#this is not my best work but it is my work so wahoo

[theellipelli]

The four girls stood shaking, wrists and ankles tied with thick rope, staring out into the sea in terror. 

These were trophies from the ship we just besieged, spared a bleeding, quick death, to instead be pushed overboard so that we may watch them helplessly drown.

To say this is my favourite activity would be a lie, but to say it is my least would be one as well.

I am unsure whether or not these girls were treated well by their former crew. Their appearance is clean and the clothes they wear are pristine, so they might have been genuinely loved by their crew. But often, you can never know by how they look. 

One of them is a youngster, with hands and feet so small that the rope was almost too big to restrain her with, and is wracked with waves of sobs while the other girls try to calm her down. This is not to say they aren’t also crying; they are, just quietly.

I am standing a few feet away from them, a weight and chain in my hand and waiting for them to separate. 

Ever since a few years ago, I had begun the habit of fastening a weight to each ankle sent overboard. After the first girl I ever saw was tossed and drowned before she could reach the bottom, I made sure to always have some on hand.

One of the girls, the oldest one, with long brown hair that had been tied in a nice braid a few hours ago, sees me and scowls through her tears.

I have long since stopped pretending to be an ally. I have tried, in the past, but they never believe me. This doesn’t change much—fighting back in their position is difficult and delicate. Pretending to be an enemy works just as well.

I hold her stare until she backs down and removes herself from the child.

“Further,” I command her and nod approvingly as she takes another step away. 

Once she’s more than an arm’s reach away from the other’s, I approach her slowly, gauging whether or not she has any fight left in her.

I can see her considering it, her eyes scanning her surroundings, planning. It would be a fruitless attempt though, and she seems to realise it before doing anything rash—her head drops down and she exhales the very last hope from her lungs.

I crouch down in front of her and tie the chain around her ankle. I would much rather use rope for some semblance of comfort, but I’ve come to realize it’s both unreliable and futile. Once, a girl managed to tear the rope by sawing it with the stone attached to it, and I had to watch her drown only a meter below the surface. Since then, chains. 

I fasten it tightly around her ankle and hear her groan in pain. I try not to mind it—it has to be secure, or she might as well be dead. Telling her to, “Swim down, no matter what,” had never gone down well. This was the most certain way to help.

I stand and look at her. She does not look at me, instead choosing to stare at the chain around her ankle.

One of my crew mates hollers, calling my name, and I sigh. I grab the girl by the elbow and push her towards the railing, where the plank lies waiting. 

It’s only a few steps away, and we are there in an instant. I don’t know what more mercies I can provide in this situation, and hesitate to give her a moment of reflection, lest I make it worse. 

I move closer behind her, about to push her forward and offer my last mercy. 

“Do not thrash, do not fight. Sink. Hold your breath and swim down,” I whisper to her. “You will be alright, I swear it.”

Her head turns, just the slightest, and she gives me a confused stare. I continue through the motion and shove her forward, backing away. I can feel her stare follow me, and as I lean against one of the masts and turn back toward her, her eyes are still steady on mine.

I have found that smiling here does nothing but invoke suspicion, so I stare at her instead. Push honesty through a single, detached expression. 

I do not know if she believes me, or not. But she straightens and turns toward the ocean. Her shoulders are straight, and the way she walks forward seems almost confident. Either, she is braver than I thought, or more trusting. It could be both or neither. 

At the very end of the plank, she stops. A common sight in these situations. The rest of the girls shriek her name but are drowned by the joyous shouts and exclamations from the onlookers. Even from our ship, a good distance away, shouting and yelling can be heard as they watch from a distance. 

The girl crouches, putting two hands around the weight tied to her ankle and, with a hefty grunt, picks it up. She holds it to her stomach, unable to lift it further, and turns.

She seems to look at me, for a single moment. She’s too far away from me to gauge her expression, or whatever emotion she seems to be sending me.

Before I have the chance to step closer and see what her stare means, she turns back toward the ocean and swings out one of her legs—and falls.

She plummets, ramrod straight and holding the round weight to her body. Within seconds she makes contact with the water. The girls scream again, before devolving into hysterical sobs. My crew mates cheer and clap their hands, moving from their stations to look overboard to see if they can see her. I follow until I am pressed against the railing.

It seems that in the end, my honesty got through to her. I can see her silhouette, kicking downward with furious resolve, aided by the weight pulling her down.

She sinks for a long time, and eventually, the crowd backs away from the railing to grab one of the other girls. I stay to watch her, praying her faith in me is enough.

It’s a long distance to sink, and even the strongest swimmers struggle to make it. The weight is sometimes not enough, nor is the forewarning. 

I can see her slowing down by the minute, either from exhaustion or hopelessness, and feel my heart plummet with her. From where she is, I cannot tell how far she has to keep going, but it’s far enough a distance that she won't make it by just sinking.

Then, she startles. Her head snaps from its hung position, and she stares intently downwards, gazes travelling across the sea floor.

Inwardly, I cheer.

The brilliant lights of the city below reach her, illuminating her in glows that travel along her body in spots. She sees the streams of colourful creatures, swimming between intricate structures. She sees people, who look both alien and familiar, humans but not, creatures but not. 

Her gaze travels along the city’s expanse which stretches further than even I can see.

She rests, staring at it in wonder. Then, I can see her shake out her arms, then her legs, before shooting downwards with regained vigour. Illuminated in the city’s glow, she will be like its citizens before she reaches the ground, and she will find help.

The other girls will not need to swim as far as she did. Instead, they will be caught by her, pulled down and greeted with warmth. They will not lose hope like she briefly did, and they will be safe as soon as they hit the water.

Another holler moves me from the railing and makes me watch the next girl step off the plank. She is not tied down by a weight and stays thrashing by the surface, screaming for help at the top of her lungs.

Then, with a tug, she is pulled from the surface.

Below her is the first girl, vibrant, alive and safe. Her hair is a brilliant red, spread around her like a cage, and her legs have united into a great and powerful fin, spotted with patterns, unlike any beauty above the surface.

She is quick to cage her friend in her arms and swim her downwards to the city. As soon as she reaches the bottom she pivots, arms now empty, and catches the little girl who steps off, and then the last one, until there are no others to catch.

I stay for a bit as the rest of my crew pack in the plank and start looting the rest of the ship. I can see the girl moving downwards, swimming fast with her friend in her arms. Other silhouettes gather near the bottom and that is what finally eases me. 

I step away from the railing and take a deep breath, moving away from the starboard to see if I can find any nice jewellery to take.

Before my hand leaves the railing, a stone arcs in the air and collides with the beam just next to me, tossed from below the ship. 

My eyes follow the path and I am again leaning across the railing. The girl is there, a few meters below the surface, staring. The slight ripple of the water makes it difficult to see what expression she wears. She stays still and stares, expression a mystery. Her tail unfurls around her, weaving circles in the water.

She makes no move to leave.

I raise my head and look around. No one is paying attention to me, all too busy with what this ship has to offer. I lean back and, with caution, wave to her. 

