Xadian equivalent of a promise ring he handcrafted (Ethari helped). With them both feeling secure with each other, they are more comfortable with being separated…but that won’t stop them from being attached at the hip whenever they’re near each other.

Design Choices

Going into these Arc 3 designs, I had a much clearer image in my head of Rayla compared to the other characters in my lineup. Using reference images of Tiadrin and Lain made creating Rayla’s Dragonguard uniform feel very bittersweet. Unfortunately, from a creative standpoint, uniforms run the chance of limiting the personality in a character’s design. I tried offsetting this by making Rayla’s undershirt and embedded gemstones in her armour more Silvergrove-y than Dragonguard-y. I also kept Rayla’s iconic belt, Arc 2 colour scheme, and added some of Ethari’s swirls where possible. Beyond the uniform, I kept going back and forth about her hairstyle. Keep the Arc 2 bun? Return to Arc 1’s style? Braided? A simple ponytail? Eventually, I settled on a half-up braid that let my sleep-deprived brain think I was getting the best of both worlds.

Callum

Story Choices

Ezran was disappointed when Callum turned down being his High Mage again, fearing that he’d lose his brother’s support in the council room. In reality, stepping down as High Mage meant that Callum could step up as Crown Prince. In the years following S7, Callum splits his time between assisting Ezran and studying magic on expeditions across Xadia. One of those expeditions leads him to Aaravos’ book in Elarion, which helps him delve deeper into the other primal sources. He’s fully mastered Sky and Ocean magic and has grown incredibly proficient at Earth magic. To Callum’s dismay, even with the help of Lujanne, Ethari, and Aaravos’ book, he still isn’t clicking with the Moon arcanum. He also hasn’t fully unlocked the Sun arcanum, but he’s getting very close and is a strong fire mage when wielding the Staff of Ziard. By Arc 3, Callum has gained the title of Archmage – and people far and wide seek him out for magical assistance, leaving him overworked and exhausted.

Design Choices

I was very excited to come up with Callum’s Arc 3 design for one reason: the parallels. His Arc 2 outfit is meant to resemble Viren, as Callum had taken his place as the High Mage of Katolis. But because he is no longer ‘High Mage,’ and instead ‘Archmage’, Callum’s Arc 3 outfit is intended to reflect Aaravos. I tried to do this with his uncovered arms, the open coat, and the vaguely celestial elements on his tunic. The geometric pattern on Callum’s coat is meant to look like a feather (symbolising his first primal source) while in the style of his Arc 2 coat. Rayla gifted Callum a matching belt buckle to hers (though with a moon opal for emergencies), which he wears alongside his uneven towers buckle from Ezran. His hair is mostly the same, except slightly longer, because I don’t see overworked-mage Callum caring about his hairstyle.

Ezran

Story Choices

S7 was a massive tipping point for Ezran: losing his brother, his true heart, and almost losing himself to the cycle of violence. While he stopped before he could go too far, Ezran was unequivocally changed by what happened. After Aaravos’ defeat, Ezran has been overseeing Evrkynd’s construction, ensuring it’s a safe home for humans and Sunfire elves who lost their home. However, it is also open to anyone, regardless of their origin. While he and Queens Janai and Amaya decided the people would rule the city of Evrkynd, Ezran continues to rule wider Katolis alongside his council. He does spend most of his time in Evrkynd for his royal duties, but Ezran is learning to take breaks – occasionally joining Callum, Rayla, and Zym on small getaways. As is tradition for anyone in the royal family, Ezran began combat training in his mid-teens with Soren as his teacher. He’s grown quite good and can hold his own in a battle (long enough for his Crownguard come to his aid, at least).

Design Choices

Ezran’s design in TDP has always been one of the simplest ones, probably symbolising his humble personality despite his status. I tried to maintain that effect in his Arc 3 outfit but with one major alteration. Going into this design, I wanted Ezran’s struggle in S7 to have had a visible impact on him by including armour in his design. His outer tunic is now gambeson, and his shoulder pads are scuffed-up leather. If he decides to wear it, the gold studs on Ezran’s shoulders are where his cloak will latch on. As should be expected from an age jump this severe, the biggest change to Ezran was his build. He’s finally overtaken his brother in height, much to the dismay of both Callum and Rayla, and is expected to be as tall as Harrow when he’s finished growing.