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#and his more acrobatic lithe body
scribespirare · 9 months
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Do you think you could write an a/b/o for omega Miles babysitting Mayday at HQ, and tsundere alpha Miguel doesn't know how to cope? The way you write these two is just *chef's kiss*
Nonnie i could kiss you for this request i love it so so much. i kinda...went a little nuts with it lmao. first its sappy then it gets sad and it ends very horny. its 2k long ajdfkdj;a. i think im gonna write the sex scene later and post it as a full fic.
There are very few things that can stop Miguel O'Hara in his tracks these days. He's been there, seen it all, got the goddamned spider suit to prove it. Surprising him is nigh impossible and he likes it that way.
For some reason, Miles Morales seems to be at the top of the list of things that can get to him though.
Miles, with his big dark eyes and his sneer and his inability to listen to common sense or reason. The Omega superhero who defies every stereotype about his gender. Who smells absolutely amazing and is stunning in action, lithe body built perfectly for his acrobatics.  
Miles, who is currently sitting in HQ's control room with Mayday in his lap, his face bright and smiling as she babbles at him. He's got her little hands in each of his own, lifting them one after the other as she stamps her feet.
"I know!" he says in response to her babbling, attention completely on the little girl. "It's crazy, right? Tell me more about it."
Mayday obliges, her babbling raising in both pitch and tempo like she really is going on a diatribe of some kind. She seems to be enjoying having a captive audience and isn't going to let it go to waste.
It's...well, Miguel really and truly has been stopped in his tracks. It's the first Omegean thing he's ever seen from Miles. Normally he's so contrarian and difficult, not to mention eager to jump into danger and equally as capable of actually handling it. You'd think he was an Alpha the way he behaves, small, lithe form be damned.
Seeing him like this, soft and sweet and smiling, his scent bright and nearly floral, is...doing things to Miguel. Bringing up feelings and urges that he's known were there, but which he'd been successfully keeping under lock and key.
Miles suddenly seems to become aware of Miguel's presence, and he looks up. His smile fades a little but it's a smile all the same, and Miguel's pretty sure Miles hasn't smiled at him since...well, everything. It looks good on him.
"Hey, wasn't sure when you were going to be back. Peter asked me to babysit for him though and I figured hanging out here would be better than taking her home with me. Not sure how I would explain that one to my folks."
The idea of someone mistakenly thinking Mayday is Miles’, that the Omega has a child, has been mated and more, makes Miguel’s nostrils flare. He clamps down ruthlessly on the reaction, knowing that if he doesn’t his interest will undoubtedly be noticeable in his scent.
“Just keep it down,” are the words that come off of Miguel’s tongue. They’re better than Do you want a child? or You’d make a good mother or, even worse, I could give you one of your own, if you want. 
Miles’ smile turns into a frown and then an unhappy twist. He clicks his tongue, says, “Whatever, man,” and goes back to Mayday. He’s speaking quietly to her now but Miguel can pick up his own name and big meany and assh- wait I can’t say that to you.
Miguel just heads for his central computers, waking them up and logging into the system to check on how everything is running today. But he can’t help the way he watches Miles’ and Mayday’s reflections on the screen. He can’t pick up many details like this but he can still smell them. Happy, pleased Omega, and the young, innocent scent of a child unpresented. Of babe and mother.
Christ, Miguel is going to hell for this.
It’s been about an hour of Miguel pretending to work but actually getting very little done, when Miles speaks up. “Hey, Miguel, you know stuff about kids, right?”
Miguel’s shoulders hunch and he breathes out slowly. Of course he does. He turns, glaring back at Miles. Mayday has been dragging him around the room with her crawling and right now they’re both hanging upside down from the ceiling, Miles sitting cross legged and her on his shoulders.
“Yes,” Miguel says sharply.
Miles’ mouth twists, but for once it doesn’t seem like it’s directed at Miguel. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, huh? I was just curious, ya know, about parenthood and all.”
Another bolt of longing shoots through Miguel. It’s part arousal, part wistfulness for his lost family.
You could start again, part of him says. Children. A mate. It’s not too late for you. He’s right there.
“What do you want to know about it?”
Miles shrugs, which causes Mayday to wobble dangerously and laugh delightedly about it. “Just, is it good? Like, hanging out with Mayday is great, but I can’t imagine having one of my own.”
You don’t have to imagine, Miguel thinks, but says, “It’s different, when they’re yours.”
“How so?”
Miguel sighs and holds out his arms to Mayday. Even though she’s halfway across the room she immediately lets out an excited shriek and climbs her way down a protesting Miles’ body. It takes only a minute before she’s dropping into Miguel’s arms and then crawling all over him.
“Kids are work and energy,” Miguel explains. “When they’re someone else’s, you’re happy to give them back after a certain point. When they’re yours, even when you’re annoyed or upset with them, you still know it’s all worth it. You can’t imagine a life without them.”
“Oh,” says Miles. He watches quietly for a moment as Mayday continues her excited quest to make Miguel look as ridiculous as possible, before he too crawls across the ceiling and drops down. Sadly it’s not into Miguel’s arms like Mayday had.
Gingerly, Miles’ takes the little girl back, and she goes willingly enough. “Sorry if that was like, rude or anything. And don’t kill me for saying this but you sound like you make a really good Alpha, mate wise.”
Miles is halfway across the room again before Miguel can reply, like he really is expecting retaliation. Miguel just shakes his head and pretends to go back to his work.
I am a good Alpha he thinks. I could show you. We could have a whole litter of kids. You’d love it. And then inevitably Miguel’s thoughts turn lascivious. He ends up losing himself to a daydream about exactly how he wants to breed Miles (facing each other, his fangs buried in Miles’ throat, Miles’ flexible, coltish legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging in to coax Miguel into fucking him harder) while watching the Omega’s reflection.
He doesn’t come up for air until Peter makes his appearance. The man gives Miguel a quizzical look but is distracted quickly enough by his daughter. He sticks around long enough that Miguel does actually get some work done, and when his voice finally fades away Miguel figures he’s alone.
That is, until Miles clears his throat directly behind him.
Miguel doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He turns and looks down at the Omega in annoyance, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.
Miles looks shifty, transferring his weight from one foot to the other like he’s thinking about running, but he’s got that mulish jut to his chin and a hard glint in his eyes that Miguel recognizes at the stubborn streak that’s lead them into more fights than he’d like to admit.
Is regularly wanting to throttle a teenage Omega better or worse than wanting to fuck him?
“Spit it out, kid,” Miguel eventually snaps.
Miles juts his chin out even further. “I’m not stupid,” he says, which, well he’s just inviting a scathing retort with that. Miguel’s expression must convey this because Miles rallies and goes on quickly, not giving the Alpha a chance to cut in. “I’m not! I saw how you were looking at me today, with Mayday. And then your scent…you were looking at me through the reflection on the computer screen.”
Miguel stiffens all over because fuck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinds out.
“The hell you don’t! Even Peter smelled it. You’re into me, you smell like you want to jump me.”
There’s one of two ways Miguel can play this; deny it till his dying breath, or agree and pretend it doesn’t matter. His panicked brain picks the latter, because Miles isn’t stupid, and he’s tenacious as hell. He’ll hound Miguel until Miguel gives him an answer the Omega is satisfied with.
“So?” Miguel says.
That makes Miles pause, his eyes flicking back and forth between Miguel’s. He clearly isn’t seeing what he wants to though, brow knitting in confusion. “What do you mean ‘so’? So, you’re horny as hell for me.”
“You’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha,” Miguel explains slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “It’s biology.” Which of course just ruffles Miles’ feathers and makes him puff up even more.
“That’s bullshit. You’ve never smelled like that before around me,” Miles insists.
Miguel is butting up against almost the exact same decision from before. Does he own up, or does he keep denying it means anything?
With a faint snarl of annoyance at having been put in this situation to begin with, Miguel says, “Most Alphas seeing an unbonded Omega with a young child are going to be affected.” The word horny will absolutely not be crossing his lips. “It sparks an instinct in us.”
Miles narrows his eyes, a faint smirk curling at his mouth. He thinks he’s won. “A breeding instinct,” he accuses.
Miguel turns his gaze skyward, giving a quick prayer to whichever poor saint is watching over him today to give him patience. “Yes, Miles. A breeding instinct.”
“I knew it!”
“Congratulations,” Miguel says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now will you go away so I can do some work in peace?”
And there’s the chin jut again. Stubborn ass Omega. “I’m not done with you yet.”
The corner of Miguel’s lip twitches of up into an involuntarily snarl. “Well I’m done with you, malcriado. Vete.”
“No. I want to know if this was a one off,” Miles demands. “’Cause like, sure seeing an Omega with a kid might work for you, but my theory is that you’re already into me and it just pushed you over the edge. You’re too uptight to let your scent go wild like that unless you’re like, close to losing it.”
How the hell is this kid so damn perceptive? Clearly Miguel’s going to need to work on his defenses if Miles is reading him like a damn book. He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to figure out how to get out of this.
Well, he’s dug this fucking grave. Time to lie in it.
“Fine, Miles,” he says wearily, dropping his hand and making direct eye contact with the Omega. “Yes, I have more than a passing interest in you as a mate. Seeing you with Mayday made me think about having children with you myself. Are we done with this line of questioning now? Are you finally satisfied?”
