#and tied the ring to the end of the arrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-merry-otter · 1 year

Text

If you’re on mobile, you may have to click on the images for better quality!

Plain text version with image descriptions is under the cut.

Please note that the image descriptions will be reflecting what I am trying to convey with the photo, rather than the total look of the photo itself. For example if I am trying to describe a dress, the hair colour of the person wearing it will be ignored. This is to reduce the total word count of the descriptions, because I have a lot of images to describe. On this note, I have also streamlined the information as much as possible.

[Plain text description:]

First slide: Mariota’s Guide to 14th Century (Medieval) Women’s Clothing

This slideshow is brought to you by @the-merry-otter on tumblr

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP MOTHERS AND FUCKERS. I’m bored, so today we’re going to be talking about medieval clothing. Specifically fourteenth century English clothing because that’s what I’m good at. (Source: trust me bro I’m a reenacter). Also this is all female stuff - sorry masc leaning folks, I’ll get to you someday!

Disclaimer: this is not completely comprehensive or nuanced in the slightest, it’s just a quick overview guide. Do your own research xoxo.

[Image ID: to the left is a picture of a woman in a light blue dress and a pink hood gazing out at a lake. The hood has a skirt that falls over her shoulders, and there is along thin pipe attached to the back of the hood that dangles to her knees. The edges of the hood are decorated with burgundy crochet. The picture is captioned “beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, literal goals.” End ID]

[Image ID: To the right is a picture of a typical renn faire outfit. It has a white poofy underdress, a black corset, and a brown skirt. There is a red cross drawn over the image. It is captioned “very pretty, but definitely not medieval sorry!” End ID]

Second slide: Underwear (ooh la la)

Now with nasty pocketses

[Image ID: a picture of gollum, from lord of the rings, snarling in disgust. There is a line in The Hobbit where he asks Bilbo what he has in his nasty little pocketses, which is what I am referencing. End ID]

So, corsets, stays, and shapewear in general kind of wasn’t a thing yet. So your underwear was a shift, which was awesome because it was also your pajamas. They were usually made of linen, though some might have been made of cotton is you were rich.

[Image ID: A plain white linen garment laid out flat on the floor. It is a dress that hangs to about knee length, with elbow length sleeves. An arrow points to it with text reading “this is a shift”. End ID]

There is evidence for supportive shifts for busy support, like this one from the fourteenth century!

[Image ID: a second shift, worn by a female presenting person. It is laced up the front, and is a lot tighter and more fitted, especially around the bust. It has straps instead of sleeves. End ID]

There’s also this bra like fragment found in Austria, but that is a whole debate so.

[Image ID: A bra-like garment fitted to a mannequin. It seems to be made out of white linen, coloured with time. The left cup is damaged, and overall the garment looks incomplete. End ID]

Then, over the shift, yet under your main dress went your pockets, which tied on at the waist. Your dresses had slits do that you could get at your stuff without flashing everyone lol.

[Image ID: A picture of medieval pockets. They are upside down teardrop shaped, but the point is flat and is part of the waist ties. There are slits in the side up the top to access the inside. They are cream coloured with bright floral embroidery. The caption reads “these bad boys can fit so many cool pebbles.” End ID]

[Image ID: A young female-presenting person wearing medieval clothing. She has her hands in the pocket slits of her dress. They are just below hip height. End ID]

Third slide: your dress, or the cotehardie. (Pronounced coat hardy)

Over the shift you put your dress, sometimes referred to as either a kirtle or cotehardie. 14th century people started actually form-fitting their clothes more than previous centuries. These needed fastenings, which were mostly lacings (spiral lacings specifically), or buttons made of either metal or cloth, used at the front of the dress from neckline to waist, and on the sleeves from elbow to wrist, with exceptions of course.

(Sidenote: fuck sleeves, all my homies hate sleeves)

[Image ID: a woman in a warm yellow dress to the left of the text. The dress is constructed simply, with a single piece of fabric used for the length of the body so there is no waist seam. The skirt is widened by inserting four triangles, one each at the front and back, and one on each side. The front has buttons made of the same fabric as the dress, that go down to the belt at the waist. The sleeves have similar buttons from wrist to elbow, on the outside of the arm. The woman is also wearing a liripipe hood. End ID]

Dresses seemed to be mostly wool, though I often use linen for mine because I live in Australia and it’s hot in summer and I don’t want to die. Most often they weren’t lined (that is what the underwear was for).

[Image ID: in the top left of the slide is a woman wearing a green woollen dress. It is constructed the same as the previous image, except it has spiral lacing on the front instead of buttons. The sleeves are fastened by three small buttons. She is wearing a simple and veil. End ID]

[Image ID: the top right of the slide shows a woman in a teal coloured dress, similar to the one before. This one has metal buttons at the sleeves and down the front. She wears a veil only. End ID]

The neckline of these dresses was usually round or an oval shape, and some manuscripts have it so wide that it falls off the shoulders slightly.

[Image ID: A photo of a medieval manuscript, depicting six medieval ladies in a row holding hands. The neckline of their dresses is wide enough that the tops of their shoulders are visible. The image is captioned “me and the girls on a Friday night”. End ID]

Clothing was a lot more colourful than the movies would have us believe lol.

[Image ID: Three women, each in dresses similar to the ones before. To the left is a forest green, the middle one is bright saffron yellow, and the one to the right is a vibrant tomato red. End ID].

Fourth slide: Dress two; electric boogaloo

[Image ID: Merry and Pippin from lord of the rings. Above them, meme text reads “we’ve had one, yes”, and then continues below with “but what about second dress?”. End ID]

You could also wear an overdress, which was usually of a contrasting colour and had shorter sleeves.

As well as fashion, they would have been used for extra warmth, and so were usually made of wool.

[Image ID: a woman in a maroon coloured dress like the ones on the previous slide. The sleeves stop just above her elbow, revealing a blue dress underneath. End ID].

Common people would have only owned a couple of different outfits, as fabric was super expensive.

[Image ID: various pictures of women with examples of an overdress. They are all constructed the same as the overdress, but with shorter sleeves that reveal a second sleeve of a different colour underneath. End ID]

A common late thirteenth to mid fourteenth century overdress was the ladies surcoat, which had big holes instead of sleeves.

Belts would have been worn underneath the surcoat.

[Image ID: three photos of women wearing surcoats. They are normal dresses, except there is a large D shape cut out of either side, leaving a large hole from the shoulder to below the hip. They have no buttons down the front. One of the surcoats is made of red brocade, and obviously belongs to an upper-class impression. End ID].

Fifth slide: Hair and headwear

Hair was worn braided and pinned up, with a coif (cap) and either a wimple or veil, or both. The wimple and/or veil were usually pinned to the coif, or secured on a band of fabric around the head.

Veils would be either oval, or a D shape. Wimples were rectangular. A wimple goes under the chin and a veil goes over your head.

[Image ID: a close up of a woman wearing a wimple. It is made of a light fabric, likely silk. The wimple wraps under her chin and is secured at the back of her head. A narrow band of fabric or possibly leather circles her brow, which would have been used to secure the wimple. End ID.]

[Image ID: A picture of YouTuber Morgan Donner wearing a wimple and veil. The wimple wraps under her chin, and the veil is placed on top of her head, draping down past her shoulders. It does not cover her face. Loops of hair are visible either side of her face. End ID]

All the headwear would be made of linen, thin wool, or silk, depending on class. The veils could also be made really fancy by ruffling the front edge or by attaching pearls.

[Image ID: a woman in a wimple and half-circle veil. The edge of the veil that frames her face is elaborately ruffled. The edge of a coif is visible under the veil. End ID]

I ride the bus in my medieval gear a lot because of events, and way too many people think I’m Amish because of my veil. It’s honestly just funny at this point. I should keep a tally.

[Image ID: a woman wearing a St Birgitta’s coif, pinning a wimple at the back of her head. The coif is a simple white linen cap that encloses the head, with a line of lace down the centre of the head. It is secured with a loop of linen around the head. End ID].

[Image ID: a picture of someone with plaits that have been pinned around the head like a crown. It is captioned “you could also pin your hair up like this”. End ID]

Working women might have just wrapped their head in a scarf instead, fuck this fancy shit right?

[Image ID: a woman in a headscarf that has been twisted and then looped around the front of her head. It is captioned #girlboss. End ID].

Fake braids were a thing! Blonde hair in particular was very fashionable, and bleaching or fake braids were sometimes used to achieve that.

[Image ID: two fake braids made of a coarse fibre. They are blonde in colour, and are looped like a hairstyle seen on many of the reenactors. They have white ribbons attached to the top end to help secure them to the head. End ID]

Sixth slide: Cloaks and hoods

These would have actually been two seperate garments! Integrated hoods on cloaks didn’t actually become a thing until the … seventeenth century or so? (Citation needed).

Cloaks were a lot simpler than the typical cloak we think of nowadays. Often they were just a rectangle of wool, or by the fourteenth century, sometimes a half circle.

They were almost always wool as far as I know, and were generally fastened by a cloak pin or buttons.

[Image ID: a metal cloak pin. It is a circle with a small opening at one point. A long pin is attached via a loop, allowing it to slide along the pin. It can fit through the opening in the circle. To use one, you would gather the fabric on the pin, and then slot the circle over the pin and then turn it, so the fabric is trapped between circle and pin. This is much easier to demonstrate than describe. The picture is captioned “these bad boys are the real MVP’s though”. End ID].

[Image ID: a diagram showing the construction of the bocksten man cloak. It is a half circle pieced together by laying strips of fabric together. In the centre of the flat side, a half circle is cut out for the neck. End ID]

[Image ID: a reconstruction of the bocksten man cloak. It is orange wool, and lined with an off-white linen. It is fastened on the right shoulder by three fabric buttons. It would fall to just above the wearers knees. End ID].

Women’s hoods could be short and open, or with a longer skirt and closed with buttons. Liripipe (pronounced leery-pipe) hoods were named for the tube of fabric that dangled off the back of your hood, varying in length. As well as a fashion statement, it could also be wrapped around the neck like a scarf if it got cold.

Hoods were nearly always wool I’m pretty sure, though they were often lined with linen, silk, or cotton.

[General description: a short liripipe hood would be open, with the bottom only reaching your shoulders. They were made from a single piece of fabric that would wrap over your head, with the seam down the centre back of your head. It was flared at the bottom by inserting triangular gores. At the front edge near your face there would be a strip jutting out that went from one side of your chin, over your head, and down to the other side. This would usually be folded back, revealing the lining colour. The bottom of the hood could either just reach the base of your neck, or reach down to just past your shoulders. The former would usually be open at the front, with fastenings optional. The latter option with the longer skirt was almost always able to be fastened up the front with fabric buttons. The liripipe itself was a thin flat tube of fabric fastened at the centre top back of the hood. End ID]

Fun fact, 90% of why I decided to reenact the fourteenth century specifically was because of liripipe hoods.

