#ballgowns are hard to draw

[donotopendeadinside]

No one will ever tell you how hard drawing and shading a FULL BALLGOWN IS

#suffering artist #ballgowns are hard to draw #ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY HAVE SHEER MATERIALS

[st4rbwrry]

‍ ‍ 𖠵𖤥 𑁤 cater to you.

𖠵𖤥 you’re the best wife every man dreamt for. letting your man use you as his personal fuck toy after a hard day of work is part of the commitment, isn’t it?

𖠵 pairing › nanami kento x black fem!reader.

𖠵 viewer discretion › voice kink, nanami moansssss, submissive / wifey reader, fingering, big tittied reader, riding, overstim, image obsession, missionary, nanami gets a little carried away, lil bits of aggression, dumbification, dacryphilia, pet names, spanking, oral, clothed sex, size kink, specific black features mentioned, minors aren’t welcomed ! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

white is his favorite color on you. the most memorable image in his head is the way you wore it on your wedding day. a dress that cost thousands of dollars paid by him, big and poofy cinderella ballgown the little girl inside of you wanted since you were young. circling every dress that resembled it in every david’s bridal monthly catalog in the mail. his forever disney princess. that, was a perfect fairytale. but seeing you wear it any other time, like right now when he unlocks the front door to your shared penthouse on the 69th floor of valley gardens. . . his dick aches.

the house is dimly lit, smelling of lemon from the candles you'd lit all around your home to the boiling beef stew set to low to keep warm for your husband. you're sitting on the black velvet sofa snuggling a giganti white heart pillow he'd gotten you for valentine's day. plucking at the colorful cotton candy jar in your lap, enjoying the sweetness melting onto your tongue as you watch your usual crime documentaries on netflix. your pretty hair in its signature locs trialing down your shoulder because they irritated your back and made it itchy. baby hairs swooped to your liking.

white painted toes digging into the soft carpet on beneath you and dressed only in a sheer white babydoll with fur only on the bust and thigh area. an angel, truly. a familiar jump in your chest is igniated when you feel his presence nearby. it's like a crazy sixth sense you have. you can tell when he's around the corner, when something's wrong when you're apart, or feeling what he feels. turning your head, you melt into your pillow, cheek firmly pressed to it as you smile adoringly at him, your whimsical vine cut diamond ring twinkling under the moonlight illuminating through the panoramic windows, overlooking the city.

“why are you still up? it's midnight, doll.”

the soft vanilla tone in his voice makes you weak, nanami taking his loafers off by the door and clearing his throat as he pulls off his tie. tall, busty figure adorned in an dark navy blue suit you can't help but drool over every time you see him in the attire. his blonde hair slightly fuzzy and you could tell he'd been rubbing his hands through it, probably out of stress. it's second nature to stand to your feet and walk towards him, wrapping one hand around his waist under his jacket while the other raked your acrylics through his undercut to pull him in for a kiss.

nanami’s body relaxes in your warm touch, tasting the nyx butter gloss on your full, darkly lined lips. you smell like vanilla and cocoa butter altogether, a scent embedded in his mind. his arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer, squeaking in his mouth when you feel his bulge graze your tummy, eyes blowing up and heat encasing your cheeks. you blink at him when he locks eyes with you again, falsies enhancing those gorgeous big eye of yours.

“um, i-i made dinner for you. i was cleaning all day and couldn't sleep so—” you trail off when you notice nanami’s barely listening to you, mind heading elsewhere as his heavy hand slips under your nightie, your body shivering from the cold of his stainless steel watch with a sapphire dial skim your ass cheeks. expensive, like him. “nanami?”

“dinner might have to wait,” nanami rasps, drawing you closer with a firm spank to your ass, gasping as the sensation aims for your clit that knocks into his hard physique. the force was much harder than you excepted.

“was work okay?” you swallow, the naiveness act taking over. unsure why, it's just weird for him to act like this out of the blue. he keeps his hot hand on your ass while the other pulls the white of his button down from his slacks, slowly unbuttoning it with one hand. his eyes piercing into your own made you nervous. but, at the same time, your thighs were squeezing together where you stood.

“no.”

you fold your lips inwardly from the blunt answer. clearly he didn't want to talk about it, or maybe right now just wasn't the time to pry. the look in his eyes that darkened into another color gave you more than enough of an answer. he wanted to fuck you. that's what he intended, and that's what was going to happen. and you were gonna let him because he needed you, and that's what good, pretty little wives like you do.

nanami begins to walk forward and you're stumbling back mindlessly until the backs of your knees hit the sofa, kicking you down to sit as your husband hovers over you; brooding and dominate. it turns you on to see him be so nonchalant with you. giving orders and taking what he wants. and you're willing to lay there and be his sweet little fuck toy because you love him. and you'd do anything to make him happy.

both of his hands cup either side of your face, prioritizing your focus on him since it's a big form of communication for him. “just be my good girl for a few minutes, yeah?”

“yes,” you nod, not bothering to ask further questions. his actions are scarily haste right after, hooking his hands underneath your underarms to pick you up like a child as he stood on the couch, maneuvering towards the middle before laying you flat, his thick thighs tight in his slacks as he kneels over your frame.

his knees are indented into the sofa, planted on either side of your shoulders, the view causing your lip to hide between your teeth. you watch as he undoes the loop of his leather belt, dropping it to the floor before pulling down his zipper and finally relieving his heavy cock with a breathy sigh out of his nose. your mouth waters upon sight, whimpering and rubbing your thighs together. the tip is fat and tinted pink like his lips. thick enough to stretch you and make you full with veins leading from his v-line bulging up to the sides of his cock. a thin trail of blonde pubes throwing it all together.

“spread your legs, and hold them close to you.”

commanding without hesitation, you do as he says, nanami not surprised you aren't wearing any undergarments since you only lift and hold your knees to your chest, watery cunt clenching over air. so little work and you're soaked. the cool air in your home has your skin covered in goosebumps, his gaze another affect. you hated eye contact. it made you super nervous and even he knew that. but nanami likes respect. when he's talking to you, or fucking you, he expects you to obey and look at him. he finds you bratty when you look away or close your eyes. sometimes you'll do it on purpose just to see him clench his jaw and press a finger to his temple in agitation. it's hot.

“open up, sweetheart,” he's referring to both holes, your hands locking on the backs of your knees to hold them still as he reaches behind to sink his middle and ring finger knuckles deep into your pussy, curving them upright, your mouth spreading wide and your eyelids drooping low.

a glob a spit comes from nanami’s mouth and falls onto his cock he uses his unoccupied hand to lube over, hips bucking from sensitivity. he hisses low, lining his dick up with your velvety tongue that happens to stick out obediently for him. nanami sucks in his lower lip and knots his brow when he gets his cock in your salivating mouth, blissfully shutting his eyes as he continues to fuck your pussy open, your moans drowning out the television.

“fuck, wrap your hand around it. stroke it how i like it, baby,” he's shrugging off his jacket now, tossing it out of sight, chiseled chest peaking past the cotton dress shirt still clinging to his lightly tanned skin. masculine cologne whisking over your nose. you could feel the blood rushing through his dick on your tongue, the size weighing down in your mouth. taking one dainty hand and holding it up to his mouth, waiting for him to spit in it. he does with lulled eyes, guiding your hand to his dick and watching you stroke your pretty hand gently over it. rotating your wrist elegantly while raising your head up to enclose your thick lips around the head, sucking and tugging.

nanami is usually a patient man, depends on the situation. right now, patience isn't in his vocabulary. your husband leans forward slightly, taking his fingers out of your soppy cunt and wrapping that same hand around your neck before rolling his hips to fuck your throat. his cock jumps when you choke, gagging around it, the wet squelch aiding him to pick up his pace.

“you nasty fuckin’ girl, fuck,” the tears brimming your eyes has him biting his lip, your nails clawing at his thighs and breathing through your nose, prolonging this for as long as possible to appease him. “keep strumming your clit, princess.”

he gives you a breather, slowly sliding his cock out. you gasp, still moaning as you raise your knees again and reach between yourself, bucking your hips into your hand and circling your slick clit with all three fingertips. he's prepared to stick his dick back in that hot tunnel of your mouth, but when he's observing how good you're making yourself feel; arching your back, squirming, and rubbing his thigh all at once. . . he wants another thing. that thing that's gushing over your fingers and soaking your plush inner thighs.

his weight on you dials low and your eyes shoot open in awareness. nanami scoops you up by your waist and carried you with him as he settles down on his back, cock resting on your tummy throbbing with beads of precum leaking from the tip. it's easy to tell he's been feeling this way all day. the straps to your babydoll slips off your shoulders, body suddenly feeling hot and taking the initiative by tugging it down to your midsection, tits spilling out.

chewing on your bottom lip, you cup your chest in your hands, holding them up as nanami raises your ass and fists his cock, getting the tip a little wetter by rushing it over your gushing hole and swollen bud, twitching from the feeling. both of you moan in sync as he lines it up before letting you sit on it slow. sometimes you struggle with doing it yourself so he does it for you, the two of you listening to that pop sound when he's finally inside.

“fuc—mmm. kento,” he doesn't need to instruct you on what to do next. raising your ass to drop back down and clap down on his clothed thigh, holding your chest and pumping his aching cock with your tight cunny, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks.

“unh, shit,” nanami moans, spreading your ass cheeks apart to dig deeper. you can't help yourself when you're stuffed like this. and he has the ability to do it every time he fucks you. makes your brain staticky and your voice monotoned. you're so so wet and both of you could feel it soaking your pelvis’s.

“what'd i say about those eyes closin’ on me, sweetie? huh?” a rough hand grabs your chin to keep you focused, the harsh grip and stern demeanor makes you whine and drop down to fully sit. nanami gasps when you begin to scoot atop of him, his other hand grabbing under the curve of your ass as you grind yourself heatedly above him, nanami hooking his thumb in the side of your mouth, eyes locked on yours.

your body weakly leans forward, clit thumping against his pubic hairs, the whimpers leaving your mouth heavenly. “baby,” you hiccup, whining low in your throat, your knees bucking and clashing together as your thighs interlock, feeling that familiar wave crash in your stomach. clawing at his abs and humping his cock faster, twitching. “babe.”

“yeah,” nanami nods to coax you, brows furrowed, digging his hands into either side of your hips and dragging you on his dick. “keep cummin’.”

“mmm, need you,” your breath picks up, gathering your locs to wrap and hold them up behind your head, screaming softly when nanami smacks your ass hard, shoving you down to his chest so your face is buried between his neck before he keeps his big hands under the curve of your ass and fucks up into you hard. “yesss, baby fuck me. fuck me.”

your mewls cater him, feeling so much better than he did before he stepped through that door. grunting by your ear and swatting your ass over and over. “i love the way you take it all, doll. make it messy. unh, my pretty girl.”

that coil ripples yet again, cumming hard on his cock, hair falling down your side when your arms drop, digging them into his shoulder blades, quaking and crying uncontrollably. your tears wetting the sofa. you’re babbling nonsense, laying limp in his arms and letting him continue to have his way with you.

his lips are grazing your earlobe, sniffling and wiggling in his hold to let you go because you couldn't take another orgasm. him whispering, “made a mess on my cock now you're dripping on the couch, too. tsk,” is what drives you to cum again without control. the scream you extricate is silent, irises rolling back and breathless moans following. “k-kento, please. i'm sensitive.”