Miles smiles slowly, then wrinkles his nose. “Having children with me, huh? That’s an incredibly boring way to talk about breeding. Why so family friendly? Just say you wanna fuck me. And no, by the way, I’m not satisfied yet. You gotta make good on all that before I let it drop.”
Silence reigns as Miguel’s brain just churns through the words, understanding them individually but failing to grasp the big picture.
“Not, like, immediately though!” Miles rushes to add, oblivious to Miguel’s plight. “I’m not ready for kids yet, not to mention my parents would kill me. But we could, you know, practice?” He looks stupidly hopeful, staring up at Miguel with that little smile on his lips, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.
“You…want me to breed you,” Miguel says slowly.
Miles snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, practice breeding me. But yeah, that’s what I just said didn’t I? Get with it, old man, we’re wasting daylight here.”
Miguel’s never been one to follow orders. But how’s an Alpha supposed to resist?
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thesmollestsnek · 11 months
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My headcanons for the batfamily’s body types, in no particular order;
Jason - Big. Tall, broad, insanely big muscles hidden under a healthy layer of fat. No particular part of him is more defined, or even particularly defined at all, he’s just Big with a capital b. Absolute powerhouse, the definition of a bear.
Dick - He’s got the gymnast’s build. Probably the most “cut” of the family he’s got the trim waist and extremely defined shoulders you’d find on any high level gymnast/acrobat. Tons of muscle definition even when he’s relaxed but especially when he flexes. Most of his muscle mass is up in his shoulders, seeing him work those back shoulder muscles is a work of art. And of course, you can’t forget that iconic ass ;)
Tim - Honestly, Tim Drake is the kinda guy who looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Super pale and insanely skinny with very little definition. Stick thin limbs that pack a surprising punch. He’s got wiry muscles built for speed and endurance over brute strength
Damian - Best word I can think to describe Damian would be “lithe”. He’s small, still a kid and with some of that childlike roundness to his features. He’s a vegetarian which greatly reduces his potential sources of protein, so he’s definitely more on the lean side, at least for now. He may grow into a build more like Bruce’s as he ages but for now he’s short and fairly skinny.
Bruce - Think of a famous actor you’d see posing on a magazine. That’s him. Dorito figure, six pack abs, muscle definition out the ass. He’s the fucking Batman, and has an absolutely insane workout routine to boot. Super tall with the widest shoulders imaginable, but still capable of making himself soft when comforting kids (his own or other people’s).
Cass - Typical ballerina build. Super petite with a surprising amount of strength hidden behind soft slender limbs. Short with a tiny waist and no hips or chest to speak of, she’s silk over steel with an insane of muscle control she uses to make herself as soft and pretty as possible. 100% capable of knocking a man out with one punch, though you’d never know it by looking at her otherwise.
Barbara - First off, my version of Barbara is still in a wheelchair, though she definitely didn’t let that stop her from working out. She may be the girl in the chair both literally and metaphorically, but she still likes to make sure she’s fully capable of defending herself if necessary. Iirc her specific flavor of wheelchair bound is paralysis, so her legs would be fairly small with very little definition, even if she does all she can to exercise those muscles and keep them from atrophying, considering. That being said she has arm muscles for days, super strong both from working out and just using her arms to propel herself and to transfer in and out of her wheelchair. 100% capable of doing a weird little army crawl using just her arm muscles to get around in an emergency if something were to happen to her chair.
Steph - Definitely the squishiest of the girls, though considering they’re all vigilantes that doesn’t necessarily mean much. She seems like the type to have curves, and not work towards having any specific kind of figure. Think a bit of a stocky pear kind of shape. She’s definitely got some muscle definition, but not nearly as much as she could she focuses more on actually being strong than just looking it. A bit on the short side, but not overly so.
Duke: I… honestly know the least about Duke out of the whole batfamily, so he’s definitely the least defined in my head. From what I’ve got, he’s probably more than a bit lanky. I picture him being super tall but not having the body mass of Jason, Bruce, or even Dick to go with that height. Decently strong but more speed oriented, with more of a basketball player build.
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hood-ex · 11 months
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Ok so this is a random thought and your my go too Nightwing/Dick Grayson Blog for random Dick Grayson headcanons. But everyone always pictures Dick being a gymnast growing up. And it get it, it’s mostly spurred because a lot of canon material shows him doing gymnastics. But truly I have this headcanon that Dick would be a Diver. Not undersea diving, but a person who does extreme flips off a diving board from alternating heights. It’s would probably 100% be the closest sport that would mimic his year being an acrobat on a trapeze. Divers gets amazing height do these extreme flips and maneuvers and finish up with a perfect landing in the water with little to no splash.
Also, this is personal issue I have with the gymnastics headcanon, but Dick needs a more streamline and lithe body type to be able to do the type of flips he does and be as flexible as he is. Male gymnastics is an upper body sport. Male gymnasts have huge shoulders and struggle to do extreme flips in the air like the girls do which is also what Dick does. Dick is an acrobat. He has to be able to tuck his body enough to do a quad flip.
Male Divers have the body type to do the flips and flexibility they do. Which lines up with the type of sport Dick would gravitate too, too maintain his body type and keep a sense of his parents tutelage and acrobatic abilities.
Canon Dick has got your diver Dick covered 😉.
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TNTT (Vol. 1) #16
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imperiuswrecked · 10 months
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Designing an animated character means more than just creating how the character looks. As three TAG Character Designers share, it requires an understanding of physical movement, technology, and the art of collaboration. By Kim Fay MULTI-LAYERED MAGIC SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE CHARACTER DESIGNER: KRIS ANKA In Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, Miles Morales is catapulted across a multiverse filled with Spider-People. All of them are charged with protecting its existence, and all of them have very different ideas about how to do this. Especially Miguel O’Hara, AKA Spider-Man 2099. Unlike Miles and his predecessor, Peter Parker, Miguel intentionally altered his DNA to become a Spider-Person. Because he played a role in his own transformation, he is as multi-layered as the movie he inhabits—literally. Character Designer Kris Anka approached Miguel in stages, adding layers throughout the process to develop the complexity of this superhero. When Anka was invited to work on Across the Spider-Verse by Joaquim Dos Santos, the film’s director, he was already familiar with Miguel. A CalArts graduate, Anka had been working at Marvel comics for eight years, even designing one of Miguel’s suits. He had worked in animation before his Marvel stint and was ready to return. Little did he know that his three-month contract would extend to three years, with much of his time focused on Miguel. While Miguel exists in comics, and screen audiences got a glimpse of him briefly in the end credits of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Anka says the sequel’s creative team wanted to take a new approach to the character. Some early pre-concept work had been done, and “they knew the vibe they wanted,” he says. “They wanted Miguel to be someone who was very proactive. He always had to have a presence. When he walked into a room you think, oh, this guy takes things more seriously than everyone else. He had to move in that intentional way—I’m on the hunt—physically intimidating.” The film’s Visual Development Artist Spencer Wan did physicality animation tests, giving Anka an understanding of the impact of Miguel’s weight. Miguel has claws and doesn’t stick to walls, “and he’s not lithe, he’s not an acrobat. He’ll go through a wall rather than find some artful way around it,” Anka says. Working with his musculature, he had to figure out how to make Miguel fit in with the visual language of Spider-Man while at the same time stand out among the other Spider-People from the previous movie. “We had two very separate approaches with him,” Anka explains. The first was translating the comic design into a character that would work in animation. While the strong red and blue silhouette would remain, in animation action scenes with a lot of movement, “Miguel could accidentally become a muddled mess because of all that blue,” says Anka. He added red to Miguel’s palms and soles, designed red arm bands that angled in specific directions, and created a red design for the back of his suit that looked different from the front to make sure the audience could always tell what side of his body they were looking at. With this initial design done, Anka sent Miguel down the pipeline. Then the vis-dev team told him they were working Mesoamerican Burle Marx-influenced patterns into the backgrounds. Marx was a Brazilian landscape architect whose style had distinctive patterns. Like the other Spider-People, Miguel inhabits his own universe—Nueva York in the year 2099. Anka was asked to return to Miguel to unite the character’s look with his world. “To make everything feel that Miguel was born in this culture,” he says. Anka spent the next six months focused on working in patterns without breaking the original silhouette. The blue parts would have a faint pattern underneath the digital texturing; the red parts would have the same pattern, but it needed to be stronger. Overall, they wanted three different layers of detailing to the suit, and the challenge, Anka knew, was to “add a sophistication to the design without it being ham-fisted and too noisy. Things can get really loud really fast.” Anka was given some loose patterns to work with, but nothing lined up. He researched everything from Marx’s designs to Mesoamerican textiles to architecture for inspiration—and set about experimenting. He tested what would happen if the pattern was curvier, straighter, softer, or more hard-edged. Then he had to ask, “Where does everything fit so it all looks intentional to the anatomy?” His method was to take all the red parts—the mask, the chest, the arm bands, and the legs—and use each to show how he could break down the pattern and still retain the silhouette. He had vis-dev choose which versions of each body part they liked best. Once he had that, he says, “I would try to holistically find commonalities between those patterns and bring it all into one unified piece.” Now that Miguel was ready to move down the pipeline again, it was decided that Anka would translate the geometric patterns he had designed directly onto the model—not a usual role for a Character Designer. But nothing about Miguel and the rest of the Spider-People was usual. “Every design is wildly asymmetrical including Miguel’s body,” Anka says. But because he’d been thinking about the patterns for so long, “I could figure out, how does this all really sync up, [so] when it went into animation, everything lined up already,” he says. On and off, Anka spent 16 months working on Miguel. It was a laborious process, but one he gladly undertook in service of the ultimate payoff—a design, he says, “that feels effortlessly that character by the end.”
