#ALSO HIS HELMET AND HAVING HORNS..........

[bigidiotenergytm]

Hiiiii! So I have seen some people showing their art to you and I also wanted to do it. Here is my Hermes design (please do ignore the doddle of me in the right corner) thoughts?

Also I absolutely adore your character designs🫶

THE ACTUAL GOOGLY EYES ON THE PICTURE this fellas is why we also love traditional media here!!!!!!!!!!

[redbean-nom]

some designs for tusken era boba :)

unarmored/pre krayt hunt armored/post krayt hunt

alternative lighting style and flat colors

[xxplastic-cubexx]

white uniform erik or magenta/red (aka original colors) uniform erik?

The classic called The Classic for a reason .. ima big lover of the red + purple ….

[sug4r-melon]

i love it when Baron Draxum is called a sheep. idk why i just do

canonical fluffy boy. baa baa

[boyybites]

Realizing I know enough 3d knowledge to make little custom assets to import 3d objects into clipstudio paint helps a ton when you have ocs with certain parts like horns or helmets that you cant quite get right just drawing them.

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.��

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[vauschen-art]

Hey phighting and forsaken fans. Suprise

Have some headcanons for the survivors in Phighting because I can

Chance - Gave him bunny-like horns because he canonically owns a bunny.

Guest 1337 - Changed the USM logo on his bulletproof vest to be RBXM (Roblox Military) and the flag from an American flag to the old Roblox logo.

Shedletsky - Gave him chicken wings because of his "Chicken" skin, and the hood to reference his "Telamon" skin in Forsaken (and the fact that he's Telamon). Made his gear the "Chicken Leg" when the gear is called the "Turkey Leg" (because if Zuka's gear is the Exponential Rocket Launcher then I can change the gear name a bit). Also made him white as hell because when I inputted his yellow skin into a monochrome filter, it turned out white as hell.

007n7 - Gave him a mix of his original clothes and the "Dad" skin. Antlers come from his "Reindeer" skin and are the color of his original skin tone.

Two Time - Horns are the spawn wings they get when they enter their second life. Scarf is from their milestone 4 skin.

Elliot - Gave them Valk horns to reference his Milestone 4 skin, and made them the same color as his previously yellow skin. Again, made him white as hell for the same reason as Shedletsky, since the monochrome filter turned neon-yellow to white.

Noob - Yellow horns to match his previous skin, and made them the basic short devil horns because he's Noob, and that's about as basic as you can get. Looks weird and bald as hell but hey, so does regular Noob if you turn him completely white.

Builderman - Literally just normal Builderman with a helmet over his horns.

Dusekkar - This mf is literally Ghostdeeri what do you want me to do. He already fits into Phighting's whole universe.

All of these losers (affectionate) are in my Phighting + Forsaken fic on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63464632

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[dalishious]

This is an excerpt from my work-in-progress large meta examination on thet qunari from DAO through to DATV. But since that is taking a long time, I thought it might be worth it to post this piece alone now, since it works on its own as well.

-----

The Qunari Design

In Dragon Age: Origins (DAO) the qunari all had the same brown metallic skin. This is because the developers only bothered to make one skin tint for the use of Sten, the qunari companion. They gave this skin tint to every other qunari NPC as well. This is also why there is only the one hairstyle that Sten uses for qunari, with the few NPCs either being bald or using his same hair. Essentially, Sten was the blueprint for all qunari, originally.

No qunari have horns in DAO like they do in the rest of the franchise. According to developer David Gaider, the qunari were always meant to have horns, but did not in DAO because it would have meant Sten couldn’t wear a helmet. This led to the lore decision that some qunari are born hornless as a rare genetic quirk, to account for the later change in design.

Dragon Age II (DA2) saw a drastic change in how the qunari look. Unlike the elves, humans, and dwarves in DA2, the qunari do not use head morphs allowing for individual designs; they have standardized creature models. (The only exception in the base game is the Arishok, who has his own special model.) The qunari moved from having Sten’s brown skin to grey metallic skin, their eye sclera was changed to black, and they were given the horns the developers originally wanted.