Seventh slide: Feet (not in a weird way)

Hose were used to keep your legs warm. For women they were usually knee height, and fastened just underneath it with a garter or tie.

[Image ID: a single light yellow hose, belted beneath the knee with a leather garter. The seam is down the centre back of the leg going all the way to your toes, and then around the top of the foot in front of where it connects to your leg. End ID]

Hose usually would have been made from wool, and were cut on the diagonal (bias) of the fabric to get the maximum stretch possible from the fabric. They still were looser than modern tights are though!

Knitted socks were also a thing I’m pretty sure, but I don’t know enough about them. Sorry!

Shoes were simple, usually referred to as turnshoes because of how they were made. Fun fact: the lack of foot support means that turnshoes are similar to going barefoot in terms of how you walk. Some reenactors love it, some hate it, and some are indifferent lol.

[Image ID: a pair of turnshoes made of dark leather. They have a strap that would fasten around the front of the ankle, similar to some modern shoes. The toes are pointed, and it is captioned “pointy toes were fashionable, especially for men”. End ID].

Because shoes were really hard to waterproof, (ask me how I know), and didn’t have solid soles, wooden pattens (pronounced pat-tens) were worn to keep you off the ground while outside.

[Image ID: a person wearing a pair of wooden pattens over their shoes, standing on a drenched cobblestone street. They are wooden platforms with an archway on the bottom, and are attached to the foot with leather straps around the toe, ankle, and around the back of the heel, similar to modern sandals. The image is captioned “ye old crocs”. End ID].

[Image ID: a woman’s leg with the skirts drawn back, revealing the bright yellow hose underneath. It is fastened below the knee with a strip of fabric. She wears a turnshoe with a buckled strap. End ID]

Eighth slide: Accessories

These are a few other items that might have made up a working woman’s outfit.

Aprons would definitely have been used while working. One were just a large rectangle of cloth tucked into the belt, some were smocked to draw in the fabric. They generally stopped at the waist.

[Image ID: a woman in a red dress, with a very light brown apron. It is smocked at the top, and is attached around the waist with a string. End ID].

Pretty broaches and other jewellery existed! There was cheaper stuff made of pewter for the lower classes.

[Image ID: five gold brooches, studded with different jewels and pearls. End ID].

They had a funny sense of humour as well… and they weren’t all prudes.

[Image ID: a pewter broach of a cat carrying a dick and balls in its mouth. It is captioned “you can actually buy these. I know a website.” End ID].

Eating knives were worn on the belt, though it is debated whether women would have carried one. I do because I’m a modern fourteenth century woman.

[Image ID: a small knife with a wooden handle, laying on top of a leather sheath that has been dyed red. End ID]

Belts are a curiously debated topic. Some people reckon that women would have definitely worn them, others say they they weren’t used by women much at all. As far as I know there are depictions of both, so choose what you’d prefer. They are great for hanging stuff on I gotta say.

[Image ID: a coiled up brown leather belt. The buckle and tip are a gold metal, and it has decorative flower studs along its length in the same metal. End ID]

Pretty little purses would have probably been worn. I don’t know enough about them to say anything else though.

[Image ID: two different pictures of reenactors wearing purses. One is brocade and the other a red fabric. They are in the shape of an upright triangle, and both have five tassels hanging from the bottom edge. They hang off the belt with long drawstrings. Unrelated to the purses, one of the women is wearing a gorgeous orange liripipe hood, that is embroidered and dagged on the bottom skirt edge. End ID]

Ninth slide: Fancy Shmancy

There is a lot I haven’t covered, especially in the realm of the upper classes. Here is some of what has been missed. (Buckle up because this section is very image heavy. I will be as concise as possible).

Heraldic dresses! If you are interested, go check out Morgan Donners video on YouTube.

[Image ID: a picture of Morgan Donner in her heraldic dress. One half of the dress is red, and the other is green, except for where it has been cut out by white with an ermine pattern on it. Her hair is unbound and uncovered, except by a small flower crown. It is captioned “Morgan bestie do your hair properly :(“. End ID]

[Image ID: a drawing of two women in heraldic dresses. The first has a blue right half with a yellow printed design. The top left of the dress is yellow with a blue fish, and the bottom left is red with a white fish. Her train is held by the second lady, who’s dress is blue on the right, and white with green birds on the left. End ID].

Fancy headpieces for rich bitches only.

[Image ID: a reenactor doing a high class impression. Her hair is bound up in Pearl studded hair nets on either side of her head like modern earmuffs, with a spiked coronet around her brow. She has a sheer silk wimple on. End ID]

Fancy dagged edged on hoods, sleeves, dresses, etc.

[Dagging description: where the edge has been cut away to make decorative dangly bits. One hood has red leaves around the bottom edge for example, and another just has a pretty geometric pattern. End description].

Brocade gowns! So pretty!

[Image ID: several different pictures of high class ladies wearing brocade gowns of different colours. These are similar to the wool dresses we were looking at earlier, but with longer trains, and often long draping sleeves. There is even a brocade surcoat. End ID]

Fancy sleeves!

[Image ID: examples of different long sleeves. On some, the sleeve is normal until the elbow, and then it falls away to a long strip of fabric that dangles to the ground. Not mentioned on the slide itself is tippets, which was a band of (usually white) fabric just above your elbow, with a thin strip of the same fabric that draped down to the floor. End ID].

Dresses that were two different colours.

[Image ID: examples of dresses that are exactly like the earlier wool dresses, except they are literally half one colour and half another. The manuscript example is a blue and red overdress with fancy sleeves, and the reenactor example is a yellow and green underdress with a red hood. End ID]

And of course, some of the funky fun fabric choices.

[Image ID: a manuscript depiction of a woman carrying a dead bird. Her hood is red and white striped horizontally, and her dress is dark and light blue striped, also horizontally. End ID].

[Image ID: a manuscript depicting a woman talking to a second lady in a chair. The dress on the first has horizontal stripes of white, red, yellow, and blue, repeated, and the second has horizontal stripes of white, pink, and light blue. Interestingly enough the latter colours are very similar to the transgender flag which would make a very cool dress project. Hmm. End ID].

Tenth (and final) slide: In summery

(Small red text below title reads “I hope you have enjoyed” with a drawn smiling face).

Dis you notice all the “usually” “commonly” and “often’s” in there? That’s because I cannot possibly illustrate everything that we know of the time in only ten slides, nor do I know everything, so I have just tried to show what seems to be the most depicted.

Note: I probably even got some stuff wrong by the way.

If you’re interested in this stuff, I really recommend doing your own research now! Hopefully I have given you a good overview of what a fourteenth century womens outfit might have looked like, so now you can go fourth and know what you’re looking for.

If you have any questions about costuming, reenactment, or anything else, feel free to contact me!! I respond on Timblr decently fast ☺️

[Image ID: a reenactor sitting on a log, staring into the distance with a slight smile. She is wearing a grey-blue dress, belted at the waist with a small purse dangling from it. She has a dark blue cape and a light blue hood, that has fallen back to show a ruffled white veil. There is a pewter broach on her hood. A leather turnshoe peeks out from beneath the hem of her dress. End ID]

A list of helpful YouTubers:

Elin Abrahamsson

Morgan Donner

Opus Elenae

Miss Joss (her instagram is more active).

Now go hydrate!!

[Image ID: a woman in fourteenth century garb drinking from a jug. End ID]

#medieval reenactment #historical reenactment #medieval #medievalcore #medieval aesthetic #14th century #sewing #fashion #clothing #history #historical #sca #i’ll be on my merry way now

18K notes · View notes

bthemistake · 10 days

Text

- Fig Faeth, of Fig and the Cig Figs -

[Image Description:

Fanart of the Tiefling character, Fig Faeth, from the Dungeons and Dragons webseries Dimension 20. She has light red skin with two horns that fade into a warm off-white colour as they extend from her body. She is wearing a plain sleeveless black shirt, a leather jacket with various poorly sewn on patches, and a red skirt with a belt. Tucked behind her ear are two phoenix feathers from her girlfriend, Ayda Aguefort.

Her hair is a light brown and is dyed at the ends a red, with most of her hair tied into bubble-pigtails and her bangs loose in her face. Her elven-ears are pierced, her hands are decorated with rings, and she is proudly sticking her middle finger in the air with a grin. With her other hand, she is holding a microphone and the lead for it is draped around her body intentionally.

Her patches, of which there are five, have the following; a simple image of a bee, the text 'Baby & Baby Baby' on a red background, a triangle flag-shaped patch with 'Hoot Growl' on it in red on a white background, a mostly obscured 'rock on' hand gesture, and lastly an orange patch with an arrow and the words 'This Way Up', which is of course placed upside down.]

#art #artists on tumblr #drawing #sketch #tiktok artist #artwork #fanart #fig faeth #emily axford #dropout tv #dimension 20 fantasy high #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #tiefling #dungeons and dragons #hoot growl #palestine #fig and the cig figs

232 notes · View notes

milf-harrington · 2 years

Text

[image description: three digital sketches of Eddie Munson, drawn entirely in greyscale.

A full body drawing with him facing towards the right at a 3/4 angle, his hands lazily shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He's leaning back slightly, his head tilted down with his mouth open sticking his tongue out. He's got fangs, and his hair has been tied back in a ponytail. He's wearing a hellfire club shirt that's been cropped to show off his belly and the demobat scars along his sides. He's wearing black jeans that are ripped at the knees and cuffed at the bottom, and white shoes. He has a chain hanging from his belt loops and a bandana stuffed in his back pocket.

A bust drawing of Eddie laying down, wearing a baggy 'Tears for Fears' sweater and his guitar pick necklace. His hair loose and spread around his head. He's looking to the left slightly with his eyebrows raised, saying "hm?" and has a cigarette in his mouth. The words "steves shirt" is written in small capital letters with an arrow pointing to the sweater.

Steve and Eddie drawn from the waist up, with Steve's back facing the viewer, showing off the 'Dio' design on back of Eddie's battle jacket, and his head turned to see his profile. He has a lit cigarette in his mouth. Eddie is facing the viewer, eyes peeking over Steve's shoulder while his arms are curled around Steve slightly and flipping off the viewer with both hands. His nails are black and he's wearing rings.

end id.]