Kris Anka interview on Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse with Key Frame Magazine (issue no. 22)
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maryamsweb · 10 months
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EXILE, miles morales
“you didn't even hear me out
you never gave a warning sign”
synopsis: in which miles and felicia break into prison.
a/n: this is apart of my other story, “holy ground,” just writing some blurbs before i continue writing atsv!
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the moon cast its cold, dark rays upon the rooftop, illuminating the vast expanse of the prison compound below. felicia and miles stood side by side, their bodies silhouetted against the backdrop of towering cell blocks and coiled barbed wire. the air carried a hint of anticipation, mingled with a touch of danger.
miles adjusted his gloves, his eyes fixed on the sprawling penitentiary. "okay, let's go over this one more time," he said, his voice hushed yet determined. felicia, her expression tinged with impatience, let out a sigh that hung in the air for a moment before dissipating.
"my dad's in the d wing," felicia explained. "i drop in the c wing, you go to the e wing. we meet in the infirmary." her eyes darted toward the edge of the roof, as if longing to take the leap.
as they walked closer to the edge, felicia's adrenaline began to surge. but just as she prepared to jump, miles reached out, his hand closing tightly around her wrist. in an instant, he flipped upside down, suspending himself in front of her. His voice, filled with urgency, cut through the silence. "if they spot us, it's over. we need to take them all out. quiet as a cat."
a mischievous smirk played upon felicia's lips, a reflection of her unwavering confidence. "sneaky as a spider," she replied, her voice barely audible. with a graceful twist of her body, she somersaulted over the edge, disappearing from sight as if swallowed by the very shadows beneath her.
miles, emboldened by her as, followed suit, hurtling himself off the rooftop. As he descended, the wind whistled past his ears, carrying with it a sense of exhilaration and trepidation. his landing was precise, as he entered the prison through a conveniently placed sunroof.
meanwhile, felicia gracefully twirled through the darkness, her slender figure guided by the silk thread of her trusty rope. it snaked through the maze-like corridors of the prison, ensuring her safe descent to the lower floors. her eyes scanned the environment, taking in the details as she assessed the path ahead.
a pair of vigilant officers stood guard near the exit door, their imposing presence a reminder of the challenges that lay before them. felicia moved with calculated precision, each step a delicate ballet of stealth and control. she approached the guards, her movements fluid and soundless, blending seamlessly with the oppressive atmosphere.
as felicia drew nearer, her eyes locked with those of the unsuspecting officers. the glimmer of mischief danced within her gaze, foreshadowing the inevitable twist of fate that awaited them. with a measured and deliberate pace, she continued her approach, her determination unwavering, ready to execute her plan flawlessly.
the dimly lit prison ward was a battleground of shadows and desperation. felicia, the epitome of grace and lethal precision, moved with cat-like agility, her lithe form gliding through the chaos that ensued. the clatter of alarms echoed through the corridors, mingling with the distant shouts of alarmed guards.
in a blur of acrobatic prowess, felicia engaged the first guard with a lightning-fast strike, her body twisting effortlessly as her hands found their mark. a swift kick to the midsection sent him sprawling, gasping for breath. with a calculated leap, she lunged toward the next unfortunate target, her claws extending from her fingertips like deadly extensions of her will.
a symphony of violence ensued as felicia danced through the room, her movements a whirlwind of precision and deadly intent. her claws slashed through the air, severing the ties of restraint that held the guards' weapons. the clinks of falling ammunition and the groans of incapacitated foes resonated with each victorious strike.
as felicia dispatched guard after guard, a flicker of desperation colored her eyes. her heart thudded in her chest as she neared her ultimate goal—the bed where her father lay. sweat glistened upon her brow, but her determination remained unyielding.
however, her path was blocked by a doctor who stepped forward, an obstacle in her path. the doctor's face contorted with fear and determination, knowing the gravity of the situation. "i can't let you take him," the doctor uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and resolve.
felicia has lips tightened, a mix of frustration and empathy etched upon her face. She locked eyes with the doctor, searching for any signs of understanding. "look, i know you're just doing your job," she reasoned, her voice laced with a touch of desperation. her heart pounded, knowing that time was of the essence.
the doctor stammered, his resolve wavering. "i’ve already alerted security!" he managed to utter, his voice trembling with the weight of his decision.
felicia’s eyes darted to her father's still form, lying vulnerable upon the bed. the inner turmoil reflected in her gaze, torn between her duty and the love she held for her father. with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself, knowing what had to be done. "i really don't want to have to kill you," she murmured, her voice laced with regret.
with measured steps, felicia closed the distance, each footfall an echo of determination. but just as she was about to reach her father, the doctor rushed in front of her, desperate to protect his charge. time seemed to slow as felicia’s fist collided with the doctor's jaw, a sickening thud reverberating through the room. his body crumpled, rendered unconscious, as felicia moved past him with a heavy heart.
finally reaching her father's side, felicia knelt beside him, her trembling hands reaching out to touch his face. her voice trembled with a mix of relief and sorrow as she whispered, "dad, i’m here. well get through this." the room faded away, leaving only the two of them, bound by the unbreakable ties of love and family in the midst of chaos.
miles' heart raced as he burst through the door of the hospital room, his breath coming in short gasps. "felicia!" he called out, his voice laced with urgency and relief. his eyes scanned the room, searching for the sight of his partner in the tumultuous mission they had embarked upon.
felicia's head snapped up at the sound of miles' voice, her eyes meeting his with a mix of weariness and determination. she rose to her feet, her movements fluid yet laden with the weight of their actions. "let’s go," she replied, her voice steady, a glimmer of hope shining through the fatigue etched upon her face.
together, they approached the bed where felicia’s father lay, vulnerable and in need of their protection. with gentle yet swift movements, they carefully lifted his frail form, their arms supporting him as they guided him towards the open window. the moonlight spilled into the room, casting an ethereal glow upon their determined faces.
as they stepped onto the windowsill, a gust of cool night air brushed against their skin, carrying with it the scent of freedom and the promise of a new beginning. miles and felicia shared a determined glance, their unspoken bond strengthening their resolve.
with a synchronized effort, they braved the precarious ledge, their steps measured and sure. miles' strength complemented felicia’s agility, their collaboration a testament to their trust and shared purpose. the wind whipped through their hair as they descended, inch by inch, towards the ground below.
once their feet touched the solid earth, they hoisted felicia's father onto their shoulders, his weight a reminder of their mission's significance. together, they moved swiftly through the darkness, their steps guided by muscle memory and the lingering nostalgia of felicia’s childhood home.
the path was etched in her memories, every curve and corner familiar, like a melody ingrained in her soul. the moon illuminated their way, casting long shadows that danced with the shifting leaves of the surrounding trees. the quiet hum of the night embraced them, a symphony of anticipation and bittersweet relief.
at long last, they reached the worn threshold of felica’s childhood home, a place where memories intertwined with secrets and whispered promises. with gentle care, they crossed the threshold, their burden a testament to their unwavering loyalty and the lengths they would go to protect those they loved.
the dim light of the living room revealed familiar artifacts of felicia’s upbringing, a collage of mementos that bore witness to the life she had left behind. as they laid felicia's father upon a weathered couch, a sense of solace settled within the room, a respite from the chaos they had escaped.
felicia’s gaze locked with miles', her eyes brimming with gratitude and unspoken emotions. i’m that moment, a silent exchange passed between them, a wordless acknowledgement of their shared journey and the sacrifices made along the way. she nodded, her lips mouthing the words "thank you," the weight of their unspoken connection heavy in the air.
miles returned the nod, his eyes filled with understanding. he recognized her need for solitude and closure in this moment. taking it as his cue to depart, he cast one last glance at felicia before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving her to confront the lingering shadows of her past alone.
as felicia’s turned her attention back to her father, walter’s eyes flickered open, his gaze finding hers with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. "my girl," he rasped, the words carrying a lifetime's worth of affection and regret.
a solitary tear trailed down felicia cheek, her heart aching with a blend of sorrow and love. walter’s question hung in the air, his voice ragged and strained. "how did i get here?" he pleaded, a sense of lost time etched in his words.
felicia’s hand gently clasped his, her touch conveying a tender reassurance. "i brought you here," she whispered, her voice steady but laced with a tinge of sadness. the weight of responsibility settled upon her shoulders, a burden she willingly bore.
walter’s breaths grew ragged, punctuating the silence in the room. "i’m sorry, fefe," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of a fractured bond. a tearful smile tugged at the corners of felicia’s lips as she leaned closer, her voice quivering with both vulnerability and strength.