Even without seeing her expression, I can see an immediate shift in her body, and her body shoots toward the surface. She does not break above the water, but her face lays only an arm's length from the surface. Her hair climbs upward and rests just below the water, making her look like a large spot of seaweed.

She waves, as well. She is smiling brilliantly, waving gently with one hand. 

Then, she backs away from the surface and swims home. 

You were born with special eyes, the sea was as clear as glass to you, by the time you got old enough to join a ship’s crew, you were smart enough to not tell them about everything you saw below the waves

[xamaxenta]

@jaditestuff ty for your commission request, i swear to god i tried so many iterations of adding in yoru and i really couldn’t figure it out im super gomenasorry i hope shanks looking handsome and holding hawky is enough to distract you from this error of ways 🥺🙏🏽

[louroth]

Hello hello everybody! It is time for another months progress, and I am so excited to share with you, all the things I have gotten my grimy little gremlin hands on. First off, what we are all here for; writing. I have been on fire, to be honest! Last month I churned through the last of the first batch of erotica stories (there's 6 (!!!) of them on my patreon already) and set them up for publishing along with two more unseen ones- I'm still going over the logistics of where to publish for the best revenue (I know this sounds boring, but I have to make an income somehow, and hopefully find another audience as a smut writer on other platforms 💀 I love writing it so why not!), and I am making headway, learning the ins and outs of self publishing. On patreon, there are also two Q&A's that are written in a bit more fictional manner, in character: a more fun way than just writing answers straight up and down. I have enjoyed those so much! There's a bunch of other stuff I haven't even mentioned- honestly, I have to say, I'm really proud of my output on Patreon even though I have been really anxious about writing full time. It's going great! I have to thank my new friends and support-network on discord; you make this all worth it. I cannot express how fun it is to shoot the shit with you in vc, gaming together, or seeing your shenanigans in gen or your in depth theories (thanks for the brainworms!) or memes or staring longingly at the fanfic channel or drooling over your art (ouro related or not) or... Gah. You are just amazing people, and I will waste no opportunity in saying so. Thank you forever and ever and ever an-

When it comes to OUROBOROS, I am happy to announce that the next chapter is damn near done! I was halted because of the discovery that dashingdon is no longer supported by it's creator, and have been working on the twine version ever since, earlier than I expected- it's tough work, but I am so excited to make this an actual game made entirely by myself, and not submitting to a company that quite frankly leaves a bitter aftertaste. It is taking long to make because I want to make it mobile compatible from the start, which there isn't a lot of resources for. But I'm doing my best! The plan is that I will be posting the next chapter for Patreons in the coming month, and then treat you to a full twine release here on tumblr. I haven't made any rewrites when porting the twine build, but I would like to do that too... so we will see; this plan is not set in stone. I will just have to see how it evolves over the next month. Yes, beta-readers is still on the schedule, just holding off a little while while I wrap my head around this new coding landscape.

Other than that, I have been working on the set aesthetic for ouro, which has been really hard, a lot harder than I expected. You all know I am no wizard when it comes to graphic design, but I want to at least develop a set palette and imagery and portraits that is cohesive to the story. The work is ongoing, and I don't have much to say about it- even though it is taking a lot of my brain power. I'm hoping I can come to some kind of set and in depth conclusion that I am happy with before the twine release, because I want the game to feel like a treat to open up and play; a world to get lost in.

That's it! If you want to see weekly and more in depth dev-logs, you know where to go. I hope you have an amazing day or night, and we will see each other soon. xx

[flowers-and-literature]

My life would have been soooo much easier as a cis guy I'm actually so mad

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Love it when you come across a problem with what looks like it's gonna need an Expensive™ solution (+ shipping costs) but then you find a relatively cheap workaround (instant download) that solves everything in a heartbeat 🥰

[stealingyourbones]

Update: I’m watching multiple video essays and the movie over again to make these

The urge to give ghosts in the Infinite Realms Beetlejuice logic

[hansoeii]

Hullo! I’ve been watching a bunch of your Timelapses and I was wondering how do you always come up with the colours for your pieces? They’re always so cohesive and pleasing to look at (I almost exclusively work in greyscale so if I’m using colour it’s always a lucky guess and it never looks quite right)

Hey there!

I have to be honest that most of the time I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I have no idea how most of my pieces are gonna turn out. My work process is usually based on "Fuck around and find out", haha. I'm happy to know that it apparently doesn't come across that way, though.

A lot of it comes very naturally to me simply because I've been drawing non-stop for so long, but I can give you some small tips that really help me:

1. Have as many references as possible!

Here's what my reference sheet looked like for the Jayvik piece:

It helped me a lot to understand the overall color scheme I wanted to convey. Lots of very cold tones, pinks and very light blues and greens. These colours sorround Jayce and Viktor throughout all of season 2 and I wanted to keep them, especially since in my piece they are lying in the glowing hexcore.

Don't shy away from using references, get as many as you possibly can! Look at other poeple's art too and try to understand how they work with colours.

2. Work with complementary colours!

Since I paint a lot of romantic illustrations I want them to look pleasing and comforting, which I can accomplish by using complementary colours! You see this a lot with couples that are blue and red coded, for example. And I wanted to do the same thing in the Jayvik piece! For that I used the highlights in their hair!

Viktor's highlights are a soft pink hue.

While Jayce's are a soft blue hue.

The colour wheel works perfect for figuring out if two colors compliment each other because they are literally right across from one another!

3. It doesn't have to be true to life.

Pretty self-explanatory, but I thought I'd add it in here anyways. It's important to understand how colour and light works, but you don't always have to follow the rules. Does the rim light look cool but it makes zero sense? Who cares! Keep the cool rim light! Just have fun and fuck around.

4. A little trick to make your life easier!

I'm not excatly the best at colour theory, I still struggle with it quite a bit, but here's a little trick I like to use from time to time:

If you want all your colours to look coherent, take one specific color as your flat colour. Choose a hue that you would like your piece to have. Like this:

Now you choose whatever colours your characters have and paint them in. For example, here are the skin colours I chose for Jayce and Viktor:

Looks off, right? These colours don't fit the overall piece at all. So what do we do?

Turn down the opacity! It's that easy, wahoo!

I went from 100 Opacity to 72 for this specific illustration. And look at that!

It's so much nicer already! Now you know what colours to use as your actual flats! Just repeat this with every other part of your illustration and you'll have a great starting point. :)

I really hope this was helpful! I'm not an actual teacher and I don't have a proper illustration degree, so some things might not be completely accurate, but I thought I'd try my hand at this anyways!

[nerdy-novelist017]

https://www.tumblr.com/nerdy-novelist017/754460919348740096/benny-cross-is-the-definition-of-scary-boyfriend

Ok yes but also I wanted him to protect Kathy so bad and it just. Never happened 💔💔

We can fix it with fanfiction ;) Enjoy another one shot to pair with my Benny x Bunny series! Again this isn't the next part, just a little idea I had!

Word Count-2.2k+

Summary- Head wounds look a lot worse than they actually are, at least that's what you were trying to tell Benny, but he was so worried, you doubt he's hearing you.