----

some eddie drawings w an idea @hella1975 put in my head about vampire eddie in a crop top, and also my own version of what appears to have become The Steddie Pose

#i love drawing in black and white it's so much easier dfhsdkh #i might do a proper version of that steddie drawing one day but for now have the sketch version #eddie munson #eddie munson fanart #steddie #steddie fanart #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things s4 #stranger things spoilers #my art #described

7K notes · View notes

nsharks · 1 year

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part three —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let's build some relationships :)

From behind a tree, your eyes narrow with concentration as you draw the string of your bow. The feel of it in your hands offers satisfaction; you used to love new makeup, blushes and creams, or sweet custards from the market. Now, you love a good weapon.

Is there anything Ghost doesn’t know how to do? And you thought Paul had skillful hands.

You’re not sure exactly where Ghost and Blue have gone, because after leading you out the gate of their camp, Blue showing you the exact maze of steps needed to avoid their booby traps, they went their own way. Again, they disappeared among the white trees. You were left to pick a direction and stick with it. So you ended up here, the opposite way of the pond, with your eyes finally catching sight of a small deer. A fawn.

It’s young but perfect.

The blood that courses through its limbs switches on the predator part of your brain. It will be enough to keep you fed for at least a week, perhaps more, and promote the healing of the wound that aches with each shift of your waist. You inhale, exhale. The arrow is ready to release.

A single gunshot rings out.

Straight through the fawn’s eye.

It doesn’t even have time to cry out as it falls over, a small thud filling the quiet air. Your heart skips a beat and your eyes flicker in the direction of the gunshot, but you already know who has stolen this kill from you. In the distance, you see his bulky form, the lowering of his rifle, and then you see the girl bounce down from a tree and whirl towards the dead animal.

Are you kidding me?

You want to snarl and sneer. Instead, you flare your nostrils while lowering your bow. Meters away, Blue kneels down by the deer and you see her gently mouth words to its corpse. Perhaps, a childish parting that helps her feel better about its death. Ghost arrives and bends down to Blue’s level, and you can’t see his mouth with the mask on, but you know he is speaking to her by how he gestures his gloved hand around.

You’ll have to find another animal.

Squirrels aren’t your favorite meal. They’re not much compared to the taste of venison. But if you char squirrel meat just enough, it can get a nutty flavor that, with your eyes closed, you can pretend is a juicy slab of chicken home-roasted by your mother.

There is no room to be picky.

There is no room for wants anymore, only needs, and from behind the tree, you move your gaze to spot a grey squirrel that will be enough for the day’s needs. You take aim again. You’d put your washed hair in two French braids to keep the strands from interfering, but without ties, they are starting to come undone at the ends. There was a time when you cared about the fashion of your hair. Now, styling is a tactical choice.

Squirrels are trickier. They are small and require greater marksmanship than you are confident you have. Archery was never something you did until the world bled grey and demanded it of you.

The animal flicks its bushy tail, prancing about over thick tree roots. You wait for the moment it stills.

“How’s it going?” someone says, and you jump back in a step, fingers nearly slipping and releasing the arrow off at the ground.

Blue. You whirl around to see that she’s snuck up in a tree behind you, nimble and light on her feet, with curiosity filling her eyes as she sits perched on a branch, one that would be too high for you to ever climb. Her brown hair is hidden under her hood, the tip of her nose flushed pink from the air, and she rubs her hands together to brush off the crumbs of tree bark. Her movements remind you of the squirrel.

It takes a moment for your muscles to soften. You glance back at the squirrel and it’s already scampered off.

“Going great,” you tell her flatly, sighing through your nose. You can be patient with her. She’s nice, young. She’d snuck you extra food. “Shouldn’t you be with Ghost?”

“I’m just stopping by to tell you that we’re leaving. And—“ she squints her eyes in the distance for a moment, “That there’s a couple of those fucks due south.”

Those fucks.

Lovely. You glance around at the unfamiliar trees. From down here, you don’t see anything, but from her vantage point, her scope of sight is better for scouting threats.

“They’re pretty far off. Just be careful, okay?”

“Thanks. I will,” you nod.

Her bright stare then flickers to your braids. “You did your hair... What are those called again?”

She frowns, searching for the word somewhere in a corner of her young brain. You’re surprised that a ten-year-old girl doesn’t know what French braids are; they’d been all you wore as a kid. But then you realize her normal life came to an end at age five. Perhaps many of the memories have faded, replaced with more useful knowledge that her father has had to stuff in there.

You swallow. “Braids?”

“Braids,” she repeats, tasting the foreign word with a click of her tongue. “Right. They look really cool on you.”

“These ones are pretty shitty because I don’t have anything to keep them in.”

Blue starts to say, "Maybe you could—"

But a gruff call cuts through the trees, beckoning her head to turn.

"Blue. Let's go."

Your own eyes follow the voice and land on Ghost some odd paces away. He is already staring at you through lidded eyes, a palpable energy rolling off his body in waves that you can feel even from this distance. Over his shoulders, he carries the fawn with ease. Large palms clasping the knobby ankles. A steady drip of its blood creates a red stain in the snow beside his boot.

He looks horrific. A smear of crimson on the skull. Dressed in all black, carrying a dead animal as if it is nothing. You recall how he'd pushed you to the ground like you were nothing, too. You swallow the thought.

Before you can even look back at Blue, she's already gone. Whirling down from the branch and running over, following in his footsteps as they head back.

It takes another agonizing hour but you manage to kill a squirrel. The Greys don’t find you, luckily. You stuff your coat pockets with some pine needles and decide to call it a meal, knowing that you will have to hunt again tomorrow.

This area of the forest is still new. In your brain, you’ve already etched some markers to find your way back: the pond where they found you, a circle of pine trees to the right of their camp with a big stump in the center, a small creek past the hill. But the way you return back today leads to you approaching the camp from the backside, and you notice something.

Behind the cabin is something covered in a big black tarp. The tarp is peppered with fallen twigs and snow, but still, you think you make out the shape of a vehicle underneath.

They have a car—?

Irritation finds you. How did Ghost manage such things? A goddamn cabin, a deep trench that you assume he dug all by himself. And now a car. Did he also have petrol stored somewhere? By the looks of it, the tarp hasn’t been moved in a while. What is the car for? Is this what he uses to get medicine from the cities?

You almost scoff as your boots crunch the snow.

You won’t have any of our medicine.

There hasn’t even been a chance to consider how you might fend for some yourself.

For now, you will just focus on food.

Ghost has tied the deer upside down on a branch by the time you are back. You carefully recall the way through their traps. Blue has to unlock the bolted gate for you, but then she runs back to Ghost, who hands a thick blade to her.

“Go on, then, kid.”

“I hate this part,” she mumbles, but he lifts her up so she can reach the knife to the animal’s hind legs, beginning to skin the hide top-down. She wears a concentrated expression as she does so, nose scrunched, and you can tell that skinning deer is a skill her small hands have practiced before.

Ghost is the one to butcher it.

You skin your squirrel.

They use the fireplace for cooking, and of course, their dinner is prepared first. While you wait, you undo your braids and snack on the pine needles. Blue is surprisingly quiet, helping her dad cook a little and playing with Grim on the floor, but also flickering her gaze to you every minute or so.

“Your hair is curly now,” she comments softly during dinner. “From the braids?”

“That happens when you take them out,” you say after swallowing a piece of meat. There’s nothing to wipe your hands on, so you use your trousers as a napkin. Your mother would’ve had a fit.

“Do you…” you clear your throat, glancing at Ghost and then back to the girl. “Do you want me to braid your hair after dinner?”

She nods sheepishly, but Ghost huffs out a low breath. “I could do that for you, Blue.”

“Ghost,” she sighs. “You don’t know how.”

“How hard can it be?”

But Blue licks her lips and shakes her head, mumbling, “I want her to do it. She’s good at it.”

The way Ghost looks at you is rarely anything but uncomfortable. However, when you sit down on the rug with Blue, your hands finding purchase in her hair, his eyes seem to burn holes through your body deeper than any time before. It is as if letting someone touch his daughter physically sickens him, and causes his breathing to turn weighted and deep. He begrudgingly allows it but supervises, sitting on the couch as you begin braiding her hair.

Grim sits in her lap. She strokes his fur.

“You have pretty hair,” you tell her.

Blue softly wonders, “How can hair be pretty?”

“I… I don’t know,” you say. “The color, the length. It’s just pretty, I think.”

“Ghost cuts it for me,” she says, turning to look at him.

“Wait, don’t move. It’ll mess me up.”

“Oh, sorry,” she turns back but continues. “He gets it wet and has me lay my head on the tree stump so it’s all flat. Then, he chops it off with his knife. Right, Ghost?”

His response is a low hum. It’s stiff, pushing through a tense jaw.

You finish the two French braids, running your fingers over them.

"I don't have anything to tie them, but they look really nice on you."

It is then that Ghost stands up and disappears for a minute. When he returns, he has a roll of black thread that you believe he used for your stitches.

With the knife from his belt, he cuts two pieces, bends down, and silently offers them to your palm. Blue lights up. You tie off the braids and she stands, toying with them happily, and asking her dad what he thinks. Finally, you notice his shoulders soften.

"Beautiful," he murmurs quietly, just for her. He strokes the braided hair and then gives a gentle brush of his thumb over her cheek. "Always look beautiful, Baby Blue."

"Don't—" her cheeks flush and she briefly flashes her eyes to you, "Don't call me that."

"Used to call you it all the time,” he grumbles. “Gettin' too old for it, are you?"

What you learn Blue isn't too old for is curling up with him on the couch. This is the first night you stay in the cabin after dinner rather than retreating to your shed, simply because they've left some embers in the fireplace for warmth. You sit on the floor beside it. Blue sits with Ghost and he pulls out a book to read quietly to her.

You try not to look.

It touches you in a way you didn't think it would. It seems so normal. For a moment, you imagine a world where things could be different. A world where Blue wore braids to school every day. A world where Ghost could pick a new book out, rather than read the same ones over and over. A world where, maybe, you could have a family of your own, rather than be an uncomfortable witness to theirs.

But your family is nothing now. You never even knew what happened to your parents. The end arrived when you were away from them. No wifi. No service. Whether they died or turned Grey, you could never be certain. A pit in your gut told you their end happened years ago.

You’re brought out of your daze when Ghost stands from the couch. Blue has fallen asleep. He carries the girl to her room, and you take it as a sign to leave for your place outside.

But before you can open the door, his voice stops you, dropping down to an even lower octave.

“Hold on.”

