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#my first time drawing wings of this sort
finniigan · 2 years
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Drew a friend's OC to cheer them up after some flight troubles :p
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chisatowo · 2 years
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A very quick random card au Rokka concept drawing since they've been living in my head rent free
#keese draws#bandori#rokka asahi#random card au#I mainly wanted to go for the 'edgelord oc made by a 12 year old' vibes with them#idk how well I did but I like how the bat wings turned out so Ill take that as a win#so ok gonna do a lil ramble here even though Im typing this out at 2 am#so first of all all the black stuff on them is from getting stuck in the void place but I wont go too into that rn#as for the head bat wings and eyes and such their parents in this au are a vessel of light and a bat based star bound#and refresher in case no one here has read my other posts star bound are basically a mix of wizards werebeasts and phoenixes and vessels of#light are the randomly selected incarnations of one of the major gods in this world's chosen warrior sort of#both are way more complicated than that but we dont have all day so moving on#vessels of light have a back pair of wings and wings replacing their ears kinda and that was their dad and their mom was a werebat ig#so smoosh those together and you get a messed up lil creature#plus all the indescribable amounts of power yknow gotta have that edgelord oc energies#also because of ~worldbuilding~ they also have basically a direct connection to the light god who hates them lol#theyre also towards the start of the story re emerging from the depths of the void place which had basically been preserving them for like#200 or so years so theyre having A Time#hey at least after leaving the light god cant directly contact them anymore so small victories ig#and they also figure out how to leech of of its power so thats also good for them ig#theyre mostly spending the story trying to find any amount of footing in this new time and trying to find a way to help misaki#misaki and they are from the same time period and were friends before things kinda went to shit and misaki died ish#again its complicated but shes ok ish dw too much#but yeah unfortunately rokka pretty quickly ends up with royal guard out to get rid of them for reasons they dont know#but hey they befriend ran and tomoe so thats pretty cool#theyre one of the protag trios I like to call them the cant fucking read trio#two of them need glasses but dont have them and one of them has brain damage and is still in the process of relearning how to read#so theres plenty of times where theyre all just huddled around a sign or smth trying to combine their brain power to read the damm thing#the three of them are funny to imagine side by side also because ran and tomoe just look like some guys and then theres rokka#honestly probably did wonders for keeping tomoe from being recognised by someone sooner fmdkfbr
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yanderenightmare · 1 month
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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging
fem reader
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Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...
The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 
The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 
He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.
Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 
You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.
Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.
It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.
He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 
You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.
“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.
But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 
He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.
“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 
You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.
If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.
“Does she talk?”
The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.
He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”
The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”
The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”
“I want this one.”
The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”
But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.
“That won’t be an issue.”
And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.
The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.
“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.
Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.
“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”
He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.
He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.
“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”
He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  
Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 
You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”
His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.
He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.
He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”
After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.
“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.
Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.
“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”
The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.
“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”
Your big eyes skitter around. 
On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.
Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.
Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 
And they aren't the only ones.
On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.
Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.
You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.
You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.
“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”
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part 2
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prokopetz · 2 months
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Code Green
A game for 3–7 players, about being where you're not supposed to be.
Last night, you were suspended in a tube of brightly coloured goo in an underground research facility, operated by an organisation whose three-letter initialism's meaning is strictly need-to-know. This morning, someone noticed your tube was empty. Nobody has determined how that happened yet, and you're not inclined to stick around until they figure it out!
Or, in other words, it's been nearly a whole week since I got that massive revision to Space Gerbils out the door, and apparently my brain has decided that's enough of a break. This thing was written start to finish in under 12 hours, so let the circumstances of its authorship guide your expectations. Special thanks go once again to Caro Asercion, whose micro-RPG Dwindle introduced me to the design space I'm fucking around with here. Go buy their stuff.
Anyway:
What You'll Need
Code Green is a tabletop RPG for one game moderator (GM) and up to six players. Each player will need a copy of the Profile Grid, below, as well as three tokens of some sort: dice, coins, beads, etc. You'll also need at least five six-sided dice (for the whole group, not per player, though it's fine if each player has their own set). If you're using dice for tokens, it's recommended that the dice you plan to roll be visually distinguishable in case they land on someone's Profile Grid.
Rolling Dice
There are two ways you'll be asked to roll dice in this game: rolling d66, and rolling a dice pool.
To roll d66, roll a six-side die twice, reading the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. For example, if you rolled a 3 and then a 5, your result is 35. You may also be asked to flip a d66 roll; to do this, take your result and swap the digits without re-rolling. In the preceding example, if you flipped your roll of 35, your new result would be 53.
To roll a dice pool, pick up the indicated number of six-side dice, roll them, and take the highest individual result. Duplicates have no special significance. For example, if you rolled a pool of three dice and got a 2, a 4, and a 4, your result would be 4. If you would ever roll a pool of zero or fewer dice, roll two dice and take the lowest instead.
Character Creation
Each player should create their own character. There are three things about your character which are always true:
You are newly born into the world. You may know things about the world (e.g., from your programming, having read them on a computer terminal, etc.), but you haven't experienced them.
You are implausibly good at remaining inconspicuous; unless you're deliberately drawing attention or doing something which requires a dice roll, humans will almost always fail to spot you.
You are not human. You can decide what that means.
To find out what else is true about your character, roll or choose three times from the Form table, and three times from the Function table, placing your results into the correspondingly labelled slots on the Profile Grid, below, in any order you please. Your three results from each table should be different; if you elected to roll and get the same entry multiple times, flip your result, and re-roll if it's still a duplicate.
Think about what your three Form traits and three Function traits imply about your character's physical makeup, but don't set anything in stone just yet – you'll see why not in a moment.
Finally, roll a six-sided die five times, and record the results in the order in which they're received. The resulting five-digit number is the only name your character has when play begins.
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Table 1: Form (d66)
11–12. Blood 13–14. Bones 15–16. Brain 21–22. Claws 23–24. Ears 25–26. Eyes 31–32. Guts 33–34. Hands 35–36. Heart 41–42. Hair 43–44. Legs 45–46. Lungs 51–52. Nose 53–54. Skin 55–56. Tail 61–62. Teeth 63–64. Tongue 65–66. Wings
Table 2: Function (d66)
11–12. Accelerated 13–14. Autonomous 15–16. Auxiliary 21–22. Cryogenic 23–24. Cryptic 25–26. Elastic 31–32. Electric 33–34. Entropic 35–36. Invasive 41–42. Invulnerable 43–44. Kinetic 45–46. Magnetic 51–52. Phasing 53–54. Polymorphic 55–56. Projectile 61–62. Pyrogenic 63–64. Telescopic 65–66. Toxic
Playing the Game
Play proceeds in a series of scenes. In each scene, the GM will set the stage: a challenge to overcome, a peril to escape, a mystery to investigate, etc. Given the nature of your characters, most things will be mysteries to you!
Initial Token Placement
Once the stage has been set, place each of your three tokens on a different square on your Profile Grid. If you have no preference, you can roll d66 for each token and place it in the square whose marked numeric range contains the number you rolled, flipping or re-rolling your result if you get a square which already contains a token. The placement of these tokens represents your initial state when the scene opens. Depending on the nature of your character, this may be reflected by a shifting of internal focus, or by a physical transformation.
Participation
To participate in the scene, simply tell the GM what your character does; the GM will describe how the world responds, and ask what you do next. Whenever you wish – or are forced – to do something more than lurk and observe, you are obliged to make a test.
Making Tests
To make a test, first choose a pair of traits – one Form trait, and one Function trait – with which to face the challenge. For example, if your Form traits are Legs, Tail and Teeth, and your Function traits are Cryptic, Invulnerable and Phasing, you might test your Invulnerable Legs against the trouble at hand.
Next, count the number of tokens present in the rows extending from each of the chosen traits. The illustration below shows which squares would be consulted in the preceding example:
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Next, roll a dice pool containing a number of dice equal to the number of tokens present on squares extending from the chosen traits. Do not count a token twice if it's on the square where the two traits intersect (e.g., the green square in the illustration above). In the event that no tokens fall on squares extending from appropriate traits, remember that you are allowed to roll a pool of zero dice by rolling two dice and taking the lowest rather than the highest.
Finally, compare your result to the following table:
1–3. Less than human. Whatever you'd intended to try still happens, but it cannot overcome human opposition (or adversity which would challenge a typical human), and any lasting effects are transitory and easily explained away. 4–5. Mostly human. Your effort can contend with human opposition (or circumstances which would challenge a competent human), and its lasting effects make it obvious that someone (or something) has been interfering with matters. 6. More than human. Your effort easily brushes aside any human opposition, and its lasting effects are impossible to rationalise as anything other than the intervention of inhuman forces.
Without Applicable Traits
In the event that you're forced to make a test and no possible pairing of your traits is applicable, you don't get to roll anything, not even with a pool of zero dice; simply resolve the outcome as though you'd rolled a result of 1–3. Other characters may attempt to preserve you from this fate by assisting you, in which case you roll one die per assisting friend; see below for more details.
Assistance
If you wish to assist another character in making a test, consult your own Profile Grid, considering only those squares which contain tokens. Only the specific pairs of traits represented by the squares on which your tokens fall are eligible for assistance; for example, if one of your tokens falls on the intersection of Cryptic and Teeth, you may assist with Cryptic Teeth, but not any other pair of traits involving Cryptic or Teeth unless those squares also have tokens on them.
If you're able to identify an eligible pair of traits that seems applicable to the test at hand, explain how you're using it to help, and hand the player making the test one extra die. Any number of characters may assist on a given test.
Providing assistance neither requires nor permits your character to adapt (see below) – it needs to be your own test for that!
Adapting
After resolving a test, your character adapts, shifting focus or form to reflect what they've learned. Take one token of your choice from your character sheet, and move it to a different square which doesn't already contain one. You can move any token you wish, but it must end up on a different square than the one it started on unless no valid destinations are available. Adapting is not optional, and must be carried out after every test.
Suffering Strain
If whatever you're making a test against is particularly strenuous or dangerous, you might suffer strain as a consequence. Strain will often be incurred on a result of 1–3, and rarely on a result of 4–5; only the most foolhardy efforts will incur strain even on a result of 6!
To incur strain, roll d66, and place a small X on the square on your Profile Grid whose indicated numeric range contains the number you rolled. If there's a token on that square, immediately move it to an empty square of your choice, unless fewer than three unmarked squares now remain; in that case, simply remove the token entirely.