“shh, i know,” nanami holds your face in his hands, clashing his mouth to yours, passionately swapping spit and sloppily smacking lips. “just let me cum then we can shower, okay?”

pouting, you nod. nanami is frantic when he switches positions, laying you on your back and dangling your ankles over his broad shoulders. he's sinking his dick in fully, hissing and smacking your outer thigh before fucking you into the couch he's sure will leave an imprint. the speed of his thrusts are too fast and hard for you to grasp. losing your mind all over again. “you're so good f’me, princess. so so good hugging my cock like that.”

you gently claw at his chest. “nngh, i love you, i fucking i love you. love you.”

that alone was enough for his orgasm to near, pace picking up aggressively to pump you full of his cum, an unknown high-pitched moan bellowing from him that it makes your eyes go wide. grabbing his slim waist and helping him rut into you as you cum once more, voice leaving you completely and nanami taking you in his buff arms the moment his cum splatters your walls. kissing and sucking on your neck.

it feels even hotter now, brushing your hands over his backside lazily to pull off his shirt, needing him fully nude. nanami chuckles between your neck, reaching by his sides to tug down his slacks so you'll feel better. him being hot made you hot. he wants to stay here for a while longer, not bothering to pull out.

“are you okay now?” your angelic voice asks, batting your lashes when he looks at you, sucking on your lips.

“of course i am.”

ꕤ tags; @nalyana @sailewhoremoon @dejwrites @sinssoul @emomanswhore @satorhime @megumischubbycheeks @shamelesshoefairy @massivelynervousprincess @bnnyditz @yoshimurah @getosbunny @getoswhore

link. link. link. # proceed with caution # also this the lil character i made for this fic. <3

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x black!reader #jjk #jjk smut #nanami x y/n #☆. hellavile.

[n0brainjustvibes]

alec on scadrial! what crimes will he commit?

fun facts!

Era 1 Mistborn AU, Heartbroken-centric. I wanted to draw Aisha and some other Heartbroken before posting this, but ran out of patience >.< don't worry though, they are coming! Based on this post and this post.

I'm torn on whether to transport Heartbreaker into this AU, or just make the Heartbroken Straff Venture's kids. He'd mess them up in a similar fashion.

Alec is a Rioter (can inflame people's emotions), but doesn't use Allomancy much to avoid drawing his family's attention. Instead, he is adept with poisons (he's the cooler Zane).

Weapon of choice is poisoned glass or obsidian throwing knives. The materials are because they look cool as non-metals, they can't be pushed around by Allomancy. The method is because inconveniencing and sometimes incapacitating enemies from the sidelines fits his combat style. I only remembered that Glass Exists after drawing this... he'd probably use that more often. For the aesthetic.

I want all the Heartbroken to operate in sniper-assassin capacity, so they all get ranged weapons. [Archer Cherie has consumed my brain.]

This is Alec infiltrating a ball, he dresses Slightly less fancy in everyday life but not by much. (He can't afford to simply replace his fancy clothes here, so he's a bit more careful with them than in canon.)

Alec gets scars @lakesbian edition because they helped me out with Alec's Mistborn-era fashion (ty :) ), but also because he was one of Heartbreaker/Straff's bastard children, raised as skaa, then used as Heartbreaker/Straff's private assassin, then lived on the streets at first after escaping. That leaves a literal mark.

it's SO HARD to draw mistborn alec without just drawing book 1 vin 😭😭 scrawny scarred androgynous french-adjacent 15yo kid with short black hair who wears a mistcloak and/or ballgowns at times? i see no difference

(alec does not have a mistcloak but aisha lets him run around in hers sometimes. for fun)

(if he was a mistborn he'd get a custom white mistcloak made. wouldn't wear it when stealth was required, but for Dramatics? absolutely)

#alec vasil #regent #mistborn #worm #worm fanart #parahumans fanart #mistborn fanart #vibes art #mistborn worm nation rise up

[arcadekitten]

Hello Arcadekitten!!! I read the Stellamb wedding post(s) and it got me wondering about how Stella’s wedding dress would look like… I absolutely love Sweet No Death, so I knew I had to make some artwork of it!! And, because I absolutely suck at explaining things through text, here is my interpretation of Stella’s wedding outfit in traditional art! ✨💫🌟

Materials Used: Mixed Media Paper, Ink Fineliner Pens, Alcohol Markers Gel Pens, Paint Pens, Highlighter and Mechanical Pencil

Time Took: 1 week

I don’t know if you’re okay with people sending fanarts and stuff to you, but I absolutely love your work and well, I’m quite proud of this piece (even if I probably shouldn’t be lol) as I worked extremely hard on this and wanted to share it with you! I hope that’s okay ❤️

A little artist “#Deep Dive tm” because I put WAY too much effort into the tiniest details and I am NOT gonna let them get overlooked 😤 /jk

-Stella’s dress is made with her signature colors rather than white, because I felt that with her being a Star Witch and all, a species that mostly has extravagantly colorful clothes (in my humble opinion) she felt that just going with plain white on what is possibly the most important day of her life would feel… well, a bit redundant, so she opted for a more ‘colored’ ballgown, with lacy gloves and a pearled veil and all. The local tailor and dressmaker is a bit confused, but Lambchop is definitely not complaining! ;) 💕💓

-(Well, that, and I also felt that the color blended WAY too much with her skin tone and changed it, but that’s my little secret hehe 👀😉)

-In my mind, Stella can make her hair look like it has a small galaxy within it! With actual moving stars and little twinkling lights. ✨💫✨⭐️🌟I think that she usually saves it for special, grandiose occasions, buuut since she’s not the kind of person who would THROW a grand, special occasion, she never unveiled it before her wedding day! (Poor Lambchop’s heart nearly gave out on the spot right then and there! 😭❤️)

-I didn’t add her usual Star hair clip because she already has like… 10 stars in her design already lmao /lh ⭐️

-As you can see, her bouquet’s… cloth? Fabric? I’m not sure what to call it… thing? The stuff that her flowers are wrapped in are Lambchop’s colors! Thought that it would be a neat visual detail… also, I can totally imagine Stella requesting that specific color scheme from the local florist! 💐🌷🌸

-Speaking of flowers… I decided to color in one of the moon daisies a little bit… differently hehe ;) It’s a small reference to the beginning of the game, where we see Stella change the color of the one rebellious moon daisy, from orange to lavender, except this time… she keeps it and uses it in her bouquet! 💖💗

-I like to think that it symbolizes Lambchop versus the rest of the townspeople… and Stella’s way of acknowledging him as a “real person”, at least compared to the others… one who is different, one who is unique… the one that she’s going to marry 💍🩷

-(it’s so absolutely sappy when she tells him so that he just couldn’t resist kissing her right then and there)

-And finally… (this is the last one I promise) I cut out the entire drawing to make it look like a potion bottle, partially because Stella is a witch, and partially because I had this cute lil idea that she stores all of her happiest memories into a magical bottle and takes it out whenever she feels sad, so that she can ‘experience’ it again and feel happier. Of course, with Lambchop by her side, she never really has to use it!💞🩷💗

-And yes, I also made the bottle have Lambchop colors as well 🐏 Just a nice little thing tying em together more visually… ❤️

…And I am SO SORRY for ranting!!! I worked incredibly hard on this piece (traditional art is NOT my strong suit, lol) but I wanted to make something special for one of my favorite games and one of my favorite game devs! So here it is, and I hope that you like it! 🤞❤️😁

(P.S: Any ideas for Lambchop’s wedding design?)

Oh my goodness this is BEAUTIFUL!! The artwork itself is just stunning!! You took so much time on it and it really shows, especially with all your attention to detail in it(and I LOVE hearing your explanations for some of the choices you made!! They're just so darling!) Everything about this is stellar and I'm in love with it, thank you so much!! ♡ ♡ ♡

Also I TOTALLY AGREE Stella would not wear white for her wedding!! Color all the way!! ♡

As for Lambchop's outfit...I think I've got it envisioned in my head but I haven't quite drawn anything for it yet! Top hat, definitely. I think his suit isn't black. Probably brown! Bowtie on the neck. His pants are more like shorts and are cut juuuuust above the knee! Still wearing long socks with garters. He looks incredibly dapper--as he should!! It's his wedding!

Hopefully he at least looks good for the photos before he decides to get any mysterious red stains on his outfit. (It's fine. Stella could clean them with the snap of her fingers, but still!)

#sweet no death #stellamb #witchywool #lambchop #stella #fanart #ask

[solisaureus]

❌will solace (in regards to the drawing game)

i had a hard time thinking of something will solace would never wear so i just drew him in a huge ballgown partially bc i wanted to draw one and partially bc his ass does not have this kind of taste. he looks nice though

#will solace #ask #anonymous #solisarteus

[the-fiction-witch]

The Mademoiselle P1

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader (KINDA)

Rating SMUT

Requested: Hey, I don't know if you take requests atm, but what if y/n was a showgirl and Jack Dawkins heard of her around from people or something? :)

I finished up the day heading to my room for the night immediately shutting my door and heading to my bed, but I saw a small pile on my bed and a note.

'You're mail came today, Jack X Hetty' 

I completely forgot I had even been waiting for anything, I suppose that's just one of those things where everything takes forever. I sat on my bed and went through it sorting everything, where there wasn't much a book I had given up waiting for, a correspondence from a London doctor I asked about something, and a couple of letters from my navy friends. I set the letters on my table to look over later, and stripped off climbing into bed. I tried to get some sleep but my curiosity was rampant so I grabbed the letters from the table and laid in bed looking through them. It took me a while given my reading but I got through each one by one. I finished with a letter from Peter.

Peter and I were once bunkmates, he was a few years older than me I was only thirteen and he was nineteen, the two of us very much formed a bond through the shit, blood and sea waves, he works at a shipping warehouse in Gibraltar now and we often send letters back and forth to keep up to date with each other. It would be nice to see him but letters will have to do for now. 

I read the letter, reading about his news, his wife, his work all the usual stuff we talked about, I smiled at it and set the letter on the side to write a reply when I next got a chance, But I felt the envelope was still fairly heavy so I tipped out the contents and saw a few postcards tumble out, one had writing on the back. 

'I recall your affinity for her Dawkins ;)' 

I smirked a little already knowing what they were. Peter had a thing about 'French Postcards' he said he 'collected them' which I think was an excuse, and given we shared a space during the uhhh... Long nights at sea, Yeah I kinda got into it too. I don't know there's something so... innocent about them like I know I shouldn't have them but I still like having them, and he knew of my affection towards... a certain showgirl often featured in these postcards, so if ever he came across one of her he'd get it for me, and now saves them up to send to me with his letters. 

I set the envelope on the table and slinked myself down onto my pillow tucking the covers up, as I picked up the postcards flipping them over. The first Was a sweet picture a drawing done in the typical style, three ladies by the beach in small bathing suits enjoying the sand and sea,  I recognized her Y/E/C eyes and Y/H/C Hair depicted in her usual way. And the caption at the bottom of the card is laced with intricate filigree.

The Ladies ponder taking a dip or getting dirty. 

I flipped to the next card immediately again I recognised her drawing, sat at a vanity in black stockings and a little nightie barely covering her and combed her sweet hair, the end of the picture at her knees, a man drawn peeking through her changing screen with the caption.

The Mademoiselle's nosy visitor. 

I admit my eyes lingered on her exposed shoulder and thighs longer than I like to admit, before flicking to the next one this one was mostly empty it was again a drawing of y/n in her little boots, stockings, har and gloves holding a bedsheet to conceal herself but a mirror had been sketched behind her revealing her bare ass, the end of the picture at her knees, and the caption. 

Yes, your sheet looks lovely Mademoiselle.

Already my eyes lingered on her and I bit my lip a little looking at her, I flicked to the next one and almost immediately had to shift my hips a little I knew I was already getting hard just looking at them, this one was her again in the arms of a man, she wore a beautiful blue ballgown the top of which had fallen to expose her bare breasts as the man she danced with dipped her forcing her to arch her back to better expose her breasts,

Suddenly every man at the Cotillionwants to dance with The Mademoiselle. 