You turn. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

Despite the warmth from the fireplace, your blood goes icy rigid. You stand there and press your lips. “If this is about the braids, then I won’t do it again. I was just trying to be nice.”

“No. Not that,” and he holds your stare, unwavering, “It’s about your old camp. The other day, you said there were… hoards of ‘em.”

The words roll off his tongue thoughtfully as if this is something that has been mulling over in that brain of his for a while. Thoughts belonging to a skull. A ghost. A father.

Ghost continues gruffly, “Where were you?”

“West of here,” you say. “Jesus, I think, at least. I couldn’t really tell where I was going.”

“How far?”

“Far, but not that far.” Your eyes drift to the floor. “By the forest’s edge.”

“We don’t see that many of them here,” Ghost mutters. This might be the most he’s spoken to you in five days. “Only ever a few at a time. Ten at the most.”

“That’s how it was for us. But more came, and then,” you exhale, “And then there were too many.”

Your eyes close, recalling the frantic manner in which you escaped. The last glimpse of your old life had been the mangled arm of your sister, thick bites cutting down to white bone. In a way, you were glad there were enough of them to kill her.

Your eyes reopen. “We should’ve had an escape plan, something for emergencies. We got too complacent after making it for so long.”

All Ghost says is, “Yeah. You should have.”

And then he is dismissing you with a lazy wave of his hand, turning to give you his back. You scowl, roll your eyes as he is not looking, and leave the cabin. Your spine already aches before you even lay down on the floorboards for the night.

You wonder if Ghost has his own emergency plans; what would have to happen for him to abandon this perfect setup? How would he do it? The memory of the car out back finds you as you drift off. But your sleep that night is haunted by terrible, grey dreams.

It usually is.

Hunting on your own is different than hunting with Paul. There's some learning to do. You have to study the tracks on your own and observe the marks of antlers against the trees. For the first week, you don't get a single deer. Only squirrels. One skinny hare. Ghost and Blue don't go with you; the fawn, rabbits, and stored cans and jars hold them over.

Most evenings are spent braiding Blue's hair. I like the way it feels, she claims. Ghost gets used to it. He still watches from the couch but rather than stiffly staring, he lays down and relaxes, placing a hand over his chest.

The next time they go hunting, Blue's hair is still woven in the French braids when you catch an interesting sight through the cabin's window. She stands on the dining chair to reach Ghost's mask, peeling it off. You can only see the back of his head: brown hair, chopped short.

So there is a human under that thing?

She sets the mask on the table and picks up a clean one. A different one.

When they come out, Ghost with his guns and Blue with her knives, he appears more like a father than a character from a horror film. There is no plastic skull. Instead, a cutout in the fabric reveals the tops of his temples and the strong bridge of his nose. You would never say it, but you prefer this one.

Blue must catch your staring because she tells you, "The other one was starting to smell. I made him change."

"Good call," you quip under your breath.

Again, you go your separate ways. You head for the pond. You think you can hear them somewhere nearby, but ignore it, focusing on the deer prints in the snow. It's hard to tell if they're fresh. It hasn't snowed in two days.

Your footsteps quiet to a halt when you hear light crunching sounds. Another living thing is close by. You take position behind a thick pine, eyes scanning the wooded area and the pond to the right of you. But you know the sound of deer, and you're starting to learn the sound of Blue.

She's scampering towards the pond, just her. You can't see Ghost. As protective as he can be, he allows the girl some length to her leash. Offers bite-sized moments of independence. She's allowed to play in the tree just outside their camp before sundown, but only if he is watching. So you imagine he has let her run off ahead only because he is somewhere nearby.

From the distance, you watch her lurch for a squirrel.

She is quick about it.

Grabs the neck, and holds it up. A quick slice to the jugular. Blood seeps. She frowns, closing her eyes and murmuring something that, in the quietness, you think is along the lines of: I'm sorry. Tried to make it quick for you.

And then she begins to skin it, right then and there.

Young, nimble hands taught to survive.

As she does so, you decide you've seen enough. You have your own food to find.

But as you move from the tree, your eyes drift to find another watcher. A form takes shape behind a distant oak, near the pond. Your heart spikes; a Grey? But no— a Grey would already be running towards her scent. This shape belongs to a human, a withered man with hair that juts out in grey clumps, and crazed eyes pointed right at her.

More so, a revolver pointed.

taglist: @cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod #zombie apocolypse au #zombies #call of duty

1K notes · View notes

biteofcherry · 7 months

Note

Hi Eva! I’m just checking in on our friends at Ruby Garden. I was kinda wondering how it went with the punishments for those sweet subs that stole the tangerines. I’m interested on how each Dom got them off through their punishment, or shall I say funishment?

Ah, my lovely naughty Bella 😈 Tangerine theft lead to quite wicked fun.

(under the cut for explicit details)

warnings: BDSM setting; safe, sane and consensual; Dom/sub dynamics; bondage; predicament; teasing; impact play; sensory play; edging; shibari; exhibitionism; dirty talk; e-x-plct s**ual content

Lloyd put Pumpkin and her friend (let's call her Bunny for the sake of this answer) into a real predicament when it comes to choice. As he proposed, he wanted Pumpkin to suck him and she'd be rewarded extra tangerine if she managed not to cum while Bunny licked her. However, Lloyd loves being sadistic also in mindgames, so there was a catch. A few catches actually. If Pumpkin manages to withhold her orgasm, she will be rewarded yes, but Bunny will be punished with no orgasm that night at all. But if Bunny manages to make Pumpkin come, she will be rewarded and Pumpkin will be punished 😈 Unfortunately, Pumpkin did fail - not only due to her friend's skilled mouth, but also because choking on Lloyd's dick turned out to be very hot, especially with his sweetly degrading words. Then he tied the girls together, facing each other in a standing spread-eagle style, securing them to the rafters in the dungeon. He attached one single magic wand between them, so they had to grind into each other if they wanted to press their clits into it to find release. Then Lloyd enjoyed their pathetic sounds and struggle to come as he flogged their backs.

Ari took his time weaving a rope around Cherie, creating a pattern that left her breasts on display and secured her arms behind her. He used body paint to draw tangerine around each of her nipples and put a clit clamp with an orange bead on her nub. Then he scrawled with marker on her belly "Free tangerines to pick", with arrows pointing up and down. He kept her standing near to the bar where lots of patrons walk by, so anyone who wished (and all of them did) could pinch her nipples, or flick the clamp on her clit. And it went on for a long time. Each touch sent a little zap of arousal and it started accumulating, making Cherie breathe heavily and sway as her body got more and more turned on. When her knees wobbled a little, Ari simply drew her between his legs as he sat on the barstool to provide some support, but didn't end the torment. No, he added more with his raspy voice in her ear praising her for being so sweet for sharing her tangerines with others. Right when she was on the cusp of almost passing out from the sensation and strain, Ari bent her over the barstool and fucked her in slow, languid strokes that prolonged the state of being right on the edge. As he warned earlier, Cherie was barely conscious when he was done with her.

Curtis and Bucky had a little warm up with Fawn thanks to the chase through the club, but once they got her there was no option of letting her flee again. The only moment she went from the tight embrace of strong arms was to be deposited on a narrow, padded sawhorse, where they strapped her in place. Bucky secured a soft collar around Fawn's neck that confused her a bit at first, since they never talked about ownership before, but she quickly realized it wasn't for that purpose when Bucky twisted the collar so the leash ring that was at the front found itself on the back of her neck. It was so that a rope could be pulled through the ring. A rope which Curtis looped through a small anal hook. They made sure the rope is strained enough, so that when Bucky fucked Fawn's mouth and her head moved forward to swallow more of him, the rope pulled tight on the hook in her ass. Curtis played with Fawn's pussy, teasing it and stretching with his fingers, before he thrust his cock inside. They made Fawn cum a few times, but the last one that rocked her was an aftershock reaction to Bucky's filthy words that if it wasn't for the club's rules of protection at all times, they'd be filling her with their cum until it leaked out of each of her holes.

Steve already had plans for Darling and he didn't need to alter them that much to have fun. He only decided on adding more bite to it, than he previously planned. He made Darling lie on a wide bench covered in a soft linen and chained her limbs to the bolts at the side. The evening was supposed to be rather soft and romantic - since Darling expressed her interest in Steve's painting, he planned on incorporating her as his living canvas. It was supposed to be a sensual play of running different brushes, different bristles dipped in body paint all over Darling's body. Some softer, caressing her; other rougher, grazing her sensitive skin and scraping her nerves. He teased her by focusing on less sensitive parts of her body, before allowing featherlike strokes to touch her nipples, or dip in the juncture of her thighs. But since a game of tangerine theft happened, Steve knew he needed to add more punishing elements (especially when he saw Darling's eyes spark in excitement when other submissives were chased or screamed their reaction to their punishments). So Steve borrowed Master Nick's wax play set and added sizzling drops of color all over Darling's body.

Nick had Bonbon trapped in that cocoon and that's where he administered the punishment. With her hands shackled above her head and her ankles shackled to the edge of the swinging cocoon, he had Bonbon helplessly spread. At first he teased her mercilessly, gently touching all over with his fingers and mouth as he searched for the source of the citrus scent. He got on his knees, too, so he could better investigate all around her sopping pussy. Of course he found the tangerine peels stuffed under the pillows and mocked her how now he has to punish her, as if what he was doing so far wasn't a teasing punishment already. Nick stretched her with two of his fingers, working her up to the point she started rocking up into his hand desperately. That's when the even meaner side appeared - Nick rocked the cocoon gently and told Bonbon that if she wishes to cum, she has to swing herself onto his fingers. Back and forth. Which was almost impossible to do. Yes, the cocoon swung, but with how she was bound she was unable to really swing it how she needed it. Which meant she had to beg Nick. Beg for help and for his care and to make her cum.

Andy told Birdie he's gonna put her on a stand and see how her line of defense holds up, and that's exactly what he did. He put her on one of the three stages that are in the club. Birdie's been exposed in the club, as everyone else, but never on a stage that always drew a lot of attention. Presentations and lessons were displayed there, rarely a regular scene between a Dom and a sub. Andy purposely made Birdy face forward, so that she'd be aware of people looking their way. But he mercifully didn't strip her, only rolled up the back of her sheer dress and tied it so it wouldn't fall back down. With one hand wrapped around the front of her neck, he held her in place as he slowly worked his lubed fingers into her ass. All the while asking her questions about tangerines, as if he was really questioning a witness on a stand in court room. With his hot breath on her skin and his fingers stretching her unused hole, Birdie had a really hard time focusing on her answers and found herself moaning "Yes, Sir, I'm so wet for you" when between rapid questions about tangerines Andy unexpectedly asked aloud if she's turned on from his fingers in her ass. And he wouldn't let her cum, until she screamed for the whole club to hear that she's guilty of tangerine theft.