For the remainder of the scene, tokens may not be moved to any marked square. In addition, if you suffer further strain, and the square indicated by your d66 roll is already marked, your character is incapacitated, and may not participate in tests at all until they recover.
All strain is cleared – and any discarded tokens restored – at the end of each scene. Incapacitated characters also recover at this time.
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oofthwoods · 2 months
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'23 grid ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: an overview of fem!driver relationship with a few drivers on the grid. just a bunch of cute headcanons that i can't get out of my head. i only added the ones i feel she would be closest with, but feel free to ask me about any other driver!
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: recommend reading the introduction for the backstory.
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˒ ⌕ — MICK SCHUMACHER ( 47 )
more than mere teammates, mick and her have been glued to the hip ever since they met. with both of their parents being ex-formula one drivers for the same team, it was clear from the very start that they would see each other very often. as kids, wondering around the paddock, as teens, supporting each other on the track and now, as young adults, competing against each other on porsche and f1.
while mick is a sweet, introverted guy who tends to think about every word that leaves his miuth, she is the complete opposite — loud, bashful and someone who should have a bigger filter between your brain and mouth. is the epitome of orange cat × golden retriever, and fans eat it up.
while mick sometimes can calm her, it's more likely that she brings him into her shenanigans.
˒ ⌕ — MAX VERSTAPPEN ( 33 )
her and max couldn't have a more different upbringing. while he was roughly shaped into a champion by his father, she had been carefully brought into the motorsport world by yours.
they've met during her years as a red bull junior, and what started with max being a bit annoyed by her non-stop talking quickly turned into an honest friendship, where they both can say whatever they want.
it leads to max saying the most unhinged things and her being the only one who jokes along instead of feeling concerned.
˒ ⌕ — LEWIS HAMILTON ( 44 )
probably one of the cutest driver pairings in the grid. fans love to dig out old picture from the two and compare to it now.
lewis has always had a soft spot for her, ever since she was a kid roaming around in the paddock. he would show her his car, explaining all the things to her and claiming that his team was better than whatever team her dad was on.
once she came back to the paddock, now as a driver, he took one look at her and immediately took her under his wing. they both are, in their own ways, alone within the rest of the grid and he wouldn't let the media, or anyone for what matters, dim her light.
on the daily, he is always checking up on her, not in a overbearing fatherly way, but more as an older brother figure.
during her first months he managed to convince the media outlets to pair them both together for every interview, and he was always quick to shut down any stupid question sent her way.
if she annoys him for long enough, she manages to make him agree to coordinate his outfits with her.
˒ ⌕ — FERNANDO ALONSO ( 14 )
similar to lewis, she met alonso when she was very young. although he had a bad reputation during that time, she always loved to hang out with him, because she loved how cool he looked every time he won a race.
it took him some time to warm up to her, as he was never that great with kids when he was younger, but when she gifted him a drawing she had made of him winning a race, he was done for. yes, he was still seen as some sort of villain, but everyone agreed that he looked more human when she was on him arms.
he would grab her from her father's garage (with his permission, of course) and would take her to his, always waiting with her favorite flavor of pizza. it became a tradition for the both of them to eat it before a race, being his or hers.
whenever he could, he would watch her races from her garage, proudly wearing team merchandise with her name on it. when she won her f2 championship, he made sure to stand closely to the podium, and he would deny it, but he cried a bit when she raised her trophy.
such a cute duo because he tries to keep up with the things she likes, but still doesn't fully understand everything, so one day he would randomly say that her outfits is slaying and would leave with a polite smile while she stands there, confused, wondering where the hell did he learn that.
still tries to continue their pizza traditions <3
˒ ⌕ — LANDO NORRIS ( 04 )
they both barely knew each other before her debut in f1, but somehow clicked instantly. it might be because of their self depreciated tendencies, or their constant sarcasm. who knows? the only thing that matters is that when a reporter asks a stupid question, they can communicate with a single glance.
lando tries to get her intro photography but gives up once she couldn't fully understand how to correctly operate a camera. claims that she is a pretty good model to make up for it <3
somehow they know everything about everyone. it's a mix of lando knowing the drivers very well, and her knowing a lot of the mechanics of different teams. whenever something happens in the paddock, they both definitely know.
˒ ⌕ — GEORGE RUSSELL ( 63 )
met simply because she thought his pose was so funny that she had to ask him if he thought about it previously or decided to just wing it during filming. he was slightly confused that she seemed so friendly after they had just net, but quickly understood that was simply how she acted.
the most meme worthy duo. with his perfect timed actions and her dynamic facial expressions, their faces are always seen together plastered on twitter.
the butt of most of her jokes. she constantly sends him tiktoks and he claims that he is tired of it, but always sees each one and gives a little commentary.
if lewis is her caring older brother, george is her annoying one.
˒ ⌕ — OSCAR PIASTRI ( 81 )
the two of them have a long running joke because they don't know when they met. they've never competed against each other, as he was always one year above in the series, and never raced for the same team, but somehow, they feel like you've always been friends.
(they once actually sat down to try and trace back to their first meeting, but only got as far as to a gala in 2020, but they both remember already being friends during that.)
people thought they would never see them interact because of their distinct personalities and were very surprised when she pulled him into a hug after their race in bahrain.
always bantering and joking, oscar likes that she understand his sense of humor and don't take it too seriously.
˒ ⌕ — ALEX ALBON ( 23 )
met solely because she felt the need to tell him how pretty his girlfriend was. he was very confused but appreciated the compliment (even though it wasn't dedicated to him).
after that he kept getting drawn by her straight to the point comments, always failing to conceal his laughter after she says something, either during debriefing or interviews.
she pretty much became his and lily's daughter. they take her out to eat after races, lily tries to teach her how to golf and alex convinces her to die her hair if she scores at least 10 ponths.
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flamingpudding · 10 months
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Part 4 of Ghost Kid in Gotham
<<1 Previous Next
How to catch a baby brother
Richard 'Dick' Greyson had a problem. It wasn't a nuclear level of problem but it also wasn't a paper cut level of problem either. Because apparently he had a baby brother no one in their family but Damien knew about. Granted Damien had confessed that said baby brother was dead and had supposedly died eight years ago.
The explanation that Talia had apparently pulled another Jason was not helpful at all. According to Damien, in response to Tims findings, there was no other way for the twin to be alive other than Talia having preserved his body and then decided after eight years to drop it into the pits. Well lets just say his opinion on that woman if it was already down in the depth it certainly was now.
Which, considering the glowing Lazarus green eyes, could mean that there was now an eight years old child running loose in the Bat Cave with Pit Madness. Not just a simple feral eight years old that looked like perfect B adoption material and so happened to be blood related.
"Guys we need a plan. We can't just let our little teethling run loose."
"Richard, do not refer to my brother as little teethling." Dick only grinned. "Well the little biter needs a nickname and until I find something else fitting its teethling. Or do you have a better suggestion?"
Sweet little Baby Bird was now glowering at him. Oh protective were we, his little brothers definitely were the cutest. He was definitely going to tease sweet little Dami about this later once the first phase of new little brother crisis was over. For now they had to find the little guy first. The Cave wasn't exactly childproof.
"Let's use Jason as bait." Tim suddenly suggested causing the second oldest to grimace. "The little guy apparently likes biting him. We could use that as an advantage."
"Absolutely fucking not." Little Wing disagreed and Dick chuckled in good humor.
"Aw come on Little Wing, this is your chance to make a bond with our new baby before any of us can."
"For once I agree with Todd. Absolutely not, who knows where he has been. I will not have my brother become sick from biting him." He would have cooed at this, if Jason's face change from surprise at the agreement to a purely offended scowl wasn't so funny.
"Okay no biting bait. But we gotta draw out the little guy and calm his Pit Rage." If that feralness the kid displayed had even anything to do with Pit Rage.Considering the glowing eyes though he would think so. Dick eyed Jasons for a moment, he didn't seem to be affected at all nor had he said anything about the Pit being upset or feeling anything strange. So maybe the little guy wasn't suffering to an extrem from it? But he had apparently been brought back by a Lazarus Pit, so the likelihood with their experiences so far was slim.
"Well we gotta find a way to secure the little guy before B comes back or Alfie finds out." Jason mentioned still scowling at Damien. "By the way, I want to be here when you guys tell B about this. I wanna see his face and make fucking sure the little biter won't be turned into another kid soldier."
"Jason." He scowled, this was definitely not the right time for that sort of discussion but he had a point, they needed to find little… what had Damien said his name was? Wait did Damien even tell them the little guy's name? They all had just been using nicknames so far.
"Dami, what's the little teethling's name again?"
"I haven't told you yet." Ah okay so he didn't have a hole in his memory. "It's Danyal, but when we were younger he didn't like the way grandfather and our teachers called his name and insisted on being called informally as Danny."
"Okay right, so we better find little Danny and get everyone together to introduce-"
"Might I ask who this 'little Danny' is, Master Dick?"
He did not scream. But his heart rate shot up with Alfred just appearing behind him like that. Really sometimes Alfred could be as bad as Cass in the ways of sneaking up on people without them knowing.
"Alfred, hey hi what are you doing down here?" He was not nervous, no he wasn't. The way the butler narrowed his eyes at him did definitely not scare him at all, nope.
"I was informed that all of you returned uninjured." Though his eyes narrowed at Jason's hand that got cut earlier and his brother instantly tried to hide it behind his back when he noticed Alfreds eyes on him. "But the four of you, despite having returned to the Cave, have not come up yet. So I was merely checking on you, to make sure nothing was wrong after all."
He gulped. Really there was no way of ever hiding anything from Alfred.
"Jason brought a child to the Cave that we found out is Damien's twin that had died eight years ago but was brought back to life and is now feral and hiding somewhere in the cave."
At least it was Timber that blurred out everything they knew so far.
"His name is Danyal." Baby Bird added and the four of them waited for Alfred's reaction.
"I see. I will go prepare one of the rooms then and inform Master Bruce to return sooner from his meeting with the Justice League then. As well as prepare for a family dinner as soon as possible, I assume. Will my help be needed in finding young Master Danyal?"
"No worries Alfie, I think I have an idea on how to draw out the little shiiii-biter. You made cookies, right?" Jason at the last minute corrected his words because of the look and Dick couldn't help but snicker.
"I indeed did. If my help is not required then I will be on my way."