I couldn't help my hand moving down to take my shaft softly giving myself a little soft rub as I looked at the perky nipples she had in the drawing, I slowly made my hand move faster until I swapped to the last postcard a very perfect drawing of her stood with only a thin sheet around her revealing almost all of her her violin in hand playing it gently, the end of the picture at her knees, I couldn't help looking at every inch of her my hand moving on its own desperate just from looking at these -

"Uuuummmmmm!" I groaned from the back of my throat as I hit my wall sending my seed across my sheets, I laid my head back on my pillow fully and gasped desperately trying to... THINK through my post-orgasm brain fog, having dropped the cards on my chest in such excitement once my head was back on straight I took the cards and added them to the small box under my bed with the rest of them adding them to the box one by one, until I got to the last one and I couldn't help but smirk laid against my pillow looking at her "Hmm... Très Vilaine Mademoiselle" ( Translation: 'hmm... Very Naughty Mademoiselle') before I gave her a kiss and an eskimo kiss before putting the card away in the box so I could get to bed. 

I yawned a little while doing some bandages, my mind elsewhere as it often was.

"When do you think I'll be out of here doc?" he asked,

"Ohh shouldn't be too long, couple of days while we monitor infection." 

"You think I'll be out by the sixteenth?"

"Oh absolutely, why somewhere to be?"

"Well yeah, uhhh haven't you heard?" he whispered

"About?"

"The Mademoiselle," he said and I froze up "She's got a show in Melbourne but she's stopping in Port Victoria." 

"She is!" I jumped a little louder than I should have done,

"Half the Port's going to see her, see if she'll give us a show before she goes off again."

"Really... Hu" I nodded trying not to get excited "You'll be out by then I'm sure." I told him heading out of the ward trying not to jump or blush with excitement... 

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #thomas sangtser #thomas brodie sangster s #thomas brodie sangster i

[spnhunter4life]

Bullets and Ballgowns Chapter 3

Series Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Once again, so sorry for the long wait. I knew it had been a while but didn't realize it was a little over a month since the last chapter now. I'm still excited about this story and have so many ideas for it, and I spend a lot of time planning it out. Unfortunately, I'm having a really hard time making myself sit down and actually write it though. I actually already have a small start on chapter 4, so I really hope it won't take so long before the next update, but I can't make any promises. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

(Whoops. Completely forgot about the header picture, so still don't have that. It'll probably show up eventually...)

The tea at the Winchester’s house came and went. It had been a pleasant experience. Mrs. Winchester was much as Anna had expected based on her mother’s stories. A bright, friendly woman who was easy to talk to. The three of them had a wonderful afternoon together talking about anything and everything. Anna even got a chance to have a short conversation with Sam when he came into the drawing room shortly before she and her mother left. Yes, it had been a very pleasant afternoon.

The carriage ride home had been less so. 

“Anna, we need to talk, darling,” her mother said shortly after leaving.

“Ok,” Anna agreed warily. Those words were rarely followed by good news.

Her mother seemed to hesitate, thinking over her words. After a moment, she sighed. “You must know that I want the best for you, that all a mother ever wants for her daughter is for her to be happy. For her to have all the things she'll ever need in life, and even for her to have all the things she wants.” Anna nodded in understanding, but there was a small frown of confusion on her face. 

“That's what I would wish for you,” her mother continued. “But you know as well as I that we don't always get what we want.” Anna could tell this last part was very meaningful to her mother, but she had no idea what her point was.

“I know that,” she said when her mother seemed to be waiting for a response.

“Then let me remind you that you are engaged.”

Anna stiffened slightly. She wasn't entirely sure what she was being accused of, but she did not like the turn this conversation had taken. “I haven't forgotten.” And then, after a brief pause, “I’m not sure what your point is, Mama.”

“There's no need to be so defensive, darling. I do not mean to reprimand you, only to give you a reminder and a warning. I know Mr. Sanders may not have been your first choice, but-”

“Not my first choice?” Anna asked incredulously. “He wasn't my choice at all! Papa planned it all out while I was visiting Aunt Jane in London! He may have sent a letter asking if I would agree to the arrangement, but it was more formality than anything. How could I possibly have said no when all the gentlemen were in agreement and not really concerned with my opinions?

“You must remember what it was like to be a young girl. To know how pointless and even foolish it is to hope to be one of the rare few who get to marry for love. But the problem with hope is that you can't just turn it off and stop feeling it, no matter how you might tell yourself to. 

“So yes, it's what I expected for myself. And I know Mr. Sanders is a good option and I should count myself lucky to spend my life with a kind young gentleman like him. I know I could have been promised to someone truly awful. But fortunate as I may be as far as arranged marriages go, it is still not what I hoped for for myself! I do not love him! I suppose I shall have to learn to one day, but until then I cannot just turn off my disappointment. That does not mean I don't plan to marry him or that I've forgotten about our engagement.”

“I am glad to hear it, though I did not think otherwise.”

“But you said-”

“I said I wanted to remind you, yes. I also said I wanted to warn you. I did not mean I was reminding you in the sense that I worried you’d forgotten, but in the sense that I want you to be careful. I do remember what it’s like to be a girl wishing for love. I remember what it feels like to meet a gentleman you hope will be that man. And I know what it looks like too. That’s not how you look at Mr. Sanders. Nor would I expect you to,” she hurriedly added, seeing the protest in Anna’s eyes. “After all, you hardly know the man. Perhaps that should change? It is perfectly possible for you to fall in love with him if you only take the time to get to know him.”

“It will be a long while before we are married, Mama. I imagine we shall have ample opportunity to get to know each other. Besides, he hardly seems worried about spending his time with me. What am I to do when he offers me only the barest amount of attention he can without seeming impolite?”

“Do not take it personally, darling. He is young and unsure of how to handle the situation. It does not mean he does not wish to know you,” her mother assured her.

“I know that. I can see that in his own way he is trying. But you cannot expect me to get to know him when doing so is entirely dependent on him.”

Her mother sighed in exasperation. “Alright, fine. If you cannot spend more time with your fiance, then perhaps instead you should be spending less time with other gentlemen.”

“Mama!” Anna cried. “You expect me to spend the whole season sitting on the edge of ballrooms, turning away any gentleman who offers a dance? Because I do not love the fiance that I did not choose for myself?”

“It is not because you are not in love. You can hardly help that. I only hoped you could make it easier on yourself by getting to know him so you could be in love. And I do not expect you to turn away every gentleman. Just the one.”

“I still do not know what you are talking about,” Anna huffed out a little more angrily than she intended. She was certain she had done nothing to deserve this warning from her mother.

Her mother sighed again, this time in resignation. In a calm, placating tone she said, “I told you I know what it looks like when a young lady has more than a passing interest in a gentleman. I see it plain as day on your face when you speak to Mr. Winchester.”

Her confusion must have shown clearly on her face. She thought back to her short conversation with Sam that afternoon and wondered how her mother could have interpreted it as anything more than friendship. 

If she’d only asked instead of making assumptions, we could have avoided this whole unpleasant ride, Anna thought bitterly to herself.

“Mama, you misunderstand my feelings. His feelings as well.” Her mother’s raised eyebrow was all the prompting she needed to continue. “Whatever it is you think you saw between us this afternoon, you are wrong. He is my friend. That is all.”

It was her mother’s turn to be confused, but it was quickly replaced with understanding. “I do not mean the younger Mr. Winchester,” she informed her.

Her meaning was clear enough. Anna fought against the panic that threatened to take control at those words and said calmly, “I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times, Mama. I barely know him.”

“Perhaps. But I know you. I saw how he caught your attention at the ball. I cannot fault you for that. After all, he is quite a handsome young man. I saw him catch the eye of many young ladies that night.” Anna knew how intentional this seemingly innocent statement was. Her mother was watching her carefully for a reaction. She was careful not to give her one. “Noticing a handsome face is not what concerns me,” she continued. 

“I saw you when you danced that night, and again when you walked at the park two days ago. The way you look at him… well you don’t look at anyone else that way. Certainly not Mr. Sanders. It’s like you’re hanging on to his every word. Like you do not dare look away from him or he may disappear and you’ll find out his existence was just some great trick. That is what concerns me.”

“You need not be concerned, Mama.”

“Do not lie to me, Anna,” her mother commanded, more disappointed than angry.

“I am not lying! Whatever it is you think you saw, he is my friend. Just as his brother is.”

“Not just as his brother is,” her mother disagreed.

“Yes! He knows I am engaged and has asked specifically if I might be his friend. So you see, there is nothing to worry about. I will not be creating a scandal by encouraging Mr. Winchester’s attentions when I am already engaged.”