It is a well-known fact that DA2 was under immense development restrictions that led to all kinds of cut corners. However, it is worth pointing out the negative impact of choosing an entire race’s design functionality as one of those cut corners. The qunari in DA2 are, for the most part, treated like nothing but unthinking monsters for Hawke to squish, no different than giant spiders or darkspawn. Making them all look the same adds to this effect; they are stripped of any sense of personable traits.

A medium between DAO and DA2 was reached in Dragon Age: Inquisition (DAI), through introducing the player’s ability to make a qunari protagonist. DAI allows the player to choose between few brownish and a few greyish skin colours for their qunari character. The black sclera was changed to white again, as the qunari use the same eye texture and colouring functionality as all the other races. The character creation works just the same for qunari as it does for any other race, allowing for individual appearances left to the player’s imagination. However, as far as NPCs go, there are no qunari in the base game of DAI, making Iron Bull as a companion the only qunari presence until the Trespasser DLC. This does not leave much room to judge the appearance of other qunari characters.

DATV is just like DAI in its character creation capabilities, with the one expansion being the player can make their character have black sclera like in DA2 if they so choose. For all DATV’s faults with the qunari, at least we can say that the character creation is great. Taash and their mother Shathann also have lovely, unique designs. Where things become uncomfortable with the qunari designs… is in the Reavers.

It is established lore from the previous franchise installments that Reavers gain their special powers through drinking draconic blood, though these Antaam Reavers have been altered by Ghilan’nain. My personal assumption is that blighted dragon blood was used. Regardless of how these Reavers came to be, they are unprecedented, horrific monsters, and it is only ever qunari that we see subjected to this kind of disfigurement. This really doubles down on turning them into standardised monsters like in DA2.

Going through all these qunari design changes can make a player’s head spin. But I believe it is an important, visual example of an overarching theme with the qunari: the developers have never really cemented what they want them to be. The writing throughout the years suggests the same.

-----

Stay tuned for the full piece sometime in the future, where I will get into the writing!

[diejager]

Imagine that the hybrid 141 was getting a teammate and that teammate was a hybrid and Laswell wanted it to be a surprise for the team what they are as in hybrid was and soon as they get off the aircraft and onto the tarmac, the boys realize that they’re with another dragon hybrid and her “heat” would be soon upon her (dark blue in to black better for stealth or, whatever you prefer, she also has her wings) how would the boys handle that you can take the story anyway you want 

This… I might make it self-indulging because this idea has been clawing at the back of my mind for a long while. Cw: mating/heat cycle, fire/water magic, tell me if I missed any.

Laswell had Price wait for the surprise she had planned, the secret she kept from them when they received your file. It had all he asked for in attributes and skills, but all things personal that should have been on it were scratched out in black. He was told that it was a need to know basis, your name, age or species wouldn’t be divulged unless you told them yourself. He knew you from words from mouth to ear, ad read of your skill and efficiently but nothing he heard and found told him an ounce about you as a person. Your character was a mystery he died to know.

So when he got word from Laswell that your ETA was just over half an hour, he had the boys reconvene to the airstrip, watching the aircraft carrying you land not too far from them, the rotors slowing to a steady thrum. The anticipation that bubble din his chest made this moment crawl at a snail’s pace, the ramp lowering too slowly for his liking and the droning sound of the aircraft’s irking his ears. Then, seconds after the ramp fully dropped, he caught sight of blue horns, tines growing from a singular robust beam, segmented like those of a scale. Your head, covered by a custom made helmet to let your antlers peek out and sit comfortably on your head (at least you wore something, unlike his constant frustration with finding one that wouldn’t bother his horns), followed after you walked out, decked in your gear and a bag slung over your shoulders. 

You weren’t what he was expecting, not exactly. He read that you had a masterful experience in hydromancy, stealing water from the air and humidity and contorting it to cause havoc in the field and cutting through the enemy. He and the others shared their theories, one possibility made you into a water witch, a leviathan, or one of those creepy monsters from the deep sea. Not what… whatever you were. You had elk-like horns painted in the deepest blue he’d ever seen and a tail covered in scales of the same shade, glistening under the light like it was wet with tufts of hair - or was it fur? - crawling down the base of your fourth limb to create a silky and soft end with long, slowing locks. 