202 notes · View notes

youryanderedaddy · 3 months

Text

tw: stalking, paranoia, art by me Introducing my baby boy Ein. He's the literal manifestation of time lmao

Ein.

You still get chills every time someone makes that sound - whether it is a click of a tongue or a whistle, whether you hear it on the street or your friend ends up muttering it subconsciously doesn't matter. You always get light-headed - your heart always starts pounding violently. And when they ask you, you can't do anything, but shake your head with a rehearsed smile while you lie that you just had a bad thought. But you know - you know it's so much more than just a thought.

You can still hear his laugh ringing in your ears, the bell of thousand clocks snapping all at once as if triggered by a fire alarm. You can feel his hands wrap around you, skin tight and light like glass. He has no problem - in fact the God relishes in your startled noises and wide stares any time his sharp, arrow-like fingertips prod and poke at your sensitive human flesh. It's all a game to him - yet the moment you reach out to do the same, he dissapears into this air, leaving nothing, but a trail of ash and smoke behind.

At first you thought you were going crazy. You could see him, flesh and blood, leaning against a tree in the nearby park. He would look at you from the opposite side of the street, towering much higher than the average person with clouds floating in the place where his legs were supposed to be - but no one on the street seemed to care. No one, but you.

This continued for a while, how long you couldn't tell. The more you tried to tune him out, both the static glitches and the radio silence, the closer he seemed to appear. And you made an effort to understand what was going on - you tried drawing him in your notebook or describing him in your journal; yet any time you as much as uttered a word about the entity, your brain would freeze with pain. Little by little your mind unwrapped, creating bigger and bigger time laps. You lost your sense of time. You couldn't tell when today stopped and tomorrow began.

So you don't question him anymore. You don't bother explaining, you don't try to outsmart him or outrun him. There's no point to it - Ein's everywhere around you. He hides behind the unevitable passage of minutes, in the units of frequency. He lives in the tiny device you wear on your wrist. He watches you from the old clock tower in the center. There is no running away - and every second he's getting closer to you.

"Don't you worry, darling. Soon we will be reunited."

It's too late now. You can hear him precisely. He's decided to get rid of the static waves, the metaphysics keeping him tied to the change of day and night. He's torn apart the temporal continuum just for you. You thought you had more time - but you were a fool.

"After all-" His voice is not just menacing. It's painful. It's screaming and crying and smiling combined - joy and sorrow all in one. "Everyone runs out of time eventually."

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #digital art #digital illustration

62 notes · View notes

shisnhou · 11 months

Text

astronomy

pairing: nanami kento x f! reader

genre: angst

wc: 1,5k

an: this is the first chapter of the story i will be releasing soon! tell me if you want more :)

marriage.

many people fantasize about being married.

to many, the idea of marriage is pure bliss. the thought of being together amidst the misunderstandings, pain, and marriage blues, the happiness, the shared home, the matching rings, the memories, creating a family, and the promises of forever regardless every arrow that shoots the heart of the relationship.

and as many wedding vows go, 'to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. this is my solemn vow.' they entail one of many things, but mainly, to be together and cherish one another regardless of what happens.

but to some, that wasn't the case, and you wish you found out sooner, you wish you found out that you were part of the some, and not that many.

marriage is the biggest scam that you fell for in your whole life. the vows, the wedding, the rings, every single bit and piece of it is a horrid scam that you find yourself to be the victim of.

the marriage that lays upon your shoulders isn't bliss and happiness, it isn't nothing but a waste of money, yet a waste of life as well.

the marriage that many gush of, the marriage that you once gushed about, has failed you. you aspired to be one of those people who walked down the aisle whilst their partner was crying as they stood by the altar, watching the love of their life walking down the carpeted floor. you once imagined yourself as one of those people who would feel delighted once the ring engulfed your ring finger, you once wished of kissing the one person you love before the eyes of many who bear witness to your love story tying the knot.

but now, the marriage you gushed about is the same marriage you are itching to end.

it no longer makes you happy— being tied down to this 'sacred' bond. the wedding ring hugging your ring finger barely even glimmers, unlike the one that your husband has abandoned on his dresser. rather, it feels heavy.

you thought you'd be all smiles after marrying the love of your life, but you've been crying more than you have been laughing, the tears you spared and still are sparing are not of happiness, rather, of pain and agony. the kisses that you two share send you not butterflies in your stomach, instead pins and needles.

there‘s no love in your marriage, no love in this 'sacred' bond. it‘s all pain, sadness, and hurt. you feel mocked every time you see a happy couple holding hands in the street, much like the way the wedding ring that has been collecting dust since your husband has left it on his dresser; he‘s left it there since your wedding day.

and the mockery becomes even worse when you're around family. the family that were there to witness your 'loving marriage'. the same family you keep lying to about your marriage.

"i can‘t you believe it. god, no one thought you‘d be the first to marry amongst us!" kiki, older cousin screeches. she talks your ear off about your marriage and all that, and you wish you were able to slip away and lay in bed all day.

you hate gatherings like this with a burning passion. to you, it was all bullshit, because half of the time, they were just giving each other backhanded compliments, and now it's become your personal hell because all they do is ask you about your relationship.

"hm, surprise i guess." you mumble, taking a huge sip out of your wine, thinking of an excuse to get out of her as soon as possible.

"not to mention, to a rich and handsome man!" well, you assume that‘s one of the good things about your husband; that he was rich, tall, and handsome. "how‘d you do that?"

"it‘s a long story." you lie, rolling your eyes to cover the hard glare that‘s threatening to lay itself upon your cousin just so that she‘d shut her running mouth.

"well, you better hold him close. you‘ll never know what could be goin' on when you aren‘t home." you hate her, you truly do. it‘s unbelievable to you, how one could look so nice yet spout the worse kinds of things to someone who didn‘t even do anything.

"why would she need to hold him down when she's got him at the palm of her hand?" shima, another cousin of yours butts before kiki could say anything more.

"well, y'know how men are, ma.." kiki trails, causing you to role your eyes once again.

not that you care. you quit caring not so long ago. caring is a hard job, a job that was fruitless. so, you just quit. not that it matters to anyone anyway, not even to your husband.

it doesn‘t matter. you barely matter. all that matters it that you keep your husband's perfect image of husband above sea.

"believe me, i know everything that goes down." trying to hold up your facade, you smile, turning your head to the other side, hoping that they wouldn't notice that look on your face. the look that no one else sees. the look that you hide from the world, even from yourself. "everything is all and well."

lie after lie, excuse after excuse.

your mouth runs words. empty words that you wish the people will believe, praying that they don't see through the hollow letters, the broken vows inside the house of lies.

yet as you smile, hoping that they'd stop interrogating you, you come to the realization that there's only so much you can do when he doesn't even try to uphold your marriage's reputation.

"but where is he, though?" kiki's boyfriend— hirugami— asks, wide eyes staring at you. "you said he'd be here. i'd love to talk to him! ask more about the stock market n' all that,"

his words are genuine and you know that he means no harm, however the urge to slap your hand above his mouth is making you itch.

you made nanami promise to make an appearance, and he said he'd try his best to show some face. but hours have passed since the appointed time and all you can do is curse him in your head and wish that his expensive polished shoes hit a brick wall and break.

"busy." is your curt answer, running out of excuses to make. "being a business man really works you up, you know? having to stay in the office—"

before you finish your words, the devil himself appears by the door. your eyes go wide, and unbeknownst to you, a spark of hope glints in your eyes.

"kento," you whisper to yourself, rising quickly to make your way to him. but before you're able to, your aunt is rushing to greet him.

"kento! we're glad you're here." she smiles widely, wrapping her hand around his arm, leading him into the house.

his eyes meet yours. your heart skips a beat. despite convincing yourself that you and him no longer have any kind of ties, your heart never fails to recognize the man you fell in love with, the man who still holds your heart in his hands.

"(y/n)," your name falls from his lips, and without even realizing it, your feet walks to him, right where he is.

your aunt looks up at him, one brow raised at the sound of your name, as if you were a stranger and he just called your name out of no where.

"i need to go to my wife first. i need to greet her first." he says, retracting his arm and eyeing your aunt.

your aunt's eyes widen, sheepishly she smiles and lets go while nodding. you smile at her as nanami takes a step closer. for the second time, your eyes meet his. you swallow, looking deeply into his grey eyes and landing on your arms on his broad shoulders.

naturally, his hands move to your waist, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

"kento," you inhale his scent, recognizing the masculine scent of his perfume that you bought him last christmas. "hey."

"hello, wife." his words are sweet, but his face isn't. his lips remain thin and flat, even when his lips come closer, even when they press against yours.

"how was—"

"kento!" hirugami, screams his name walking up to him and slapping his hand on his back causing nanami to jolt and turn his head. hirugami is oblivious to the one sweet moment that he disrupted. but you can't blame him, not when he has not a single clue as to what happens behind closed doors.

"hirugami." nanami sends you one last look before he turns around to meet the man and greet him properly.

internally you sigh, already missing and yearing the feeling of his huge hands around your waist.

"you really have go him wrapped around your finger, huh?" shima teases. "i've never seen a man as tall as him calm down when he sees his wife."

you laugh softly at her words, wishing that what she said was true, despite knowing for a fact that it's the farthest thing from the truth. "well, it's a newly weds thing."

she hands you your glass of wine and you take it from her, but not without clinking it with hers first.

"you're right, you newly weds are truly sweeter than candy." obliviously, she agrees.

as her words leave her lips, you wish that she would never see through your lies. hoping that your lies manifest. that one day, your wishes and prayers will come true.

yes, this is very much inspired by conan gray's song astronomy.

149 notes · View notes

clown-paws · 8 months

Text

> she was a princess once.... anyways ive been meaning to do a sketch of nastya in a corset ever since seeing like, a really old photoshoot of some of the crew. she's everything to me <3

> ID below and in alt text -

[Image Description: Three uncoloured pencil sketches of Nastya Rasputina from The Mechanisms. She has light skin, with straight, chest length hair that is shaded dark at the top and lighter at the bottom. She is wearing a collared shirt and rectangular glasses in all images.