“My dear, I never thought such a thing. I am not worried about a scandal, I am worried for your heart. I do not want it to break.” Anna started to protest, but her mother was quick to cut her off. “Deny it as much as you wish, but I know what I saw. I am only suggesting that perhaps you should end your friendship now, before you fall too much in love and end up getting hurt.”

~~~~~

It was three weeks later and Anna was walking by herself, replaying this conversation. In those three weeks, this year’s social season had meant frequent balls and teas and picnics. Keeping to his promise of being friends, Mr. Winchester had sought out her company at each and every function. She told herself it was harmless, that there had been no flirting of any kind from him and so as long as she kept herself in check – which she absolutely would – there was no reason to worry. 

And she still firmly believed that. But she couldn’t deny that the more she got to know him, the more strongly she felt for him. It was getting harder and harder to imagine a life where she was only allowed to be his friend, without ever having the chance of even a hope for more. 

Maybe it was time to bring this friendship of theirs to an end. It would be humiliating, of course, the conversation she would have to have with him to explain things. But in order to protect her own heart, she thought it might be necessary.

She was so lost in these thoughts that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. She had walked further than normal, going well past the boundary of her family’s land and heading into what was miles and miles of nothing but grass and hills and woods. 

She sighed at the realization of how far she’d gone and had just started to turn around when something in her peripheral vision made her stop. She looked up and gasped in fear. A low, warning growl accompanied a single step forward by the large wolf. It was a dark gray color, with matted fur and a torn ear. Its teeth were bared as it stared Anna down from a dozen yards away.

Heart racing and breath catching in her throat, Anna kept one eye on the wolf as she started scanning the rock and branch strewn ground for something she could use to defend herself. Most of the rocks were too big for her to lift, most of the broken off branches too small and weak to be a defense, more large sticks than true branches.

Anna knew better than to turn her back on a predator. She kept one eye on the animal as she slowly took a step back, still searching the ground. The wolf didn’t appear to like her moving and he let out another threatening growl. Anna froze. She didn’t want to provoke him into attacking, but she also couldn’t sit there defenseless and just wait for it to happen. She took another cautious step backwards. And another. The wolf continued his growling, but didn’t approach. Everything went wrong on her fourth step back.

Two large rocks that she hadn’t seen sat side by side, pressed against each other. Her foot knocked against them, right at the point where they met. She wobbled, fighting desperately to keep her balance. In the end, gravity won out and she fell down. Hard. The force of her fall wedged her foot between those two rocks and she knew it wasn’t coming back out easily. Her quick movement and obvious vulnerability provoked the wolf into a charge. A noticeable limp slowed him, but Anna still only had seconds. 

She yanked uselessly at her foot, hoping she could somehow manage to pull it free as she looked for anything nearby that she could so much as lift. There was a sturdy looking stick to her left, not as sturdy as she would have liked, but she had no other option. She picked it up just as a great boom shattered the air. Anna ducked reflexively before realizing how incredibly stupid that was. She hefted her stick, ready to swing, only to see the wolf crumpled and unmoving about five feet in front of her.

“Are you all right?” A voice asked from her right. Anna turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a man, gun in hand, running towards her. Of course if she’d been able to think clearly she would have recognized the voice immediately. It wasn’t until the man was kneeling in front of her, repeating his question, that the shock wore off and she took in the very concerned face of Dean Winchester.

“I’m all right,” she answered a little dazedly. “Thanks to you, I suppose,” she added, noting the gun sitting on the ground beside them and putting two and two together.

His head bowed down and a breath escaped his lips, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Thank God,” she heard him say quietly to himself. When he looked up again and his eyes met hers, she could see the relief written across his face. “Good,” he said. “Then let’s get you home.”

Under normal circumstances she would have turned down the offer. Innocent as it may be, if they were to be seen walking alone together, assumptions would be made and rumors spread. This was not a normal circumstance though – something which could be explained on the off chance they ran into anyone – and she found herself incredibly grateful to have company. The safe path she traveled frequently no longer felt safe, and she didn’t want to make the journey alone.

“Yes, please,” she agreed easily. Mr. Winchester chuckled as he stood and offered his hand. Anna started to reach for it, but then remembered her foot.

“I’m afraid my foot is rather badly stuck,” she informed him.

“Oh! Well I- I mean can you-” Mr. Winchester fumbled with his words for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Do you need me to help, or can you get it on your own?” He finally managed to say. Anna noticed the slightest red tint to his cheeks and couldn’t help but think how cute it was to see the normally confident man so ruffled.

“I believe I may need some help,” she admitted. It was possible she could do it on her own, but it would be difficult. Better to save time and just ask for assistance now. 

“Alright,” he agreed, voice sounding a little rough. As he once again knelt down beside her, Anna realized why Mr. Winchester had briefly struggled for words. In order to help her, he would have to touch her. She found herself fighting down her own blush at the thought.

This is perfectly acceptable, she told herself. Not that anyone was likely to be walking by, but even if they did, they could find nothing wrong with this interaction. It was only a gentleman helping a lady in distress. Something he seems to be particularly good at, she thought wryly. 

All humor faded and her breath caught in her throat as he reached for her. He carefully lifted the hem of her skirt, just enough to see her foot and the rocks holding it captive. He studied the scene for a moment and then gently grabbed the heel of her foot, cautiously wiggling it first side to side and then up and down to see how tightly it was stuck. He let her foot go and looked contemplatively at the rocks. “I should be able to move this rock enough for you to pull your foot out.”

Anna looked at the rock doubtfully. It was large enough to be heavy even for a man of Mr. Winchester’s size and could be partially buried snugly in the earth. It would not move easily. “Are you sure?” she asked as he grabbed hold of it with both hands. 

“The alternative is to yank on your foot until it comes loose, something I fear will cause you a great deal of pain. I’ll be able to move it,” he told her confidently when he saw her doubt. “Ready?”

Anna nodded. She watched his fingers turn white against the rock as he tried to pull it toward himself. No doubt, the muscles in his arms were tensed and visibly straining, but she couldn’t tell with his suit coat covering the evidence. It took only a couple of seconds before she felt the pressure against her ankle lessen. She was quick to lift her foot, not wasting any precious seconds. It was still a tight fit, and the rough surfaces of the rocks pressed her boot into her skin, bruising instead of scraping the skin raw. It didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t long before she was free.

Mr. Winchester let go of the rock, face red from exertion. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It hurts a little,” she admitted, downplaying the pain. It hurt more than a little, but she wasn’t about to complain. “But I believe I can walk.”

His lips quirked into a smile and, as it always did when he smiled at her, Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said as he stood up. “But that will not be necessary. Kaz is quite capable of carrying you.”

Anna frowned. Who was Kaz? She hadn’t even realized anyone else was here and she certainly didn’t need to be carried. She took the hand he offered to help her up, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her right foot. She quickly adjusted, resting her weight on her left foot. “Kaz?”

“My horse,” he explained. And then, in a teasing tone, “How else do you think I got here?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, I suppose.” She tried not to be embarrassed by her oversight. After all, she had a perfectly good reason. She looked over his shoulder, in the direction he had come running from and noticed the large, jet black mare standing there grazing as she patiently waited for her rider to return. “Wow,” she breathed out. “She’s beautiful.” Mr. Winchester beamed with pride.

“She is,” he agreed. He started in her direction and Anna followed, wincing when she stepped on her bad foot. Mr. Winchester noticed of course, and instructed her to stay put. He grabbed his discarded gun off the ground and put it back into the holster tied to the saddle before grabbing the reins and leading the horse over. 

“I know she’s big, but she’s gentle as they come,” he promised. Anna hadn’t been worried. She loved horses, almost as much as she loved music. She was awestruck at the sight of the powerful creature, and giddy at the idea of riding her. Mr. Winchester settled his hands on her waist and, after asking her if she was ready, lifted her up onto his horse’s back. Anna steadied herself in the saddle and then reached out to pet Kaz’s soft, warm neck. Reins in hand, Mr. Winchester encouraged the horse into a walk and started off in the direction of Anna’s house. 

“Why do you suppose he was all the way out here?” Anna wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen a wolf this close to home. I’ve never even heard of anyone seeing one around here.”

“He was desperate,” Mr. Winchester answered. “Did you see how badly he was limping? He was likely very hungry and not strong enough to catch anything, especially on his own, so he was hoping to find an easy kill like a chicken or a sheep.”

Anna hummed, considering this explanation. It certainly made sense. “And what about you?” she asked. “What are you doing all the way out here?” At a guess, this particular stretch of road was over five miles from his house. It was a long way to go just for a ride.

“I was just coming out for a hunt,” he explained. Of course, Anna thought. She should have realized that. In the time she had known him, she had learned that Mr. Winchester was an avid hunter. According to him, there was little he enjoyed more. “Good thing too, or I wouldn’t have been over this way. I certainly wouldn’t have had a gun.”

“Yes, I am grateful you were there. I don’t know that the stick I found would have been enough to deter him, no matter how hard I hit him with it. At the very least I would have been quite hurt, but I do believe it is safe to say that you saved my life. Thank you.”

“You do not owe me your thanks,” he was quick to say. “I am very glad I was here. I cannot even stand to think about what would have happened otherwise.” Though he tried to hide it, Anna caught the emotion in his voice. He took a breath before changing the subject. “And you? What on earth were you doing all the way out here by yourself?”

“Just walking.”

“Do you usually walk so far from home?” 

“No. I was a little caught up in my thoughts today,” she admitted shyly. “I didn’t realize how far I’d gone. I was just about to turn around when I saw the wolf.”

“What were you thinking about so intently?” Mr. Winchester asked. “It must have been terribly interesting to make you so unaware of your surroundings.”

Anna’s breath hitched a little. Not ten minutes ago she had come to the decision she needed to say goodbye to Mr. Winchester. Now here he was, and he wanted to know what she was thinking. If there was ever an opening, this was certainly it. But she found she couldn’t do it. Maybe it was because he had just saved her life and that was a truly poor way to repay him. That seemed a good enough explanation for her hesitation. But if she was honest with herself, Anna knew that the idea of explaining her feelings and asking him to leave her alone was one thing. The reality was a whole other beast, one she could not face. As much as she knew she should, she couldn’t bear the idea of losing his friendship.

“Nothing worth talking about, really,” she answered. The brief glance he threw her way told her all she needed to know. He didn’t buy it. He wasn’t about to push though. “Tell me about Kaz,” she said instead.

Mr. Winchester seemed pleased with her change in topic. “She’s the best horse you’ll find anywhere,” he said affectionately as he patted her on the neck. “She’s strong and smart and quick and she’ll do anything you ask of her.”

“She might be the best looking horse I’ve seen,” Anna offered. She didn’t say it for Mr. Winchester’s benefit, she meant it. There wasn’t a drop of white to be found on the gorgeous mare. Her mane and tail were long and full and soft looking. She was tall and broad and muscular. Even the most amateur horseman could see with one look what a wellbuilt horse she was. “How long have you had her?”

“Raised her myself,” he answered proudly. “She was born out of one of my father’s old mares when I was sixteen. I knew I had to have her. I begged my father for weeks and finally he told me if I put in the effort, if I took care of her and broke her when she was old enough, then she was mine. So I did.” He sounded happy in the way he only did when talking about the things he truly loved.

“Have you ever had a real bond with a horse?” He asked. “Not just a horse that you liked better than all the others, but a real bond? The kind of bond where, when you ride them, it’s like everything is right in the world. Where you know each other so well that it sometimes feels like you can actually read each other’s minds. Where you trust them completely.”

“No,” I answered truthfully, “but it sounds wonderful. She sounds wonderful.”

He looked at the horse with a fond smile. “She’s a one in a million kind of horse.”

Perfect for a one in a million kind of man, she thought.

~~~~~

Her mother was in a tizzy by the time they reached the house, worried by how long Anna had been gone. Seeing her return home with a gentleman – and particularly this gentleman – unchaperoned, only made matters worse. Anna saw the barely contained fury on her face. Until she saw the way Anna favored her ankle after Mr. Winchester helped her off of his horse. Anna hurried to explain what happened as Mr. Winchester helped her to the door. Then the calm, well-mannered lady Anna was used to disappeared as her mother swung between worrying excessively over the whole situation – and Anna’s ankle especially – and profusely thanking Mr. Winchester, all but demanding that he stay for lunch.

Knowing there is only so much one can do in the face of a grateful mother insistent on showing her gratitude, he agreed easily. When Anna protested that surely he wished to go on the hunt he had intended, or possibly to head home, he waved her off, assuring her he was happy to stay. She only hoped he didn’t regret that decision if her mother’s newfound craziness decided to stick around.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to acknowledge the time jump. Initially I planned on this chapter being about the tea at the Winchester's, but then I realized a) I had no idea what in the world to have them talk about and b) too many chapters in a row of just talking gets boring. So I skipped ahead a little bit to add something a little more exciting. Also, let's talk about Kaz. I got the idea for this from another story, Dust by @ravengirl94. Was this person the first to come up with the idea of a black horse named Kaz? No idea. But that's where I heard it, so credit where credit's due. And it's a great series, so if you haven't read it before, check it out!

Tags:

@123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

#bullets and ballgowns #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #original characters #original female character #dean winchester x ofc #non hunting au #regency era

[adarlingmess]

The Red Rose of Lyrabar 🌹

"I'm gonna take a break from making D&D art. I-" *Fortune gets to wear a ballgown for a masquerade ball this session* 👀👄👀

6 hours on CSP. Drawing those roses was really hard.

#d&d #d&d 5e #d&d art #dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dragons 5e #tiefling #tiefling rogue #oc: fortune #art #digital art #illustration #digital illustration #painting #digital painting #ballgown #victorian ballgown #artPH #artists on tumblr

[florelia12]

What If Scenario - Helia didn’t have feelings for Flora…at first.

An AU where its more of a friends to lovers for Helia and love at first sight for Flora. One-sided pining until it’s almost too late.

So, it starts with Flora and Helia and their iconic meeting. Flora falls for him but Helia’s just like “hm, nice girl.” He makes a habit out of drawing people/strangers and gives it to them. But, Flora starts to develop a crush on him because of the drawing and also because he’s hot.

They organically become friends, with Flora (retaining her wonderful season 1 personality) making an effort to get to know him. This happens because he is assigned to the squad and is having a hard time adjusting. At one point, Flora confesses to him she feels left out too because Aisha and her used to be close until Musa and Aisha became closer. She’s not jealous because she knows Aisha cares about her but it does make her feel a little bit like no one in their group really gets her.

Helia has trauma (ofc he does) and is hesitant to make friends. Why? Because his old squad were assholes to him and when a mission went wrong, a lot of people got hurt and they blamed it all on him thinking they’d get away with it since he is Saladin’s grandson. Did that happen? Ofc not. Helia being Helia didn’t argue and simply accepted his fate. Saladin kind of forced him to take a break from RF, go for therapy and try and get his shit together. Hence, the gap year at a local art school on Magix proceeded by him showing up again on Saladin’s doorstep and refusing to leave since he almost died at the end of season 1.

Helia tries to convince Saladin that he is ready to be back. Saladin has his doubts. He puts him with Sky’s team and Helia thinks its a test because who are these lovable dysfunctional idiots but really it’s because Saladin knows he’ll fit right in. Now he just has to convince Saladin (truly, himself) that he is meant to be a Specialist and so they go on missions and yada yada. Back to where I trailed off…

He’s truly not interested in relationships right now because he has way too much on his plate but he does grow fond of Flora and appreciates the efforts she puts in to make him part of the group. Even helps her out with her own insecurities and helping her gain her Charmix. They become close and the closer they get the more Flora is reluctant to ever confess.

