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#some of this is now historically accurate
doodles-with-noodles · 7 months
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Hi! I like to make myself and the fandom sad about my design choices
Hiccup + long hair = 1000 % wet cat energy. He’s also layered up now! Very cozy.
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moon-mirage · 2 months
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"Till this moment I never knew myself."
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llondonfog · 7 months
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twst (horror) tober — day 3 (sharp)
➤ Day 3: Sharp | “Careful, you could hurt someone with that.”
His father warns him of such as Silver hefts the practice sword with wide-eyed wonder, the weight of a budding world lying in the palm of his hand as his fingers wrap around the grip and pommel.
It is a plain thing— blade made of tapered, sanded wood held in place by a thick cross guard and rustic, brown leather-wrapped handle. The hilt has worn down over the years, faded where many a trainee wielded it with all the might of their deepest wish: to become a knight in the royal guard, to wear the emblem of their kingdom over their chest with untold pride and undying honor.
To Silver, it's the most beautiful sword in the world.
Despite his father's cautious reminder, Silver can see him smile faintly from where he stands, arms crossed in an attempt to hide his biased pleasure as his son takes his first step along the arduous path to share his mantle. His father may not be the most expressive man, but Silver knows where to look for his kindness, his love. They even match today— his mother had laughed so fondly at the sight of them at breakfast with their golden locks held back in place, dressed in similar training outfits that his father had commissioned the royal tailor to create, as Silver diligently reached for second helpings of every plate his father had selected.
"My most handsome knights," she had murmured, kissing his father on a pinking cheek and her giggling son on the top of his head. "How well our people will sleep tonight knowing that they have the two of you to protect us all."
His father gestures to a training dummy with a breastplate and pauldrons of armor already assembled, the dull sheen of metal beckoning in the mid-morning sun. A buckler of hammered steel is held protectively before it, and Silver's heart leaps into his throat at the sight.
"We've sparred with batons enough," his father continues in that same patient tone, all the time and peace in the world to train his only beloved son. "I think that it is time for you to test your hand against what a true opponent would use to block an attack. Your swing needs to be able to withstand a shield rising in front of you, it would not do you any good as a swordsman or a knight to lose your blade in battle because you could not keep a grip on it."
Silver nods solemnly in agreement; it is not mere prattle that his father speaks, he did not become the foremost knight of their kingdom, their realm, by negligence and sheer luck alone. Chest brimming with the joy of knowing his father deems him ready for advancement, has seen the diligence and dedication of Silver's daily practices, he turns to face the dummy, readying his wooden blade.
The faceless straw head stares impassively back at him as he judges the distance between them, the weight of the sword in his hands, the force of the impact he ought to carry through in order to dislodge the shield without injury. Silver can feel his father's gaze, warm with silent pride, resting like laurels over him, invisible in its comfort and steadfast in its praise. He can do this.
He readies his stance, the lightest touch of a summer's breeze lifting his fringe as he all but feels the rushing power of young muscles tensing together to propel his swing—
And drops the sword in shock, hands stinging from the impact as it clatters painfully off his shin.
"Silver!"
Within an instant, his father has rushed to his side, those auroral eyes so identical to his own flush with concern. Calloused hands gently take his own, flipping them over with care and searching his body for bruising, but Silver all but brushes them off, babbling incoherently with a fright so innate, he cannot remember where it emerged from.
"I—I saw someone! Father, I— I know I did, they were standing just behind you!"
For his credit, his father does take a bemused glance behind himself to the empty practice field, but it is simply just that: a desolate training ground that he had ensured would be free of guards and servants for the quality time of training his son.
"Silver, I . . . I do not doubt that you were concentrating, but perhaps it was merely a shadow of a bird? You know how they often enjoy gathering here to watch you spar, are you certain it was a figure that you saw?"
He cannot stop the trembling of his fingers, the bone-deep curdling of his blood. His father soothes a hand through his hair, tucks him into the warm safety of his side, and wipes away the shaken tears that have begun to spill from his eyes, murmuring sweet nothings that have no effect on his reeling nerves.