What were you? What was that smell? It got sweeter the closer you got, a softness that clung to his nose and made him salivate. He wondered how strong it must be for the Soap and König who’s noses were more enhanced and sensitive than any others, they’d probably sniff the source - you - out and answer his undying question.

“Captain Price,” you nodded your head, a small smile gracing your lips, your slitted eyes narrowed in greeting, “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

That sweetness lingered around you and stuck to his hand when you shook hands, giving him a firm shake and stronger grip that he could admire for the strength you showed. Had you face been as bright as it was a few seconds before? Perhaps it was the musk that oozed off you, it was uneasily addicting and pleasing to his lizard brain, slowly moving the cogs of hos old machine. He watched you take a step back, making some distance between his Task Force and you, and his mind got clearer, nose less stuffy and cheeks wash away the slight flush. Then it hit him, the sweetness, the dazed perception of you and the growing need in his body, he was reacting to you. 

“Sorry, I was told I’d be off for the week once I landed,” you cocked your head, sharing an apologetic smile, “My cycle follows the Lunar year.”

Ah, everything made more sense now, the gracefulness of your beautiful tail, the glistening of your scales and the sharpness of your horns. He had agreed to welcome another dragon to his Task Force, he was fortunate that Asian dragons were calmer and benevolent than his European counterpart. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[jpitha]

Simple Solutions

There were many reasons Zil hated working on a human ship. They hated how everyone went into one big room to eat. Consuming calories for life was a private thing for the Xerilan; an unfortunate side effect of life that was better done out of sight of everyone. The humans did it all together, all sound and smells and noise. Going into the canteen at lunchtime was an assault on their senses.

They hated how the deck plates felt. Xerilan ships used a polymer covering for the floors, nice, soft, quiet. The humans used whatever alloy of iron they acquired from the lowest bidder. It was cold, and loud, and hurt their heels when they walked.

But, what they hated the most were the alarms.

Human alarms were loud, brash, violent affairs. Lights would flash, horns would honk, and some even added elements of vibration. When asked, the humans told them they wanted to make sure that everyone reacted to the alarm. Zil practically went catatonic at the noise. They received special training before taking their post on the human ship and still they had to fight the urge to roll into a ball every time the alarm sounded, and it sounded a lot.

There were alarms for battle - which was fortunately infrequent - alarms when the reactors ramped up, alarms for when they would need to secure for maneuvering, for when gravity was going to change. Zil was almost sure they heard an alarm for the start of a new day.

Zil was leaving his quarters, heading down to the greenhouse to begin his shift when the alarm sounded. This time, the alarm was different. Even they had to admit this one worried them. It sounded dangerous. It was high and trilling with a mid range warbling and even a brassy low range which made their own sounding plates vibrate unpleasantly. As soon as it started, literally everyone dropped what they were doing - some literally - and began to run.

It was the fire alarm.

As much as Zil hated all the human alarms, they at least understood why the fire alarm was so annoying. Fire aboard a starship was a potentially lethal affair, and everyone had to work together to find and extinguish the fire as quickly as possible. They ran to their assigned station and came upon the deck chief, Tanner.

"Zil! You're one of the first. Nice to see someone was paying attention at drills." He said, smiling quickly as he flung open lockers built into the walls. "Put on your gear."

Zil methodically put on his firefighting gear. Everyone aboard had some, and they were surpsied when they learned that the humans took the time and effort to consult the Swarm for plans and measurements for gear that would fit their bodyplan. It was almost like a spacesuit, but not airtight, made of a very thick cloth. There were tanks of breathing gas that the humans wore on their backs, but Zil's were strapped to their legs, like other Xerilan suits. They slid the helmet over their head and their feelers were blown around by a blast fresh air. It was annoying, but they knew that it wasn't something that could be adjusted. The humans needed their air to be fresh and in large volumes when they were under stress.

As soon as they were dressed, Tanner - also in his turnout gear - handed him a broom.