Warnings- Blood, Violence

Broken Glass (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

The bar was crowded. You’d never seen so many Vandals gathered in one place in a long time. With an abundance of fresh faces wearing the colors, it was almost like a completely new club. 

Your knee bounced as anxiety manifested itself into your body. You weren’t so nervous of the familiar faces that sat around your table. Johnny, Brucie, Gail, Kathy, Wahoo, Corky — those people no longer made you nervous. They were family now. It was all the onslaught of new Vandals that cursed, shouted and drank across the room. 

A warm hand encased your knee, pressing down, firmly locking your foot to the ground. You smiled as Benny leaned into you, his lips softly touching your neck in a gentle kiss. His way of calming your nerves. And it worked every time. 

“Alright, I’m gonna break the bad news to ‘em,” Johnny announced as he stood from his chair. The bad news was that some new members of the Vandals had been running up the tab at the bar and not paying for it. An entire week had gone by without them paying for any of their drinks — and they drank a lot.

Brucie stood next to him, cranking his neck to the side with a pop. “This oughta go over well.”

“It doesn’t have to be a fight,” Johnny muttered with a sigh. Despite running one of the most revered motorcycle clubs in the midwest, Johnny was surprisingly non confrontational at times. He knew what needed to be done, he just didn’t like having to do it. “Not everything has to be a fight. It’s just going to be a conversation.”

“Good luck!” you smiled, giving him a thumbs-up. 

“Thanks, kid,” Johnny answered with his usual reserved patience for you and the two left, weaving their way through the crowded room. Benny started to stand too, but you grabbed onto his arm, tugging firmly at his jacket sleeve.

“It’s not gonna be a fight, Benny. Please don’t make it a fight.” You pleaded quietly, giving him your best doe-eyed look that you knew could get you almost anything you wanted. 

“I ain’t gonna make it a fight,” Benny argued but reluctantly sat back down next to you. “I can be civil.”

History begged to differ, you wanted to say but instead lifted your cold bottle of pop to your lips in an excuse not to answer. You laced your fingers with his as you brought his arm back around your shoulder, anchoring him to you.

Minutes ticked by and you fell back into a conversation with Kathy and Gail while Benny’s attention remained focused on Johnny and the conversation across the crowded bar. Voices rose in shouting and suddenly Johnny was shoved back by one of the new Vandals members. Then fists started flying. 

“Shit,” Benny cursed and, quick as light, slid out from your booth and rushed across the bar to join the fight. You called after him hopelessly, your pleas falling on deaf ears. 

“You think these guys will ever think with their brains and not their dicks all the time?” Kathy asked sarcastically as she casually sipped at her beer.

The fight grew larger as more members of the club joined in, and you lost sight of Benny in the tumble. You bit your lip, eyes surveying the crowd anxiously. You hated to see him fight, having cried the first time you witnessed it. It was unfair that he put himself into danger like that, without a care in the world if he got seriously hurt. But that was a part of loving Benny; He was always ready to fight with the drop of a hat. 

“Oh no,” you gasped softly as you saw a man twice his size suddenly appear through the crowd, slamming Benny to the ground.

Standing quickly, you barely heard the warnings of Kathy and Gail for you to stay out of it over the pounding of your heart. You pushed your way through the crowd, desperate to get to Benny, to help him. Bodies knocked into you, sending your hip clashing hard against the pool table, but you continued on, stumbling as you went. 

Finally you caught sight of him again, this time on top of the other Vandal member, beating down on him mercilessly.

“Benny!” You called out for him, but your voice was lost in the ocean of noise. Your fingertips just barely grazed his shoulder before you were knocked back. 

Suddenly something connected with the side of your head, a sickening crashing sound, and you were knocked off your feet. White hot pain shot through your elbow as it was the first to hit the floor below you. You landed hard on your side, the wind knocked from your lungs prevented you from crying out. The side of your head erupted in hot pain from the impact and it took you a couple of seconds to even register that you were on the cold ground now.  

Your ears immediately rang as if you were standing right below a church bell during Sunday service, drowning out all other noise. But the rest of the bar seemed to freeze in shock when they saw you go down, all stunned to see their youngest member’s girl caught on the losing side of a fight. 

You blinked hard, vision filling with stars, but you were able to make out the broken glass littering the floor around you. It took you longer than necessary to understand that you had been hit on the side of your head with a beer bottle. Attempting to look up to see the person who hit you, a cry left your throat at the pain of moving your head

Then that’s when all hell broke loose for the second time in a ten minute span. Johnny appeared in your line of vision, throwing a nasty right hook against the blurry figure of the man who hit you. He went down and a crowd gathered around him, legs kicking and fists flying. 

You blinked hard again, feeling something warm running down into your right eye as Benny’s face suddenly materialized before you.

“B—Benny?” Your voice sounded so small and you hated the way you couldn’t tell if he was real or just an illusion of the person you wanted most when you were scared. 

“Oh my god.” His voice sounded strained and you wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he was hurt, but your body felt oddly disconnected from your mind.

He moved closer to you, the glass shards crunching beneath his boots, and he slid one hand behind your back and the other under your knees. Then suddenly you were being lifted in the air, carried away from the chaos of the bar. Benny used his boot to kick open the back door and a rush of cool breeze greeted you first as he relocated you to Kathy’s pickup truck in the back parking lot. Pausing at the rear of the truck, he used the hand under your knees to lower the tailgate. He placed you into a sitting position on the bed of the truck, stepping between your legs, his face is right back in front of yours again. 

The afternoon sun hanging low in the west gave you enough light to inspect his face for any injuries. There’s a split forming on his bottom lip. You reached forward and touched the injury with a fingertip, trying to gauge the severity. He would need to put ice on it before the swelling started. Although you can’t find any other noticeable signs of injury, his face was so contorted in torment, in. . . something else you had never seen before. Not quite anger, you’ve seen that plenty of times (never directed at you).

You tried to catch his eye, but he was so focused on the spot above your brow where your hairline met your forehead. He retrieved a bandana from his jeans and moved forward. Instinctively, you leaned away, your own hand reaching up to touch the spot that drummed with pain. Warm, sticky substance covered that place and you pulled your hand back to discover deep crimson dripping from your fingers. 

“You’re bleedin’ real bad,” Benny said and only then did you realize that was your blood on your fingers. He tried again and this time you didn’t pull away as he gently pressed the bandana to your flesh. You gasped at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut from the sting.

“I know, baby.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “But you’re bleedin’ real bad.”

You knew that, you wanted to say. You could see it on your fingers, that awful deep red glistening in the sunlight. Your fingers blurred slightly and you blinked a few times to try to clear your vision. But it wasn’t your vision, you realized, it was your hands shaking. Suddenly aware of the sensation, you noticed your whole body was trembling. 

Another voice sounded beside you.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?” It was Kathy, you knew without even looking up.

“I need some water.” Benny said. “Please.”

That's when you realized it was fear in his voice. You’d never heard Benny sound so desperate, so scared. You wanted to grab his hand and tell him that you were okay, that you just needed a moment for the ringing in your ears to stop and then you’d be alright. Really, it was him that you were more worried about than anything else. You looked back up at his face, eyes falling on his split lip once more. 