He knows what he saw— the figure standing behind his father, clad all in shadow with emerald eyes gleaming like the jewels in his mother's crown, pitch-black horns spiraling to the sky.
And clasped in their long, thin fingers, dangling like a noose from blackened talons— his father's necklace, the ring glinting like a warning in the suddenly cold summer sun.
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skitskatdacat63 · 3 months
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Orb...
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+ process kinda
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thesteriuswife · 5 months
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Hmm... *thinking out loud* what if Dia was some sort of priestess or temple maiden when she met Theseus and that's why she was still unwed at that point in time...
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do you think every time mc sleeps with the english suitors (arthur/isaac/will) someone yells "the british are cumming, the british are cumming!" 🤔
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chiropteracupola · 10 months
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sometimes you start to wonder what the historical record for the guys you made up looks like in the fictional world where they existed. and then you make some fake documents about it.
[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea!!!]
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ofhope · 10 months
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After spending some brain cells that I'll never get back, I've finally nailed down my character type: the “dumb” ones that people write off as comedic relief, but have tons of depth to them if you just... glance at them for more than a second.
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tinta--branca--art · 1 year
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Pentiment made me so unwell smh it’s ALL i’ve been thinking about for days
Joined on to the self-insert trend bc i find it really sweet ;u;; didn’t do a full body because 16th century portuguese peasant clothing resources online ?? nonexistent 😔
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I don’t usually post myself on here but the dress I wore at the farewell party was too pretty not to show off
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jadedbutler · 2 months
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historical fantasy au wip -
The Divine Heir leaps out of the chariot as it clambers along the paved mountain path, much to the chagrin of his attendants.
He lands barefooted on the stone, light as smoke, and then he leaps again, down the fragmented cliffside. His pale robes flutter behind him like wings as he falls through the air. The cloth draped over his white hair like a veil, shrouding his eyes, drifts up as well. For just a breath of a second, the veil lifts, revealing a flash of such vibrant, otherworldly azure that it would surely leave any caught in his gaze stricken and reverent. 
As if reality itself bends to his will, he somehow lands soundlessly on the very same path, only 100 meters below, closer to the base of the mountainside. The cloth drops over his eyes once more, hiding them from the unworthy.
He strikes a pose, raising one arm to the heavens and the other before him in a mock Western half-bow. The sleeves of his robes are long, and drape over his arms in layers of fine silk, so white it’s practically translucent. 
“Hear me, beautiful people,” he declares, one to talk. “Pure as snow, blessed by the gods themselves, the Gojo clan heir bestows you with his divine presence!” 
Having watched him fly through the air, Geto hardly bats an eye at the Divine Heir’s – that is, Gojo Satoru’s – sudden arrival. “Giving your procession the runaround again,” he remarks dryly and, as if by invocation, the beleaguered cries of “GOJO-SAMA!!!!!” echo in the distance above. Satoru flashes him a grin, cheeky. 
Next to Geto, perched atop a stray boulder that had tumbled near the path, Shoko is similarly unimpressed. She takes a long drag out of her kiseru and blows it in Satoru’s general direction by way of greeting. 
“Want some dango?” she asks in her sleepy sing-song voice. 
“You dragged snacks all the way up here?”
She holds out an empty palm. “No, just askin’. I don’t have any money.”
Satoru drops his arms. “Ehhhhh ? I don’t carry coins in ritual clothes, though?”
Without missing a beat, Shoko and Satoru turn expectant stares towards Geto (Satoru’s is apparent even with the cloth covering half his face). 
Geto flicks his eyes up in a half roll, but a grin still creeps onto his face. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go before his Divine Holiness’s core guard figure out how to scale a hundred meter drop.”
He and Shoko had been following the procession from a humble distance for a reason. Naturally, the likes of Gojo Satoru, first Divine Heir born in centuries, can easily defend himself. But it still eases the Elders’ worries to assign guards to someone so fate-shattering. 