Even in the midst of an emergency, Zil regarded the broom curiously. "Uh Tanner, why did you give me a broom?"

"It's a hydrogen fire Zil, we don't know where it is."

Zil's hind-legs started twitching, preparing to launch themselves meters in the air and escape, just like their ancient ancestors. They suppressed the feeling. "What do you mean you don't know where it is?"

"Hydrogen fires are invisible and odorless. We can't see them." Tanner explained as he got his own broom. "We're going to walk the halls with the broom sticking out in front of us."

"How... will that help?"

"As soon as the broom bursts into flame, we know where the fire is!"

"We're going to walk until the broom bursts into flame? Don't you... don't you have sensors for this!?" Zil exclaimed as they began to follow Tanner. He would walk with his broom sticking out, angled towards the wall, and he moved Zil's broom so that it was pointed opposite his. Behind them two others from the deck team had their brooms out to the side.

"We do," Tanner said, not looking at them, "But they're never that accurate. Nothing like a physical indicator of an issue to find the leak fast. It's a simple solution, but that means it's robust and works even if there's a power outage or in some other kind of danger."

They methodically walked the halls of their deck, brooms out, with the alarm thankfully silent, but the lights still flashing annoyingly. They rounded a corner and came upon the other deck team, going the other way. As they approached, Zil saw one of their brooms flare to life, the fire orange and oily as the brushes caught.

"Found it!" One of the others shouted, and everyone dropped their brooms. Tanner signaled command to isolate the deck, and the pressure doors slammed down around them. Someone from the other fire team opened a cabinet and took out a fire extinguisher, and Zil ran over towards the pipe that was leaking and activated his comm. They did have a moment of thanks that the humans labeled everything. All they had to do was read off the location to command so they knew where to shut the line down.

"H2 line WES56.7, port side," he called over his comm. "Just aft of valve-" They glanced to the right, "-6769."

"Aft of valve 6769 copy." The voice on the other end crackled. Almost as soon as he called in the location, he could hear the whirring of machinery and the presumed jet of flame shrank until the only sign left was the smouldering broom and the smell of smoke and suppressant in the isolated hall.

"Nice work Zil!" Tanner said, and went to pat his back, but stopped, remembering that Zil hated being touched. "See? When you follow the training, you remain safe, and protected everyone and the ship."

"Yeah, but..." Zil opened his helmet and the hurricane if air thankfully stopped. "Brooms?"

"Simple solutions are the best ones, Zil." Tanner said, laughing. "Come on, it's up to maintenance now, we need to get back to our posts.

[eden-falls]

the manwhores of the realm. i mean fellowship of the ring

design notes under cut!! this is the product of a lot of work and i planned to design EVERYONE but i got tired and this is a good stopping point. for now.

expect more sansûkh gigolas soon. what a genuinely phenomenal piece of writing

gandalf:

• just an unassuming scruffy old guy. nothing weird going on here definitely not a minor god wandering around kidnapping hobbits for quests

• the staff was inspired by a shepherd's crook which felt appropriate considering his role

• i did also design gandalf the white but i dont like that one as much so if it ever comes up i'll go back to it

the hobbits:

• tails!! the length indicates age which is why pippin's is the shortest

• frodo's outfit is inspired by welsh traditional clothing (i am welsh) while merry and pip are kinda more general edwardian style and sam more medieval aligned based on a particular vintage costume design i dug up

• pippin's pockets are endless and hold many mysteries! he ties his hair like that to look taller

aragorn:

• to be honest. still not sure about him. i think the green is a mistake when putting him next to legolas and i sort of think the elves of rivendell go for deeper blues and purples, but my reasoning for the green was like... nature and camouflage? this one is still subject to change colour wise

• i didn't forget arwen's necklace he just wears it under the jacket

• yah theres not really any real life inspo. the cut of the jacket is viking i think but it's like 90% made up

• the books say he is the tallest so i let that hold true. however. know i am not happy about it and will probably continue to draw legolas the tallest otherwise

boromir

• first and foremost black hair. idgaf thats what the books say and in this regard i like canon more so

• i didnt wanna just do black and white gondorian colours so i played about with saturation a bit