The girls hound her about it, the boys assume Helia has any idea that Flora has a crush on him but nothing happens because angst is what keeps us alive. ALSO. Helia, Flora and Aisha friendship with Aisha being stuck in the middle of these oblivious idiots after Helia and Aisha bond over being the newbies —- something she was forced into after Flora pushing her but then ends up genuinely enjoy Helia’s friendship proceeded by Helia helping Flora get closer to Aisha again after they drifted for a while there.

So now Helia reaches a point around in season 3 right before Eraklyon’s Anniversary Party (i think we all know where this is going 🐉 ) and he realises when Sky invites him that he really is a part of the squad and that they are really his friends. Its like his moment of realising that hey he’s on the other side and reached the end of the tunnel. Like. He’s happy. He’s healthy. So, he agrees to go to the ball/party idk

Now. We love a little jealous moment during the pining stage. So, Stella sets Flora up with a date for the party — maybe Brandon’s cousin or Sky’s friend (she knows what she’s doing). Then, casually assigns Aisha as Helia’s date which he is fine about until he sees Flora in the ballgown ( cue that scene when Brandon’s jaw drops after seeing Stella at her Princess Ball ). Now he’s not too happy about Flora having a date to the ball. Does he talk to her about it? No. He sulks in one corner in true Helia style because hopping planets isn’t an option right now and his therapist told him no.

Aisha decides to give him a wake up call. Helia’s like pft no, Flora doesn’t like me like that she’s nice to everyone. Aisha tries not to hit him. At some point, Helia had told Flora he wasn’t looking for a relationship and wasn’t ready and she was like good for you I support you 100% bestie even though she was dying on the inside (haha wonder where that was inspired from, definitely not projecting what). So, Flora never made any move on him.

He asks if Flora still has a crush on him. Aisha refuses to tell him. He gets frustrated and then gets even more frustrated seeing Flora dancing with the other guy because what if she’s moved on which he would have appreciated before he had the epiphany at the worst time possible. Decides to impulsively cut in and Flora’s like huh but then stupid Sky (i love him) decides its the perfect time to announce his love for Blo- nope, Diaspro.

They all get distracted trying to run from certain death at the hand of their friend turned cruel prince (cardan my beloved but thats not relevant). Flora then gets attacked by Sky’s dragon.

Angst.

Helia finally realises that shit he loves her. She’s his best friend and he can’t lose her <\3 Tries not to breakdown and fails miserably. Therapist tells him its good he is feeling his feelings because they are annoying like that (the good ones are life-savers)

Flora doesn’t die and Helia was a little overdramatic because Magic makes healing faster and less painful. But, now he needs to deal with his feelings for his best friend which is what he calls her when she wakes up and shes like aw, same <3.

Flora senses the shift in him but remains oblivious to his awkward flirting and thinks he is being extra sweet since she was hurt. Aisha is trying not to pull out her hair.

Flora gets her Enchantix, Helia is still miserably in love but then starts to avoid her because he is so confused and he does not want to ruin his friendship with her. Flora is sad but she’s too busy saving the world so they stay quietly missing each other

Then Tecna gets sucked into the Omega portal. Helia is there for her again, no longer avoiding her and he helps her through it. She tells him she was afraid that another friend grew tired of her or bored and drifted away. She feels like she tries to be there for people and a shoulder to cry on but after a point its all she is. Sometimes she thinks that’s all she knows. She thought this time it’d be different.

Helia almost confesses but knows this isn’t the right time because she is grieving. But he assures her that she is not forgettable or replacable. Tries to make her believe it but she doesn’t seem so convinced. Internally beats himself up but his therapist assures him that healing is not linear (i need to text back mine)

They save Tecna, hurrah and now Nabu is in the picture. Hello, Aisha 😏

They go to the Red Tower looking for Water Stars. Riven and Helia stay behind, Flora sends the cute little video message and Riven sees Nabu and gets ready to throw hands

When Helia tries to stop him, Riven calls him out and says hey at least im fighting for the girl i like. Helia’s like da fuck? Does everyone know but me? Riven calls him stupid and then leaves him to his overthinking in his towel. (Yall know what scene im talking about)

Anyways, they get the Water Stars and they come back but Flora’s quiet again. Helia tries to get her to open up and she tells him her test in the crystal labyrinth was about her worst fear of being forgotten. That if she wanted the water stars, she would have to choose to be forgotten by everyone, that they forget they ever knew her. Of course she chose that path because the universe was more impt than that.

Even though the council of elders eventually restored the sacrifices, for a while no one remembered she existed and that’s terrifying.

Helia tells her he can’t imagine a world without her in it. Cue intense eye contact and then they kiss.

Finally. Cue Aisha’s florelia senses tingling like that Charles scene in b99 with peraltiago (please understand this reference)

Flora is the first to pull away thinking she kissed him even though it was very much a simultaneous effort from both parties. She panics and apologises. Helia is hurt that she looks like she regrets every decision she has ever made in her life but understands. She runs away. (Girl, same)

The last one of the gang turns 18 so they decide to go to the club for the first time. Since Aisha had Nabu now, Stella declares that Helia will be Flora’s date. Are they happy about it since they’ve been avoiding each other? Nope. Do they say no? Also no.

They sit awkwardly in the club once the pairs start pairing off. Not talking until Flora can’t stand the silence and apologises again. Says she doesn’t want to lose him as a friend. Helia agrees even though he wants to be more. They are okay for a bit before Valtor that diva sky-telecasts his challenge to duel the headmasters.

More angst and so this is why this will never be written out into a fic as my patience is a thin as my hair.

Helia is worried about Saladin but Saladin assures him Helia is ready to be on his own if anything should happen to him during the duel. He isn’t afraid to leave Helia behind because he knows he has his people now.

Then he tells him to tell Flora how he feels.

How does Saladin know? He gives some weird wise sarcastic answer like “I’m all-knowing” but really it’s because Faragonda told him. She’s the one that’s actually “all-knowing” aka invades the privacy of her fav students and ships them.

Final battle with Valtor happens. Flora returns safely and they do share the hug at the end of the episode. Helia decided to tell her how he feels but at a better time and they agree to sit down and talk about it once its all over.

Is it over yet? Haha no. Valtor is still alive, kidnaps the specialists and leaves Helia behind. On the way to save his friends, he walks off to the back of the ship and admits to Flora he feels like he failed to protect him. She comforts him and he tells her that he was so scared he wont make it out alive. That Valtor was going to kill him. She starts tearing up.

He tells her that all he could think about as he possibly faced his last moments was not telling her how he felt. She tells him she has feelings for him too. But, ofc the moment doesn’t last and they are pulled back into the cockpit.

Now. It’s over for reals. Stella throws another Princess Ball because I would too if i got turned into a monster halfway at my first one.

After all the intense moments and will they won’t they moments and pining and anticipation… they finally have a good, soft Florelia moment and they get together. The end.

#this #got out of hand #as usual #but oh well #imagine I dragged this on to season 4 #now that’d be fun #but yeah this never getting written #but anyone else is free to do so if they like the idea #if you have gotten this far into the post then here have a candy

[star--joy]

In the Margins of a Textbook

Vax's drawings always bring a smile to his sister's face, even in the midst of the cage that is Syngorn.

Prompt: creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/673924497584291840

-

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 754

Originally posted: 5/20/23

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47302639

Vex and Vax have their desks pressed together in the back corner of their Elven history classroom. It’s a small transgression they’ve learned they can usually get away with. Besides, eve if they get in trouble for it, the twins will happily take punishment together far before they accept separation.

The teacher drones on, lecturing about some long ended war, but his voice is little more than white noise to most of the classroom. Even if it weren’t so terribly boring, the professor’s voice has such a monotone quality that it could send anyone to sleep.

Vex, herself, is staring out the window, wishing she and Vax could turn into birds and fly away, leave this town behind. If she focuses, she can imagine it. Soaring through the air, looking down at an endless expanse of lush green forest. So many possibilities for the two of them

The clatter of a quill falling to the floor brings her back to reality. It was a fragile, wholly unrealistic fantasy, but Vex still mourns it a little bit. She sighs, melancholy.

Ever in tune with her emotions, Vax leans to his left so he can press their shoulders together, stealing her attention away. “Look,” he whispers, quill pointing to a little doodle in the margins of his textbook.

It’s a detailed sketch of one of their teachers, Sir Saule, with a towering dunce cap balanced precariously on his oversized head. If he weren’t such a dick, Vex might feel guilty about her snort of laughter. As it is, the professor has a vendetta against the twins for no other reason than their ‘sullied’ heritage and bloodline, so there’s only a petty satisfaction at his mockery.

Vax grins. It’s always his goal to pull laughter out of Vex with his doodles. Stuck in the hellscape that is Syngorn, both of them strive for whatever little joys they can find, which often involve little games between the two of them.

Reaching over, Vex scribbles her own drawing on Vax’s textbook. He watches with rapt attention as she drawn another professor who hates them, this one under a thundercloud that’s electrocuting them. 

Next to her brother’s artwork, Vex’s drawing lacks much technical skill, but Vax laughs all the same. “Good one.”

With a smile, Vex nudges her elbow into his side. “Your turn.”

“What do you want?” Vax asks, quill hovering above the parchment.

This game of back-and-forth doodling has always been one of Vex’s favorites, especially when she gets to come up with outlandish ideas of her brother to bring to life with his deft fingers.

This time, she asks for, “An owlbear in a ballgown.”

Vax grins. The more outlandish the request, the harder he tries. Immediately, his quill is racing along the parchment, sketching an outline that has no right being as good as it is. Vex’s smile widens as she watches him take her silly prompt and fly with it.

The owlbear is finished in minutes, and Vex has to bite her palm to stop from laughing loud enough to draw attention their way. Vax really has done a spectacular job, somehow capturing the image of a gangly owlbear pouting in discomfort as the excessively frilly gown constricts its feathers.

When her giggles have mostly slipped away, and she’s sure they’re not drawing undue attention, Vex takes her brother’s textbook and carefully rips out the small drawing.

Vax raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t stop her. “You like it that much?”

She shrugs, slipping the parchment scrap into her satchel. “Your art makes me very happy.”

It’s said in a casual tone, but the weight behind the words still makes Vax soften. Happiness of any kind can be hard to come by for them here, despite how hard they try to make each other smile. He slips his hand into hers under the desk, squeezing her fingers.

Vex huffs. “Stop being so sappy,” she demands, but makes no attempt to pull away, or even hide her smile. 

Keeping their hands together, Vax picks up his quill with his other, non-dominant hand. “Shut up and tell me what to draw next,” he replies, eager to draw more joy from his sister.

The rest of his drawings are sloppy, his left hand not used to manipulating a quill in quite the same way, but neither of them care. When they’re laughing over the doodles together, hushed but genuine, Syngorn fades away, leaving behind the joy of companionship that no one will ever be able to take from them.

#the twins.... it's all about the twins #Vex #Vax #Vex'ahlia #Vax'ildan #Critical Role #Vox Machina #The legend of Vox Machina #TLOVM #LOVM #vexahlia #vaxildan #critical role fanfiction

[laracrofted]

baby, it's halloween (and we can be anything)

synopsis: since TGM takes place around Halloween, the Daggers would definitely dress up and go to the Hard Deck Halloween party, right?

pairings: none but many a couples costume

warnings: explicit language, bad irish accents, drinking and mentions of alcohol, anachronistic tiktok trends, all fluff all the time, too many pop culture references, not edited

note: inspired by this ask i sent to @theharddeck. all of the excellent costumes were her idea because i couldn't stop thinking about the mr. and mrs. smith costume all day. for you, darling!

(top gun: maverick is a halloween movie, pass it on. and yeah, i did use a phoebe bridgers lyric for this incredibly unserious fic. title from halloween.)