Giving them all one last look over, the Butler smiled before he turned to leave. Dick, Tim and Jason let out a sigh in relief once Alfred had left again to which Damien only eyed them strangely.
A little while later Jason went to get the cookies and came back with the plate and staring at a green post-it note. "Since when does Alfie stick green post-it notes with cryptic shit on plates?"
"What?" His brother only shrugged offering the note to him. Tim was looking over his shoulder at it and the two stared at the strange writing.
"I think Cass or Steph might be pulling a prank on us? These look just like random squiggles."
"Let's leave this for later and look for the little teethling." He passed the note to Tim, noticing the curiosity in his eyes. Oh boy, he probably should make sure his little brother gets some sleep instead of trying to encrypt whatever was written on that little note all night.
"Now everyone lets take a cookie, resist eating it and go hunt down our little teethling."
Damien narrowed his eyes on him. "I told you to stop calling Danyal that." The little baby bird still took a cookie though and marched away into the bat cave. They had separated wandering through the Bat Cave trying to cover as much ground as possible and by this point Dick was ready to call for Cass to join them, maybe even wake up Duke just so they would finally find the little kid.
That was until a familiar yowl of pain resounded in the Cave. The direction made Dicks stomach sink once he remembered just what was in the Cave in this direction. "Jason!"
Once he arrived there he feared for the worst. Jason avoided the area, because B had placed their Lazarus Pit there and his brother had often said that it was one of the reasons he didn't like coming to the Cave that much anymore let alone into this area of the Cave. To hear his brothers shout of pain from that area couldn't mean anything good.
Well that was until he got to the scene. Dick didn't know how long he stood there frozen but at some point he knew he took out his phone to take some photos of what was happening. Tim was already laughing and Dick was pretty sure that Babs was most likely recording this with one of the many cameras B had in the Cave.
Jason lay with his back on the ground, with one hand his brother was still holding the cookie waving it desperately before Danny's face who was biting down on the other arm sitting on the downed vigilante's chest. Little hands gripping onto the arm in an attempt to make sure no one was taking his chewtoy away from him. Meanwhile Damien was trying to lift the little biter off Jason by holding him with his hands under the kids armpits.
"You little shit! FUCK! Come on, here is the cookie! Take the fucking cookie! OUCH FUCKING HELL! How is he resisting Alfies cookies!"
"Danyal, No! You do not know where Todd was or how dirty he is. Let go of his arm this instant. We do not want you to get sick!"
"Hey!"
This was gold, Dick decided, and would go straight to the black mail as well as family memories folder.
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ouroborosorder · 6 months
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Guide Ahead Means Something To Me
Writing about Guide Ahead is…. extremely difficult, for a few reasons. One is that it is a very dense story, and to fully unpack it would require an essay so unfocused that it would be functionally unreadable. But the biggest one is that Guide Ahead is a story that focuses really heavily on the subjective nature of interpretation. How can I speak authoritatively on the thematic meaning of the plot when even a basic description of its events demands a deeper poetic interpretation?
The answer is “I can’t.” So, let’s piss off my English teacher, and coat an entire essay in the phrase “in my opinion.” Because I have to get personal if I’m going to tell you why Guide Ahead is my favorite video game story ever told.
I was raised Mormon. My mother was religious, but my father was absolutely not. You can understand why I related to Cecilia basically immediately.
Ultimately, the thing that draws me to Guide Ahead is the very thing that makes it hard to write about. Guide Ahead is, in my reading, a story about the subjectivity of divine meaning.
The most obvious manifestation, and the most important, is Law. But, Law’s execution, in traditional Arknights fashion, is kinda unclear, so I’ll recap for those who have hobbies outside of this, unlike me.
Law is the supercomputer buried underneath Laterano, and is the sentient religion that binds all the Sankta together into a hivemind of sorts. The Sankta are actually just Sarkaz connected to Law, given halos, wings, and empathic communication between each other. But, the main thing they gain, is a biological impulse to obey the Lateran religion’s thirteen doctrines. Anyone who breaks these doctrines are marked as Fallen, are cut off from the empathic connection, and slowly revert back to Sarkaz. Law represents religion as a concept and a community. Saints and sinners are just one and the same. But despite that, the laws of religion are created just to perpetuate the existence of a special in-group. One enforced by empathic connection they cannot share with anyone outside of them. That is Patia’s point - the Sankta have created an “us” and a “them,” and even the devout Liberi are not seen as “us.” They’re just converts, not real Sankta.
But, Falling has… weird grey areas. Like how Andoain was able to shoot Lemuen, or draw his gun on the fucking Pope, and not Fall in the process. This is because the doctrines are not actually the guidelines they’re held to. The Doctrines are subjective interpretations of the objective Law that they are all beholden to. That Law being “It must survive.” Law only is interested in the perpetuation of Itself, and, as a result, the continued existence of the Sankta as a societal structure.
This is the first and strongest example of what I mean when I say Guide Ahead is about meaning. Law says that the failure of religion is ultimately that religions supplant any subjective meanings with an “objective” meaning. But this “objective” meaning is just another person’s interpretation of the in-group’s best interest. Laws biologically programmed into the Sankta’s souls are revealed to be nothing but interpretation of Law’s interpretation of events.
People Fall not because they have broken a concrete law, but because Law… because the in-group has decided they did. Or when they broke the rules, they did something that’s good for the church. There is no objective laws within the Lateran religion, no matter what the machine is named. The system just declares sin when it deems worthy, and absolution when sin is a benefit.
It is this very hypocrisy that drives Andoain.
——————————————————————————————————
I remember being pulled aside at church one day. Everyone above 14 was given a sermon about the recent legalization of gay marriage. He said it was wrong, the church would never accept it. I asked him if it was like the time the church refused to give black people the Priesthood. He said this was different. I asked him how. He did not answer. I left and someone followed me out. He asked if I was okay. I told him whatever he was saying in there was not the teachings of any god that I know, and wasn’t the teachings of any god that loves me. I kept going to church after that, but deep down, I think I didn’t believe in it anymore. I didn’t feel like part of the community, I lost that reciprocation with my people. I just… began to think.
Andoain, as an antagonist, is defined by a search for meaning. He was the bishop of an Iberian church, and Iberia is doing pretty bad lately. His request for aid from Laterano was denied, and the message was clear to him. “You are one of us, but they are not.” But that answer just created a new question. Why? Why would those who claim faith and utopia as their ideals reject those who are suffering?
He searched for an answer in exile, and he didn’t find one. Instead, he found another story. The Sarkaz man who died in the watchtower to warn a town who hated him of an invading force. And this story made his question develop. Why would someone who is hated by everyone give their life to protect those very people? And why would those people then cry over the grave of someone they hated?
He had seen the realities of the Sarkaz and Sankta laid bare, but he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it. He tells Cecilia these stories, knowing full well he doesn’t know what to make of them. I think he tells them to hope he finds the point partway through.
——————————————————————————————————
As much as I hate the Mormon church for dear god everything they’ve ever done holy shit look at them? My feelings are predictably complicated. Years later, my family fell upon hard times. I don’t want to say more than that for my own sake. We were struggling to even live. But… the church helped us. None of us gone to church for years, but they offered a hand. They gave us access to the Bishop’s Storehouse, gave us food and supplies for free, because we were starving. 
And yes, I know. I know they do this in an attempt at creating a false brotherhood in an effort to create a fascist sense of community. I have also read that part of Brothers Karamazov. I have also read Guide Ahead, come to think of it. But… Shit. Most of them tried to pretend we didn’t exist when we met them in the grocery store. And… they still helped us. In their eyes, I was Fallen.
But still, they saved us, and didn’t even ask for faith in return. I still can’t figure out why.
This is why I just… can’t see Andoain as a villain. I mean, yeah, he shot Lemuen, but even she doesn’t blame him for shooting his friends while holding the Stick That Makes You Shoot Your Friends. His entire goal is an attempt to sort through the cognitive dissonance between what the church tells him and what the church does. A dissonance that is, because of Law and the doctrines, innate to what the church is. An experience that should feel damn familiar to anyone who has spent time as an apostate. His plan is to simply confront the Pope about this hypocrisy, to get an answer, to find a meaning.
The answer he gets back is… It Must Survive. Law must survive. The in-group must survive. It doesn’t matter if we cry over the grave of the Sarkaz, because the Sarkaz would die for us. He searched for the answer to a question, the meaning of a statement. You are one of us. They are not. All this time, he searched for the meaning of those words, but in reality, those words were the meaning. That was all they ever had to say. He just needed to accept that.
…but if the in-group is all that mattered… why allow Mostima in Laterano? Why give her her position? She’s not needed for the survival of the in-group, the Law has deemed her an exile.
And… Why not Andoain?
Before he leaves, his gun is taken from him. A gun that, according to the church, has meaning. A meaning he takes as truth. He believes a part of him is left behind there. I don’t think he realizes it, but Mostima and Fiammetta are the question he left behind. They are Not Sankta, but yet they are accepted. And… I don’t know if there is a meaning to that. I still can’t figure out why.
——————————————————————————————————
For a long time, I missed those days spent in the community I had left. I would remember the things I left behind. The churchball basketball games we were destined to lose. The conversations held on the roof of the storage building behind the church. The scouting activities that were clearly an excuse to go bowling. The shitty halloween parties with the game where you ate donuts tied to a string hanging from a fishing pole. I missed it, for a time. I couldn’t help but look back.
Cecilia is searching for meaning to almost everything. When Andoain tells his stories to Cecilia, he tells her that he can’t find the meaning of them. That if there is meaning to be found, she’ll have to find it herself. So. She does.
Cecilia was faced with the same situation Andoain was obsessed with. But for her, it wasn’t hypothetical. She existed between Us and Them. She felt the pull between the community and the love and fun they represent, and the outsiders who were hated and rejected by the people around her. Society told her the meaning of her dual identity, the meaning behind each half, and then told her to choose. But… she’d experienced otherwise. She’d felt the kindness of the Sarkaz from the Pathfinders, and the hatred from the Church. She’d felt things that contradicted the meaning that she was told was true.
Her story isn’t just being forced to pick a side between the church or apostacy, it’s being forced to pick what meaning she ascribes to the world. Ultimately, that’s why her answer can only be her own. Your belief is… subjective.
And she answered… with a bell. A Sarkaz girl, bearing a halo, ringing a bell that has not been rung since the Sankta were still called Teekaz. A bell that once marked the beginning of the new era. A bell that carries the weight of a Sarkaz, hated by the place they called home. A bell that rings with the melody of a Sarkaz lullaby once sung by a Sankta. A bell that asserts her answer. She’s not Sarkaz, she’s not Sankta. She is Cecilia.