Image 1: A front facing sketch of Nastya, cut off in the middle of her skirt. She is standing straight, her left hand is on her chest, fingers slightly obscured by her hair and fingernailspainted black. Her other arm is by her side. She is wearing a light corset that covers her torso, with clips running down the center and two vertical lines on each side. Her shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and has looser sleeves. She has a long, plain skirt on with pockets. The skirt is hiding the hand by her side. She has a thin black choker, a ring on her pinky, and hair clips on each side of her head. She is looking down, calmly. To the right, some of Image 2 is visible.

Image 2: A full-body sketch of Nastya, from behind her. Her hair is moved over her right shoulder to show the back of her corset. It is cross tied with cables at the back, in a loose bow. She is now wearing baggy trousers, with pockets in the back, tucked into army boots. Her hands are in her front trouser pockets. Beside her is the text "Tied [with] Aurora's spare cables." With and arrow pointing to the cables. To the left, some of Image 1 is visible.

Image 3: A poorly drawn bust doodle of Nastya and Ashes. On the left, Nastya is looking up and crying dramatically, mouth open. One of her hands is visible, palm up. Around her is the text "I told her to fuck off and she fucked off [exclamation point]." She is referring to Aurora. Beside her, to the right, is Ashes. The side of their head is shaved, the rest of their hair straight and messy. They are wearing a collared shirt and waistcoat. One arm is visible and their hand is resting on Nastya’s shoulder, comforting her. They have a sympathetic look on their face.

End ID.]

#the mechanisms #shes so um uhhh she um #i just. think shes neat. is all.#the mechs #the mechanisms fanart #nastya rasputina #nastya rasputina fanart #ashes o'reilly #doods art #image description #image described #described #id included #sketchbook

120 notes · View notes

beansprean · 2 years

Text

A lil thing about how I think their appearances may change after finding themselves and working on repairing their relationship ❤️ the gay chicken tenders era

(YES Ed is wearing a tino rangatiratanga belt buckle, NO I don't care about historical accuracy any more than anyone else on this show)

Image description under cut!

[ID: 1.Full body drawings of a post-s1 Ed and Stede, titled “Gay Chicken Tenders (Reconciliation) Era.”

Stede is smiling gently with full dimple, standing in a confident stance, one hand in a gentlemanly position gripping the vee of his vest and the other behind his back with the rapier slung around his waist. He is wearing a patterned blue waistcoat, blue breeches, white stockings, and brown buckled boots. His sleeves are rolled up. Multiple arrows point at different parts of his body to illustrate the changes in his appearance: “earrings; open collar because emotional vulnerability; longer, swept back, more gray (hair); lighthouse tattoo (chest); wedding ring on chain around neck (for love of family); bright colors and patterns; sword (mostly for show); boots; he also wears fancy long coats!”

Ed has a small smile and has one hand lifted in a wave, the other resting on his hip. His long hair is half-up and beautifully curly, and he is wearing a pink tee shirt (of course showing a sliver of belly) and brown leather pants with black boots and his knee brace. He has his usual rings, necklaces, tattoos, and stab scar. Multiple arrows point at different parts of his body to illustrate the changes in his appearance: “the red silk as a kerchief (neck); no gloves because emotional vulnerability; beard trimmed short; a lil pudgier from good food; softer pants; one gun (emphasis on one); more color!”

2. Repeat of the first drawing, this time titled “Battle Armor!” and showing the same Ed and Stede this time in their coats. Stede’s coat is knee-length and lavender with lighter purple details, buttons, and embroidery. It has a tall white collar and frilly white cuffs beneath the wide wool sleeves. Ed’s jacket is waist-length, the same soft brown leather as his pants, and clasps together asymmetrically just like his old coat. This coat has two full sleeves and a few sharks teeth tied to the shoulders, has a knife holster on one side, and looks very comfy. Through the belt loops at the bottom of the short coat is a black belt with a buckle displaying the Māori flag about 300 years too early.

Caption: A lil thing about how I think their appearances may change after finding themselves and working on repairing their relationship ❤️ the gay chicken tenders era

Extra drawing: a close up of Stede, this time with a short graying blonde beard and a curly little mustache. Text pointing to him reads: beard?? I can never decide.

/end ID]

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edstede #mlm #my art #fanart #patreon import #image described

890 notes · View notes

mymindisfrayed · 9 months

Text

The problem with having an eternally reincarnating spirit is that even after death you can never really rest. You are tied to the living realm, anchored by your soul resting within another body.

You can merely watch as the cycle repeats, and follow around your anchor as if your incorporeal presence will be of any help.

What a horrible existence, the wind whispers. What a sad fate, the sky weeps.

The centuries pass by. The procession of spirits following the anchor lengthens. Incarnations watching over their newest reincarnation. Successors and predecessors in this eternal dance.

They watch as the suffering continues. Though perhaps they can help a little; a sword a centimetre to the left so that the blow lands fatally, an arrow guided by a gentle breeze so it’s aim rings true, a flickering flame just that little bit brighter.

Maybe one day the cycle will end. Hopefully, one day, there will be no more need for an incarnation of the Hero.

Until that day, the procession of spirits will lengthen, and they will watch over their own.

#the legend of zelda #ghosts #reincarnation #linked universe #guardians #fanfic

65 notes · View notes

genderbinaryisforlosers · 1 year

Photo

fit check!

all of the outfits are based on Oscar’s descriptions - the peacock feathers in the Hart Hunt cap, the teacup wig - with my own spin on Rue’s design. i based them on the striped owl, because they have big dark eyes and a distinctive face like a barn owl, but also ear tufts! i also imagine that their “wings” are more pretty than functional.

i also headcanon that their constant glamours were really hard on them and gave them major balance issues, which is why i draw them with canes and a chair. the idea for the glamours using ribbons came from this comic by rabdoidal

[id: Three digital drawings, each containing three outfits of Delloso de la Rue’s. The first shows the opening night, Hart Hunt, and duel on the Southern Lawn, all of which they are in their glamoured form for. The second has two fits in their glamoured form, their nightgown and the teatime gown, and the third in the reveal of their true self before the hedge maze. The third drawing shows their remaining three fits, all in their true form, at the tailor shop, at the Masquerade, and in the finale. /end id]

more detailed description of each fit under the cut

Rue’s glamoured form is a tall, fat humanoid with mint-coloured skin, long elfin ears, golden-brown eyes, and a hooked nose. They have very long wavy sea-green hair, and a very neat, short beard.

Opening Night - They are wearing a glittering pale blue form-fitting dress that flares out at the bottom into pale green ruffles, resembling sea-foam. The dress has full sleeves that become fingerless gloves. There is a slit in the skirt which their leg emerges from, showing off leg hair and a light blue sparkling heeled shoe. Their hair is decorated with pearls and have glitter in their beard. They have a pearl and teardrop necklace over a pale purple ribbon, and they are wearing an auger shell as an earring. The skirt of the dress is also decorated with strings of pearls. They have their left hand (viewer’s right) on their hip while their right hand leans on a cane with a pearl handle. Behind them, off-white fabric resembles huge overlapping clam shells, outlining their entire silhouette.

Hart Hunt - They are wearing a green tunic with gold trim and matching half-cloak, which is fixed with a pin that resembles a bow where the the arrow is replaced by a flower. Beneath the cloak they have big puffy sleeves, and a doublet made from strips of leather. They have dark green tights and thigh-high high-heeled leather boots. They have a teal ribbon around each wrist and many gold rings on their fingers, and both hands are leaning on their cane, which resembles a thick, knotted tree branch. Their hair is tied in a braid, and they are wearing a pointed Robin Hood cap with two peacock feathers stuck in the prim. Their beard is slightly painted in to darken the stubble into an anchor beard. They have gold eyeliner on their bottom lids.

Duel on the Southern Lawn - They are wearing a snakeskin unitard, a bomber jacket made from alligator skin and porcupine quills, cowhide gloves, and platform combat boots leafed with fish scales. The jacket’s toggles are wolf fangs, and they have earrings that look like swords. They are wearing a helmet that has a mohawk of porcupine quills, black lipstick and eyeshadow. They are gripping their cane, the handle of which is a crow skull, tightly with both hands, without leaning on it.

Nightgown - They are wearing a semi-translucent, iridescent dress with white and pale blue frills and indigo ribbons. They are wearing a periwinkle blue silk cap which their hair cascades out from, and their makeup - the eyeshadow and liner from the duel - is smudged as tears have made it run down their face. They are sitting in a wheelchair with a low, purple-cushioned back. The wheels are gold and inlaid with swirling peonies. They are sitting with one leg crossed over the other and hands crossed over their legs, and have pink heeled pumps with white pom-poms on them. Over their head, to fill the space, are blooming pink peonies.

Teatime - They are wearing a white Georgian gown with a very large translucent skirt. The bodice is made from shattered white teacups, and the skirt has pink roses around the hem. It has puff sleeves that look like teapots with gold handles and pale pink roses on them, and the sleeves appear to be bronze-coloured “tea” spilling out. They are wearing white stockings and garters, and flat gold pumps. They have a towering Georgian wig made of tight ringlets that start their “natural” colour and transition up to being gold at the peak. There are also flower-patterned teacups stacked and stuffed into the wig, with the very topmost one being gold as well. Their face is painted white with a heart-shaped “beauty mark” on their cheek and pink lipstick in a heart shape over their lips. They also have pink eyeshadow, and a pearl earring. They have a pink ribbon tied in a bow around their neck, and their right hand (viewer’s left) reaches up towards it white they raise an eyebrow. Their cane is plain brown, resembling a croquet mallet.

In their true form, Rue is a bipedal owlbear (top half owl, bottom half bear) resembling a striped owl. Most of their feathers are muted olive green, but they have dusty pink and pink-brown stripes, and a cream face and accents. They have ear tufts, dark brown eyes, and pink freckle-like marks on their cheeks, and dark pink feathers over the eyes that look like eyeshadow, as well as a darker cream colour on their face resembling a five o’ clock shadow. Their bear legs are thick and covered in dark brown fur, with long claws on each digit.

Through the Hedge Maze - Rue’s left claw pinches the unravelled ribbon in their fingers, making the illusion fall away. They are the same height that their towering wig made them, but dressed completely differently, in a straight pink dress with frills around the hem and gold trim. They have bunches of pink peonies with gold leaves on their shoulders around the back and one at the front in the dip of their neckline. They also have a bunch of peonies behind their right (viewer’s left) ear. They are using the same cane as they were before.

Tailor Shop - They are wearing a green dress with glittery gold drop sleeves and gold stitching. The skirt of the dress has a patchwork look, of different shades and textures of green fabric. They are wearing a green beret and using a green umbrella as a cane. Their bear feet are visible at the hem of the dress. They are holding one claw up close to their face with a delighted expression.