“I–I’m okay, Benny,” you whispered, reaching for the bandana.

His free hand locked around your wrist, pulling it away from your head, stopping you from removing the bandana. “Don’t touch it, honey.”

The pain was subsiding, you wanted to say, even if it wasn’t really. You just wanted to calm him down. He let your wrist slide through his grasp and you reached out to gently touch his lip. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” he repeated incredulously, brows knitted together. “Bunny, you’re bleeding like you just took on an army and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Head injuries bleed a lot more . . . They’re heavy bleeders because of the blood flow to your brain.” You attempted to ease his worry with your fun fact. 

He looked unconvinced, pulling back the bandana to peek. “Yeah, where’d you hear that? One of your books?”

“Yeah,” you smiled sheepishly at him and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight. You were so. . . small. So fragile looking sitting here with his bandana pressing against your pretty little head, legs hanging off the tailgate. Benny had to remind himself to take a breath, to focus on controlling his shaking hands. Had to tell himself to be strong for you. You needed him now. He'd be there for you.

Kathy returned with a bottle of water and Benny moved to the side a little, still firmly pressing his hand against your head. “For her hands,” he said.

She uncapped the bottle and gently pulled your hands out over the edge as she poured a stream of the cool water to rinse the crimson from your skin. You glanced down and made a sound. “Aww, no. My shirt. . .”

Benny followed your gaze to the once baby pink shirt now stained with booze and fresh anger coursed through his veins, setting his head swirling with images of strangling the man who touched his girl. You were one of the few good thing - pure thing - left in his world and the fact that someone dared to touch you, to hurt you, set Benny's jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth might crack.  

With the creak from the backdoor opening, Johnny and Brucie came out, rounding the truck. 

“How’s she?” Johnny asked and Benny glanced at his friend. Whatever expression Benny must have shot him caused Johnny to grimace. He moved closer to the two, putting a comforting hand on Benny’s shoulder. “Lemme see.”

Reluctantly, Benny lowered the bandana and Johnny hummed.

“Alright, ain’t that bad,” Johnny assured calmly and nodded at you as he spoke. “Ain’t that bad. The head bleeds a lot, always looks worse than it is.”

“See? I told you.” You quipped, fingers finding the beltloops of his jeans and pulling him lightly. Benny sighed through his nose. 

“She’s gonna need stitches,” Brucie spoke from behind. 

“Can you take her to the hospital?” Benny asked Kathy who nodded instantly as she stepped forward and replaced his hands as he moved back.

“Woah woah, what do you think you’re doin’ in the meantime?” Johnny questioned, already knowing what Benny planned to do.

“I’m gonna go kill him,” Benny declared as if it were obvious.

“No, Benny–” you started but Benny had already pulled away from you, making his way back to the door. He already planted the seed in his mind. He wouldn’t let anyone do anything to you and still have the ability to walk above the ground. This guy needed to be six feet under already. It was Johnny’s hand who grabbed his upper arm, Johnny who stopped him in his tracks.

“No, Benny,” he said quietly, leaning into Benny’s space. “You ain’t goin’ back in there.”

“He–” Benny started, unable to get the image of you laying on the floor of the bar out of his head. He wanted to kill him. He wanted him to hurt. He didn’t care if he’d be arrested for it. He’d been arrested for a lot less before. 

“No,” Johnny’s voice cut him off. “You go take care of Bunny now. We’ll take care of this piece of shit. Hey, you hear me? We’ll take care of it.”

Benny held Johnny’s intense gaze as he considered his next move. He wanted to be the one to take care of it, but the severity in Johnny’s voice, the rigid way his shoulders fell up and down with his breath, the carefully selected words– Benny knew that this man who hurt you would never be a problem again. Johnny wouldn’t let him be because you were an integral part of the Vandals. And they protected their own. 

“Okay,” Benny relented, taking a step back, eyes flickering to your small form still sitting on the tailgate. When he looked back at Johnny, the glint of his brass knuckles caught his eye as he pulled them from his pocket, sliding it snuggly over his fingers.

“Go take Bunny to the hospital. We’ll meet you there when we’re finished.”

"Okay," Benny repeated and he believed him.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict  @elizabeth916  @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @dudii4love @ironmooncat  @beebeechaos  @astrogrande  @pearlparty  @themorriganisamonster  @sillylittlethrowaway  @ughdontbeboring  @penwieldingdreamer  @charmingballoon  @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans  @groovyangelkisses  @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit  @pomtherine  @tranquilty  @m00npjm  @twisteduniverse5  @justsomewritingblog  @nhlfs  @thepassionatereader  @rebecca-hvnstn  @dreamlandcreations  @buckysteveloki-me  @simsiddy  @zablife  @sansaorgana  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @charmingballoon  @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[sanguineterrain]

okay i've had this thought brewing for a while and i think you're the only writer who would do it justice!

reader meets jason again post-lazarus pit and he's amazed by how different reader is look-wise. reader was a teenager the last time they saw jason and now as an adult they've gotten a more "adult" body. reader is curvier, fleshier, no longer as lean as they were as a teen and is a bit self conscious about their body. but it drives jason wild to see his old crush all grown up into this mature body, hell he's changed a lot too. but yeah i feel like jason would be so body positive and full of praise 🩷

decided to combine this with a request i got for this prompt: 8) we share the bed because this is what we’ve done since we were kids, regardless of the adult implications now. i so agree with you anon, i think jason would be simultaneously body positive and absolutely FERAL for his old/current crush ;)

jason todd x gn!plus-sized!reader. reader used to work with the bats and is best friends with jayjay. reader is insecure and speaks poorly about their body. jason does NOT like that and desires you carnally! wahoo! suggestive content but no outright smut.

****

You haven't been in Jason's room in five years.

Alfred's kept it pretty much the same. Same books on the shelves, same Gotham Knights sweatshirt Dick gave Jason for his birthday. The curtains are the same shade of maroon, and the left one has a tear from when you played with a batarang. Jason had covered for you and was grounded for a week.

You flip through a dog-eared copy of The Three Musketeers. A few of the pages have underlining in pencil. You trace them with your finger.

The door creaks open. You look up.

Jason freezes in the threshold. His wrist is bandaged and you can see stitches on his forehead. You frown.

"Hey." You set down the book and go to him, offering your shoulder for him to lean on. "You okay?"

Jason sighs, ignoring your shoulder. "Who called you?"

"What d'you mean? We're psychically linked, Jay-Jay. I sensed that there was trouble afoot in Gotham City."

"Uh-huh. That didn't work when you tried to convince the old man I needed a puppy because you psychically divined that it knew me in a previous life."

"You and that Terrier were soulmates and I'll hear nothing of the contrary."

You take Jason's arm, despite his protests that he can make it two feet to the bed. He lays down, trying to hide how his arm twinges in pain. You frown and slip in beside him.

Jason's a lot bigger than he was the last time you shared a bed. Well. You both are. You roll over so you're facing him, squished against his side. You pull your leg up, suddenly self-conscious about everything Jason might be able to see.

Jason is warm. He's warm and big and solid and good God, you've missed him.