"no, daddy, you have nothing to be sorry for," she assured him, her voice filled with unwavering devotion. in this intimate moment, past grievances and missed opportunities melted away, replaced by a profound sense of connection and forgiveness.
walter’s weak voice trembled as he continued, his words laced with regret. "please, half your childhood i was gone. i told myself i did it to help you and your mother. i did it because i liked it. and now you're just like me. I never wanted it to be like this. you’re supposed to be better."
felicia’s voice cracked as she spoke, her own emotions cascading through her words. "i.. i am better," she insisted, her voice wavering but resolute. yet her father's words had struck a chord, awakening her deepest fears and insecurities.
walter’s lips curled into a raspy, humorless laugh, his frail body struggling with each breath. "was," he managed to say, his voice fading.
felicia’s world shattered as she watched her father's chest grow still, his breathing silenced forever. with a cry of anguish, she flung herself upon him, her tears flowing freely as she pressed her head against his chest. the room reverberated with her sobs, the rawness of her pain echoing through the stillness.
she clung to the hope of resuscitation, her ear pressed against his unmoving heart. "daddy? dad! no, please!" she pleaded, her voice choked with desperation. "please, i’m sorry. i’ll be better! please," she implored, her grief pouring out in a torrent of heart-wrenching cries. she wept, her body trembling with an inconsolable anguish, mourning the loss of her father and the crushing weight of their shared legacy.
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blukrown · 10 months
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Admiring Admittance - Ghost/Gaz/Soap
GAZ WEEK 2023 - BODYWORSHIP
Gaz feels self-conscious and unattractive after eyeing up his two boyfriends in the gym one day. Not to worry, Ghost and Soap have a good way to remedy this.
Or read on AO3
Contains: NSFW, mentions of body dysmorphia
Gaz, Soap and Ghost were in the gym during a quiet stationary day on base. Working out their energy with weights, drills, and sparring. Which usually led to expending another type of energy after eyeing each other up all day.
Muscles tensing, skin glistening, mouths half opened to dispense strained breaths. It was unsurprising all three were hot under the collar even after a cool shower to wash away the sweat.
Outside of the dulling aching need to touch his lovers, Gaz also felt something else as he looked at the two men. 
Ghost was tall and built like a shithouse. Strong, firm muscles were hidden behind a layer of fat that was simply glorious to clutch and hold in the bedroom. Broad in the shoulders and hips, bulky and intimidating in stature alone.
Soap was shorter than Gaz and Ghost but he was still visibly strong. Well-defined muscles and brag-worthy six-pack abs meant even the non-trio members often stared. Strong, broad shoulders tapered down to a smaller waist. Stout but brawny.
Then there was Gaz. Tall, lanky Gaz. 
Don’t be confused, Gaz had muscle and strength to spare but it did not show on his body like it did the others. Didn’t widen the circumference of his arms nor hide the distinct bones at his hips or shoulders. He had a naturally lithe frame, a dancer’s body, his mother had always said. Perfect to leap and spin, acrobatic but resilient. 
Gaz had rarely felt jealous or self-conscious before, blessed with a gorgeous face and healthy physique, he had never found himself wanting something different . . . Until now.
Even being an inch or two taller than Soap, Gaz felt small in comparison to his partners. Weaker and frail almost. To summarise, unattractive.
It was an odd and discomforting feeling, bothering him so much he was captured by his own confronting thoughts throughout the next hour. As the trio finished in the gym, showered, dressed and retreated to Ghost’s private quarters since Gaz and Soap still slept in the barracks.
It wasn’t until they were inside, Soap having already dive bombed onto the bed, that Ghost spoke to him.
“You alrigh’ there, Kyle?” Ghost asked, voice heavy and low but soft with hinting concern.
“Hm?” Gaz hummed in reply before realising Ghost had asked him something. “Oh, uh- I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
Ghost did not seem convinced, his eyes looking over him carefully. “If it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be lookin’ so down.”
“What’s the matter?” Soap chimed in, sitting up straight on the bed with his legs dangling from the edge.
Gaz had not realised he had caused his lovers worry, which apart from flattering him, made him grow even more self-conscious. He considered deflecting again, pretending they were just imagining this. But Ghost’s hand then rested on his shoulder and Soap’s sweet eyes were bright with worry. If he could tell anyone what he was thinking, it would be these two. He trusted them, loved them above all else. So, although he felt repulsion at himself for saying it, he spoke his mind.
“Do . . . Do you think I’m weak?”
“What?” Soap half-blanched, surprised. “Of course not! Who said that?! I’ll-” Soap’s raising tone was immediately silenced by a look from Ghost.
“Why would you ask that?”
“It’s just . . .” Gaz started, feeling his throat go dry and his eyes sting a little by the corners. “I’m not as muscular as you two. I’ve tried to gain muscle but it’s hard for me.” He felt both his partners watching him, allowing him to continue if he wished. “I . . . I just realised that maybe . . . Maybe I’m not as attractive to you.”
Soap immediately stood, taking a place by Gaz’s side. “You’re kidding? You’re bonnie, Kyle! Of course, we’re attracted to ye’. Cannae keep my hands off ye’ half the time.”
“Besides,” Ghost said, hand still on Gaz’s shoulder and squeezing. “We don’t want you to be that for us. We like - love you the way you are.” He corrected, still adjusting to the word as it was still a newly introduced idea in their relationship.
Soap nodded emphatically, reaching out both arms and wrapping them around Gaz’s slim waist. “If ye’ want to change, we’ll support you. But don’t go changin’ just cos’ ye’ think we’d jump your bones any harder than we already do.”
Ghost closened as well, his chest brushing Gaz’s back. “Agreed. We wouldn’t care what size, ‘s long as you're healthy and comfortable.”
Gaz felt greatly moved by the assurance but it did not completely sway him. Even now, sandwiched between his lovers, he felt small and slight. Insignificant even as Soap held him and Ghost pressed close.
Ghost and Soap must have exchanged another silent look as there was a moment’s pause before Soap spoke. “Ye’ know what I like, Gaz?” The Scot waited until Gaz’s eyes met his, so he could read Soap’s genuine affection. “I like how tall ye’ are. Ye’ give such great hugs with those arms.” 
Soap’s arms left Gaz’s side for only a moment. Urging his lover’s arms to lift and drape over his shoulders. Long and slim compared to Soap’s own. Gaz felt Ghost’s own hands reaching to hold at his hips, tracing the visible hip bones through Gaz’s sweats.
“I quite like these you know,” He said, voice low and hushed right by Gaz’s ear. Making him shiver.
“And these,” Soap added, a hand touching at indents in Gaz’s clavicle. “I always like touchin’ them,” He then leaned forward and kissed each of the identical bones. “They look so pretty when they’ve got hickey’s on ‘em.”
“Don’t forget these,” Soap’s hand lifting Gaz’s loose fitting shirt to admire his trimmed but strong stomach. “I can never resist this.” His hands then touched at his lower abdomen, admiring the dark haired happy trail disappearing past the waistband.
Gaz was feeling comforted but was becoming more horny than anything else. His hips flinching a little at Soap’s proximity to his crotch, his cock waking from a soft doze he had been going through all day.
“I can never have enough of this,” Ghost then whispered, large and strong hands squeezing at Gaz’s behind. “I could honestly watch your ass all day, imagining how nice it looks when we push our cocks between.”
Gaz audibly whimpered at that, wriggling a little as goosebumps rippled up his arms and still exposed stomach. A hot flush then amassed between his legs and tenting his pants.
“Fuck,” Soap groaned out, eyes watching Gaz’s face scrunch in arousal. His hand lowering to cup at Gaz’s erection through his pants. “And this, Kyle. God, I’m always happy when your cock comes up to say hello.”
Gaz may have cringed at the phrasing but was far too erotically enthralled to voice it, watching Soap’s hand cup and squeeze at him through the cloth. Ghost was not helping, both hands manhandling and spreading his cheeks.
“Why don’t you give it a warm greeting then, Johnny?” Ghost asked, resting his chin on Gaz’s shoulder so he could look at the Scot. “Let’s show our boy how much we adore ‘im with more than just words.”
Soap grinned wide, “Brilliant ideas, sir. I’ll get lube?”
“Good thinking,” Ghost said with a nod.
Both Gaz and Ghost watched Soap depart for only a moment before returning. Bottle of lube retrieved and handed to Ghost over Gaz’s shoulder.
Gaz had his suspicions on what was to happen next and he did not see any reason to stop them. He was feeling a little better, appreciated and loved. But he thought it would be rude to not see the two men’s full displays of affection.
Soap took Gaz by the chin and pulled him in for a loving kiss. Quick pecks growing quicker and harsher, tongues dashing and teeth pinching at lips. Soap very clearly wishing to savour Gaz’s touch before he pulled away. His grin still visible in the curl of his lip and glitter in his eyes as he went on his knees.
Gaz’s breaths were already unsteady from his lovers’ touches and kisses but to finally see Soap going down on him only harshened them more. Not to mention Ghost who was now kissing up and down Gaz’s neck. Trailing marks over soft, dark skin. Leaving territorial hickeys so that all would know Gaz was only for them.
Soap kissed Gaz’s stomach as he tugged both his pants and briefs down in one pull, freeing his hardening cock, only going to touch him there once the clothing was safely tossed aside. Calloused hands caressed his thighs before Soap leaned in to kiss at the underside of his cock. Whiskers brushing over sensitive skin and tongue dashing out to lick the length of him. Groans rumbled in Gaz’s throat as he watched the Scot. Who seemed to enjoy Gaz’s aroused attention, flashing a handsome smirk before he took Gaz into his mouth.
Gaz gasped at the warmth that soon surrounded his cock, hands coming to hold at Soap’s shoulders to steady himself. The man on his knees easily taking him down to the base, nose pressed against his pelvis before pulling away. Mouth hollowing before beginning a slow, steady pace. Dragging out grunts and whimpers with each bob of the head.