• i moved the tree from the shirt area to his belt buckle only because i have made the shirt too complex to properly display it

• a little inspired by traditional turkish wear! i don't have much reasoning its just how i imagine minas tirith style clothing

legolas:

• hes a WOOD ELF he is GREEN 💚

• always has a stray leaf in his hair its literally in the name

• he has scabbards for his daggers on the back of his belt

• silver metal details rather than golden like the others

• like pippin's pockets nobody knows how deep his little bag actually is. he probably puts bugs in it or something

• his bow is pretty simple. i like to think he made it himself or maybe tauriel if we r considering her canon

• hair defies physics slightly

gimli

• high ponytail gimli truther it's just GOOD

• as is usually headcanoned, there's an overwhelming viking influence here. i felt however that horns on the helmet would be too much (and historically inaccurate if thats something that matters)

• jewel tones! i think he has an appreciation for aesthetics like this. nice patterning as well

• i added leather armour here but i probably won't draw it very often because why would he wear armour to smooch legolas. it's just so i can be consistent when i DO draw it honestly

[happypopcornprincess]

Chapter 3 || Friends? idfc

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise - Feelings take over Joaquin and y/n as Mexico proves to be more dangerous than anticipated... bringing with it both new faces and old enemies.

Word Count - 4.7K

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI!, unprotected hate sex, Joaquin and y/n being freaky asf, Language, Angst, Mentions of blood, DV, Abuse

a/n - This chapter's got a lot more intense stuff, probably the longest one yet! About Y/n's suit, I decided to go with the 'Black Widow' movie design, like Natasha's. I was thinking 'Civil War' at first, but the 'Black Widow' one was just better for the... ahem... spicy parts. Also, the POV will be switching a lot between Y/n, Peter, and Joaquin from now on. Hope you like it! This is my first time writing anything this hardcore T~T so please let me know in the comments if I got it right!

<< Chapter 2 || Series Masterlist || Chapter 4

Nothing could have prepared you for how cold the desert gets at night.

When you landed just outside of a small abandoned village in the middle of the mexico desert, the quinjet opened up to a cold gust of wind hitting you on the face. You heard Peter swear and then a loud smack followed just after, you let out a laugh, knowing it was Kate who did that.

Setting camp in an abandoned church was quite odd, but it was also unsuspecting. The roof was gone, what remained were the stone walls and the altar, which was somewhat intact. But the corroded wood on the platform told you one step would send you through the floor.

Sam held up a makeshift meeting place on the altar, and covered the backside of it with tarp as a space to sleep in.

“Team,” Bucky spoke up, “Briefing at 10, set up camp where you can.”

“Is it just me or is this giving major Resident Evil vibes.” Peter spoke to you, and you looked ahead as you walked through the church.

“Well now that you said it…” you huffed out looking at the blown out ceiling, an eerie feeling of being there all on your own creeping up your back.

You tried not to think about it, but the feeling only grew as all of you worked in silence, the only sound being the shuffling of your team with the equipment, “Guys,” Peter smashed a box on the floor, stealing everyone’s attention, “I think we’ve got company.”

You tensed, hand on your utility belt, Peter's senses were rarely wrong.

“Company as in, Kingpin?” Shang Chi asked with caution, the rings around his arms glowing golden.

“No.” Peter took a deep breath, deploying his suit, “something else.”

“Ghosts?” Kate perked up, and you shot her a look, “I mean…” you shook your head at her as she strung her bow, but still, you locked eyes with Peter.

A heavy, brooding voice cut through the eerie silence, “Looks like we’re not the only one hinting kingpin, red.”

The sound of a clocking G36 Rifle made you grab your Glock and point it towards the source; the altar.

Out from the shadows, as though magic, you see a big white skull coming in view, sending shivers down your spine. Everyone suits up, bucky pointing a gun at it, and as the figure stepped out into light, you saw the skull was spray painted onto a bulletproof vest. And the wearer was none other than…

“Punisher?” Sam’s puzzled tone made the grip on your gun stronger, “but-” he couldn’t complete his question, when a flash of red appeared right in front of him.