Masquerade - They have a black ballgown with a big skirt made of black peonies and shiny black ruffles that look like water. The “water” pools at the bottom of their skirt, flowing from the flowers. They have delicate, puffy lace sleeves, and they and the bodice are also patterned with black-on-black flowers. They have a black flower crown on their head, and a string of white pearls around their neck. They are wearing Hob’s medal as a gold ring, and their cane is sleek white and gold.

Finale - They are standing with their back to the viewer, and their head turned in profile, looking to the right. They have a bright red dress styled like an opened, downturned rose with petals for the skirt. There is gold embroidery on the tiny petals at the waistline and on the ones on their shoulders, and even tinier petals that are entirely gold. They are wearing an arrangement of red peonies like an afro. They are holding a pair of opera glasses with gold trim.

#delloso de la rue #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf #dimension 20 #d20 art #my art #things i made #image described

390 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 1 year

Note

I NEED PROMPT TWO

my fuckin azris brain wants them but I know ur feelings on azriel BUT I require Eris in some form 😈

I hope I did this justice. I wanted to impress you oh Queen of the Azris ship.

As always when it comes to answering prompts, you do not see any mistakes.

2- oh darling, if only I could love you

“Everybody out!”

Eris Vanserra didn’t move as his court turned their backs to him, filing out of the open throne room until only one male remained. Eris, sprawled over his throne, one leg dangling over the arm as he examined the silver rings on his fingers, pretended his heart wasn’t leaping in his throat.

“Close the door,” he added to the sentries, curious as to what their High Lord meant to do with the Shadowsinger from Night Court. Eris himself wished he knew. Azriel was technically banished from his woods, and smart enough to keep himself from being noticed if he wanted.

And there he stood, arms crossed over his powerful chest, wings tucked tight behind him. Hazel eyes bore into Eris’s face with open accusation.

“And see yourself out when you’re done,” Eris called. He would have no witness to whatever was waiting for him. A fight if he had to guess—one he didn’t want his court to hear word for word. Eris watched those golden doors slam shut, listening for the fading steps down the wood halls of the Forest House.

And then they were alone. Eris couldn’t avoid looking at the male at the very end of the room, veiled in shadow from the dying light pouring through the windows–not counting his own, swirling around him like a hazy fog.

“I warned you,” Eris said, forcing a lazy grin on his face. It was for your protection, he wanted to add, though he didn’t dare say it. After all, he’d succeeded, hadn’t he? Beron was dead and he was High Lord. He wore the crown of burnished leaves against his brow, reminding him of everything he’d gained.

And everything he could not have.

Azriel remained silent, his gaze piercing a hole in his still wounded chest. A hundred stolen moments over the course of a decade flooded like a torrent through Eris’s mind. He’d made no promises and when the time came, had been quick to sever all ties between them.

Some things were more difficult to break.

“The punishment for walking the Autumn woods is death, you know.” He wanted to provoke a reaction so badly he would have said anything. Azriel’s silence was a blade to his heart, an ash arrow in his throat. Riling Azriel up had always been the easiest way to force the male to talk to him, even if it was punctuated with Azriels hand around his throat, and Eris’s blood between his teeth.

Azriel yielded one step. “Shall I get on my knees, lord?” he mocked. Hurt and anger flashed through Eris in equal, burning measure. He swung his leg over the arm of the throne, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“What is it that you want, Azriel?”

Eris, of course, has heard rumors of how Azriel has been spending his time. Lucien, irritated and jealous, had made mention of his own mate and the male he believed haunted her steps. The thought of Azriel with anyone else filled Eris with misery more often than he was willing to admit. Of course Azriel would move on—would forget him entirely.

Just as everyone always had. Eris expected Azriel to rub it in his face, to slap a cold grin on his face as he detailed for Eris just how little their time together meant. All of Eris’s worst fears seemed to manifest when Azriel’s wings flared. One scarred hand, illuminated in the blue of his siphon, reached for the blade at his back. Not truth teller, still strapped to his powerful thigh, but his Illyrian sword. Azriel pulled the entire thing smoothly from between his shoulders, not drawing the steel. Eris tensed.

Azriel threw it at his feet, the weapon sliding over the smooth floor to rest at the very bottom of the steps of the dais Eris rested atop of.

“High Lord,” Azriel murmured, sweeping into a bow that saw one of his muscular knees touch the floor. Deference.

Respect.

Love.

Eris clenched his fists to keep himself from rising to his feet. The sight of the male he loved bowing before him—swearing his fealty—was too much. Eris had no road map for this sort of unguarded, if not careful affection. How long had Azriel practiced this moment? Run it over in his head, imagining every possible scenario? Every outcome?

Surely he must have known what was coming.

Azriel pressed his palm to the floor, a lock his inky black hair falling into near gold hazel eyes. Eris was certain he’d never seen anything more magnificent in his life and yet he forced himself to pretend he was unaffected.

“Is this a confession?”

His words dripped with condescension. He could feel Azriel’s temper rise, creating static in the air between them. Eris wished he could make things easy, that he could just admit the truth.

I’m afraid.

I love you.

“You know how I feel,” Azriel said, his dark voice rich with promise. Eris could not suppress the shiver that raced up his spine. His body went taut, pulled by that golden thread he had spent so many years denying existed. He rose to his feet, each step down to the floor seemingly endless. He went to Azriel, still on his knees, well aware a better male would have kissed his mate.

Eris crouched, his heart racing as the scent of Azriel rolled over him. It had been so long since he’d scented night chilled mist and cedar, since he’d touched the rough stubble of Azriels jaw. He couldn’t help but hook his finger under Azriel’s chin, listening to their hearts sync.

“Oh darling, if only I could love you.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring. One scarred hand shot out, grasping Eris by his hair. Azriel pulled tightly, drawing him closer, until their noses brushed.

“You’re still a coward,” Azriel accused, his breath fanning over Eris’s face.

“You should love someone else,” Eris replied, unable to keep his own insecurities from his voice. It had always been that way. That mask was glued to his face until Azriel stepped into the room.

As it stood, it lay shattered to pieces between their bodies. Azriel twisted his fist into Eris’s hair until Eris reached for one of the crisscrossing straps over Azriel’s armor and yanked him closer.

It was a bruising kiss. Frantic and hungry and filled with all the things neither of them could make themselves say.

I’m sorry.

I missed you.

Stay with me.

Azriels grip didn’t loosen, as if he knew the minute he let Eris go the spell might shatter and Eris would send him away again. Another five years in purgatory, looking for glimpses of the other when their two courts met while pretending they didn’t care at all. Eris too often woke at night tangled in his bedsheets, hands desperately seeking the silken touch of Azriel’s wings. Wishing for rough, calloused hands sliding down his naked chest.

“I’m not leaving,” Azriel growled, his teeth nipping roughly against Eris’s bottom lip. “I don’t give a fuck about your laws.”

“What about—” Azriel’s tongue silenced him, delving into his mouth with such heat that Eris found he didn’t particularly care what Rhysand thought anymore. Eris felt frantic as Azriel’s words washed over him.

I’m not leaving.

Eris didn’t know what to do, what to say. He could only kiss his mate and hope Azriel understood. That the things that had always kept them together explained away his cruelty. Beron would have ripped Azriel’s wings from his back, would had pulled the magnificent male apart like an obnoxious moth while Eris had been forced to watch.

And in the aftermath of what he’d done to secure his crown, his throne, he’d felt unworthy of something as rare as a mate. Azriel had seemed content and Eris had almost convinced himself they were better off apart. That being together would only ruin them both.

But there, one arm around Azriel’s neck, his hand dragging through the shtick strands of his hair, Eris felt stupid.

“There you are,” Azriel breathed, pulling away with bruised lips to look at Eris. Eris gripped Azriel’s face, touching foreheads until they shared a breath.

“If you were smart, you’d reject this bond,” Eris made himself say, each word gravel in his mouth.

Azriel didn’t smile. “I am well aware of your opinion regarding my intelligence.”

Eris swallowed hard, gripping Azriel for dear life. His thumbs swept over bronzed cheeks, eyes searching his mates. “Stay with me.” For a moment, there was only the sound of their combined hearts. Azriel had already said he was staying, and yet Eris needed to hear it again. On his knees, no longer the High Lord but just a male in love, he needed to hear Azriel say it again.

And again.

Every day until he drew his very last breath.

“You first,” Azriel ordered roughly, his breath catching in his throat. Eris knew what he wanted to hear. The very words Eris had refused to ever say out loud, had denied even to himself save in the darkest parts of his mind no one could reach.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes rolled upwards, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Eris brought his face closer, pressing a kiss to each cheek with all the softness he could muster. It wasn’t much—he’d never be a gentle, soft sort of male.

He didn’t think Azriel wanted that.

“I’m not leaving you. Ever,” Azriel added with a ringing finality. Eris’s mind raced with possibilities. Where Azriel would fit, what role he might occupy. It was terrifying to lay himself bare before so many, to announce to the world this male was his only weakness in the world.

And not having him was infinitely worse.

Eris forced himself to take a breath. He was High Lord. Autumn would bend to his will or they would join the rot in the woods.

“Good.”

He rose to his feet, bringing Azriel with him with a tightly clasped hand. There was no hesitation, no moment of uncertainty. Just them, connected by the golden thread of fate.

And for the first time in Eris’s life, he felt like he could breathe again.

#azris #be nice to me this was my first time #i wantetd to get the dynamic right

257 notes · View notes

disneyanddisneyships · 4 months

Text

@gyubby99

TPOIF 3

Alistar woke up to the feeling of cold water over his face, fasping for air as he looked around. Town Square. Alistar looked around, Ella and her friends tied up together. "Ah, you're awake. Look, son. Your legacy," John spoke gesturing to Ella before kneeling down, muttering in Alistar's ear. "You did this to them. You made this happen," he smirked. Alistar tugged at his restraints desperately. "Father... please.. let them go," he begged. "You're pathetic. Sit there and watch what I do to your beloved princess," John chuckled as he gestured for his guards to untie her and lay her on the ground. Alistar knew where this would go. "NO. STOP!" He yelled, tugging at his restraints. Elias along with him. Ella tried her best. Kicking and screaming. But nothing changed. Just as John was a few inches away from her. An arrow shot out of nowhere, hitting him right in the shoulder. Ella looked to see Deena in her human form, alongside a woman with bright blue hair and pink eyes. In the blink of an eye, Deena took down ten men as the mysterious woman ran over and freed Ella and her friends, including alistar. John growled as he took out his sword, aiming to stab Ella in the back. "NO!" Alistar yelled as he ran, standing in front of her, getting Stabbed instead. "ALISTAR!" Carol shouted. Ella turned around, gasping at the sight in front of her, flashbacks of Elias ringing in her head. John smirked as he pulled the sword out. Alistar sank to his knees. "You'll always be nothing, Alistar. A waste of time. A waste of Love. And a waste of life," John spoke before telling his men to charge at the group. "And you'll... never be... a real king," Alistar grunted out as he glared at John. John punched Alistar, sending him collapsing on the ground. Elias glanced over before looking at his sword. The sword he had collected from Alistar that day. Eli looked back at alistar, sliding the sword to him.