Everyone else finds their own subjective meaning within that action. Something as mundane as the ringing of the bell suddenly has more meaning than divine scripture.
No one else understood the nuance of what she said, but they understood parts of it. They understood what they wanted to. Those who know nothing of Lateran culture understand it as just… a beautiful welcome, celebrating the arrival of talks of peace. Most have their meaning determined by the church’s traditions. The pious see it as the beginning of a new era, whatever that signals to them. To the Church, it is that their talks will bring about a new era of peace. To the Pathfinders, it is a signal to begin their attack on Laterano to begin their new era.
There is so much meaning in that action, but in the end, it’s still just a fucking bell. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in Laterano. But this bell meant something more than the other bells. This bell had meaning, and that meaning made it divine.
This, to me, is what Guide Ahead has to say. That there is so much meaning to be found in something as mundane as a ringing bell. Within such a simple action, there is personal expression, liberation, the sound of change. And in all of this, there is the echoes of divinity, the echoes of faith, as if all of these things are, in themselves, divine.
——————————————————————————————————
When I left the church, I couldn’t help but look back, still tethered to a community who hated me. I think I wished I could stop looking back. I don't know if I realized I was.
In the end, everyone else looks back. They still have meaning to be found in Laterano. Andoain looks back, a part of his soul anchored there by the symbol he was told to believe in. Mostima looks back, knowing she’ll return just as she always does. Fiammetta looks back, because she refuses to let herself leave. Ezell looks back, unsure if he will be able to return home after what he has found.
But… Cecilia doesn’t. She has decided that she is not defined by the church, or the meaning they try to give her. She has decided to leave Laterano and see the world outside of it, to explore the world around her and find the meaning for herself.
And the last thing Cecilia does is... defined by ambiguous meaning. She sees Andoain walking in the sunset - and a word appears to her. The title of Martyr. A title she doesn’t understand the meaning or weight of, but that she feels is appropriate regardless. A title that, to other people, would mean something more. But to her, brings to mind the saints she heard of as a youth, a word her mother told her was important.
The story is ending, and they end it with an assertion. Cecilia is finding meaning, and others will find what they will within. Perhaps even she doesn't know all of it.
A while back, during a theater rehearsal, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had years before I left the church. I remembered speaking with my friends outside of the chapel after a sunday service. My friend said a sentence that has stuck with me ever since. “I don’t think science goes against God. I think God uses science and math. I think those things are holy, because they’re… what everything is made of.”
I remember looking around the rehearsal space and thinking that if science could be sacred, then… so is this moment, now. So is my time spent with the people I love. This is sacred. What I missed, what kept me looking back. It wasn’t the actual religion, but instead… just belonging to something. So… I stopped looking back. In that moment, however fleeting it was, I had found whatever it was I needed.
—————————————————————————————————
Look. You probably had a different interpretation of Guide Ahead. This story is just… So goddamn dense. There is so much there that I didn’t even touch on. For the love of god, I just did an analysis of Guide Ahead and didn’t even really discuss Fiammetta?? What kind of hack writer am I? (I just… couldn’t talk about her without being more personal than I am willing to be in public.)
If you have an interpretation that is different than mine, that’s great. I encourage you to hold on to it, and hold it close. That meaning is yours, and yours alone, and that’s a precious thing.
Because to me, what I found… is that very idea.
There is meaning to be found in anything - and a meaning that is yours, and yours alone. All you have to do is find meaning. and the idea that there is meaning to the world, that everything has meaning not because there is a “true” meaning to it, but because we find one there, because we put one there… that makes everything feel… divine, to me.
So… wherever you find meaning, you can find the divine.
You can find divinity in a ringing bell. In a terrible cactus tart. A carnival game you know how to beat. The promises of peace around a table. A cup of coffee. A city you hate. A community you love. A flower growing near a grave. A weapon you carry. A people you surround yourself with.
Those are all… holy to me.
And to me… that meaning is enough.
I hope yours is for you.
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wkndwlff · 10 months
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Hung Up
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Summary: After years of waiting in the wings, you’re tired of waiting. The only question is if your best friend feels the same or not.
Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Mitchell reader, Jake Seresin x Fem!Mitchell reader
Warnings: Pining, angst, implied spice, swearing, drinking, 18+ because I’m an 18+ blog, typos likely
WC: 3100
A/N: This was inspired by Madonna’s “Hung Up” that I somehow only heard for the first time yesterday (highly recommend queuing that bop up)…thanks to @sylviebell for the beta! ❤️🥰
Your eyes cracked open, the early morning sun painting your room a beautiful pink. You felt light, airy almost, as you stretched. You weren’t sure what time it was, but it was early. Your eyelids wanted nothing more than to close, but you fought hard to keep them open. You turned, excitement blossoming in the pit of your stomach. You bit your lip, trying to tamp down the glee that bubbled in your chest as memories of the night before filled your mind.
But it was short lived.
The bed beside you was empty, blanket tucked delicately into the bed, making it seem like he was never there at all. Your smile quickly turned as you fought to keep your tears at bay. You reached for the pillow. Maybe he had to go in early for some sort of training. Maybe he just got up. The pillow was cold, the cover seemingly untouched. Your bottom lip quivered as you pulled it to your nose. The only sign that the night before wasn’t just a dream was the faintest hint of cologne that was soaked into the fabric.
You threw the pillow towards the wall before you, accidentally knocking over the picture of you with your dad and Ice on the day of your college graduation. You let out a frustrated groan as you rolled back over, wanting to sleep longer. Flashes of touches and kisses flooded your mind.
You weren’t sure when you had started to cry, but by the time you marched to your bathroom, your eyes were puffy and red. You looked in the mirror, feeling like a fool. Bile rose in your throat. He didn’t stay any other time, so what made this time different?
Bradley and the daggers had been stationed in Miramar for almost four months and it was always the same routine. Your childhood best friend would ask you to join him for a night out. He would pump you full of drinks, using it as an excuse to take you home, luring you to your bedroom. It was the best sex of your life, but in the mornings, he was gone. Days would pass before your even heard from him.
You felt numb as you brushed your teeth. The gaping hole in your chest wide open as you grabbed your car keys, making your way to see your dad and stepmom. Did Bradley know that you had a crush on him from the time you were fourteen? Did he know that the best part of your year was spending the summer with your dad because it meant seeing him? Did he know just how much it hurt when he cast you aside with your dad after he pulled his papers?
“You look like shit,” Penny teased, opening the front door of her home.
The scent of cinnamon and coffee hit your nose, drawing the ghost of a smile from you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault somehow? Were you not enough? Did you do something to upset him?
“I can hear you thinking from here, Mads,” your stepmom teased as she slid a cup of coffee before you. “Need to talk about something?”
Your shoulders sunk forward as you focused on the steam rising from the mug. You trusted Penny. You were elated when you dad finally got his shit together and made amends with her. But there was some invisible barrier holding you back from telling her what was on your mind. Something in your gut wouldn’t let you form the words.
“Your dad’s at the hangar today, so it’s just us girls,” she added hopefully, sliding an oversized cinnamon roll in front of you. “Usually the cinnamon roll works so well on my favorite stepchild,” she mused to herself, sitting across from you.
You smiled weakly at the peace offering. “Your favorite?” you asked, forcing some enthusiasm. “How many of us are there?” You took a bite out of the sugary pastry, letting your eyes roll back as the cinnamon enveloped your senses.
“Just you, Mads, and I guess Bradley by default,” her brow furrowed.
You couldn’t help it. You cringed at the mention of his name, hoping Penny didn’t catch you.
“There we go,” she said with an amused expression. “Not there when you woke up?”
You wanted to vanish from her kitchen. How was this woman so intuitive and yet she ended up with your dismally oblivious father.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled into your coffee cup.
“Mads,” she sighed. “I mean this in the most loving way. You two are as subtle as a brick through a glass window. We all know.”
You swallowed hard. “Does my dad know?” Bradley would be dead if your dad knew.
“No, sweetie.” She chuckled with a shake of her head. “Your father wouldn’t catch on unless an actual brick hit him square in the nose.”
You hummed, focusing on the breakfast before you. Did they all think the two of you were a couple? Did they think you were an easy hook up? Were you a fool for being so hopelessly in love with him.
“Mads,” Penny said as she clasped one of your hands. “You don’t have to talk about it.” She paused looking down.  “Just…you…I know he’s your first love. And I know it’s hard. But you can’t keep letting him hurt you like this sweetie. Even if you think you can brush it off and everything will be alright. It won’t be in the future.”
Your lip wobbled as you watched a bubble in your coffee pop.
“You dad and I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” she continued.
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” you gasped, a soft sob escaping your chest.
“Oh, sweetie, no,” she cooed.
You were wrapped in Penny’s embrace before your tears had enough time to fall. A gentle hand stroked your hair as she tried to get you to settle. But it all came pouring out. Your body shook with your sobs. The shoulder of her old tee was stained with the river of tears that you couldn’t seem to quell.
“You’re not an idiot,” she assured you once more as your tears stopped. She leaned back to look at you. “You’re just in love. And love makes us do crazy things.”
“You’re one to talk,” you quipped with a wobbly voice.
She smiled weakly at you. “I just think that if Bradley isn’t going to step up and treat you how you deserve to be treated, it might be time to move on,” she said hesitantly.
You hummed, letting her words wash over you. You did deserve better. You deserved to not cry over a silly naval aviator at least twice a week.
~
It took you a week to work up the courage to finally act on Penny’s words. They had been bouncing around in the back of your mind relentlessly. You’d even had a dream where you were a doormat and Bradley kept walking over you, Penny’s works echoing behind him. You had to tell him. You couldn’t keep letting yourself fall over someone if they didn’t feel the same way. You were too young and beautiful to be hung up on someone.
Can you stop over? I need to tell you something.
It was a simple text. No weight to it. Nothing daunting or frightening. At least you thought. You had sent it on your lunch break, not long after one. It was going on nine. The San Diego sun had long set, and you sat looking out your windows at the black void of the horizon. Should you have made it more urgent? Your phone was on the table behind you. Your heart was heavy as you realized he probably wouldn’t come. He hadn’t even texted you back.