The figure stood up, and the realization made you drop your jaw on the floor.

Horned helmet, in a suit entirely crimson red, eerily close to the color of blood. It was Daredevil. The devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Amongst everything unravelling in front of you, all you could mutter out… was…

“What the fuck is going on?”

—/—/—

“We had no idea,” Daredevil said, eyes trained on the ground, “the avengers were onto Kingpin.”

Frank Castle, the punisher, chuckled, “thought we were the only one searching for him, like always.” his tone laced with mockery.

“What’s up with that sarcasm man?” Shang Chi spoke up, making Frank look at him.

“Shouldn’t you be in San Fran?” he asked, his stance relaxed, earning a bewildered look from Shang Chi. He looks at you and you shrug in confusion, but still alert at the man standing in front of you.

“I met you once,” Kate stepped forward, “you told me to stay away from Hell’s Kitchen.”

You remembered that rain-soaked night, the chaotic alleys of Hell's Kitchen, crashing into Kate as she ran towards you. She had gripped your arms, her eyes burning with urgency, and screamed at you to run the other way. 

Minutes later, you had witnessed a distant explosion, a building consumed by flames.

“You had no play in that war Kate,” Daredevil spoke, “your mother already paid the price, you should have stayed away from it.”

"After the Blip, Hell's Kitchen was a free-for-all," Daredevil explained, his voice strained with suppressed rage. "I was gone, Frank was gone, the Defenders were gone. Kingpin turned every gang in the city into his pawns." He took a ragged breath. "He's hiding here after Maya killed him… or so we thought."

"Kingpin was in Tamaha," you stated, your mind racing, connecting the dots. "That was the last place we had a solid lead."

"Yeah," Frank growled, "All of Hell's Kitchen is a warzone because of him. Every attack, every explosion, every murder, every act of violence… it's all him."

"But the cartel conflict…" you began, trying to find a thread of reason, but Daredevil cut you off, his voice sharp with anger. "It was his doing. He pitted the cartels and the mafias against each other, keeping the law distracted, preventing any semblance of peace.”

Frank continued, “Guess who’s running for mayor this year?”

You locked eyes with Bucky, finally clicking everything in place, Bucky says, “Kingpin will swoop in as the savior, the hero of the neighborhood who saved them,” you hissed, your breath catching in your throat. "The people don't even know they're being manipulated by the very man who's destroying them."

“Anyways,” Peter exhaled a sharp breath, “what next?”

“The fuck you mean, what next?” Frank glared at Peter. “We find Kingpin and blow him to hell.”

The room erupted in chaos, voices overlapping, arguments flaring.

“You want to blow him up?” Kate shouted, incredulous.

“Yeah, and you don’t?” Frank retorted, his voice a low growl.

“What happened to your no-killing rule, Daredevil?” Peter challenged, stepping closer.

Daredevil retreated, grumbling, “I won’t be the one pulling the trigger, Spider-Man. And don’t pretend you don’t understand. There’s no other way.”

“There might be,” Shang-Chi countered, his voice firm.

“You brought those rings for show, then?” Frank sneered, turning his attention to Shang-Chi. “One punch from you would be enough. No need for us to get involved.”

“I’m not killing anyone!” Shang-Chi bellowed, his voice echoing through the room.

“You’re not getting involved in this, Frank!” Bucky interjected, pointing his vibranium arm at Frank. Frank responded by stepping directly in front of Bucky, his hand hovering near his gun.

“Frank!” Daredevil intervened, his voice strained.

You moved towards Sam, who was preparing to step between Bucky and Frank, the two most volatile members of the group. Before you could speak, Joaquin’s shout cut through them. “HOLD ON!”

Everyone turned to him, Joaquin standing in the center of the room, frustration etched on his face. “Arguing won’t get us anywhere. Let’s just… I don’t know… sit down and talk it out?”

He looked at you, Sam, and Bucky. “We’re here to stop Kingpin, not fight each other. We all know Frank and Daredevil have faced Kingpin before, and if they want him dead… there might be a reason.” He turned to Sam, his mentor. “Please, let’s hear their perspective before we move forward.”