Your best friend is also fucking gorgeous and you really want to kiss him, but, uh. Ignoring that. You're very practiced at ignoring the urge to kiss Jason.

"Thanks for comin'."

The light is still on, casting a soft orange glow across Jason's features. He glances at you, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You can count all the freckles on his nose, this close.

"I'll always come when you call, Jay," you say. "Well, when Dickie calls. Said you got a concussion."

He turns his head, sighing at the ceiling. "'S not a big deal. Mild concussion. Leslie said I'll be fine in a week, but we all know that's code for two days."

"Yeah, I don't think so. You bats really are birds of a feather."

"How dare you. 'M nothing like those wackos."

"Sure, buddy. Keep lying to yourself. You brought me in all those years ago for a little normalcy."

"My mistake," Jason says.

He gets thwacked with a pillow for that. It fluffs his curls. He grins at you.

You tuck in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. Jason turns his head so his cheek rests on the top of your head.

"You can have the bed," he says.

"Don't be a silly goose."

"'M gonna go home anyway."

You scoff. "Not like this, you're not."

"Been worse for wear."

You roll your eyes. "How are you gonna ride your bike with a hurt wrist and a concussion, genius?"

"Please, babe. The real question is how will I sneak past Alfred?"

"I'm a babe, now?"

Jason half-smiles. "Always were."

"Liar. Can you imagine me in a Batsuit again? Exactly, you can't. I simply don't have the bod for it."

"Hey." Jason reaches down and gently pinches your thigh. "Why ya doin' that?"

"Doing what?"

"Talkin' bad about yourself. Don't do that. 'Sides, it ain't true."

"Jaybird." You level him with a look. "Be serious. I know you're my best friend and you have to say that, but c'mon. I've seen the hotties you work with. Hell, I've seen Bruce and Dickie."

Jason's face twists in disgust. "Do not call my dad and brother hot."

"Okay, fine. I've seen you."

His brows rise. "What?"

"What, what?"

"Are you... callin' me..."

You snort. "Duh. Have you seen yourself? You've always been cute, Jason. If you didn't have the demeanor of a honey badger, you'd be fending off marriage proposals left and right from the Gotham public. You've always been the prettier one of us, Jay-Jay."

Jason's quiet. You keep going.

"Anyway, neon's never been my color, and it seems like that's a pretty immovable requirement these days. Like, I get Clark's trying to be seen from space but he doesn't get bloated. And the Spandex? Goodness gracious—"

"Y'really see yourself like that?"

Jason's staring at you with a wrinkled brow, mouth set.

"Like what?"

"Like you're not pretty? Like I'm too good for ya?"

You prop your head up on your arm. "You've always been too good for me, Jason Todd."

"That's just not true. And you're fuckin' beautiful, so stop sayin' that shit."

You blink. "Jay, c'mon—"

"No. It's true, so stop. You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure to know, and if anybody's gettin' proposed to, it's you."

"Jason." Your face is on fire. Why did you open your mouth? "Stop. It's fine. So I'm different; my body's changed and shit. I'm not an athletic vigilante anymore. My thighs have, like, their own zip code. It's my own fault. I didn't keep up the training and whaa—!"

In one fluid motion, Jason's rolled you onto him. Your legs straddle his waist. You catch yourself on his shoulders, then begin to scramble off, burning with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm heavy, you're injured—" you babble, picking up your leg.

"Will you quit?" Jason keeps your leg exactly where it is, tenderly stroking your ankle with his thumb. "Actin' like I'm made of whipped cream."

"You're concussed."

"Mildly."

"Stop, Jason. Please. You don't have to do this to-to prove a point. I get it, I won't talk bad about myself."

Bit hypocritical, considering some of the stuff you know for a fact Jason believes about himself.

But this is humiliating, your extremely attractive, crime-fighting best friend pretending that you haven't totally let yourself go all to bolster your ego.

"Nah, I don't think you get it," Jason says conversationally. His hand creeps under your shirt. You squirm. "I really, really don't think you get how fuckin' gone I am for ya."

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Now, that's my fault, never sayin' anything. I was being cowardly. So lemme make it clear for ya, sweetheart."

His hand leaves your ankle and pulls your face to his. And then Jason kisses you.

"You're concussed," you whimper against his mouth. "Jason, you're—"

Jason laughs, low and sweet. He strokes the side of your face. "I could have amnesia and I wouldn't forget the fact that I've been in love with my best friend since I was fourteen."

"Are you sure you don't want me to move? I can—"

"No way. Y'know how long I've wanted you on me? Shit, I sound like a creep, thinking 'bout you like that, but—"

Jason rolls you both onto your sides. He hefts your leg over his, so you're slotted between each other. Then he kisses your neck, mouth hot and desperate. You gasp, belly swooping.

How long have you wanted this? How long did you believe you'd never feel this way about another person after Jason?

"I can promise you," Jason says, breathing hard against your skin. "You're a knockout. You knock me out. And I'll knock out anyone who says otherwise."

You huff and get a little braver, kissing Jason and returning him onto his back. He grins, sharp and hungry. He wants you. There's no doubt.

"I still think you're concussed," you murmur, letting him feel up your shirt. "But lucky for you, I have the utmost sympathy for poor, bedridden bats."

Jason hums, grunting when your teeth scrape his ear. "Oh, I've always known I was the lucky one, having you."

[storiesfromafan]

Jealousy Does Look Good On You - Benny x Reader

A/N: this was just me pulling something out of a hat, haha. Bit of writers block right now. But something is better then nothing.

Also, forgive me if this isn't that good. As well as, excuse my attempt at describing their kissing, its been a little haha.

Enjoy.

Tag list: @strayrockette

I wont look at him. I wont look at him. I wont look at him, you chanted over and over in your head. Determined to not pay Benny any mind. It's his choice if he wanted to entertain another woman across the room from you. It's not like you were together, nor his girl.

Your relationship with Benny was undefined, though you thought the striking Vandal was into you just as much as you were into him. But apparently it was just one sided; yours. And now he was showing another woman how to play pool. The very thing that led to you even speaking to Benny in the first place a month ago.

You had seen the raven haired vixen by the jukebox, eyeing up Benny for an hour before making her move. She had started talking to Wahoo and Corky, before Benny got roped in by the two men. From there – as you watched – she moved closer to Benny. Then she got touchy when they talked, laughing at jokes made. And then he was showing her how to play pool.

That was it. You had turned your back to the scene. Your heart not being able to take it any more. The beer you had been nursing, now your best friend. Kathy had been watching you, and the scene with Benny. Shaking her head she couldn’t believe how brazen the woman was, as well as Benny for going there.

“Forget him" Kathy said, shooting daggers at the pool table.

“I'm tryin'” you sighed. “I need another drink".

With that you got up and headed for the bar. Standing with your arms on the counter, you waited to be served. All the while hearing the obnoxious laugh of the raven hair woman. You rolled your eyes, wanting to gag at the sound. Finally you put in an order for two beers – you thought you’d be nice and get Kathy another beer – when an all to familiar body lent on the counter next to you.

Benny bumped his shoulder into yours. “Hi".