At this point, Ghost had his fingers slickened and pressed at Gaz’s hole. Pressing two fingers in easily and stretching Gaz out just the little he needed. Already opened from their several rounds of nightly activities the day before.
Although Gaz could not see Ghost at his work, he could feel Ghost’s fingers tenfold inside and hear Ghost’s uplifted breaths, heavy and rich by his ear and making Gaz shiver. Adding a third finger Ghost pressed his lips to Gaz’s ear, voice thick and rich in his ear.
“I love the way you squeeze around my fingers each time Soap bottom’s out. I can’t wait to feel it around my cock, Kyle. Don’t you?” 
Gaz nodded, biting into his lip as he almost whimpered when Ghost pushed against his prostate. Knees beginning to tremble at the growingly overwhelming sense of pleasure coming from his two partners.
Ghost seemed to notice this, pulling his fingers away and with the same hand, went around Gaz’s body to tug Soap’s head by the hair. Stopping his hungry blowjob and pulling the Scot’s mouth away with a ‘pop’.
“God Gaz, look at what you’ve done to ‘im. Completely drunk on your cock, isn’t he?” Ghost asked by his ear, then letting out a rich chuckle.
Soap said nothing, eyes misted. His tongue only dashing out to lick at his drying lips, mouth open in heavy gasps.
“What’s say we give him what he wants, hm? And I can fuck you in the meanwhile, that means we’re both getting to enjoy you.”
Gaz shakily nodded his head, not blissed out enough to say something dorky like ‘yes please’ yet.
“Good lad,” Ghost said with audible satisfaction, letting go of Soap’s hair. “Go on, Johnny, get back to it. We wouldn’t want to keep our lovely Kyle waiting.”
Soap did not need to hear anything else, immediately returning and taking Gaz’s cock back in his mouth and down his throat in grateful eagerness.
“Now then,” Ghost muttered, a hand tucking under Gaz’s right leg and carefully lifting it upwards. Leaving Gaz to stand on just one foot and lean his body weight on Ghost. “Let’s get you all filled up.”
Gaz felt little strain from his new posture, always being easily malleable for his lovers to situate him however they or he liked best. He could touch his toes with ease and do the splits without breaking a sweat. Dancer’s body indeed.
Ghost did not waste any of Gaz’s limited time, could tell Gaz was nearing to his end with Soap’s mouth alone. Aligning his cock to Gaz’s entrance and pressing in with a low grunt, Ghost rocked his hips forward into Gaz’s tight heat, which then pressed Gaz further into Soap’s hungry mouth. Their rocky but fluid swaying inching Gaz ever closer to his peak.
Suffice to say, Gaz was in his own paradise. Filled at one end while warm and squeezed on the other. By this point, he had lost any thought to restrain his noises of satisfaction. His head rolling back on his shoulders to gasp, groan, whimper and call to his partners.
It was only a matter of time and Gaz’s two loves were more than happy to make him reach it. Soap taking him in his mouth with gusto and Ghost’s pace quickening but still keeping steady, both trying their hardest to let Gaz have a true mind-melting finish.
Which Gaz so gratefully did, his breaths hitching and moans turning faint. Eyes seeing stars as his head rolled back on his shoulders and squeezing shut. Clenching around Ghost and his hands fumbled to hold Soap down to the hilt of his cock. Cumming inside and down Soap’s throat as he keened one final time. 
Body relaxing immediately, welcoming the solidness of Ghost’s arms as he ushered an enfeebled Gaz to lie on the bed. The lieutenant flopping on top and closing his eyes, breaths still out of pace.
As he slowly came down from above the clouds, he felt warmth on either side as Soap and Ghost lay on either side of him. Ensuring he did not lose any body heat as he sobered. Arms enwrapping him on either side and holding him close.
It was then that Gaz felt truly loved. Apart from the tender words or erotic acts, this, the softness of their embrace and the contentment of holding him near was enough to make Gaz’s eyes sting a little.
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heraldofcrow · 9 months
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reviving ciaranblr 🗡️🗡️🗡️ What are a few of your favorite headcanons for Lord's Blade Ciaran or the other Knights of Gwyn?
LET’S DO IT!!! 🗡️🗡️🗡️
I’m gonna do the cop-out thing with you and just drop my old backstory plan for her in headcanon/outline form because Ciaran deserves the attention 🖤🖤 (Some of our ideas are extremely similar, it’s hilarious!) (Also, sorry for how long this gets 💀).
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Here, have this gif of her VA with the right hair too!!
🗡️ Ciaran was half-human, half-god. Her mother was of Gwyn’s race and her father was one of the early pygmies. This is why she was so small and aged differently.
🗡️ Ciaran was born mid-dragon war (I share the hc) and grew up in the depths of Anor Londo, back when it was more of a walled fort instead of a peaceful city.
🗡️ She never knew her parents as a child. Her earliest memories were of destruction, war, and the threat of dragon firestorms. 
🗡️ She grew up thieving and roaming the slum streets with other lost children, always trying to survive the miserable days. 
🗡️The people she stayed with were Declan, an older, dark-haired boy that had befriended her, and Aedan, her sickly, younger brother that she fought to protect.
🗡️Aedan was her only family, and her “little fire” of hope that kept her going through hard times.
🗡️Declan was a loyal friend and very street-savvy. He taught Ciaran how to pick locks, use knives, and con merchants.
🗡️Ciaran was Declan’s stealthy scout as well. She was very acrobatic and lithe from a young age, good at scaling buildings and slipping through windows.
🗡️They thieved to save up money. Declan wanted to escape the slums and fight in the war. Ciaran just wanted to ensure Aiden’s survival. Their environment was poor for his health.
🗡️One day these three were offered a chance to escape the city depths by a smuggler who demanded pay from anyone accepting his services.
🗡️Ciaran, Declan, and Aiden went along with a group of other youths with this smuggler, near to the outer walls of the city.
🗡️He betrayed them, and left through the wall with their money. They all panicked and tried to leave. The walls were dangerous because of looming dragon attacks. 
🗡️A dragon did attack, showering the group in flame. Declan and Aiden perished, but Ciaran survived, albeit with horrible burn scars along her arms and neck. She was the only one to make it out because of her smaller size. The larger bodies shielded her.
🗡️A broken and bitter Ciaran swore revenge on the smuggler and planned to hunt him down. She became a killer then.
🗡️After years she could not find him, but her skills as both a mercenary and a thief brought her among the criminal networks.
🗡️She became a hired killer, helping rival gangs take each other down. She also became known as the Hornet after coating her knives in poison. 
🗡️More years passed, and finally her reputation became expansive enough to earn her attention from political figures.
🗡️Certain protesters of the dragon-war around Anor Londo wanted Gwyn dead. One of these found Ciaran and offered to pay her an exquisite sum if she crossed over the walls to find him and drive a blade into his throat.
🗡️She accepted and began her hunt. Her journey over the walls was tumultuous, but soon she found the silver knight barracks where the armies slept. 
🗡️Gwyn was among them. Ciaran meant to kill him in his sleep, and nearly did, but a mysterious figure stopped her.
🗡️A blue-robed assassin in a porcelain mask disarmed her. A Lord’s Blade. 
🗡️Ciaran was captured and was going to be executed, but the Blade that had stopped her put up a protest. 
🗡️The woman explained that Ciaran’s skill and reputation was not something to be taken lightly. Her skills could be useful.
🗡️Gwyn agreed, and demanded that Ciaran be made to become a Lord’s Blade under close supervision. Betrayal would mean instant death. 
🗡️This is where Ciaran’s new arc began
🗡️She was forced into the group, and trained rigorously, initially against her will. 
🗡️Her leader, Keira, was a strict disciplinarian and trained the women assassins to be ruthless warriors, obeying Gwyn’s every order. 
🗡️Ciaran was better than all of her peers and excelled, earning a place at Keira’s side. 
🗡️Along this time she met Ornstein, who encouraged her to feel loyal to Gwyn’s cause, as it would save the people of the slums in Anor Londo if the war ended.
🗡️One day, the barracks were attacked by an especially volatile dragon. Many of the knights were killed and the Lord’s Blades were caught in the middle, wounded and dying.
🗡️Keira was seriously injured, but told Ciaran to help Gwyn, who was outside the camp and in a dangerous position. 
🗡️Ciaran obeyed and managed to save Gwyn’s life, along with another knight that had been with him. 
🗡️She distracted the dragon, risking her own neck to draw him away. This gave Gwyn’s firstborn time to arrive and kill the beast.
🗡️After this Keira died of her wounds, and Ciaran’s act of heroism earned her Gwyn’s undying favor. He knighted her and named her the head of the Lord’s Blades.
🗡️ The knight that had been with Gwyn, Artorias, was first introduced to Ciaran through this event, and was smitten with the beautiful, fearless assassin that had risked everything to save her lord.
🗡️ This knighting by Gwyn changed Ciaran’s life, and afterwards she was given a secret document by Ornstein that revealed the history of Gwyn’s blades.
🗡️ Ciaran learned that the Blades were Gwyn’s faithful, cloaked assassins that worked for him in the shadows and snuffed out his enemies without hesitation, whether those enemies were dragons, traitors, or political rivals.
🗡️ Finally, Ciaran learned that Keira, the former leader, had been her biological mother, and there had been a statement placed in the document from Keira herself explaining that her role as a leader had been compromised.