As John raised his weapon to end his own son, Alistar countered, blocking his weapon and standing up with vague difficulty. John's eyes shone anger as he made more attacks out of his frustration. Alistar blocking and doing every single one, his hands shaking as he went. As John got tired, Alistar figured this was his chance. He ran into his father, sword first, his hands shaking as the sword sunk into his father's stomach. With shaky hands, Alistar backed away from his father. Alistar was out of breath as he watched his father collapse to his knees, and then to the floor. Soldiers began to disappear in a haze of either blue or red light. And Hades and Persephone appeared in the middle of the battlefield. "Mom, dad!" Loreley shouted as she ran over to hug them. "Deena!" Alruna shouted as she walked over, glancing at the woman next to her. "Who's this?" "My sister. Aggie," Deena replied. Alruna smiled. As Ella and her friends rejoiced, a cry was heard. Mia reaching out for her mom, only for Clarissa to fade into a blue light. Ella's eyes widened before she saw Carol fo the same. Then she looked at Alistar. He held up his hand, looking at it as it faded from red to blue and back to red. "Alistar?" Ella asked as she walked over to him, her friends behind her. "Im... afraid my time is up, Dove," Alistar smiled. "What? No i...... I can't lose you a third time, Alistar... that's just selfish on your part!" Ella stated. Alistar chuckled. "Im.. afraid this time I don't have a choice....." Alistar stated. "Yes you do," Hades spoke up as he walked up to Alistar. "Ever since you've been up here, you've had a choice. You can stay and make things right. Live a better life. Or you can go. That's why, right now, as you fade slowly, you're both red and blue," Hades spoke. Alistar glanced to Ella. "I......" Then to Elias. "They don't want me here...." Alistar stated. "It's not about what they want tight now. For you want to stay and make things better?" Hades asked. Alistar looked at Ella before nodding his head slowly. "Does my mother get a choice? Or Queen Clarissa?" Alistar asked. Hades just smiled before stepping aside, persephone using her powers. Alistar gasped as he felt his wounds disappear, his mom and Ella's mom fading back into existence, as well as Aggie, Deena sister. "Use these new lives wisely," Persephone spoke before she and her husband dissapeared. Alistar looked at Ella, giving an awkward smile before she hugged him. "You saved me," Ella muttered. "Nah.... you saved me," Alistar stated.

38 notes · View notes

cy-cyborg-draws · 7 days

Text

Wev's headphones

In my comic Voidstar, Wev (the character depicted here) is autistic, and I knew from pretty early on that one of the things she was going to struggle with was sound sensitivity (something I struggle with as an autistic person as well). there's a few scenes in the first arc where she is wearing headphones, including in her introduction while she's at work and I realised pretty early on the normal over-ear headphones wouldn't work for her, so I got to work sketching up some alternatives.

Her species has 6 ears, though the ethnicity she belongs to only has two with a big, outer structure, the other 4 are more similar to the ear holes you see on birds. And so it took me a while to figure out something that would work for her. The earbuds for her primary ears needed to be able to stay in place, even when the ear itself is moving around. For the ears that didn't have the big, movable structure, I figured they still might need something to stabilise them, considering they are located on the side of the jaw, and there's not really anything for a normal ear-bud to hang onto, so for those, I went with something that had some kind of reusable adhesive to keep it in place (which would also help to block sound further).

I felt the designs though, when put all together looked a little too... mechanical and didn't really match the vibe I was going for with her character. To be fair though, a lot of disability aids can look like that even irl, but a lot of disabled people decorate them. Wev already has a lot of plant-themed jewellery, so I figured she might have decorated her noise-cancelling earbuds with fake flowers to add some personal flair.

[ID: A page of sketches depicting a set of earbuds for Wev, an alien character. Down the bottom are two sketches of her. She is a red alien with a yellow underbelly. She has a long snout, four eyes (two of which are purple, two are golden), two large, rabbit-like ears and two long antennae. She also has 4 smaller ear holes near the back of her jaw, though they are covered in both sketches. The sketch on the bottom left shows her wearing "earbuds" designed for her species. In her bigger ears, she has a bud lodged in the folds of her ear, attached to a gold ring at the ear's base with purple string. On her two smaller ears are large flat buds that cover her ear openings entirely. They too are tied to the ring with the same purple string. This image is labelled undecorated. To the right is a similar drawing, bud the buds on her smaller ears are covered in pink flowers. This image is labelled decorated. Above these images are very rough sketches showing what each of the earbuds look like in more detail with text to give more information. The sketches labelled "primary ear bud" show the buds hidden in the other sketch by the folds of Wev's ear. It shows the bud is long in shape. arrows point to the tip and a ring about halfway down from a label that reads "silicone to help stabilise the earbud when ears move/keep noise out". A sketch beside it shows that the ring at the base of the ear comes apart, labelled "ring unlocks for easy removal". Next is two sketches of the secondary ear buds for the smaller ears. One shows a close up of the outside of the bud. The bud itself is shaped like half a sphere, and is surrounded by a brim at it's edge. String is tied to the back of the spherical bud, with an arrow pointing to it saying "The buds are wireless, but Wev ties them together in case one falls off." The last sketch shows the underside, showing that under the brim is a speaker. There is an arrow pointing to the brim that says "Silicone rims coated with a mild adhesive keeps the secondary buds in place and blocks sound." /End ID]

#voidstar #cy cyborg draws #coloured sketch #scifi worldbuilding #scifiart #science fiction #alien #alien oc #my art #disabled artist #queer artist #digital art #sfw furry #furry oc #furry #autism #actually autistic #autistic artist

11 notes · View notes

theoakleafpancake · 3 months

Text

The Ties of Fate

[Image ID: A drawing of two emblems, one a leopard’s eye and the other a snake’s eye. The leopard is red and the snake is yellow, and both of them have a sort of lightning strike reaching towards each other. /End ID]

::: ::: :::

The bells were ringing again. It was a sound they all dreaded, a sound that dampened the usual cheer of the dawn of a new day.

It was the sound of war.

Will Barret lowered the bow—the bow he’d made from a tree branch—and turned to watch as the single rider made his way along the road. A coil of unease slithered inside him, and without a second thought, he leaped through the little woods, towards the farmhouse in the field.

Daniel was already outside, carrying the shovel back into the barn. “Dad!” Will shouted. His father looked up and waved a hand, stopping as he waited.

“Is everything alright?”

He slowed down, panting. “Rider,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “There’s a rider coming.”

::: ::: :::

This is my AU submission for the Ranger assessment! (More info under the cut)

It’s kinda of a reversal AU, but also not really because about half of it remains the same. It’s also still very rough so I haven’t figured out all the logistics yet.

Morgarath was never defeated. In fact, the original war continued on much longer, with each group taking heavy losses. So much so that it came to a point where a tense truce was offered.

Unfortunately, Morgarath’s advances reached from Gorlan to a shaky line across Araluen. Thus Araluen was split into Duncan’s land and Morgarath’s land (now known as Tenebris).

The erasure of the Ranger Corps did happen. And Crowley did end up uniting the Originals to help Duncan. Unlike in the main timeline, he did it alone.

Halt O’Carrick, once heir to the throne of Dun Kilty, faced the same assassination attempts from his brother Ferris. It was around the third attempt that their father grew extremely ill.

Instead of allowing Ferris to take the throne, Halt was determined to keep his brother’s corruption from spreading. So he stayed. Caitlyn was the first to know. Halt had his own ensemble that was loyal to him, and managed to keep Ferris compliant for the time being. And so when the King died, Halt took the throne.

In this AU, he still met Pritchard and trained with him. His main weapon is still a bow and arrow. He has his own guards practice the weapon as well. For a while, everything went relatively smoothly.

There was no Ranger to save, and Daniel survived. The other two who ransacked his home in the original story (I can’t remember their names) still tried to pull their stunt but were unsuccessful. His wife lived and so did Will. For fifteen years, all was still.

(For reference, I gave them the last name of Barret. Vira is his wife and Will’s mother)

When the war commences once more, Will is forced back into it as well as his father. Will proves to be not so competent in most weaponry and finds himself with the archers.

The rest of the Wards are still in their respective places. As Morgarath plans, Battleschool students, Diplomats, and Scribes are all doing their own part.

Horace is a natural when it comes to swordsmanship, but not when it comes to fitting in. His mother lives alone, and he worries about her every day. Alda, Bryn, and Jerome make his life a living hell every day and he almost wishes he never joined.

Alyss strives to be everything Lady Pauline is. Her family is still gone, and so she did grow up in the Ward with George and a few others. Coincidentally, a popular baker in town frequents Castle Redmont to help with any major events. Her daughter, Jenny, often tags along and spends time with Alyss and George.

Never given the opportunity to choose another path, Gilan is a respected knight in Caraway. He still looks to the Rangers with longing and envy, but he knows it’s far too late to join. And besides, this is what everyone expected of him, right? As the Battlemaster’s son, it’s only natural.

At the start of the AU, Cassandra is placed in Celtica. Which geographically speaking is still weird because I have no idea how she would have made it even with a truce, but I’ll figure it out. The war did start again some time after she had arrived, so there’s that. Madelydd and her get into all sorts of antics and enjoy spending time with one another.

As the war starts, Crowley and Duncan are noticeably concerned about the growing size of Morgarath’s army. They will need more support if they have any hope of winning, but international relationships are not so well off. Fortunately, though small, an army from Hibernia decides to cut in on the decision of one of the six Kings - Halt O’Carrick

And of course, Ferris sees this as the perfect moment to strike. His brother leaves Caitlyn and Ferris in charge, not without sparing a few of his men to keep an eye on his brother. Unfortunately, Ferris has his own loyal followers. If the King were to leave to fight a war and never return, no one would bat an eye, after all.

No one except Caitlyn.

Anyways, that’s all I have for now! Everything will tie together eventually, I just have to figure out how to get there, lol.

16 notes · View notes