“Hi" you replied flatly, keeping your eyes straight. As you know one look at him and you'd be a goner, when you wanted to be mad.

Benny frowned, a confused look upon his face. “Everythin’ alright?”

You nodded your head. “Peachy" – your two beers were place before you, and you grabbed them – “you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company".

And with that you walked off, leaving Benny even more confused then when he stepped up to the bar. Running his hand threw his hair, he was about to follow you, when Corky called him back to the pool table. With a moment of pause, Benny gave in and went back for a new game of pool. All the while trying to work out what was up with you.

“Here" you said placing a beer before Kathy, “thought I'd get ya one".

She thanked you, observing you after watching the icy exchange with Benny. Seeing the blank look upon your face, but eyes telling her how upset you were.

“What was that at the bar?” She asked, all motherly with you.

You sighed. “He came over and said hi. I replied back but I guess he could tell somethin's off, so he asked if everythin' alright”. You took a sip of your new beer.

“Your reply was?”

“Peachy...you better go back to your new friend, she must be missin' your company”. You took another, longer sip.

Kathy's eyes widened as she moved in her seat. “Was that smart?”

You shrugged. “Probably not. But felt good".

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah it usually does, until it wears off. Then ya feel like shit".

Again you nodded, taking a sip. “Yes, I know that. I'm feelin' it right now Kathy".

She patted you on the back. “I know. But do your best to not think about it. I doubt Benny is interested in her, I know he only has eyes for ya". She gave you a wink and a soft smile.

All you could do was give her a weak smile. God bless her for trying to cheer you up. But to be honest, you could understand why Benny would go for Raven locks. She was beautiful, dressed like she belonged here, and was confident. Everything you weren’t. You weren't an ugly duckling, but you weren't on her level. You were more of a young Doris Day, while she gave Marilyn Monroe.

After the exchange at the bar, Benny kept his distance. And that added to your despair. You really did shoot yourself in the foot. You stole looks from time to time. They looked comfortable standing next to each other. You even saw her rest her head on his shoulder with a giggle. But what put an end to the night for you was watching her wrap her arms around his neck in joy when she won a game of pool.

“I'm done" you informed Kathy gathering your cardigan and bag. “I can’t do it anymore. I'm headin' out”.

She frowned at you but understood. “Ya want to get a cab together?”

You shook your head. “Nuh, I'm good. I think a walk would be good. But thanks” you gave her a small smile. “Have a good night".

With that you moved through the bar, around various Vandals till you made it the main doors. The cool night air hit you, so you put on your cardigan, slinging your bag over your shoulder. With the briefest of a look in both directions, you crossed the road and began to head down the street. It would be a good twenty minute walk back to your place, if you walked at a decent pace. But with how you were feeling, a slow stroll would be your pace tonight.

Of course your mind thought about Benny, and how the night had gone. Usually when you came to the bar he would play a few rounds of pool before joining you and Kathy. He'd sit next to you, arm resting on the back of your chair. You both would share looks, you’d admire his beautiful blue eyes and killer smile. Or watch when he would smoke a cigarette. You'd watch him take a drag, hold it and admire how he would let the smoke out. As well as his hands, his fingers holding the cigarette so gently.

Other times you would lionize his arms. Noting his muscles and how they react to his movements. Or study the random tattoos that adorn those arms. But you'd always go back to Benny's face, taking in his stunning features. His strong jaw line that was covered in stubble. His cheek bones and full lips. And the messy blonde locks upon his head, just beginning to have a hand run threw them.

But here you were, walking home miserable and hearthaching. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Just until you got home, and were safely behind a close door to finally breakdown. For you knew you were partially to blame. You probably pissed Benny off with your words. Or he didn't care, and took your words as a pass at the other woman. Either way, it didn't help you.

Turning right down a street littered with shops, you made sure to stay in the light and away from any allays. You weren't going to take any chances of some creep grabbing you. Maybe it might have been smart to get a taxi after all.

The closing in sound of a motorbike caught your ears, but you didn't pay it any mind. Too focused on wallowing in self pity and getting home. Hearing it slow down, before stopping by the curb caused you to panic a little. Why would someone stop near you, when the street was empty. You decided to pick up the pace, clutching your bag.

It was when a large, calloused hand grabbed your arm, did you jump and make a scared sound. They held onto you tightly when you tried to pull away. Then they pulled you back around, and you were met with concerned baby blues looking at you.

“Hey, it's only me" Benny said in a calm voice.

Hearing his voice you relaxed a little, letting yourself take a few slow breaths to calm your racing heart.

“What are ya doin' walkin' home, let alone, at this time of night, doll?” Benny asked, letting go of your arm to place his hands on your shoulders.

You shrugged. “Seemed like a nice night for a walk?”

Benny gave you a sharp look, not buying your words. “Really, what's goin' on (Y/N)?”

“I told ya” you replied stepping out of Benny's grasp.

“I don't buy it. Tell me what's wrong”.

You sighed, “nothin' alright. I am fine, perfectly peachy”.

He groaned. “There’s that damned word again”.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What, peachy?” – Benny nodded – “it's a perfectly acceptable word".

He chuckled. “Yeah, you like to use it when you're upset. So what is it this time? Is it the woman at the bar?”

You stood there silent for a moment, processing your response. But from the lack of reply, Benny got his answer.

“No, not at all. You're free to spend your free time with whom ever ya like” was what you went with. Not a very strong reply, but its all you got.

Benny laughed loudly. “Jealously sure is a cute colour on you".

Your shot him a dark look, moving your hands to rest on your hips. “I am not jealous Benjamin Cross! Far from it!”

With that you turned on your heel and started to storm off, leaving Benny to laugh some more. But upon realising you were seriously annoyed, he took off after you. He tried to get to you to stop, even offered to give you a ride home. Which you refused.

“Come on, it's quicker and safer if I get ya home” Benny stated, following closely.

“I'm fine. I'd say its more worrisome to be with a Vandal” you retorted.

That hurt Benny. And it was a low blow, you know. But he irked you. So, your words were justified.

“Come on, please let me take ya home” Benny sighed, before he got a bad idea. “The quicker I get ya home safely, the quicker I can get back to the bar and that woman".

That was it. You stopped, before turning around in a flash. Anger and hurt shone in your eyes.

“If its that so important go back now! I said I am fine!” You said with a raised voice. “She seemed to like ya too, from how she was practically in ya arms or in ya lap! Don't mind me, I'm just stupid to think I stood a damn chance. But, like usual, I am-”

You didn’t get to finish your rant. For Benny – amused by your dummy spit – grabbed your arm and pulled you in, his lips silencing you with a kiss. He moved his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. You were in shock. Benny was kissing you. He kissed you to stop you from talking.

He pulled back, looking down at you from under his eyelashes. “Ya good?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How does one speak after that? But your eyes told him that you were trying to wrap your head around what just happened. He saw shock, confusion and a small flicker of hope.

“What-why?” You sputtered out.

Benny chuckled, moving his hand so he could caress your jaw with his thumb. “Ain't it obvious? I kissed ya".

“W-why?!” You choked out.