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, before settling on Punisher and Daredevil. “I understand why you want Kingpin gone, but believe me… killing him won’t solve this. We need him to confess to his plan, or someone else will take his place.”

“So,” he raised his hands, palms open, “can we sit down and talk this through?”

You hastened to Bucky, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Bucky, please,” you murmured. You felt him take a deep breath, and Frank, though his eyes remained fixed on Bucky, stepped back. Their gazes remained locked, charged with unspoken tension.

—/—/—

And what the hell were we?

Tell me we weren't just friends

This doesn't make much sense, no

The cold desert winds have died down to a simmer, the moon above providing light in the empty atmosphere. At Sam and Daredevil's insistence, you, Kate, Shang-Chi, Peter, and Joaquin found yourselves excluded from the building. You didn't like it, but held onto the hope that Sam would manage the situation.

“Can someone please explain to me why we are outside? Shouldn’t our opinion matter too?” Kate asked in frustration. 

Leaning on the outside walls, you spoke softly, “Kate…” trying to reason with her.

She didn’t stop, “Why even bring us here if they get to make all the decisions!” 

“Kate…” you ask her to stop, a warning in your tone. You could understand why this affected her directly. She was left all alone by the direct involvement of Kingpin and his schemes. She was the victim of his scheming plans.

“No, Y/n, Frank can’t kill Kingpin. He has to go to jail for what he did.” she huffs out.

“And how did that work out the first time?” you ask her a genuine question, “you think he won’t be able to bribe his way out again?”

“Are you agreeing with them? He is a mercenary y/n.” Kate walked up to you. 

“I never said that.” you stood straight, watching Shang Chi trying to pull Kate away from you.

"She swats his hand away, looking right at you, “I want him behind bars, dying a slow, agonizing death, suffering for years and years watching how he ruined so many lives for his gain.”

“Kate…”

“He is the reason my mom’s in jail!” she screams.

Joaquin held you back, trying to silently plead with you not to speak further, but the words slipped out, “She is in jail because of her involvement with him. She is responsible for what she did Kate… you can’t change that.”

Anger contorted Kate's face. She shoved you, immediately being restrained by Shang-Chi. “Do you even know what it feels like to lose the only family you ever had? Did you ever lose anything, Y/N?”

The raw hurt that flashed across your face was impossible to hide. You saw the moment Kate realized she’d crossed a line, a flicker of regret in her eyes. Peter held her back as she lunged forward again, and Joaquin rushed to your side, his hand reaching for your arm.

You shrugged him off, the sting of her words still burning. Without a word, you turned and hurried towards the Quinjet, your footsteps echoing on the hard ground.

“Y/N!” Peter called after you, his voice laced with concern, but you didn’t dare look back.

Joaquin, his expression a mixture of worry and understanding, hesitated for a moment, then followed you. He didn't say a word to the others, just gave them a hard look before turning to go.

Inside the Quinjet, the silence was thick with unspoken emotions. You moved to the pilot's seat, running a pre-flight check, your movements sharp and precise.

Joaquin settled into the co-pilot seat, his gaze fixed on you. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft, "are you—"

"Because you started it, Y/N! You brought her mom into this, can't you see you're in the wrong here?" Joaquin's words hung in the air, a final, stinging accusation.

"Wrong?" you spat, the hurt and anger boiling over. "I'm wrong? She pushed me!"

"And you pushed her buttons!" he retorted, his voice rising. "You know her history, you know her triggers, and you still went there!"

"So what? I'm not the one who put her mother in jail!" you demanded, your voice cracking. "She brought my brother into this, Joaquin! She knows what happened, and she used it against me!"

“Your brother?” he asked, his tone laced in confusion, “what brother? Why don’t I know about this?”

“You don’t need to know about him.” you try to turn away from him but he grabs your wrist, forcing you to face him.

"Why not, Y/N? After everything we've been through, why can't you trust me with this?"

Your chest tightened, a knot of fear and frustration. "Because..." you breathed, "I- I don't want to."

“You don’t want to?” Joaquin let out a dry laugh, “are you listening to what you’re saying?”