🗡️ Biases, breaches of emotion, and attachments were forbidden among the Lord’s Blades, but Keira had fought for Ciaran’s life upon realizing the latter was her lost daughter. Keira had believed her entire family had perished, but had been given new hope upon seeing her daughter alive.
🗡️ Ciaran then understood that her mother had saved her life and given her the chance to redeem herself as a knight of Gwyn. She owed Keira everything, and afterwards her ambitions became set in stone. She would be Gwyn’s most deadly and trustworthy knight.
And that’s when the dragon-war ended, and the political drama began. Anor Londo was rebuilt in the Age of Fire, and Ciaran spent centuries hunting down Gwyn’s enemies with the mindset that nobody was as loyal as she—even the other knights.
She was cold and detached from the other three, usually spouting out the same reminders about how their relationship was only professional, and how if any of them betrayed Gwyn, she would kill them.
But was she really so detached? As a Lord’s Blade, she was notorious for keeping her emotions in check, but the little details, like accidentally calling Ornstein “Aedan” once or twice, or begrudgingly listening to Goughs ramblings were what revealed the subtle nature of her care.
The only one she could not understand was Artorias. At first she strongly disliked him because of his idealistic, overly-positive outlook on everything, and to make things worse, he was the only one that could see through her mask, her facade of nonchalance. This felt like a weakness to Ciaran, and so she did everything she could to push him away.
Yet it was Artorias in the end that Ciaran opened her heart to. Another story though, for another time mayhaps.
A few small things here:
I agree that she loved flowers and gardens too!
Her favorite food was hot broth with herbs and vegetables in it.
She was a cat person that had learned to tolerate Sif.
Her favorite color was green, like her lost brother’s eyes.
Artorias reminded her of a more innocent Declan, and Ornstein was very much a brother-figure. She often thought of Gough as some kind of docile uncle.
She preferred the rainy grey days of spring to any other time.
She never knew she was half human, and thought of humans as very cynical, dark beings.
Her former reputation in Anor Londo’s slums often came back to haunt her during missions.
Ciaran did not believe in supernatural occurrences or superstitions. She was very cold and rational.
She never divulged her past or her hidden traumas, but it was difficult to hide her reactions to these things at times.
The porcelain mask was Keira’s, but Ciaran altered her own unique headpiece and robe to be more “hornet-like.”
Ok, I’ll stop for now because I too have jumped right into fanfic territory, but as I said, Ciaran needs more focus, so I’m not ashamed 😔🥂
I want to go into her complicated relationship with Ornstein, her funny dynamic with Gough, and her deep bond with Artorias, but I’ll save that for another post, I think. I really love these four. I think they were a weird, misfit family.
Ornstein the stressed out, very tired lion-captain, Artorias the overly-excited, sunshine wolf-knight, Ciaran the cynical, very serious assassin, and Gough the chill archer-dad of the group.
Of course, this is just my interpretation, but it’s so fun to imagine all the possible dynamics 🥺
Anyway, thank you so much for letting me ramble like an insane person about my girl!! I have an old fanfiction for her outlined and ready to go in my docs that I really would like to work on again someday. That’s where I came up with all this stuff, so I appreciate you letting me talk about it again <3
Cheers!!
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redrobin-detective · 1 year
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Saw a post that argues that Bruce, Clark, Connor and Dick look enough alike to swap places and the only factor determining if people figure it out being their respective acting abilities. And my first thought was that that's just the Gosho boys.
It bothers me so much when people say characters are identical because of an artists range. Shinichi and Kaito are similar because their fathers are twins because its a plot point but Hakuba and Heiji look Nothing alike much less like Kai and Shin.
And Clark is tall and buff, his eyes are an unnatural inhuman blue behind his glasses and his face has the slightest twinge of uncanny valley to it. He has dimples when he smiles. Bruce is tall and larger but smaller than Clark, leaner. His hands are crooked and scarred. He is pale, his eyes a soft icy blue with dark hair with constant flyaway bits he can't control.
Conner looks like Clark at first glance but the nose is sharper, more curved. His eyes have the same unnatural blue sheen but they're more steel grey than pure blue. He's smaller than both Clark and Bruce, long spindley fingers and perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Dick is darker by far then all of them. He's conventionally handsome with a square jaw, award winning smile (with mostly fake teeth), bushy brows, left sided dimple. He is average height and lithe, he has the body of an acrobat not a brawler.
You put them next to each other and no one would say they look alike save Conner and Clark.
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cowsandcomics · 8 months
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On the basis of a theoretical fight between Cassandra Cain and the Taskmaster
My brain refused to shut up about this, so now everyone gets to hear!
I’d be backing Cassandra, purely based on how her abilities were developed and function versus Taskmaster’s. 
Taskmaster has photographic reflexes, meaning he needs to see the body move to imitate it. However, not all fighting styles would be best adapted to his body type. Think of this large set burly man attempting to take on the fighting style of a lithe, acrobatic person such as Natasha Romanoff. While parts of the style would be adequate and work, there are others that are wholly inappropriate and may put him in a position to lose a fight. Moreover, Taskmaster’s photographic abilities existed from birth, meaning that they are instinctual and can be slacked off on, so to speak. His reliance on copying other individuals becomes a backbone that can be exploited; what happens when he can’t successfully copy someone’s fighting style? When their body shape isn’t akin to his and he loses his natural edge? That someone would be Cass, who is lithe, near silent, and trained in using the shadows to her advantage.
Cassandra wasn’t born with her abilities, which are never really named but rather demonstrated. She does not watch and copy; rather, she watches and anticipates. Based on observation she can determine the next move before it comes rather than replicate movement patterns she has observed. As such, no matter what fighting style Taskmaster adapts Cassandra is highly likely to pick up on its pattern and defend against it. Moreover, her abilities were honed in place of speech and language, skills learnt in a high stakes environment where poor performance was unacceptable and a visceral threat to life. As such, it is taken as a necessity to be constantly aware of, constantly training and constantly utilising for self-prevalence. Despite her current position as a member of the Batfamily, my personal belief is that this defence mechanism - installed from early childhood and likely undoable - contributes to her current fighting methods. 
Taskmaster, on the other hand, discovered his abilities during a somewhat safer childhood, watching a cowboy rodeo show on television with his mother and discovering he could easily replicate a cowboy’s rope patterns. Due to this, his abilities are in extension of typical functioning while Cassandra’s where conditioned to BE that typical neural functioning, meaning that (in my belief) her brain would be more honed towards physical movement and fighting in general, unclouded. The speech recognition patterns become fight pattern recognition, the hearing for words becomes that of others moving their body and so on. I am not underestimating the physical skill of the Taskmaster but rather recognising the differences in training between him and Cassandra. Cassandra’s “upbringing” at the hands of assassin parentage has made her abilities like breathing; she fights or dies training. Taskmaster’s abilities are a luxury, a specialised skill for his field that gives him vast knowledge in hand-to-hand fighting and advantage over competitors, but it is no necessity. If he didn’t utilise his abilities when they first emerged, no major consequence existed. For Cassandra, death, torture and many horrific possibilities did. It acts as a “survival of the most threatened” situation.
In continuation, the mentoring - or in Tashmaster’s case, lack thereof - of these characters impacts their chances with winning in a fight. Due to his primary position as a mercenary, Taskmaster seldom utilises team work or learns from other individuals to improve himself - why would he need to? He only requires watching someone fight once to be able to replicate their style. In numerous comics, Tony Masters is an individual fighting alone at the most or the leader of a pack of gunned up goons at the least. Suffice to say, he is typified by a position of power and a sustained belief that he will win - not necessarily easily - the majority of fights he enters into. 
Cassandra Cain is not characterised by the same position of power, instead being a part of the sometimes dysfunctional unit called the Batfamily, who she consistently trains with and against. Due to the nature of this unit and the large number of members that are a part of it, Cassandra would likely have played many roles during missions such as a look out, support or a leader. And this is without even delving into her training at the hands of her mother, Lady Shiva. Her skill set, while not necessarily as precise as the Taskmaster’s, is more diverse and applicable to multiple fighting scenarios. This enables her to be more practised in anticipation and reapplication of fighting styles she observes, unlike Taskmaster who seemingly solely utilises his skills in the field against enemies. The practised nature of Cassandra’s fighting allows her a more polished line of attack against new, unseen enemies, and her shadow play (where she only makes herself heard or viewed on a fight when she wishes to) makes her more formidable than Taskmaster, who is well used to utilising a person’s fighting against them and dominating immediately. When presented with an enemy who plays the endurance fight, stays hidden and is very difficult / not useful to replicate fight style from, I believe Taskmaster would fail.
TL:DR, Cass Cain supremacy. She would whoop him.
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zapreportsblog · 9 months
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Spider Li Into The Spiderverse
➥ summary: (Y/n) Li was a normal teenage girl until she had been bitten by a radioactive spider one day after coming home from the gym, now she isn’t so normal. With abilities like non other (Y/n) goes from being this normal teenager to this crime stopping super hero Spider Li! But out-worldly forces come into play when other spider people start visiting her world to find out more about her. After all what spiderperson has a family that accepts them for being a superhero, friends who know of their secrets, and no canon event ever to be found in history?! Spider Li that’s who! So just what makes this girl so special?