It is Halloween night, and the Hard Deck is all decked out – and yeah, pun intended – with the best decorations the local stores had to offer. And then a few more that young Amelia Benjamin ordered online with the credit card in her wallet that definitely wasn’t for emergencies only. 

Purple lights adorn the wooden pillars, wrapped carefully around the faded stickers and other memorabilia, casting the whole bar in an eerie glow after the sun goes down. Two dozen or so balloons float against the ceiling, black and orange, and any available inch that isn’t blocked by a balloon is expertly covered in more fake cobwebs than Penny has ever seen in her life.

She did, however, have to draw the line upon catching Amelia on top of the bar, trying to stick glow-in-the-dark skeletons into the model planes. 

It looks great. And the whole Top Gun team shows up in full costume – including the ones that Penny knows Pete favors for the mission, even if Maverick would never say it himself.

This, for Amelia Benjamin, is simply an opportunity too good to pass up. 

[Penny Benjamin enters the single bathroom at the end of the Hard Deck’s back hall, the one that Amelia marked with a HAUNTED BATHROOM sign that made patrons think it was out of order. She sets the phone on the counter and clicks over to the camera, starting the video.]

“Okay, well, I don’t really know how this all works, but I’m Sarah Williams from the movie Labyrinth, and I think…” 

She adjusts the too big skirt of her bejeweled ballgown, damn the appeal of authentic poofs and ruffles, and tosses her hair over her shoulder, trying to remember what Amelia told her to do. 

“Ahhhh… What was it? Drunkest?” 

She has an answer, but unfortunately, Pete had a prior commitment to fly in that Halloween Airshow this weekend. Otherwise, Penny knows Maverick would be here, giving the young hotshots a run for their money.

“Who is here tonight?” A light bulb goes off in her head, probably purple to keep things in theme. “Well, from prior experience, I think Peaky Blinders will be the drunkest tonight. He still owes me $20 for knocking those planes off the ceiling back at Top Gun.” 

Gathering up her skirts, Penny gets to thinking, “He still owes me for the two steins last week too. Dammit…” and huffing, exits the bathroom in a whirl of skirts and jewels. 

[After a surprisingly intimidating shakedown from Penny Benjamin, Payback makes his way to the out-of-order bathroom. Not before grabbing his WSO by one of the many, many straps on his costume and pulling him away from the gaggle of fawning women in sexy alien costumes.]

“Hello,” Payback says in the empty bathroom, feeling stupid. He digs his cigar out of a vest pocket and re-lighting the end, takes a thick puff. An atrocious Irish accent comes out the other side. “Right, govunah, name’s Tommy Shelby from Peaky fooking Blinders, and I tink that – oi, are you taking the piss then, mate?

And Fanboy smacks him again just for that, knocking the newsboy hat right off his head with a flat palm. “What’s your problem?” 

“Can’t hear you, mate,” Payback says, smoke curling from the end of the cigar. He flashes him a good-natured grin around it. “Better pop that helmet off, right, Boba Fett?” 

“I’m not…” comes from under the helmet, all garbled. 

Damn battery must’ve died in the voice modulator. 

(He tried to save a few bucks here and there by ordering off Amazon and not from the Etsy store that designed the rest of the suit. Never again. He should’ve known not to cheap out on perfection.)

Damp curls spring from underneath the helmet as Fanboy pulls it from his head, wiping them across his forehead. They stay there, plastered from the heat and condensation inside the helmet. 

“I’m not Boba Fett. I’m the Mandalorian. He’s like… a whole different character, dude.”

He gets a dismissive cigar wave in response. 

“It’s all Star Trek, innit, mate?” 

“Star Wars. And your Tom Shelby accent needs some work. You’re starting to sound a little Australian now.” 

“Can’t sound proper Irish without my cap, and you, sir,” Payback jams a finger into his WSO’s shoulder, then pulls it back when it actually hurts. God, how much did Mickey pay for that suit? “Nicked it from my fooking head, mate. Explain yourself then.” 

“You pulled me away from the girls, man. I was this close.” He shifts his helmet from one hand to the other and pinches two gloved fingers, this far apart. “This close, man. They all wanted pictures with me.” 

“You can get back to the mask kink brigade later. Penny sent me back here, upon threat of death, mind you. Her daughter wants us all to do some TikTok trend for the Halloween party.”

“Fine,” Fanboy huffs, still pouting over the Star Trek comment. He knows Payback knows the difference. “But I’m putting the helmet back on. Need to get my money’s worth, now that I’ve given up my retirement fund to buy this costume.” 

“Whatever you say, Darth Vader.”

“I am not – ” 

Payback knocks the helmet the rest of the way down with a closed fist, ignoring the disoriented Mickey that flails around in the background of the video. He puts on his best movie star smile and blows a perfectly round smoke ring at the camera.

“‘Ello there, love, I’m Tommy Shelby. This good man over here is one of those… what’d ya call them? Stormtrooper lads?” 

“Reuben, I swear – ” 

“And I think,” Payback continues, unperturbed as his WSO makes another grab for the newsboy. “Now I’d bet my life that Mr. and Mrs. Smith are the most binned tonight. I’ve got it on good authority that Mr. Smith’s got a flask in those short shorts of his.” 

Smoke curls up from the cigar, and Mickey spots a blinking dot on the ceiling.

“Hey, Payback, d’you want to maybe put that out? It’s getting a little smokey in here.” 

“Chill out, Mando. It’ll be – ” 

[And some time later, after Federal Fire San Diego cleared the premise and declared it to be a false alarm, probably faulty wiring with all the string lights, Hangman and Coyote make their way back to the bathroom.]

Hangman sniffs the air. “Do you smell that? It stinks back here.” 

“It’s a bathroom, dude.” 

“Not…” Hangman lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Never mind.” 

He finds the phone, still propped up on the counter and brimming with battery life somehow. Adjusts the crisp white button-down in the mirror, pulling it tight over his shoulders. 

It is several sizes too large, hanging loose over his firm torso and leaving a scandalous amount of thigh and calf muscle exposed, between the hem and the top of the ruby-red rain boots. 

(And yeah, Phoenix, Jake is wearing briefs underneath the shirt. It’s not a free show after all.)

“Well now, I’m certified MILF Angelina Jolie from the iconic 2005 classic Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only gets better with age. I’ll let you guess whether I mean her or the movie.” A dashing wink at the camera. “And Coyote here is…” 

Coyote is adjusting the white boxer shorts that keep riding up his muscular thighs – skies out, thighs out and all that – and wonders if Brad Pitt ever had to deal with having such incredible thigh strength on set. Probably not. 

His shirt is white and skin-tight, almost see-through, over his chest. “Certified bad-ass Brad Pitt from Mr. and MILF… wait…” He loses his balance a little bit from thinking too hard. “That’s not right. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Nailed it!” 

He flashes an overly proud grin, and Jake wonders if perhaps, Jake might need to cut off his access to the flask tucked into his left galosh. He wanted to have a fake gun stashed in the other one, but Penny spotted him waving it around near the dartboard and confiscated it. 

“Right…” Jake deadpans, then turns back to the camera. He loosens the top button of his shirt, popping it open to reveal more of his chest. Metal winks from the gap, the chain of his dog tags. “And I think…. You know what? I think Magnum PI will be the drunkest tonight.”

Coyote looks skyward, shaking his head.

Drunken agitation leaks into his voice. “You know why I think that?” 

“Not again,” Coyote groans.

He reaches for the flask, and Mrs. Smith swats his hand away, pointing a stern finger at him, then at the phone.

“Because Magnum PI is slow. He’s not cut out for a real Halloween party. He’s slow in the air, slow on the ground, and slow to handle his alcohol. He’ll be passed out by midnight. I’d put money down.”  

And as the Haunted Bathroom door swings shut behind them, the iPhone mic barely picks up on the low mutterings. 

..slow...

…nepotism pick...

…fuck with a stupid-looking mustache…

…can’t have the flask, go buy a beer, Coyote!

[Midnight arrives, and Yzma and Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove enter the bathroom. Holding the miniature trophies that Penny awarded them for a well-deserved first place in the annual Hard Deck Halloween Costume Contest.]

Fixing the neckline of the purple dress (and after definitely flashing a nipple on stage out there), Bob wipes at his drooping eyeliner and puts in another splash of eye drops. Contacts make his eyes so dry.

Phoenix holds the trophy over her head like a gladiator, grinning from ear to ear, flexing her muscles in the cut-off sleeves. “Hello friends and foes, winners and losers, I’m Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove…” 

It takes Bob a few seconds to notice Phoenix staring him down.

He straightens up, clearing his throat. “And I’m Yzma, also from Emperor’s New Groove.” 

“We think,” Phoenix leans closer, like Amelia’s iPhone is an old friend, and holds onto the edge of the counter with dignity. She probably could’ve left that last victory shot on the table. “that Mrs. Smith will be the drunkest tonight. He’s got a flask in his boot.” 

“It’s Coyote’s. I saw him with it earlier.” 

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, I still vote Mrs. Smith because Bagman’s a douche, and I want him to have a violent hangover tomorrow. I want him to spend his whole day downing Gatorades and fruitlessly wishing for his suffering to end. How’s that?” 

Sweat pricks at Bob’s brow. He likes Phoenix. He really does.

(But sometimes, Phoenix scares him a little.) 

His swallow is audible. “Yeah. Sure, yeah.” 

And Bob keeps to himself that Rooster has been MIA for over an hour now, after cashing in on three bell rings in a row and following a girl in a Sue Storm costume out to the parking lot. 

[And now alone, in the backseat of the Bronco, Magnum PI absentmindedly wipes at the lipstick print on his cheek and lets out a loud snore. Humming a tune in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like Great Balls of Fire.]

end note: then, amelia benjamin uploads this to her secret daggersafterdark tiktok account and goes viral. the end.

(making my fic debut with this one, so i would love to hear all your thoughts, and i gave danny's look both ways hair to fanboy just this once because i can.)

#top gun: maverick fic #tgm fic #top gun fluff #top gun fic #dagger squad #top gun: maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #tgm halloween fic 🎃 #laracrofted writes

[autisticaradiamegido]

helo how are you i hope your hands are doin okay from all the awesome artfight stuff youve been doing !

i think your sense of fashion is fantastic so im here w a vvv important question: what kinda clothing styles do you hc your fav hs characters to wear/like :3

day 211

thank uuuu ok so i will narrow this down to top 3

sollux ive already talked about. u know.

this is the encapsulation of his "fashion sense" to me

aradia to me is more like. i dont think she THINKS too hard about fashion. like i think she enjoys it when it comes up or when somebody gives her an opportunity to make up a nice outfit? but mostly i think she dresses for comfort, and wears clothes that are suited to her activities (ie: digging in the fucken dirt.) HOWEVER based on the one canonical outfit we see her in that isnt god tier or picked out by equius... idk i get kind of an academic vibe from it? like the collared button-down and the long skirt idk it feels kinda school uniform-y to me, which is kinda funny given damaras Whole Design.

TL;DR i think she likes cozy shit she can get dirty but baseline shes just a little guy on her way to bone school

last is jade!! jades fashion sense is like. pretty eclectic! i think she likes just about everything and has a lot of fun picking out and putting together new fun outfits. i dont think she has a specific aesthetic that she sticks to either, like. i dont think she ties her clothes very much to a sense of identity for herself, or a certain image she wants to project? i think she thinks about clothes as like Fun Costumes for every day of her life and as a result she doesnt Necessarily consider whether her outfits are like. "appropriate" for a given scenario?

like she probably considers practical stuff like "aw man this skirt is kinda nice maybe i dont wanna wear THIS one for gardening when its gonna get dirty" but she doesnt necessarily consider factors like "you know people don't USUALLY wear a ballgown to the grocery store" like shes just gonna wear whatever shes vibing with!

also this is just personal taste but i almost always draw her with the stripey tights. like. just As An Accessory to whatever outfit she has on, regardless of what it is. i dont know why i got into this habit but im in it now and i refuse to change.