Benny found this version of you amusing and adorable. “Because I wanted too, I’ve wanted to for weeks now. But I've been afraid too".

You looked into Benny's eyes, trying to work out why he would be afraid. So you asked that question. Waiting with baited breath for his answer.

“I was worried ya didn't like me, like I like ya, doll” he said softly. “But seein’ your reaction to Angela" – so that's the raven vixens name, you thought – “I got my answer; ya do".

You titled your head, giving him a sharp look. “Yeah, well...you could be wrong".

Benny chuckled, running his thumb down your lips. Letting it linger, pulling down your bottom lip. “Oh, I know I'm right. And if I was to kiss ya again, I know for a fact, you’ll kiss me back, doll".

“Ha. Try me” you retorted, a challenge.

With a small smirk, Benny moved in and captured your lips once. This kiss was harder. His hand holding your chin, as his tongue swept along your bottom lip. Without a thought, you opened your mouth, giving him victory. Benny's tongue entered, finding your tongue and caressed it with his own. He didn't waste time deepening this kiss, both of you had wanting this for so long.

Eventually Benny pulled back, you chasing his lips. He laughed at how kiss drunk you were. The way you opened your eyes and looked up at him, had him wanting to groan from how good that looked on you. He continued to caress your jaw with him thumb, as he rested his head against your forehead.

“I was right” he sighed. “Firstly, jealously does look good on you” – you softly scoffed – “And secondly, I was right ya would kiss me back”.

“Yeah, yeah...” you mumbled.

Benny pulled back with a chuckle. “Come on, let's get out of here".

With that you let Benny pull you to his bike. Once he was on and the bike was running, Benny helped you on to sit behind him. Settled in and your arms around his waist, be pulled away from the curb. No intention to take you home yet. For now, he wanted to spend time with his girl. Time he didn't get earlier.

[mosaickiwi]

your angle... or yuor devil

Emo has some business to take care of... but you're going to a Halloween party together later wahoo!!! [REDACTED] is he/him only for this since there's some other loser in the scene 🙄

cw: torture in the beginning, implied murder

proceed with caution

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

As if contemplating what to watch on TV, [REDACTED] glanced down at the sight in front of him.

Bound in an old, wooden chair, somebody's agonized cries for help went unanswered, muffled by the torn, bloodied knot of fabric tied over their mouth. They'd been nothing but incomprehensible since the first nail was painstakingly pried from their finger.

The bigger piece of torn cloth was bundled in their lap. Its folds held a steadily growing pile of teeth and fingernails. Some were whole, but most were in pieces from the messier extractions.

Normally, the dark haired man would have more satisfying tools at his disposal for the victim. But he didn't have the chance to run home, especially when a Halloween date with you was right around the corner. After a quick stop at a hardware store, today's (un)lucky winner got dragged into the nearest abandoned building.

Only a couple hours ago, hardly ten minutes after the time you normally took your lunch break, this piece of work had approached you. 

Of course, nothing came of it. And you told your beloved partner about the unwelcome interaction right away. Between the usual chatter and flirting once you video called him for lunch, you mentioned it in an offhand comment, a wrinkle in your forehead to boot.

Then you'd gone right back to talking about the holiday, and how excited you were for the party that night. [REDACTED] didn't move on so quickly.

Just as he leaned down, a metal nail poised over the shitstain's knee and a hammer in hand, his phone rang. The items clattered against the floor as he stood and hurried to yank it from his pocket.

The bound and gagged, soon-to-be-done-for stranger looked surprised, but oddly grateful for the brief escape from further torment.

Before he could even offer a greeting, you spoke.

"Hiii! I'm already finished making treat bags at the library. Do you wanna meet me at your apartment for a little while before the party? I'm headed there now."

"I'd love to, but M'not exactly free," [REDACTED] managed to answer calmly despite the whirlwind you lured his heart into. He kept his gaze on the wide eyed stranger in front of him, wondering if they'd test their luck. 

Surprisingly, they did their best to stay quiet, the over-dramatic, obnoxious sobs from earlier slowly subsiding into sniffles. He smugly smiled and turned, walking a few steps away. Even with their impending demise, he didn't want to share your voice with anyone.

"Oh," you said. "That's okay." The notable disappointment to your words pained him, and he had to throw a glare over his shoulder at his victim. 

It was their fault that he would be missing out on extra time with you. Why didn't they just mind their business, instead of trying to chat you up while waiting in line?

But, [REDACTED] shared some of the blame. He'd begrudgingly skipped the usual lunch break visit at your insistence, since you wanted to surprise him with the matching costumes you were picking up.

"So what are you doing then?" you asked, then passed right over the topic. "Never mind. It's probably work, right?"

"... Yeah. Work," he answered. Admittedly, he was thankful you decided to stop asking questions on your own. And that you didn't remember he normally worked from home. "M'sorry, love."

You hummed in thought. "No worries. Programming hours sure are all over the place. I guess they kinda have to be, with the kind of money you make though." There was a sudden, loud commotion in the background and you softly cursed.

"Angel?" your boyfriend worriedly called out.

"I'm fine! My stupid tail just got caught in the — I mean… I'm fine!!"

The hacker smiled in relief, already excited for the costumes you bought. He didn't trail you or sneak a peek at the store's cameras for once, but he did notice the bright red horns poking out of the shopping bag behind you while you ate. You must've changed into yours before you left. An angel and a demon — only you wanted him to be the angel. 

[REDACTED] laughed, almost forgetting the person tied up behind him until they weakly groaned in agony. His smile immediately turned to a frown; he had to hang up too soon for his liking.

He was apologetic as could be. "I won't be able to leave for a while, but I'll make sure to call you the second I'm done."

"You always do," you teased him. "I can't wait to see the look on your face once I give you your costume."

He instantly took the bait, as if he didn't already know. "Really? Why don't y'give me a hint?"

"Hmm… It's… uhh, your favorite thing in the world?"

Ah, that one was too obvious. Still, he wanted to pretend a little longer. The delighted look on your face was sure to be worth the wait. "I'll work hard t'figure it out before I get home."

Your almost impish laughter made his heart skip a beat. "See you soon, Ren."

The phone beeped and the screen went black, taking his good mood away.

With a faint sigh and a roll of his eyes, the dark haired man reached for the sledgehammer leaning against an upturned table. It weighed lighter in his hands than the one he was used to, but it'd do the job just fine. 

He turned back towards the stranger, bruised, battered and much too weak to do anything but stare up at their tormentor. 

All the joy in [REDACTED]'s demeanor was gone, replaced with commonplace boredom as he slung the hammer over one shoulder. "Guess y'kept quiet enough, so I'll make this quick."

[metalmiez]

✨1000 followers on Instagram! Can I hear a WAHOO?✨

To celebrate this milestone and your insane and so 🦇ing kind support, I prepared this drawing of our beloved husbands as vampires to host my first GO related DTIYS challenge. They’re part of an upcoming Vampire AU fanfiction I’m writing on (The first chapter will probably drop on October 31st).