Your heart was in your throat as your phone buzzed. Was Bradley finally getting back to you? You tripped over your chair, landing harshly into the corner of the table. The wine you had been drinking spilled onto your cream-colored shirt.
“Shit,” you hissed, trying to ignore the shooting pain that radiated through your hip.
You deflated as you read the name that came across your screen. Jake Seresin had been relentless in forcing his friendship upon you ever since the dagger mission. You honestly expected the lieutenant to try to guilt you into a date after he saved your dad’s ass, but he didn’t. He surprised you if you were being honest. He would text you from time to time to see what the wild and exciting world of being a veterinarian at the zoo was throwing at you. Sometimes it was just a simple hello. Sometimes he made sure you knew you were welcome to join the group in whatever escapade they had planned for that day.
Jake S.: Are you feeling any better? Do you need anything?
Your brow scrunched as you read his message twice. What was he talking about? You felt fine. You wanted to go to bed, but you were completely fine. Your fingers were poised to respond, but the picture he programmed into your phone flashed across your screen. You rolled your eyes. He was that impatient that he had to call you after like two minutes?
“Jake?” you asked hesitantly.
“Captain darling,” he beamed. You could hear his smile through the phone. A soft smile spread over your own lips at the silly nickname. “Do you need anything?” he asked, the smile leaving his tone.
“Jake, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you sighed. If this was just some drunk joke. “I’m perfectly alright. Just tired.”
“Oh,” he grunted into the phone.
You dragged a hand over your face. “Wanna tell me why you thought I was sick?” you pressed.
“Bradshaw said you were sick,” he hiccupped. “Said that’s why you didn’t come out for Javy’s birthday.”
“It’s Javy’s birthday?” You gasped. Your stomach rolled. Bradley hadn’t said a word.
“Bradshaw said he would invite you, Mads,” Jake growled. “Promised me that he would.”
Your tears pricked in your eyes. Why wouldn’t he invite you? Javy was your friend too. Did he not want to be around you? He couldn’t even text you back.
“I’m going to kill him,” Jake drawled.
“Easy, killer,” you teased gently. You wiped a tear from your cheek. “Go get some water and wish Javy a happy birthday for me.”
“Aye, aye captain,” he beamed.
“And text me when you get home. Get an uber if you drove to wherever you are.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” he promised. “Go get some sleep.”
You hummed before letting the line go dead. Your phone slipped from you hand. You felt like you were punched in the gut. Your own friend didn’t invite you out after being asked to. Was he embarrassed of you? Was he just pushing you aside like he had done for a majority of your childhood? Were you just an obstacle for him?
You sank down onto the cool hardwood of your dining room. Penny was right. You were letting yourself get hurt over and over again. Why had you been so blind to it? Your tears fell harder.
Your phone lit up in your periphery. By some miracle, the screen didn’t crack. You had a snapchat from Natasha. Was she out celebrating Javy, or did Bradley neglect to invite her too?
You swallowed thickly, opening the video she had sent you. “Hope you feel better” was emblazoned along the bottom. You smiled at the sight of Javy bouncing to the beat with two beers in his hands, Jake dancing beside him. She slowly panned around her to reveal the rest of the daggers. Bob was bobbing his head to the beat, a bottle of root beer in hand. Mickey and Reuben were dramatically singingly along to whatever song was blasting around them. Your heart panged to be there. It seemed like they were all having a blast.
But then she moved to Bradley. Bile rose in your throat as you realized why he didn’t invite you. Two girls were grinding into him, his smile wider than you’d ever seen it. Nat flipped the camera onto herself, shouting something into her phone for you, but you couldn’t hear it. All you heard was the loud beat of your pulse. Fresh tears spilled over as you realized what you’d ignored the whole time. Bradley Bradshaw didn’t feel the same way. He probably never did. And you had wasted years, convincing yourself otherwise.
~
Bradley scanned the bar from his perch by the pool table. He had been the first to show up. Usually Bob beat him, occasionally Hangman, but that night he was first. Soft music filled the room as the Saturday night crowd slowly poured in. He watched the door for any signs of a familiar face. Someone he could kill time with at least. He was itching to play the new song he had learned on the piano, but it wasn’t quite time yet.
He spotted you and felt relief surge through him. He always felt uncomfortable being so openly alone in a sea full of strangers. A smile reached his lips as he stood to intercept you at the bar. He had been meaning to talk to you. You had been avoiding him like the plague since Javy’s birthday and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
“Mads,” he yelled, hoping to catch your attention.
When you didn’t turn, he just assumed it was because the bar was filling up. He took a step forward, your nickname burning on the edge of his tongue, but he froze. He watched as Jake Seresin joined you at the bar, wrapping an arm around your waist before kissing your cheek gently. Anger flared through him as the blonde lieutenant pulled you closer. Why was he touching you like that? Was this some sick twisted joke? Were you goading him?
He took another step forward, scowl plastered on his face. He was going to give Hangman an earful for this. But he was stopped. Nat was standing in front of him, lips pressed in a firm line. He watched as her fiancé made her way to the bar, animatedly greeting you. Jake didn’t drop his hand as you hugged the tall blonde. He felt like he could vomit as he watched you slide your hand into his back pocket.
“What am I looking at here?” he asked Nat, completely panicked. “A first date?”
He watched as his friend’s eyes widened. “Try like a sixth or seventh date, Bradshaw,” she corrected cooly.
“What?” He gasped. He felt like the air was being punched from his lungs. He watched as Penny talked to the two of you, Hangman pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “When did that happen?” Was he really that out of your loop?
“Since she asked him to go to a climbing gym the day after Javy’s birthday,” Nat said, crossing her arms. “He’s pretty terrible at it I’ve been told.” A small smile reached her lips, causing him to scowl.
“Six or seven dates?” he asked, heart sinking fast.
“I overheard him telling Javy that he was going to ask her to be exclusive tonight,” she said with a nod.
Red. Bradley was seeing red. He couldn’t let you date Hangman. He got the callsign for a reason. “He’s gonna hurt her, Tash,” he sighed, taking a step to move past her.
A firm hand found his arm, pushing him back towards the pool table. The firm line was on her lips again.
“Don’t you dare go over there, Bradley Bradshaw,” she hissed. “Let her be happy.”
“But she’s…” he started feebly. The fire in Nat’s eyes had him silent instantly.
“She’s what, Bradshaw?” Nat snapped. “The girl you’ve led on for years? The girl you’ve hurt for years?”
Hurt? He was hurting you? Nat had to be lying. You would’ve said something if he had been hurting you, right? You would’ve put a stop to you evenings out if they weren’t fun for you anymore, right? He glanced at the bar. You were tucked under Jake’s arm, talking animatedly to Javy and Bob. The smile on your lips bigger than on your graduation day. Fuck. Even from the pool tables he could see how smitten Jake was for you.
“She wasn’t going to wait on you for forever, Bradshaw,” Nat added somberly.
She patted his arm sympathetically before walking towards the growing group by the bar. He couldn’t help but feel hollow at her words. He thought he would always have you to fall back on. That you would always be in the wings, waiting for him. He took a long drag of his beer.
He fucked this all up. He knew you’d been desperately in love with him since high school. And he didn’t want to admit it, but he had been head over heels for you. But then your dad pulled his papers and time seemed to change everything. When he saw you at your dad’s hangar for the first time in years, it felt like all the pieces of the puzzle were right in front of him. You were right in front of him, ready to pick up where you ended things, but he couldn’t.
Maybe he needed more time. Maybe he didn’t want to admit that another Mitchell had such a hold over his life. You would always be waiting for him. He needed time, space. He wasn’t ready. That’s what he told himself as the parade of girls fell into his bed. That’s what he tried to convince himself when no matter who he was with, he could only think of you.
How long had you been waiting around for him? How long had you been pining from the shadows? He watched as Hangman wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck. Did it hurt you this much to see him with other women?
The group was making their way to the pool table and his heart skipped a beat. Maybe he could talk to you. Lay it on the table. Maybe it wasn’t too late. But Jake spun you, drawing giggles from you. He watched the blonde bestow a soft kiss on the back of your hand before guiding you out of the bar. The hole in his chest was gaping. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Bradley had messed up and all it took was seeing you walk away from him with another man to realize it.
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Tagging those who might be interested: @sylviebell @xcastawayherosx @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @roosterforme @townmoondaltwistle @ereardon @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @xomrsalliej4787xo @waklman @mayhemmanaged @yanna-banana @endofdays56 @rhettabbotts @tongue-like-a-razor @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @a-reader-and-a-writer @beyondthesefourwalls @sugarcoated-lame @seresinsweetie @teacupsandtopgun @emma8895eb
I do not consent to my work being copied, translated, or published anywhere else.
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babybinko · 4 months
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My second batch of venture bros genderbends are finally done! :D [first set here]
PLEASE LOOK UNDER THE CUT!!! I made all these nice drawings and doodles of them and I want people to see them without this post being super long! :') [My thoughts on the designs and doodles will be under the cut as well]
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Okay NOW I'm going talk about my thought process on some of these:
Baby Rusty: I love the baby Rusty, the frilly socks and sleeves were a must. I actually drew her with the original set of genderbends but I turned off her layer and forgot about her 💀
Jonas Jr: not much to say about her, I tried to make her like Rosie the Riveter. Her little bandana has the Venture logo on it :)
Jonas Sr: I wanted her to be a hot bitch, her outfit is maybe a little scandalous for the time era they were in but I think it fits, canon Jonas is a whore. I think everybody would want her and that every celebrity, politician, and anybody with any power would chase after her so badly.
Blue Morpho: I made her so incredibly slay. I fucking love her outfit, I found the inspo for the outfit on Pinterest but I changed it up a bit. Also her gun has the bayonetta butterfly wings on it as a charm because I HAD TO.
Colonel Gentleman: Not a lot to say, I wanted to give her like horse riding esque boots and I gave her a purple flower cause she likes the ladies. I know generally WLW flowers are Violets and Lavender but I wanted to draw a rose so, Purple rose compromise <3
Dr.Boyfriend 2: With my last round Dr.Boyfriend was the only one people had complaints with. I think people wished he was more Masculine and I agree but if I switched up the design too much it wouldn't look like Dr.Girlfriend. I hope giving him armor and making him look like a knight helped him look more masc. I made the sheer wings cross over his chest to make it look like it was holding up the shoulder armor. Also his guild book is insanely high quality because I was procrastinating drawing his armor.