#day 211 #year 3 #aradia megido #jade harley #sollux captor #homestuck #ask #aradia will wear whatever you throw at her and not give a shit about it #jade will take whatever you throw at her and build a cohesive and fun outfit Around it #she has the range she will go goth she will go business casual she will go e-girl she will go Horse Girl #jade eats new and funky aesthetics for sustenance #also on a personal level i find it funny that my 'sense of fashion' jumped out enough to compliment #because i myself wear the same outfit every day like a cartoon character and its literally just jeans and a t shirt #PLUS hoodie if it is suitably cool #thats it i have nothing else im a boring bitch i have never 'picked out an outfit' in my life

[inventors-fair]

Make the Grade: School's In Commentary

And here we are, at the end of all things. Or, you know, the end of last week's contest. Same thing, right? Anyways, here is all of your other lovely submissions that all deserved to have something said about them. Judge picks are cards that have one or more distinct qualities that I feel are worth pointing out as exemplars. Other than that, happy reading!

Syllabus Theft by @wolkemesser

Unsurprisingly, we saw a handful of Lesson/Learn cards this week. After all, what other way to represent a teaching moment than the mechanic literally designed for that explicit purpose? The Learn tribal is interesting though- being able to re-use all of that Learning is pretty clever. However, both mechanically and flavorfully, I think it would make sense if this was a bit flipped- if this was a card that allowed you to Learn, then granted all Lessons in your graveyard flashback. The first ability would have to be re-tooled, but in exchange, you get the flavor of literally re-using Lessons, plus the mechanical synergy of being able to discard a Lesson to the Learn, and then immediately grant it flashback. I just think the options open up a lot if the concept gets flipped, but the flavor is still definitely on point.

Private Tutor by @little-red-rabbit

On the contrary, I was also expecting to see a few more Tutors this week, since that’s also such a resonant MTG trope, but this is the only one. Again, the flavor-based pun here is pretty clever, of being a teacher that demands literal Blood from their students. However, the elements of the card feel a little... disconnected? Tutors in Magic are exclusively cards that allow you to search your library, since they are teaching you a very specific thing, ie the specific card you’re searching for. This does have some card advantage, but doesn’t play into expectations in quite the same way. As for the abilities themselves, I’m not quite sure why it’s both Clues and Blood. The Blood obviously plays into the design, but why tack Clues in there too? Also, it’s hard to evaluate, but the rate seems a little too good- learning off of every other spell, or just using the tokens to draw four and discard two, means that you’re gonna spend a LOT of time spinning your wheels. That’s not a bad thing necessarily, but I think the card could use some thematic and mechanical tightening to get it into a more unified design.

Dean of Irritation by @railway-covidae

Okay, so I did chuckle at the name a bit. Way to appeal to my oversized ego. Unfortunately, the joke does fall a little flat, since my name is a pun on Naban, so we’re a few too many layers deep for it to work as an actual card name. On to the effect- this is Rhystic Study, but meant to be fair, I assume? More expensive, arguably easier to remove, the whole shebang. That’s all well and good, and it might actually be balanced, but it doesn’t really show off your design abilities. This is just an existing ability with nothing added; the framework of it was changed, but not in a way that meaningfully recontextualizes it (Like, for example, putting a Constellation ability on a non-enchantment). As such, I don’t feel like there’s a lot to evaluate here. Also fun fact, this card made me look up the definition of Rhystic for the first time ever, only to discover it is a totally made-up MTG word. Neat, huh?

Dance Instructor by @spooky-bard - JUDGE PICK

Art Description: A middle-aged woman confidently strides towards the camera, leading a young noblewoman arm-in-arm in the steps of an elaborate waltz. The noblewoman is roughly a head shorter and dressed in a ballgown that looks difficult to move in. Her steps are shaky and she looks a little flustered at the contact.

This one is a neat take. Like I expected this week, the idea of teaching brings different concepts to everyone’s mind, and this is not one that would have popped into my head in a million years. I love that! I love that we all think so differently! Flavor on this is a slam dunk, and I could see this slotting into a dozen different existing MTG settings, since it fits so well with the general fantasy vibe. I think my one gripe is that the Dance Instructor can just choose to go it alone, which seems odd? Also, the way the ability is worded means that a lot of players will miss the fact that no matter what, Dance Instructor has to attack every turn. I think some minor adjustment to account for those would make this into an absolutely 10/10 card.

Scholar of Obedience by @sparkyyoungupstart

Ha, cute. I love the adorable dog-trainer card you’ve created here, and of course you motivate your Dogs with Food. The being tapped condition for the trigger is interesting, since it encapsulates both attacking and tapping for abilities. There’s a few nitpicks here- firstly, if you’re limiting a trigger to once per turn, you need to make sure it can’t trigger more than once off of the same event, because that works somewhat unintuitively. See Blood Hypnotist as an example- using “one or more” means that there’s never a situation where the game has to try and figure out which of the five Dogs being tapped at once is the one that triggers the food token creation. It’s not a big deal, but just best templating practices. Apart from that, my only other suggestion is that you could do a lot more with the flavour text. The idea is already clear from the name and the ability, and the flavour text doesn’t add anything to that. Consider how the flavour text could add a new depth to this dog-training character, or recontextualize the situation to make it funny/heartwarming/tragic, what have you.

Deeper Reading by @0woah - JUDGE PICK

Oof, this one annoys me as an English teacher. The amount of times I’ve had a conversation about why we analyze texts... anyways, that’s not relevant to the card itself. Which, by the way, is super cool! Hit yourself for a Jhoira-esque effect on your big bomb, or hit an opponent to hopefully delay their scary card and give yourself some breathing room. Considering the going rate for Duress effects, and the assumption that most players can’t recover a discarded card, this card could actually stand to have some sort of bonus. Obviously making it cheaper is tough cause this doesn’t work as a hybrid, but having it cantrip or something wouldn’t break it. Regardless, very cool card! 

Flowstone Mentor by @hypexion

That’s a lot of times to say Mentor on one card, that’s for sure. The flowstone ability on a Mentor/Training card is definitely a clever idea, and the design is pretty cohesive. Unfortunately, I’m worried it might be a bit too clever for its own good. Having this on board skyrockets the board complexity when it comes to combat math. A single creature with the flowstone ability is one thing, but taking that into account while also trying to account for other attacking creatures being spontaneously buffed... it’s quite a bit of processing power, that’s all. And as a sidebar to that, It definitely introduces some interactions that might go over the heads of most players- like the fact that the Mentor has to activate the abilities before attacking in order to choose a valid target, since the Mentored creature needs to have lesser power by the time Mentor triggers. For a rare, this level of complexity might be acceptable, but I don’t see it being particularly fun to play with or against.

Mother of the Pride by @snugz

One of the few non-human takes on teaching, and oh man, I wish there was art. The idea of having some cute, colorful art of a mother lion teaching her cubs how to attack is just a cuteness overload. What’s interesting is that the ability is one typically given to black creatures, with the exception being Predator Ooze. I’m not saying it’s a break by any means, and the flavour is great, I just wonder if there was a reason that you didn’t want the Mother to be 3BG. Also, as excellent as this design is in concept, I unfortunately have to hold it up as an example of “please double-check your cards before submitting”. It’s very difficult to evaluate a creature when there’s no power or toughness. The abilities are cool, but beyond that it’s hard to see your whole vision, especially when the power of its second ability is totally dependent on how much damage it can deal.

Morbid Critic by @bread-into-toast

Oh no, you’ve taken my worst nightmare and put it into card form. The idea of someone taking joy from someone else’s botched performance is truly morbid. It is another learn card, but you managed to recontextualize it in a nice way. Interestingly enough, we didn’t really see any repeatable learning in Strixhaven, which seems to imply something about the rate we get it at. In this case, I would either up the threshold to three or maybe even four cards, or alternatively raise the life cost. This is perfectly on rate for a simple loot, but considering the primary function of learn, and the fact that it’ll just get better when more Lessons are printed, means that a slightly steeper cost might be worth it as a valve. That aside though, this is a great card, with disturbingly good flavor, and would slot right into Strixhaven Two.

Diligent Prodigy by @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes

Welcome to the Figure of Destiny club! This one takes it in a new direction, allowing you to activate things out of order with some external support. However, logistically, this card is a tough nut to crack. It’s rare that we see a single card give itself multiple types of counters- more common with keyword counters, but only one of these is a keyword counter. How are players meant to differentiate which is which? The “activate out of order” concept, while cool, also doesn’t really help that out. It would be far too easy to forget whether the Prodigy has a study counter or a thesis counter on it, and because the abilities are so wildly different, it can change your whole turn. I just see this card leading to a lot of arguments. Finally, I get the flavor, but it’s fairly general. Why is this one student so interesting? What makes them a prodigy, if they gain their abilities through studying? A more specific name and some art direction would definitely work wonders with this card.

Zaffai’s Opus by @curiooftheheart

Okay, I know it’s an official formatting thing, but un-italicizing parts of flavor text causes me to sit here for a whole five minutes wondering what the heck kind of ability “Mercurial Ode 3” was. The card itself is pretty neat- definitely game ending if you have enough creatures,, but hey, it’s a ten mana spell, so that’s more than allowed. Considering this is up against Omniscience, power level seems fine. In fact, it could probably even drop a few mana, but I understand the urge to make it work with Zaffai. I also like that you took the idea of “how would Zaffai react to the Phyrexian invasion?” and answered it with “Blast them away with a wall of noise, duh”. Not much else to say other than its a fun card!

Culinary Science by @misterstingyjack - JUDGE PICK

Yeah, I knew someone would be clever and rework “class” into a more literal meaning. I mean hey, the mechanics still support the flavor, so it works. Culinary science is for sure an interesting topic, and not when that most people think of when they think of school. The effects scale nicely, and turning your “junk” tokens into the other types of junk tokens is clever. However, the flavour breaks down for me a little. I can totally see how a master of culinary science could make food that’s Treasured, even if it’s a bit of a stretch, but... Clues? If a food is helping you solve a murder investigation, I’m concerned about the quality of that food. Jokes aside, the scaling of the abilities is clean and straightforward, and the main ability provides you a nice source to continue fueling those new abilities.

Peer Review by @helloijustreadyourpost

I do love copying spells, and as we saw in Strixhaven, it's very easy to let them play around with the flavor of learning from or teaching others. However, I’m not fully sure of what the intent of this card is. The first part is a severely limited Twincast, so it suggests to me that the second part is upside. But here’s the thing. “Any number of target” means that you choose who gets to benefit, which is fine. That makes sense. But then the opponents get to choose if they want to copy it, and you don’t get any further benefit from them copying it. I suppose it works in a group-hug style slot? But even then, group hug cards typically give you a slightly better deal than whatever you give your opponents. I’m sure there is a situation where this becomes useful, but I think it could be a bit broader if the opponents had no choice in the matter, ie Hive Mind, or if you somehow got a benefit for each opponent that copied it. Maybe if you got to choose targets for their copies too? 

Learn the Ropes by @just--a--penguin - JUDGE PICK

Awwww... now I miss the Ixalan story. This is simple, clean, and adorable- Jace literally learning the ropes of sailing. The combat trick is neat, and the fact that you can pull it off in between attackers and blockers makes it a pretty sweet pick in Limited. The cantrip just bumps up the power just enough that it doesn’t feel like a dead draw in unfavorable circumstances. All in all, I really don’t have a lot of commentary for this card, other than it conveys its place very clearly.

Nephra, Enlightened Mentor by @hiygamer

Funny enough, this is the only legendary creature this week. I guess teachers just aren’t that important, huh 🙁. Nephra is neat, experience counters are a good way to play around with a card that is teaching you, the player. The method of gaining experience definitely encourages a unique deck- weenie tribal is something we seldom see, and even then it’s usually 2 or less, but I can see a lot of ways to play with this- especially now that we have some jeskai convoke cards. However, the payoff feels a bit odd. I can tell this is set on Tarkir, so a noncreature spell payoff makes sense, but this is the exact same as the Mizzix payoff. Considering there’s only five pre-existing experience counter cards, I would have liked to see a twist on it somehow. The core concept makes a lot of sense, but ultimately this kinda feels like a better Mizzix, albeit one that encourages a slightly different deck.