➥ chapter 9: The Unlikely Encounter
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The city was engulfed in chaos as Spider Li swung through the concrete canyons, her lithe form a blur against the evening sky. Her spider-sense tingled, warning her of an imminent anomaly. She had trained tirelessly to protect the innocent, and tonight was no exception. Determined, she leaped from building to building, closing in on the source of the disturbance.
Meanwhile, in a hidden corner of the city, Peter Parker, known to the world as Spider-Man, received a distress call from the authorities. An anomaly had surfaced, causing havoc and endangering countless lives. Aware of the potential danger, Peter donned his iconic suit and made his way to the scene, carrying a precious cargo in his arms - his baby spiderling, Mayday.
The night air crackled with tension as Spider Li arrived at the location. The anomaly, a swirling vortex of energy, unleashed its destructive force upon the surroundings. Unfazed, Spider Li leaped into action, her acrobatic maneuvers and expert combat skills on full display.
As the battle ensued, a sense of awe washed over Spider Li. She had faced numerous foes in her crime-fighting career, but this anomaly possessed an otherworldly power. With every strike and evasive maneuver, Spider Li pushed herself to the limit, determined to overcome this formidable opponent.
Unbeknownst to Spider Li, her display of strength and skill had caught the attention of Mayday, who was perched on her father's shoulder. The baby spiderling, barely a year old but already exhibiting her spider-like abilities, found Spider Li fascinating. Mayday's tiny fingers reached out, releasing strands of webbing that shot towards Spider Li with childlike curiosity.
In a swift motion, Spider Li reacted, her reflexes honed by countless hours of training. She snatched Mayday from the air, preventing any harm from befalling the young spiderling. The sudden movement startled Mayday, and she looked up at Spider Li with wide, innocent eyes.
"Omg, it's a spider baby," Spider Li exclaimed, a mixture of shock and amazement coloring her voice. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight of a baby with spider-like abilities. Mayday, seemingly unfazed by the commotion, responded with a gleeful giggle that filled the air.
The anomaly, sensing a distraction, seized the opportunity and launched an attack at Spider Li and Mayday. Despite her attention being diverted, Spider Li's instincts kicked in. Her body moved with an almost preternatural grace, evading the anomaly's assault with ease. It was as if she had eyes on the back of her head, anticipating every move with uncanny precision.
While defending herself and Mayday, Spider Li never took her eyes off the spiderling. She bombarded Mayday with questions, her astonishment blending with genuine curiosity. Mayday, in her infant innocence, responded with nothing but joyful giggles, completely unaware of the danger that surrounded them.
Watching the unfolding scene from a distance, Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, was astonished. He had faced formidable adversaries and encountered countless heroes, but he had never witnessed someone handle a dire situation with such finesse while attending to a child. It was a testament to Spider Li's exceptional abilities and unwavering dedication to protect the innocent.
In that moment, Spider-Man recognized Spider Li as a kindred spirit, a fellow guardian of the vulnerable.
As the battle raged on between Spider Li and the formidable anomaly, the anomaly seized the opportunity to strike when Spider Li's attention momentarily wavered. But to its surprise, Spider Li's lightning-quick reflexes saved her once again. Even while distracted, it was as if she possessed eyes on the back of her head, effortlessly evading the anomaly's attacks.
Every movement Spider Li made was a dance of agility and precision. She dodged the anomaly's strikes with grace, never losing focus on the baby spiderling in her arms. With Mayday's safety as her top priority, Spider Li continued to ask the baby questions, her curiosity piqued by the little one's spider-like abilities.
Mayday, innocent and carefree, responded to Spider Li's inquiries with infectious giggles, her laughter filling the tense air. Spider Li found herself captivated by the baby's pure joy and the undeniable bond they seemed to share. In that moment, she forgot about the battle around them, immersing herself in the enchantment of Mayday's presence.
On the outskirts of the chaotic scene, Peter Parker, known as Spider-Man, watched in awe. He had faced countless adversaries and witnessed impressive displays of heroism, but he had never encountered someone who possessed Spider Li's level of focus and skill. His astonishment grew as he observed her effortlessly maneuver through the battlefield while tending to Mayday's well-being.
Spider-Man's thoughts raced, contemplating the possibilities. Who was this mysterious figure with such extraordinary abilities? How had Spider Li developed such a unique connection with Mayday, a connection that seemed to transcend their shared spider-like traits? There were so many questions yet to be answered.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Spider-Man sprang into action, lending his assistance to Spider Li in the ongoing battle. Together, they fought side by side, their movements seamlessly synchronized. Spider Li's unwavering dedication to Mayday inspired Spider-Man, reminding him of the importance of protecting the innocent.
As the intensity of the battle escalated, Spider Li's acrobatics grew even more mesmerizing. With each maneuver, she not only shielded Mayday from harm but also deflected the anomaly's attacks, turning them against the very force that sought to bring chaos to the city. Her focus remained steadfast, even as the world around them erupted in turmoil.
In the midst of the chaos, Spider Li couldn't help but notice the stunned expression on Peter Parker's face. Their eyes met briefly, and in that instant, Spider Li glimpsed a mix of admiration, disbelief, and curiosity in his gaze. However, their shared understanding of the need to protect their loved ones compelled them to set aside their questions for now and focus on the task at hand.
As the battle neared its climax, Spider Li and Spider-Man delivered a final blow, overwhelming the anomaly's defenses. The anomaly's form wavered before dissipating into nothingness, leaving behind a calm that belied the chaos that had unfolded mere moments ago.
As silence descended upon the scene, Spider Li gently handed Mayday back to her father, Peter Parker. Their identities still remained shrouded in secrecy, but the connection forged in the heat of battle was undeniable. A mixture of gratitude and respect passed between Spider Li and Spider-Man, acknowledging their shared experience.
With a nod, Spider-Man vanished into the night, leaving Spider Li to ponder the events of the encounter. Her thoughts swirled, filled with wonder at the inexplicable bond she had formed with Mayday and the connection she had felt with Spider-Man. She knew deep down that their paths would cross again, for the spider-powered heroes had a way of finding one another in times of need.
And so, as the city settled into a fragile calm, Spider Li continued her vigilant watch, ready to face whatever challenges awaited her. For the extraordinary encounter with Spider-Man had only reaffirmed her commitment to protect the innocent and uphold the ideals that defined her as Spider Li. The web of destiny had entangled their lives, setting the stage for future adventures and uniting them in their shared duty to be the heroes the world needed.
As the night drew to a close, Spider Li's mind buzzed with anticipation. The encounter with Spider-Man had forever changed her, and she was eager to discover the mysteries that lay ahead, knowing that the path of a hero was one filled with challenges, revelations, and unexpected alliances.
Little did Spider Li know that her journey was just beginning, and the world of superheroes would soon unveil new alliances, formidable adversaries, and tests of her character that would shape her into the hero she was destined to become.
Chapter 9 witnessed the convergence of two spider-powered individuals, their shared encounter leaving an indelible mark on both their lives. Fate had woven its web, intertwining their destinies in ways they could not yet comprehend. And in the ever-changing landscape of heroes and anomalies, the journey of Spider Li and Spider-Man was only just beginning.
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lorie217 · 8 months
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With Bella, anything is paw-sible.
I've been thinking of possible ways to describe Bella, my feline, four-legged, accursed, grumpy, iconic, jealous, lithe, naughty, active, beautiful kitten, friend and buddy. Her antics and behavioural patterns
Bella is only a stray cat so it's kinda difficult to say her exact age. But based on objective deductions, physical features, and characteristics. I would say she is approximately 6-7 months old. Bella was found stalking around the neighborhood by my little niece at a very tender age, probably being abandoned by her mother. After talking to a few neighbors about it an attempt to find the owner failed. We planned on calling the animal rescue team at first but on further consideration, I decided to take upon myself the duty of nurturing, caring, and taming what seemed to be a hopeless, homeless, and pitiable piece of the creature; to love and to adore. I was drawn by her shiny appearance and wide eyes. Without wasting time, I got her rehydrated and provided shelter. Fortunately, there was a Vet store around that took over caring for this adorable kitten. After she was certified well and fit, she was transferred to a new home we had put together for her. And then I thought of a name that would suit her being. Nothing made more sense than the word "Bella" which means beautiful. It described her all-round adorable charm. It seemed a difficult task initially as she failed to develop appropriate social skill but with time, she adapted and became the center of attraction as every one was in awe of her antics and sneaky but interesting behaviors. I would be talking on a few which I found most amusing .
1. Silly Sleeping Positions: Bella was a master of finding bizarre and amusing sleeping positions. She would contort her body and stretch out like furry noodles lol.
2. Bella displayed great skill of acrobatics and coordination. They termed it to be "tail chasing ". I would spend minutes watching as it was not only entertaining but made me wonder why.
3. Pouncing Surprises: She would hide behind furnitures waiting for the right moment to leap out or even attack your feet.
4. She was a natural hunter and her playfulness often mimicked hunting behavior. Animal experts explained that it helped to keep them physically active and mentally stimulated.
5.She had an inherent passion for moving objects and shadows were no exceptions. It was a good way to relief my Dad of his depression after mom passed on.
6. Annoyingly and surprisingly, Bella could interupt human computer activity as she would not only sit on the keyboard, paw at the screen but also on important documents demanding carefully handling and attention.
7. Love for heights: She would perch on high places like bookshelves, countertops, and top of furnitures. From these vintage points, she keeps an eye on everything happening around.