Of course, their worries only grow since their precious Divine Heir has a tendency of playing renegade and heeding the call of his own whims.
Satoru hadn’t always been this reckless, Geto has been told. As a child, he had been more cold and withdrawn. It’s hard to imagine, watching him mess around, dirtying the pristine robes meant for a highly prestigious ritual he’s currently skipping out on. 
Geto is more than happy to take him away from this anyways. He calls upon his rainbow dragonslkfjd;lfkjljs;dfkggdrf,mg
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altho-arto · 9 months
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Thinking about her (unfinished sketch i havent touched for months)
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potatoesandsunshine · 3 months
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have to cut the tax fraud joke bc this fic has somehow gained a real timeline and i know when things are happening and it's may. how did i get here
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unganseylike · 4 months
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Im reading the king must die rn upon tumblr recommendation and i cannot figure out my feelings on it. did anyone else read it what were ur vibes
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lopsidedtreetrunks · 1 year
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Despite my back pain lately, I've managed to doodle a couple more Ghostalia character sheets! This time for Matthew and Antonio. When I'm able to actually sit down at my desk again I'll finish these digitally but for now, this is what I've got 😅
Matthew:
He's in Humphrey's role, meaning he's a Tudor nobleman living in his family estate with his arranged French wife who hates being there. I wanted him to still somehow be from Canada despite the nation of Canada not actually existing yet. Therefore I researched a bit and found that Newfoundland was being explored by the British (or at least, the Italian John Cabot went there under the order of King Henry VII) in the late 1400s, so I thought I'd go along with that. Having his parents settle in Newfoundland for the first few years of his life before coming back to England to inherit the estate.
He was still forced to marry Adélie (Monaco - in Sophie's role), but since everything is set roughly 40 years earlier than BBC Ghosts canon, the catholic plot didn't exist and, indeed, Elizabeth I wasn't even queen yet (but on a plus note, massive ruffs weren't quite in fashion yet, so I don't have to draw any heheh). Through a little bit more research, I discovered that Henry VIII declared war on France in 1544, which matches up more or less with my timeline. Adélie plotted against him for going to war with her country and this is what got Matthew killed in the same manner as Humphrey.
Originally, I was going to have him be unable to read because his body had his eyeglasses, but then I discovered that there were glasses in Tudor times that would pinch your nose in order to stay on your face without having to hold them up (I can't even imagine how uncomfortable that would be to wear for any reasonable amount of time 😭), so I thought he could have those instead.
Antonio:
He's in Pat's role, and I didn't really need to change all that much about him. I think Toni is the perfect person to be a scout leader so he just slots in really nicely! It's the 80's so I gave him a mullet (obviously). I was umming and ahhing about keeping Pat's moustache on him, and I've decided I think he suits it, as well as the aviators.
He was born and bred in Barcelona, and met Bella (Belgium - in Carol's role) when she was holidaying there in the mid-70s. He and his best mate Tiago (Portugal - in Morris' role) were at a disco/dance hall and met Bella and her friends; a holiday romance ensued. Which may have accidentally ended up with Bella pregnant with Toni's baby (oopsies). Antonio felt that this was a blessing in disguise (ever the optimist) and he proposed to her not long after she told him she was pregnant. Antonio ended up moving to England to be with her. Tiago would visit regularly, as well as them visiting him, but he ended up moving to England too a few years later.
Antonio was already a scout leader in Spain, so when he moved to England he naturally fell into place in the English scouting troupes. He's always been great with kids which was something Bella admired about him. Unfortunately, he died when his own son Marc (Luxembourg - in Daley's role) was only 8 years old.
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warmmilk-n-honey · 11 months
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just watched Alias Grace and, what do you mean the 1840s sucked for women and poor people and Irish immigrants??
no but I srrsly enjoyed it, def recommend it to my fellow kuro victorian era nuts if you want something kind of depressing that will make you feel rage for the female characters, oh and if you want a morally ambiguous female lead who is based off of a real woman who may or may not have been a murderer but was definitely an accomplice to murder, also they call her a murderess in the show which is so slay
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