🎃DTIYS Rules🎃

🦇Redraw our vampire husbands in your style, no matter if traditional or digital media :)

🦇Tag me @metalmiez_arts and use the hashtag #miez1000dtiys I want to see and share your works ❤️

(If you don’t recieve a reply to your post, please contact me via DM)

🦇Make sure to include a screenshot of my original work in one of your slides

🦇Have fun with gender representation, hairstyle and -length and clothes (if you choose to adopt Crowley’s shiny silk shirt - I am awfully sorry xD)

🦇No deadline. Draw in whatever pace works best for you

🦇No AI or tracing plz

I’m looking forward to your entries❤️

Thank you all so much for your kind support of my art and all the wonderful comments ❤️

[thecranewivesrpf]

everybody meet my son he has every disease

but after a week of work he's done!!! wahoo!! I'm free of hyperfixation prison! (lying)

I've literally never done plushies before I'm sorry if he's not. The best. I had to alter the patterns so much because apparently curly hair is unfathomable to the nation of japan but!! I think he turned out pretty good for a first attempt at this sorta thing

big inspo for everything from clover-doodles' chibi designs Jshdjushdjfh you can tell with the hair 😭

obligatory violence moodboard

[mara-and-its-the-same]

hello there! I would love to read any of your thoughts/fics about Cal and/or Danny!

OR?! I could never pick between them, but for the sake of introductions let's start with thoughts because the fics are coming don't you worry. They just need a little fine tuning

Teeny thoughts/HCs for both below the cut (it's yap central up in here)🥰

Cal

I'm so obsessed with the way he talks, like absolutely entranced by his cadence and I love every scene of him telling some story. and I know that he'd know that, maybe not right away but eventually he'd recognize the look you give him around the bonfire while he's talking to the group is the same one you give him late in the evening close to the final page of your date nights. OH MY GOD!

when you find out he speaks french! i'm woozy just thinking about it, (i don't even care that i can't understand quebecois for the life of me) you'd ask him to say something to you just so you could hear the sound of it. even if he's gotten a little rusty since he hasn't has anyone to speak it with, and even if all he can recite are the few stories he remembers from his childhood, or motorcycle parts he's learned from the translations on the back of manuals. like a late night and you cant sleep and you just want the sound of his voice to relax to...he might not totally understand the attraction, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and if you're into it who is he to deny you such a simple wish?

and I don't think he'd be the type to be one of those "my old ball and chain" guys, like he's undoubtedly in love with you and in love with being around you as often as possible. so if you're home while he's working in the garage he's setting up a lawn chair for you to relax in, just to keep him company, if the weather's nice he's putting it out in the sun for you and if it's a little too hot he sets you up in the shade with a little cooler with whatever the two of you are into that week. and he's certainly not letting you lift a finger. not because he thinks you'll break something (which like you might, but who am i to judge) but because he doesn't want you getting grease all over your outfit or roughing up those soft, pretty hands of yours. he just wants your company

Danny

for right now in this moment, i'm all over the idea of being his "girl back home" like he's out in chicago with all these bikers getting into god knows what kind of trouble, while you're safe at home just thinking about him every hour of every day. of course he calls whenever he gets the chance, but it's never a sure thing with the amount of time he spends out on the longer runs. and long distance calls are expensive, but every time he does it's so precious. the few times you hear some new midwestern phrase or pronunciation slip in and get a few extra seconds on the call just to poke a little more fun at him.

the guys get ahold of his wallet one day and can't believe he's kept you a secret this long. 3 different pictures of you sit in the accordion folded holder between the fold of his wallet and he thanks god for the feeling he got that morning he should change the ones he had in before (much more,,,invigorating if you will), for these three that he brought with him too, just to be sure he can see all your different expressions every time he reaches into his back pocket.

AND WHEN YOU COME TO VISIT!! at first he's not so sure it's the best idea, worrying you won't like the guys or something might happen once you're there, but all that is secondary the moment he thinks about how long it's been since he's last seen you, and before he knows it he's calling you back and taking you up on that offer to get a week off of work and coming to see him. Once you're there he's not leaving your side for a minute, firstly because he feels the need to let everyone else know you're his (and that you are real, as much as Zipco and Wahoo tried to get him to admit to the pictures in his wallet being magazine clippings because what's a girl like you doing with a pinko "college-boy" like him) and second because he's missed you so much for so long and he doesn't know the next time you'll be back so he's getting every second he can with you

and oh goodness are you impressed with this new look he's adopted. so different from what he used to wear to class or out walking around the city together, but still it fits him so well. your knees almost give out the 3rd day of your visit when he comes out from his bedroom in a black tank top and his denim vest...and maybe you do feign heat exhaustion just so he'll take you home early on the back of the bike he's spent so many phone calls telling you about...just because the heat was a more internal kind doesn't mean it's any less real. or maybe the exhaustion was just that you were getting tired of seeing him look that hot without doing anything about it. either way he hasn't seen you pull him up his apartment stairs that fast since you first started dating

and not maybe, but certainly, your trip goes from one week to two to a month until the tragic reality of responsibility sinks in and you realize you really are running out of clothes...

[blorbologist]

look, ima just say that yes, the cast understands their characters best - but they are not writers, and might not know how to best get those traits across to their audience.

My brother is like, the ideal target audience for a new fan. Big nerd into anime and mature animation already, a fan of several of the VAs and has a smattering of D&D experience. He absolutely loved seasons 1 and 2! In fact, his favorite characters in s1 were Grog and Keyleth, and I believe that held true in s2 as well.

While live chatting to me watching s3, he was so frustrated by how stupid and childish she was acting. He's completely naïve to C1 (but has endured some C2 when my dad and I would watch together). Without me to explain the complexity and depth of her in the campaign, he's gone from absolutely loving a character to loathing her appearance on screen because the writing did her so dirty in ways that are, frankly, easy to spot and easy to fix. Telling him how Keyleth was in the campaign was heartbreaking - he found it so cool! That was the character he found so interesting!

But whoever she was, she wasn't apparent in s3 Keyleth.

He also called Raishan 'the worst schemer (archetype)' he' ever seen, and enjoyed bitching about episode 10 with me more than he did watching it, soo...

I use Keyleth as an example because she' the most relevant one, as a favorite of my brother’s and having been done so dirty this season. But it applied to... a lot. From the friendships to the character choices to just the whole structure of season 3.

It's one thing to know Keyleth is strong, and angry, and feels responsible for her people, and doesn't trust Raishan. It's another thing to communicate that effectively - and this goes for everything and everyone else this season too. You just hear more vocal complaints from fans who know the show because they have, right there, a blueprint for how these inner conflicts and personalities were shown very well, and so have easy examples for how it could have been done better.

But hey, how dare we engage with s3 as a work of art on par with s1-2 instead of turning our brains off, right? The campaign will always be there - as a reminder that this season definitely lost new fans and those that stay will walk away with carricatures of the characters compared to what they were in s1-2. Look - genuinely beautiful battle sequence! 😍 I have no concept of storytelling or writing and clap in delight at the third Ripley fight of the season! Wahoo!

(Ignore that all that gorgeous animation and score were not enough to keep my brother invested when he, a member of the target demographic, started getting annoyed by the writing. Nothing is worse for art than being annoying.)