These traits are only but a few among others. I'm still on the lookout for something new. I find these very fascinating and mean a whole lot to me. What more can I do but share on this amazing platform, as my very first Tumblr. I only hope it reaches as much audience possible as I embark on this journey to meet a circle of worthy family and friends, communities, spaces with whom I would share my life. Cheers to happy readings and better insights as we toe along this great path together.
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hellionil · 2 years
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In reference to this: flash stories are almost universally good to pretty good to fine but trust the art will be mid at best. Sigh…
It has always baffled me when artists draw any of the speedsters as being super bulky muscle heads. They are RUNNERS, not body builders. Streamline those bitches! Francis Manapul is one of my favorite artist to work on the flash (even though it was the new 52 run). He really understood the “less is more” concept when drawing muscles. I mean just look
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Like Barry is strong here but he isn’t the freaking hulk. He has muscle mass but it is more compact like what you see on a person who does a lot of cardio but still does some strength training as well. And the bart allen wannabe is very lithe, like any highschool cross country runner is. Now compare to this
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What is even going on with the Flash here? He looks like Chris Evans poppin out of that super soldier making machine in the first captain america movie, but worse somehow. This is the body of someone who does weight training 7 days a week, only eats protein, and hasn’t had a sip of water in two days. Yet it still isn’t as bad as his character model from the flashpoint movie. Big yikes.
And it’s not even just the flash characters who get this treatment either. It happens all the time to any hero who is either a child or someone who is supposed to be more acrobatic than strong. There are some god awful Tim Drake artists out there to give an example. After a while it can be easy to get desensitized to bad comic art, especially when some of your first comics were 90s X-Men 😬 (lookin at you Rob Leifield).
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vixlenxe · 2 years
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Malzeno | メル・ゼナ | (Meru Zena) Silver Duke Dragon/Embodiment of Darkness | 爵銀龍
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Malzeno is an Elder Dragon that has the body shape similar to European dragons, much like Velkhana. Dark scales cover its body, that gleam silver under the light of the moon, from which it gains it’s title, along with swarms of small, flying leech-like creatures called Qurio on its neck, chest, & front legs. Its wings, while being dull grey when looked at from above, have a deep red-pink colored underside. The wing membrane connects separately to the wing fingers, and each wing possesses a single, giant talon, there is also a pair of smaller fins, similar in coloration to the wings at the base of its tail. Three of the fingers on its front legs end in a curved, giant claw. It has two large, golden horns, as well as frills extending from both sides of its neck that resemble a cowl. Its tail ends in three large, movable prongs that can be used to grab small prey. It can cover its body with its wings like a cape.
Upon draining enough life energy, Malzeno's appearances changes; its eyes begin to glow, its neck frills & wings begin emitting a pulsating light, its chest, front legs, & tail become covered in a crimson colored energy, the leech-like creatures on its body begin glowing, & its body takes on a darker hue.
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Malzeno is a rare type of Elder Dragon, in which it is extremely powerful  physically & does not rely on elemental mastery, it is even strong enough to take down powerful monsters such as Rathalos with no effort wasted. It can drain the life of both monsters & hunters alike, afflicting them with Bloodblight. While the effects of Bloodblight are not fully known, it’s believed that healing for those afflicted is lessened & any healing preformed on the afflicted person is partly transmitted to Malzeno. It also appears to have a symbiotic relationship with the many flying leech-like creatures called Qurio that constantly follow it which it commands to attack both enemies & prey. These creatures can also inflict Bloodblight as well. Malzeno is highly feared in the hunting world, the reason is due to it having nearly destroyed many different regions several times in the past.
Despite their lithe appearances, they are incredibly physically adept. In a base state, they rely primarily on fast & powerful physical blows with their limbs, especially their dexterous, claw-like tail and wings. Befitting their thin frames, they are incredibly agile on the ground, capable of rapid acceleration & acrobatics, performing barrel rolls & spins to both attack & reposition. Furthermore, their brute force is very easy to underestimate. Their physical attacks, while resemble those of other Elder Dragons(such as Kushala Daora & Teostra), seem to have incredible force, as they commonly shatter the ground & send shockwaves, especially ones with the wings. They can also breath dragon energy into the ground, causing explosions, which also inflicts Dragonblight, while its tail stab attacks inflict Bloodblight on their targets. This energy also seems to transfer the targets' life-force to Malzeno, as landing enough of these allows it to change form.
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When Malzeno drains enough life, it enters a powered-up state known as the ‘Bloodening’; its strength is boosted immensely & it becomes extremely agile, moving so fast that to the human eye it appears as if it is teleporting. Its attacks are also enhanced, creating massive explosions & sending debris flying through the air, & it can combo multiple strong attacks in a row. Many attacks also appear infused by his energy, having black aftershocks. However, during this state, its glowing body parts receive more damage, & its tail becomes a weak point. Dealing enough damage to these parts when it's in this state will force Malzeno out of it, causing it to topple over. If not enough damage is dealt while Malzeno is in this state, it will perform an attack where it flies into the air while firing a beam of dragon energy in a circle around itself before launching an energy ball onto the ground, which explodes violently & sends out several waves of dragon energy outward twice. After performing this attack, Malzeno will revert to its normal state.
Like with other Elder Dragons, Malzeno’s very presence forces the near by environment, however, Malzeno’s environment change is noted to be strange & unusual. Rather then casing the weather to change, this Elder Dragon causes the color of the moon & sky to change color, into a bright glowing scarlet.
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superat626 · 2 years
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I want to hear about them ALLLLLLLLLLL
I will do my best to present my Toonkind Dnd OCs. : > And thanks for you patience - I was doodling you some fresh things. Got excited to draw them! : D First is Fivi Skia! She's a tall Yuan-ti shadow sorcerer snake lady. Pronouns she/her...but, hm. Maybe a they? Not sure. She's semi-recently journeyed to Toontown in the world she's in - it's a more modern place then what she's used to and crowds cause her problems so she stick to alley-ways. She likes learning more and more about magic and maybe making some friends along the way would be nice.
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My latest coloured picture of her. Casting ray of sickness. Nothing bad has happened to her yet so to speak but...hm. We'll see.
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She's currently deciphering a cryptic pink and glittery diary another character gave her (@xofre I am looking at you. : >) and might be in another game soon - so I'm excited about that. The second! Technically my most recent creation: Benny Badwolf! Now he(he/him) IS a toonkind! Think...Loony-tunes stuff? Sorta? Right now he's somewhere in the middle of working for a mob family. He likes fights and breaking things. He wields a club that looks like a baseball-bat. I will admit this ask powered me to think more about him and ponder some backstory so - thank you for that.
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I've been yelling about him in the Discord server I'm in a little. He's a wolf, he's loyal and while he's at least evil he's neutral at the moment in terms of alignment. He's a walking heater and if the power gets cut he might nonchalantly act as one for the colder members of the fam - but he'll deny if you ask. This comes with being hot-headed and easily excitable!
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He's got a thing for lithe men - like...gymnasts or acrobats - he likes how they can move in ways he can't. He likes Jazz but he can't sing though (I don't think that'll stop him from trying). He will fall for the "Who's a good boy" thing often enough. He also has a truck licence! But no truck sadly. He's willing to ship goods if the mob fam asks him. My last right now - and....my most frustrating one -- Tep. Pronouns are at least: He/They/It and sometimes She. An alien based on the entity known as Nyarlathotep. It has an affinity for masks and likes this funny, rubbery, stretchy body the toon mask gives him. His design and backstory is still a work in progress! I might attempt a campaign with them as an NPC - I am uncertain!
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His hair gives me a lot of trouble. It never seems to be swishy enough. He's...a bastard. I can't not love him though. But, Io! He walks the world! ...and mocks you with his words and....would like a big plan to bring some pets to the world he's in. Maybe there are some cultists? Not sure! (Yes I want him to have the Alien movement style I really like that danger get away from this one vibes. How that'll translate in an audio format only I have no clue). Anyway! Yeah! My characters! : D : D Thank you for the ask. <3333
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waddlesworth · 10 months
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Meet Jack Liddel, a man cursed to become a jester for eternity, under the command of The Ringmaster (another OC of mine).
Name: Jack Liddel
Birthday: October 5th
Age: 37
Race- Human
Height- 6’1
Weight- 140 lbs. Lean, Lithe physique.
Nationality- British
Personality- GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY, he’s an energetic, all-around pleasant guy. Very charming, would likely take a lady out on a date if he weren’t so scrungly.
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Likes- He LOVES reading! His favorite book is Alice In Wonderland. He also likes to hum little tunes to himself, it keeps him happy.
Dislikes- He doesn’t remember much of his old life when he was whisked away to the circus, but he greatly dislikes heights as well as cats.
Weapons- His teeth and claws are his main weapons, as well as his cane (for extra effort in pummeling). He’s also quite skilled in acrobatics.
Weaknesses- He cannot swim for the life of him. And as mentioned before, he’s afraid of heights. And with his “curse” (he was actually scientifically mutated), he is under a spell that binds him to the Ringmaster, soul-wise. He’s very vulnerable, as his defenses (and body) are pathetically weak, so anything should really take him out.
His story is in the works. I just need to flesh him out some more.
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illumiru · 3 years
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give all the bat boys more defining features. they’re not actually related so they don’t have to be clones of bruce and of each other jksnk please for my sanity when i have to read a comic of them out of costume!!
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