Goofy and Goober (Watch and Ward): I think they ended up really cute, I tried to make their hair colors close to Doc and Jacksons since I heard they are supposed to be like their "main" self inserts. With Ward I had a really specific idea for her hair, I kept thinking about this haircut from my sims and had to do it. It might be hard to see but her ponytail holders have skull charms on them. I also purposely gave them both some sort of ponytail hairstyle so they would match but be slightly different :) (They are absolutely prank calling or trolling their clients on that phone btw)
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Shoreleave: OH MY GOD I LOVE SHORELEAVE. I kept turning her folder back on just to keep looking at her when I was drawing the other characters. She is so captivating to me, she looks so soft and human. I want to take a bite out of her thigh. My biggest inspo for her was Cammy from Street Fighter, I felt like her dressing a bit skimpy works for her since canon Shoreleave kinda does. The girls out for the girls.
Alchemist: I love her design so much too. I wanted her to look like some kind of nun or priestess. She looks like if a Zelda fire temple was a person. I kinda gave her like a weird little hime cut under the hood. Also I put the Triad logo on all three of their designs (+ Triana).
Jefferson: Had a lot of fun with her, I didnt change her design much from canon though so there's not much to say. I did give her more flared pants though. Drawing her hair was a really fun change of pace, I very rarely get to draw textured hair.
College Rusty and Monarch Drawing: I love this one, Monarch turned out so hot dude. You can tell what character I like more LMFAO. I made rusty very obnoxious 80s while keeping the colors of the original college rusty outfit. Monarch kind of looks like postal dude but its fine because shes slay.
Hereditary Venture Family Dinner Drawing: This was one of the first drawings I started but the second to last one I finished. I wanted to draw the family doing something together but I think I really truly just wanted to draw Dermott again. 😭 Nobody has said anything if they noticed but I did give hatred the shirt from these edits. (I believe the one on the left is from reddit and the one on the right is by SquashFold on Twitter)
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Dermott piercing Dean's ears drawing: Even though its messy its in the top 3 favorites I did, It was also the last one I did. I just love the idea of Dermott giving goth Dean at home ear piercings. At first I didn't know if I wanted to make Dermott giving her piercings at the mall where she works or at home but the mall idea was too much work for a last minute sketch. Dermott is so mean older sister who shoplifts and works at the mall.
Drug bathroom drawing: Another one of my favorites, its based off a specific deleted scene from Invisible Hand of Fate where Pete and Rusty talk at the bar but Pete comes out of the bathroom sniffling at the start. I love the way I drew Pete pushing the hair out of her face and both of their expressions.
Bdsm 21 drawing: Okay first of all, The little devil Monarch was so cute I was screaming, crying, and throwing up while drawing her. I fucking love her, shes the smallest part of the image but my favorite. I also am quite fond of the bdsm 21.
Quizgirls Pete and Billy: I tried looking up Vanna White dresses to base Pete's outfit off of but I couldn't find one that Pete would actually wear so I just had to make shit up. Billy's design is really basic but the bow in her hair is actually from one of my rejected main Billy genderbends.
Me and The Bestie: I put a lot of effort into this one for no reason. Literally the moment I saw Jonas in the problem machine I thought he should be made of like blue slime. When I was working on this I kept thinking about Momopatchi's Hatsune Microbe drawing so this Jonas was definitely inspired by that. I gave Jonas makeup because she was having a party movie night on gargantua and I felt like she would still have makeup on thats like completely fucked up and deteriorating on her face after many many years. Vendata's outfit was partially based on Marguerite Chapman's from Flight to Mars, never seen it but I was looking up old sci-fi movie costumes to work with and I thought it would look good :)
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haunted-moon · 3 months
Text
Long Way Home [Part I]
[Azriel x Reader fanfic]
Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Part I
My first glimpse of Azriel had been when he arrived at my doorstep, searching for the High Lord. 
My father was famous in Velaris as a healer, and Rhysand had crashed through the front door—heavily injured and seeking the services of him. Unfortunately for him, I was alone in the house as father had gone to the mountains outside Velaris for an errand. I was mainly a chemist, researching herbs, concocting potions and salves; but I had dragged the half unconscious Rhysand towards one of the beds reserved for the patients. 
His injuries were mainly on his wings, they were torn through with arrows. The said arrows seemed to be poisonous, because his skin was quickly losing its pallor. It was my first time treating someone without father by my side, but I had steadied my nerves and my hands enough to bandage the wounds appropriately. Then I made him drink a small cup of herbal antidote for the poison in his system and covered him with a blanket to rest.
As he rested, I cleared wooden splinters and pieces of the broken entrance door (Rhys had literally crashed through) and was erecting a temporary barrier of canvas when the commanders Cassian and Azriel appeared. 
Apparently Rhysand had sent them some sort of signal to indicate where he was before passing out. They were relieved to see him in a peaceful rest, and I told them that they could take him back after my father did a once over to make sure he would heal well. That meant one of them staying the night, and Azriel had volunteered to do so. 
I had noticed the royalties and members of the inner circle around the town, but it was my first encounter with any of them. Rhysand radiated an aura of pure, lethal power even when injured, and Cassian had the rough, fierce power of a wolf. 
And Azriel—well, he was the shadow incarnate, his power being in the way he observed and gathered every bit of information about anything that surrounded him. His intelligence shone through the depths of his dark eyes, drawing in anyone like a moth to candlelight. While we waited for Rhys to wake up, he carried in a new door from the carpenter's workshop and helped me affix it to the entrance. 
He was a fae of few words, politely murmuring thanks when I brought over blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the bed next to Rhysand's after dinner. He didn't lie down, instead just bundled himself against the cold with the blankets and kept a patient, quiet watch over his High Lord. 
My father returned with the first light of dawn, and Rhysand woke up a couple of hours later. After giving him a thorough check-up, father told him that he would heal perfectly without any scars. I had done everything right, and I was proud. 
This incident had led Rhysand into inviting me to the House of Wind and joining the inner circle. He was leaning heavily on Azriel's shoulder, but still had the poise of a powerful ruler as he painted a pretty picture if I accepted—having access to the limitless library, using its resources to gain knowledge in a field of interest and using it whenever needed. 
I was hesitant at first, since father would be left alone if I left, but he himself had urged me to accept the offer. In the end, I accepted it with all my heart, and moved in to the House of Wind later that week. 
When all the belongings I needed were shifted to my new quarters, I was warmly welcomed as a new member of Rhysand's household. Though I was very shy, none of them made me feel like an outsider and happily took me in, which I was grateful for. 
The library was paradise for me. Rhysand arranged for a branched off space in one of its floors to be my laboratory to experiment what I had learnt. Amren helped by bringing me the rarest or the most poisonous herbs, and she never told me how she procured them even after me begging on my knees. I began to be happier, but also more knowledgeable with new healing potions. I divided my week so I could spend at least two days with my dad and the rest in the House of the Wind. All day, I made myself useful by studying and experimenting, or assisting the royal physician in her activities. 
Dinner had to always be eaten with everybody, and it was filled with jokes (mostly Cassian), laughter (from everyone), eye rolls at the jokes (from Nesta) and quiet smiles (from Azriel). After the meal, I had to walk beside Azriel to my quarters, his being adjacent to mine. 
As days passed, I slinked out of my shell of shyness and mingled with everyone. All except Azriel, of course. I mean, he was of a quiet nature, but I felt like he disliked me. I could see smiles and chuckles and small conversations drawn out of him by everybody but me. He never himself started a conversation with me, and when I tried to do so on the way back to our quarters, he gave disinterested one-word replies. 
I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But when I saw him speaking with someone else in the way I wanted him to speak to me, my chest squeezed painfully. It was especially rough when I saw him catering to Elaine. 
I never showed this turmoil on my face, though. Rhysand and Feyre were mates, and her older sister Nesta was Cassian's. It made sense if Elaine was Azriel's mate. 
Why then, that just the thought of it made me sad and hopeless?
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home
Happy reading! <3
Read Part II here.
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nanamimizz · 5 months
Text
tags: written for @prettyboykatsuki in mind. reader is gn, and is a rouge with a thief/street urchin background. marriage and discussion of children. takes place in act 3, spoilers for wyll’s personal quest. discussion of marriage. fluff.
synopsis: you overhear wyll bragging to the children. at first you think nothing of it until you hear him say somethings you weren’t privy to.
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Wyll is good with children, a truth not doubted but known ever since you had met the fabled folk hero in the Emerald Grove. It’s something you hardly do not think of, if you don’t want to end up in some sort of frenzy of thoughts better left unsaid. At least for the chapter of life you two are currently in. Maybe, you think as you clutch the wishing acorn the love of your life had gifted you in the palm of your hand, maybe when all this is over you could discuss such things as a family with him. When Wyll is free of Mizora’s hands completely, when his father is safe from all plots and schemes and when the little friend in your head has been cast out - yes, you think, you would like to utter the words of a family to Wyll’s ever so kind ear.
Unlike you however, your intended is not as patient as you can hear him bragging to the tiefling children you have both met and saved in your travels to Baldur’s Gate. It makes you chuff, like a pleased tiger and shake your head oh so fondly as he utters tales of your adventures. As you draw near you can make out the words - he’s telling the tales of defeating the goblin camp leaders. The adventure feels like a lifetime ago but not the phantom ache of the knot on your head you sustained from Dror Ragzlin knocking you well and good on the head.
You hear one of the kids, Mattis with his shaggy dark hair and mischievous eyes that glitter like the gold he covets with his not-so-lucky rings.
“Looks like you don’t do much now, do you Blade of Frontiers?” Mattis mocks, snickering behind his red hand. Wyll laughs good-naturedly, letting the teasing roll off his back smoothly like water off a duck’s wing. It’s something you envy, how Wyll is never riled up by such empty words. Mattis pouts, petulant as he throws another half baked insult at the man.
“And what’s with you letting your allies take such a beating - first Karlach now this? Having a hard time picturing what good you are for Blade?” Wyll huffs a chuckle, a smug smile tugging at his full lips and you stare a little too deeply at how white his teeth are in the afternoon sun.
“Things are different now you see - I have another story for you…” Wyll continues on with the tale of where you fought off Roah Moonglow, a Zhentarim trader who stole all the gold in the common’s people’s coffers; there had been a fatal mistake that you had made and Wyll had saved you at the perfect time. Even had a second to spare to throw in a witty comeback and a brilliant smile your way before the fight continued. Mattis’s face scowled as even he had to admit that the story succeeded in making the Blade appear just as cool as you and Karlach.