Intro to Reanimation by @real-aspen-hours

Class number two, right at the last second. This one is neat, calling directly back to Liliana’s position as a professor, and playing into it with some nice graveyard abilities. I’m not quite sure how to rate the level two ability? You do have to pay four mana for it, but it’s hard to not make the Lurrus comparison here. It’s more limited, but also free, so... hm. I’m not sure. It also makes the last ability feel a little odd, since it’s an objectively bigger and better version of level two, after which you go right back to getting the level two ability. I honestly wouldn’t mind switching them? Level two is a one-time effect that gets back something small, and then level three is bigger and also repeatable? It would also definitely help the flavor of “Hey you’re getting better at raising the dead.” Also, I try to avoid too much nitpicking whenever possible, but please make sure to review your submission for grammar and syntax errors, especially as a text submission.

Well, that's all for me! Have a fun summer vacation, kids! I'll se you back in class in the fall! (Or, you know, in like four weeks).

~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventor's fair #commentary #school's in

[bluewren]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for tagging me, Mel!! @melisusthewee

This is a card fic that I pick at from time to time.

She watches as Blackwall peal up one side on the each pile cards then releases for his cards to revolve over one another. A beat forms as the cards click clack over one another, Cassandra finds it similar to the sensation of running a whetstone over her sword. “What are you playing?” Blackwalls deals out cards from his hand, more focused on the rhythm of the flick of his hand than the gaze of the Seeker’s curiosity.

“Nothing at the moment.” He mumbles. “This is more a force of habit, from back in the days when I had my own troops to look after. Care to play a round?”

“I must admit that I never dallied with soldiers enough for them to offer me to be part of their games.” Cassandra raises a brow, although still choosing to take the seat opposite of the Warden.

“You’re respected by every soldier at Skyhold, and fought hard enough for everyone to fear you just as much.” One last card gets flipped up, Diamonds, then he places the deck over it. Soldier to soldier, Blackwall extends the invitation with a smile on his lips. “Perhaps it’s time for you to see how the rest of us grunts enjoy ourselves. The rules can be learned along the way.”

“I do find it humbling that you see me as one of your own.” She lets go a short giggle, her neck slants back by shock at Blackwall's comment. ”Deal me a hand.”

He slides over one hand, then places Eight Spades on the table. “The suit of the card at the bottom beats everything. A higher rank of the matching suit beats my card.”

Cassandra watches the card fall onto the table. Her hand slowly extends out with the Jack Spades, cautious as a baby taking her first steps. This past time that she seen on top of crates from several dozen of her soldiers might as well be an Orlesian ballgown to her, awkward and ill fitting for her hands.

Watches Blackwall glides a Jack Clovers onto the table like an arrow flying to its mark.

She looks down at her cards, unfortunately no Clovers. She looks up and sighs. “I am without a card to play.”

“Then you can go pick those up.” Blackwall asserts, his hand flippantly gestures to their board. “They’re your’s now.”

“What has just happened?” The Seeker gawks, flabbergasted by the nonsensical interaction slide up and down between the board and her opponent.

All that Blackwall has for her was dry laughter. Barely an itch on his beard, everybody has started somewhere but she simply had all the tells of a beginner.

“Beginner’s luck isn’t always a thing. Just keep going at it.” He tries with all his might to not widen his smile. “You can take this too.”

A second Jack is added to Cassandra’s defeat.

“Ugh. Nothing about this game makes any sense.” Cassandra blurts out.

“Just keep going at it.” He repeats while drawing three from their deck.

They continue onto the second round. The rules slowly begin to seep into Cassandra’s head, this travesty of a game slowly starts to have some sense to her. Blackwall plays one, sometimes two of the same rank, then Cassandra does the same. This time, she closes six pairs of cards using the cards gained from previous losses. Then Blackwall gathers them all up and castes them aside.

Cassandra places down her own card, then Blackwall does the same. Slowly the exchanging of turns becomes a rhythmic act to one another, the cards demanding less of her attention than the words between two friends.

“It’s feels like there are cards missing. Why have I yet to see a two or a three.” She narrows her brows at the cards in her hand. Feeling bright about her revelation, but also cheated in the same breath.

“I’m not sure how that started, possibly from workers who couldn’t afford a second deck after they lost those cards.” He places down a card to match Cassandra’s. “We’ve been here for a couple months now, how has Skyhold been treating you?”

tagging: @cleverblackcat | @ficbrish | @varric-tethras-editor | @maebird-melody | @manallakhuna | no pressure to participate though!

#wip wednesday

[nextinline-if]

Hi! i asked this in discord but i decided to ask this here as well. Do you have clothing references? i want to draw my MC in the closest i can gave to what you envision them wearing.

Hi! Yes, sorry I haven't been on Discord today 😅 I'm thinking in Chapter 2, you will be able to choose from some options in regards to everyday clothing for your MC.

As for the clothing in the demo, here's kind of what I had in mind. Basically, the most important thing is navy and gold for Castelon's royal colors.

For the ballgown dress option, something like this (but sleeves would be off the shoulder and deeper blue):

For the tunic and trousers (this one is kind of hard to find references for), but something like what Francis in reign wore and some solid trousers:

And then the toga (toga could have another layer underneath or not, and could also have a silk shaw over the top, all depends on preference), in this case it would be blue but harder find what I was looking for: (credit)

For what MC would wear when riding their horse home (pre-prologue):

or something like this maybe:

Sorry that these aren’t best references but I hope they are helpful. 😄 definitely let me know if you need more.

#art references #mc clothes #interactive fiction

[boundinparchment]

Of Blood and Sparks - IV

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon’s favor.  A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt.  A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it’s only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC.   Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Karina’s profile

The rest of the factory beyond the gauntlet of Ruin Guards was much quieter.  Hallways of pipes and grating lead to a second large chamber, dimmer than the previous, but there was no mistaking the layout and the dark stains along the floor.  Nor the single observation window high above.

“An arena,” Diluc declared, examining a set of manacles left on the floor.  “It looks like it’s been a while since it’s been used, though.”

“He probably got bored and ended up focusing on the Ruin Guards.  This place doesn’t strike me as an easy location to bring people to…they were probably the workers who helped clear the area.”

Lugging hostages up a narrow path and through the gambit they just ran through was more work than the research was worth; a remote lab in the mountains was better suited to the research of monstrous metal contraptions.  The cathedral had been different.  It was a normal location people went in and out of daily.  The church was part of the villagers’ lives.  Where better to hide than in plain sight?

Karina swallowed as the iron tang of old blood grew stronger, permeating everything.  Other than the debris and the stains, the room was stripped of anything else remotely telling.  Remaining bodies would have collected disease and Dottore wasn’t one to waste test subjects until he extracted everything he could.

When they reached the observation deck, she paused, hand gripping the hilt of her sword.  The smells were a cocktail she didn’t want to put a name to with the distinct underlying current of rotting flesh.  The chaotic spread of instruments and papers told them everything they already knew: that the important stuff was already gone.

Diluc stepped through first, his eyes immediately roaming for anything that could have been left behind.  

Sweat gathered on her hands, making her gloves stick to her skin, as if she had dived into water in a ballgown.  No one was here.  They hadn’t even seen a skeleton, let alone a corpse.  There would be no skirmishers or sharpshooters to trap them…no one was here…

A metal tray clattered to the ground and she jumped, drawing her sword and whirling on the spot, only to be faced with an empty corridor.  Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she searched for anything that wasn’t there before.  Nothing had changed.  Good.  Okay.  She took a few deep breaths and sheathed her sword before she turned around to see Diluc watching her.

She wasn’t a child.  They might have been four years apart but he was younger.  He didn’t need to babysit her like this.

Another reason for their emotional schism.  He couldn’t bear seeing her hurt.  He’d wanted to protect her to the point that it was detrimental to them both.  How could he protect her when it was her own mind that worked against her, anyway?

“Kar?” 

She gave a shaky sigh but nodded after returning his steady gaze.

“I’m fine,” Karina replied, reaching up to adjust her hair to keep her hands away from her weapon.

In the darker corners of the room, she swore she saw large eyes watching as she entered.  Those of colleagues, of children, bodies strewn about like rag dolls.

Taking a deeper breath, she reminded herself of hot coffee, fresh bread, and the snick of a needle and thread passing through fabric.  If she focused hard enough, she could hear the sound of the ocean and feel the water lapping at her feet.

Feeling grounded again, she finally took a good look around.  Barely legible scrawls on stray pieces of paper were scattered about like confetti.  One wall in particular was almost covered in pages painstakingly hammered into the stone in place of a proper bulletin board.  Gaps in the patterns and torn corners and sections were a dead giveaway that notes were missing.  

The equipment on the floor was clean, not yet used, intended for another purpose.  The floor wasn’t as lucky, shadows barely hiding mysterious stains.  The examination chair in the corner of the room faced the door.  It hadn’t held many test subjects, judging by the fairly decent condition; Karina got a feeling it was more of a throne than anything else.  The bloody makeshift table upon which more debris and remnants were spread told more tales than she cared to consider.

“No desk separate from the operating table...” Diluc muttered.  “Nothing permanent.”

“The Fatui only stay long enough to get what they want,” Karina replied.  “Duty first.  The only permanent thing about them is their love for the Tsaritsa and their devotion to her cause.  Not unlike the servants of the Abyss.”

They rifled through the papers, finding occasional differences in penmanship, some papers marked with a B in a corner.  Why…

“Barnabas must have been here as well,” Diluc said, peering over her shoulder.  “He succeeded with Collei, much as it sickens me to say it; Dottore would have wanted to know how.”

Karina hummed in agreement.  She had seen the rendering of the man from Sumeru when the plan to capture him was first enacted.  There was a coldness in the blank stare that the artist managed to capture that never quite left her.  

She turned her attention to the wall of papers, reading each one with care.  As she flipped one piece of paper to read it, she wasn’t met with stone but rather, a photograph.  It was rare to see a photo this far outside of Fontaine.  Most places relied on artistic renderings and paintings.  The technology wasn’t as accepted outside of the region.  Even for Liyue, this wasn’t exactly a common find.

A woman with strong dark brows stared at something out of frame, her dress almost a perfect match for her jade-green eyes.

Eyes that were...no, that was very much impossible.  Those eyes would never open again.

Karina plucked it from its place only to discover it wasn’t just a photograph but rather a poster for Opera Lutetia’s latest performance by Baptisia.  She was beautiful, the chevalier had to admit, and the singer captured the nation’s spirit of the arts in a way Karina hadn’t seen in years.  The opera house was one of the cultural gems of Fontaine, famous for being one of the oldest buildings in the capital, second to the Grand Palais and its Court of Mirrors.

But why did Dottore have something as trivial as a piece of marketing material?  

Better yet, why did she look so much like…

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Diluc said, shattering her thoughts.  “Anything valuable is halfway to Snezhnaya; all of these notes and scribbles are related to Ruin Guards.  If there’s one guarantee, it’s that Dottore leaves behind a mess wherever he goes, diplomatic or otherwise.”

Truer words couldn’t come to mind for her just yet.

Karina carefully folded the flyer and tucked it away in her coat for safe-keeping.  The trip out to the cliffside would, at least, help her gather her thoughts.  She needed sunlight or at least a fire for a better view.   The lighting in here was poor and her mind was playing tricks on her.

After all, the woman in the photograph was long dead.

But if the Archon residue experiments were finally succeeding...what else were the Fatui and their associates capable of?

#oc: karina alexandre #genshin oc #genshin impact oc #fic: of blood and sparks #zhongli/oc #zhongli/original female character #edited and reposted chapter