If barely.
“So what’s different now? Did you finally know how to hold your own in a fight?” Mattis pouts, conceding that maybe the Blade of Frontiers was more cool than dorky. Wyll grins, brilliant teeth on display at the apple of his cheeks raised.
“I’m their husband now. No one can ever hurt them while I’m around.”
Scratch that. The Blade of Frontiers will forever be corny in the eyes of these tiefling children for as long as you and Karlach live - they even think that know-it-all wizard that hangs around you is cool by default. The children all gag, making their sounds of disgust with Mattis being the loudest of them all. They are quick to disperse, going off to do what children do best in the times they live in and you approach Wyll as they leave.
“Calling yourself my husband now are we? It’s been less than a tenday since you asked me to be yours. Unless we’ve had a ceremony within the same amount of time - I think it’s a little too soon to call you such a revered title.”
Wyll jumps at the sound of your voice, your quiet steps always managing to go under his senses. It makes you laugh a little, how the smallest testaments of your background manage to slip past the hero’s defenses. You watch with adoring eyes as Wyll flushes with a warmth that makes him shine in the daylight as he brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck from embarrassment.
“Please - don’t tell me you heard all of that?”
“Oh yes I did. Every word in fact.”
Wyll hisses in embarrassment, and even then he doesn’t hesitate to look back into your eyes when you gently run your hand on his arm.
“Do you mean that - that nothing can hurt me while you are with me?” You ask your voice soft with tentativeness. He softens, gaze going from embarrassment to an eager honesty simmered with so much affection you neve once thought you would be looked at with. Wyll is a smart man, perspective and he knows what it is you ask - the battles that you have yet to face but will have to as fate decrees; its golden thread dictating every action and word that is to be spoken.
Wyll takes the hand on his arm into his and gazes at you, the brown of his eyes turning golden under the warmth of his words.
“Yes, truly. I may be the Blade of Frontiers sworn to protect the Sword Coast but,” he pauses to lick his lips as if tasting the sweetness of his confession before uttering it to you, “I am first and foremost a blade sworn to you. So whenever our enemies are drawn near, don’t hesitate to point me their way.”
The devotion is heavy in each word spoken, something you had never been witness to - loyalty and devotion only gets you killed in the streets. So it takes you a moment to collect yourself, to pick yourself off the floor from the weight of the goodness Wyll holds for you. You swallow before speaking, your voice thick.
“You already asked me to marry you - you don’t need to lay it on thick.” You say, trying to deflect but Wyll only smiles, eyes fond and gently as he lets his thumb caress the top of your hand.
“I know, I can’t help but be sweet to you. And I swear to the Helm I’ll live up to my word everyday.”
You smile, lacing your fingers with his.
“I’ll hold it to you Lord Ravengard.”
“I hope to exceed all expectations.” His smile is smig but his words are warm - lovinging and truthful. Just as Wyll always is.
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airbendertendou · 5 months
Text
BLUE BOY! ♡
synopsis : [name] meets someone a little… captivating while waiting for a friend from housen. kantou!mikey in mind.
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if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.
The streets of Shibuya welcome you jubilantly. You browse store’s windows with pursed lips, remembering what caught your eye and what you think others would like. With a vibrated chime, your phone beckons for your attention, drawing it away from the necklace you’re looking at.
yuken !!
omw
see u there shortly
Scrunching your nose in excitement, you grin and send a simple heart back. He’ll know what it means — will know how happy you are to see him. Humming happily, you continue your small stroll, keeping an eye out for blond hair or the store you’re meant to meet at — whichever comes first.
A crash interrupts your quiet afternoon. You ignore it, only watching from the corner of your eye as a tattooed boy runs past ; he’s followed by a few others. You shrug, deciding to mind your business and keep your eye out for your close friend.
As you turn, a flash of shoulder length blond hair catches your attention. With a grin, you race after him and tap on his shoulder excitedly. “Didn’t think you’d sneak pas— huh?”
Except, the guy turning around is not Odajima Yuken.
Soulless, enticing black eyes meet yours. He raises an eyebrow — you jerk your hand away from his shoulder, his touch suddenly burning you. It feels like you’re the only two ; like an entire city has disappeared and left you in the rubble.
Gulping, you try to reign in your shocked expression, composing yourself clumsily. “Sorry, I—“
“You know this person, boss?” Someone new stands to his right. Black hair is styled in a sort-of-mohawk way, red lining his eyes until it’s pointed into a wing. He looks you over, lips curving as he does. “Not bad…”
Blackened eyes still haven’t left your figure. “I don’t.”
“I thought you were someone else,” you speak quickly. Your palms feel sweaty ; itchy with the stares piercing into you. You want nothing more than to get away from this situation ; to get away from the blond in front of you. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave now.”
The call of your name stops you, freezes you in place. Yuken strolls up casually, his hands in his pockets. He eyes your company, “making friends?”
“Ah.” The dark haired boy speaks. He goes from the stranger to Yuken and back again. “Makes sense. They do look alike.”
Your eyes find his once more and you freeze again before looking away. “Again, I’m really sorry.”
Turning quickly, you wrap a trembling hand around the inside of Yuken’s elbow, halfway dragging him away. Get out of this situation ; get away from them. You let out a small breath of relief — you can still feel his eyes on you.
Your name is called again, quieter this time.
Kokonoi hums, looking at his boss in question. “Something up?”
Mikey doesn’t answer, simply stares after you. As you look back one last time, you can’t figure out the tingling you feel. Can’t understand why the stranger behind you emits such an odd response from you.
The right side of his mouth tilts up as you flinch and look away. “Cute.”
——♡——
sorry for all the tr spam it’s all ive been thinking abt recently 💔
if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♡ [no hnl tags bc it’s not mentioned much!!]
🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎
🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband @chrofeisnightmaregf
airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.
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ballad-of-the-lamb · 30 days
Note
how did you work out how you wanted to draw your lamb, were there any specific references you used a lot?
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when it comes to how i actually end up drawing the lamb, and most characters to be honest, is under the rule of 'wing it til it feels right'. of course i find inspirations in things and piece them all together to make a design, but how i actually wanted to draw the lamb kind of developed as time passes and i draw them more and more. and of course sticking to my main principle of; if i want to draw it consistently, i need to draw it simply. so i have to do a lot with minimalism in mind to spare my wrist
i know that my lamb has a lot of feelings i wanted to capture that you can see on first glance, even if the design itself is rather simple.
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under the lamb's eyes, besides deep eyebags to signal to exhaustion, are tears burnt into his fur and skin. but with the added factor of sharp teeth, a strong physique, etc. i want to capture he is not just sad. he is full of rage. he is angry. he is built for fighting because of what he's been through, and how he feels. the type of upset i want to signal a lot is the sort of emotion you can vaguely feel off of a painting like The Fallen Angel. the essence of betrayal manifest. otherwise his physical design is based off a lot of these guys;
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the valais blacknose are cute, but very very hardy when it comes to the kind of Goat they are. they are little balls of muscle with wool that is used primarily in the making of carpets, tapestry, and other coarse fiber projects. i like to think the lamb has tapestries of themself & nari made from their own wool
TLDR: i just like 'the fallen angel' painting & valais blacknose goats and will forever 'wing it' based off of media i consume. my references and inspos are vague and yet many and i am a being of constant indecision
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sky-kiss · 6 months
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Okay sorry for all these prompts/ideas but I just can't get rid of these worms and would love to hear your takes on them! How would you imagine a scenario where Raphael is wounded and decided "I'm going to teleport to my favourite person instead of going back to the Hells" (maybe he was wounded in the Hells and escaped). He manages to teleport to them/their doorstep before passing out. What would ensue? 👀👀👀
p.s. I only though of this because I was thinking of Raphael without his doublet so you see that shirt and then imagined him being all bloodied and beat up 😩 Welp... Adding that to the back burner of things to draw!
A/N: Ya’ll feeling a lil’ bloodthirsty against the boy tonight. What has he done to deserve such violence? You know. Aside from everything. I’ve opted for a touch of silliness. 
_________
The House of Hope is compromised. 
It’s Raphael’s last cognizant thought for some time. The assassin closes the distance between them with hellish speed, a blur of wings and bladed limbs. He’s vaguely aware of the pain, but it’s the burning he feels first. It’s like acid in his veins. Poison, he thinks, and that airy disconnect startles him; it’s poisoned me. 
Raphael rips the beast off him, snapping its neck in one fluid move. Screams echo throughout the House. He hears more of those things scurrying about in the main hall and something massive, something awful, crashing towards the boudoir. 
They’ve come for him. His father’s men or a rival Archdevil, it matters not. He moves towards his armoire, intending to slip into the Hell Dusk armor before they are upon him, and nearly collapses. His vision swims; the muscles in his hands and calves are still in the process of cramping. Everything wants to spasm. 
The cambion grits his teeth, pride warring with rationality. If they kill him here, it will be a final death. But on the Prime…even if they fell upon him, there is hope. Raphael forces his hands through the familiar gesture and casts himself among the planes. He has no destination in mind; his mind cycles through its expansive catalog of people and places and locates one with sufficient strength. The House fades. 
Convenient, because so does his consciousness. 
________
There’s a devil in her garden. 
Well. Cambion.
Tav purses her lips, rocking back on her heels. She should probably feel panicky but can’t find it in herself. Raphael looks rough. His doublet is shredded. His red skin is tinged nearly purple, and sweat beads on his forehead. The hero of Baldur’s Gate glances back towards her cottage, down at the devil she’d once (tenuously) considered a friendly acquaintance. 
If he’d thought to come to her after a decade, then things must have gone sideways back home. 
She sighs, kneeling and slipping her arms under his. The devil is hot. Not in an attractive way, not even in a natural temperature way; it’s like his blood is boiling in his veins and cooking him from the inside out. She goes to move him and groans. 
“Gods, couldn’t even transform to make this a little more manageable, hmm? Good to see you’ve not changed, dear.” 
Getting him inside is an arduous process. Tav has to stop more than once. He’s heavier than he looks, and touching him burns her. 
She finally, finally manages to drag him to the couch. Tav presses the back of her hand to his cheek. She’s no expert in Infernal medicine, but he doesn’t feel or look great. Chewing her lip, she weighs her options. Leave him and hope he awakens…
…or take matters into her own hands. 
She’s always been more of a take-charge sort. Tav fetches a knife from the kitchen. He isn’t going to be happy with her, but he’ll also be alive, so it’s a tradeoff he’ll have to accept. She finishes cutting the doublet free. Seeing him without it is strange. Tav sits back on her heels. He looks smaller, so much more vulnerable without that mark of rank. The shirt beneath is rather plain by comparison. Frilled, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary. Tav cuts it away; the blood has ruined it. They’ll find something else for him to wear. 
The wound stretches across his side. It oozes in some places; the skin along the edges is blackened, already starting to rot. She wonders if his mortal blood worsened or lessened the effect of the poison. 
Tav fetches half a dozen potions from the pantry alongside a roll of bandages. She’ll have to work quickly and pray. 
_________
Raphael regains consciousness halfway through the procedure. The cambion is aware of a pinching sensation in his side; there’s a small hand on his ribs, trying to keep him from moving away. His host pinches him. They’re saying something. 
“Transform.” 
Gods above and below, he recognizes that voice. The devil groans, chancing to open his eyes. Tav is staring at him, crouched between his spread leads, needle in hand. 
“Not you.” 
She snickers. “Me, darling. Don’t complain. You manifested in my garden.” 
“Anything ruined?” 
“An entire bed of night lilies.”
He huffs. “I’m glad to hear it. I should visit far more destruction upon this wretched…” the room does a dizzying turn and his nausea intensifies. 
“You can visit your destruction later. Right now, I need you to transform. Your skin is a bit…” she shrugs. “More difficult to manage as a devil. You need sutures.” He snaps his fingers. The shift is not as immediate as he’d like, and he has to screw his eyes shut against the latent exhaustion. Tav’s hand shifts, moving up to cup the back of his neck. “Easy, love. You’re alright. Could you stomach a healing drought?”
He nods. Tav presses the potion into his hand and returns to her work, leaning over him. There’s a part of him, separate from the pain and sickness, which catalogs the healthier warmth of her skin and the press of her against his thigh. Her scent is precisely as he remembered. Her hair…
Raphael frowns, reaching out to tweak one shorn strand. “You cut your hair.”
She smiles, stitching him back together with practiced ease. “Do you like it?” 
“Not in the least.” 
Tav laughs. It’s a far cry from the last time they were together. When the wretched thing had the gall to deny him; when she’d cut ties entirely and ended their mutually beneficial relationship. She’s so close. He could snuff out her miserable life and finally make good on…
“There.” She pats his stomach, pressing back on her heels. She doesn’t move away, he notes; her elbows remain on either of his thighs. She is such a little thing, his pretty mouse, even with her horrible new hair and a smattering of fresh wrinkles. She tips her head to the side. “You’ll have to rest a while. But you’ll live.” 
“The House is compromised.” 
Tav finally stands. She smooths his hair back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Stay here then. We’ll make it work.” 
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carrymelikeimcute · 5 months
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I'm in my feels again so lets talk about Izzy Hands and violence.
I read a novel ages ago, where an older guy takes a young orphan boy under his wing and teaches him a trade - it's medieval times and said boy becomes a young adult and wants a sword, but his pseudo-father/boss/friend tells him he can't have one, because if he has one, he'll draw it and if he draws it, he could be killed. The safest thing is, paradoxically, to carry no weapons. To learn control of one's temper and control over your surroundings.
The scenes of Izzy and Stede in ep.7 at Jackie's reminded me of that novel.
Obviously Izzy has weapons, tends to put his hand on his sword during arguments and we do see him fighting and killing people. HOWEVER, I think it's really interesting that, given how often we talk about Izzy being repressed (emotionally/sexually/gender-ly) and how controlled he attempts to be, we don't often talk about his controlled approach to violence.
A lot of fic characterises him as someone who is hot tempered and violent, but looking at s1 with fresh eyes, between him and Ed, he's definitely not just the cooler head when it comes to instigating violence, but the one who takes less interest in violence for its own sake as a performance - e.g. Ed's very creative instructions with the tiny fork, the toe thing etc vs Izzy just stabbing Stede. It's a means to an end.
Don't think I'm not saying he has a fucking temper and a half, because he obviously does, but that seems to mostly be vented non-violently through yelling - not yelling at strangers either, but at people he knows and can (usually) judge where the line is.
Until he puts a toe over that line and...oops.
On first meeting Stede, Izzy cuts up his shirt without actually hurting him. It's a threat, but he hasn't drawn blood, hasn't started anything violent...yet. It's almost a display intended to dissuade actual fighting, by showing your potential opponent that they're probably going to lose.
I think one of the reasons Izzy's so annoyed about their losses in the battle with the Spanish is that it's not their fight. They didn't get anything from it - it was pointless (to him, not to Ed obvs). He wants to avoid facing the Spanish again in the following episode, because they stand to lose more than they will gain.
Even when he's actively calling for Ed to kill Stede, he isn't fussy about how. (And he uses manipulation to keep his hands clean - something he does again when selling Ed out to the navy.) Stede needs to be gone, and this is the easiest way to do that. And when he does finally lose it he doesn't just attack Stede without warning - it's within the controlled setting of a duel, which, when Stede starts improvising, breaks down Izzy's control and leads to him becoming emotional, making a mistake and getting his sword broken.
In s2 the pointlessness of the raids is obviously getting to him, disrupting a wedding for no real gain. Losing Ivan for nothing. I don't think the violence is what bothers him, he's a very active participant, but the fact that it's not for anything - it's not enough of a reward in and of itself. (It's like not really caring one way or the other about being a barista, it's just what you do and it's fine, but then suddenly you're not being paid and also your boss keeps burning you with the steam wand on purpose and you just sort of wish you could just get on with your job and make rent like before.)
S1 Izzy seems to lack the whimsy and imagination that Ed/Stede bring to piracy and to violence, but that doesn't make him stupid. They're playing some kind of made-up game that only they know the rules for, and he's trying to play chess with everyone, even when the rules are only a burden to him.
When we see him training, he's being a dramatic candlelit bitch, but he's also measuring his movements, focusing intently and not just hacking away at everything. Even the candles are interesting to me in this context - we see him playing with candles several times in S1/2 and while yes, there is a certain amount of 'Izzy likes pain' in there to unpick, it's also kind of a metaphor for control - fire is one of the most dangerous things to have on a 'wooden vessel' but a candle is like a tiny pet fire that you control - so long as you're careful and respectful. It's all about risk management, respecting dangerous forces and being aware.
When Stede kills Ned, Izzy looks impressed, even seems to smile for a second, but then he looks more subdued and tells Ed that the first kill is a head-fuck. It's like he's proud of Stede being ABLE to kill, but regretful that Stede CHOSE to kill in a situation where it wasn't necessary at all.
I don't think for a moment that Izzy regrets killing most of the people he kills as part of pirate life, but I think he would regret killing someone he didn't have to. Most people wouldn't want to carry that around with them.
We see in ep7. that Izzy is well respected at Jackie's. He tells bigger guys than him to fuck off and just takes people's chairs. He gets called 'Mr. Hands' instead of by his first name. There's a lot of respect there and I think some of it comes from his reputation with Ed, but also, from people knowing that he's not insane - he can be treated respectfully and everything will be fine for all involved. He's not some menace that's going to stab you as likely as pat you on the back.
For all that people are afraid of Blackbeard (and maybe slightly in awe of Stede as of the Ned thing) for their unpredictable natures and occasional violent outbursts, people are still attacking them or pandering to them, actual respect is something else entirely.
Later, Izzy doesn't pull a weapon and tries to discourage Stede from doing so, even tries to get him to leave to prevent a fight from starting. In the fight, he smashes a stool over someone and doesn't just start killing people - it's an appropriate level of violence for the situation, not an escalation.
It feels like Izzy is very much in that place of controlling himself, being aware and knowing when and how to use force practically, proportionally and effectively. This might be age related, but it's also a big part of his personality. I think that's also why he looks impressed by what Zheng does to Steak Knife (rip) because it's so precise, bloodless and quick. She's basically the best captain for him - she's efficient and controlled.
It's easy to confuse 'is willing to kill' with 'is eager to kill'. I don't think Izzy necessarily loathes that part of his job, he seems ambivalent, but it is still a job to him. It's what pirates do, much as the crew of the Revenge do still kill people, it's just part of their life and not some kind of performance or fun activity. It's work, and it's hard and it's unpleasant and if something can be done an easier way - a smarter way - then that's probably the best way.
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worm-tired · 18 days
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“Honey wake up it’s time for your Hazbin redesigns!”
“Yes dear…”
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Starting off with Adam and Lute!
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Lucifer <33
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And Lilith!
v Notes on redesigns under the cut v
Adam: The Original Dick! I wanted to make him look a bit more rock and roll ig? So I gave him more hair, rolled up his sleeves, gave him boots (and feet), slashed up his robe, andd gave him some hot topic accessories. As for his mask, I made it mostly Eyes? Sort of having it act like a biblical Angel..mask.. thing. Idk I think it’d be cool and maybe a bit scary if their masks didn’t show their full emotion, and only really had eyes. Also you may notice he has 5 fingers while everyone else has 4. Reason? Uhh. Idk, he’s the most human guy in the show. The only guy ever actually.
Lute: Gave her (and her sisters) some head wings. Made her sword a kinda fencing sword thing. And gave her some armor under a tattered nun-inspired dress (mostly in the collar). As for her mask I wanted to keep an X eye, but I gave her a three eye thing for the other one. Idk maybe the more eyes you have on your mask the higher ranked exorcist you are??
Lucifer: Took his hat away >:) his hair isn’t easy to draw but I like the way it looks normally so I kept it. Mostly. I was googling like a madman and found out Lucifer was a Cherubim before he was a Fallen Angel, so I used an Angel Chart to figure out all that. He used to have more faces but he lost Face Privileges when he fell. Cherubim also have 4 wings, so that’s what the little belt buckle and shoulder pads are :] also gave him a nose. Let my boy breathe. Oh also he has Ox horns, Lion nose, and Eagle Wings as a sort of tribute to his old faces. Oh also he kinda. Emits light when he’s pissed. Cause. He’s the Morningstar.
Lilith: made her more goat-y. Thought it’d be cool if Charlie took after her mom in that way. Idk I wanted her to be scary but in a hot way and. Awooga yk… idk she was already pretty good in canon. Changed her bangs to not be Twinning with Luci.
Side note, 3/4 of these guys have L as the first letter of their name. Coincidence? I think not.
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