"You don't need to know about me, Joaquin!” you push him away.

“But I want to!” he shouts back, grabbing your shoulders, his grip tight. “I want to know why you get closed off everytime I bring up your past! Or anyone! I want to know why you can’t talk about it!”

"Why do you want to, Joaquin?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

"Because I love—"

"No!" you cut him off, the word a desperate plea. You knew what he was about to say, and you couldn't bear to hear it. "Don't say it!" You pushed him away, the force of your anger sending him stumbling back. 

“You can’t say it, Joaquin.” you pleaded.

His eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering, “I want to, and I know that you want to say it too.”

'Cause I have hella feelings for youI act like I don't fucking care'Cause I'm so fucking scared

I'm only a fool for youAnd maybe you're too good for me

I'm only a fool for you

But I don't fucking care at all, 

Blinded with rage, you stepped forward and slapped him across his face, and he stood there, silently accepting it. 

At that moment, something took over you, and you surged forward, grabbing his neck, your lips crashing against his. 

It wasn't a kiss of passion, but a desperate, angry collision. He responded in kind, his hands gripping you tighter, the kiss a raw expression of the frustration and unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

He shoved his tongue down your throat, and you pushed him back on the seats of the Quinjet, straddling him, your mouth not leaving his even for a moment.

Joaquin retreated for a second, gasping, “F.R.I.D.A.Y… disengage surveillance, and lock the doors,” before undoing your utility belt. He bit your lip as you got busy undoing his suit, your tongues fought for dominance, the only sound being the mechanical whirl of the closing doors of the quinjet.

You did quick work on his pants, and he left your lips to take off his shirt, and as soon as his shirt was out of the equation, he unzipped the front of your suit, pulling down your bra and releasing your breasts. The cold air hit your skin as Joaquin took your nipple in his mouth, taking turns on them, his fingers rubbing on the other as he licked on one, in response you could only gasp and moan, clawing at his back, biting his neck.

The entire act was raw, primal, a need in your core waiting to be satisfied.

When he looked up at you with hooded eyes, they had turned dark, pupils blown in ecstasy.

Joaquin grabbed the back of your suit, forcing you to remove it completely, leaving you in your panties, as he unclasped his belt to get rid of his pants. His cock was erect, swollen, and already leaking precum, and you wasted no time to sit on his lap and stroke him.

He kissed you again, in an urgent warring way, and lifted you up by your waist just to slam his cock inside you.

A scream left your throat as he stretched you out, your walls pulsating already, and you grabbed his neck and choked him, rocking your hips agonizingly slow.

Joaquin gasped for you, his strong arms hugging you by your waist to bring you closer, which only encouraged you to increase your pace. You moved up and down on his cock and it didn’t take him long to thrust his hips up to meet yours.

You moaned in unison, feeling his cock pulsating inside you as you chased your climax. He buried his face in the valley of your breasts, and you arched your back in response, his hot breath on your skin. 

A scream left your throat as you came hard, milking him while he gasped for air, releasing inside you. You felt his juices leak from between your legs, connected so impossibly close to him that you could feel his heartbeat on yourself; inside and out.

You and Joaquin gasped for breath, your bodies still intertwined.

Then, Joaquin pulled away. His movements were abrupt, almost violent, as if he were tearing himself free from you. He refused to meet your gaze. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the sounds of your breath against each other mere seconds ago.

He dressed quickly, but you, still recovering from the sudden shift, fumbled with your own suit, your fingers clumsy with a mix of confusion and hurt. You stole glances at him, but his face remained devoid of any emotion. He was calculating, debating.

"Y/N," he called, his voice flat.

Your heart leaped, a desperate hope flickering within you. "Yes?"

But I'm not hurt, I'm tense'Cause I'll be fine without you babe

He worked on his utility belt, his back still turned towards you, refusing to acknowledge your presence. "It's over," he stated, his voice as cold as the desert wind. "We're done."

A thousand questions screamed in your mind, but your voice was trapped, lost in the sudden revelation.

He turned then, his eyes finally meeting yours, but there was no tenderness, no regret, only a cold, hard reality. 

"This never happens again," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Don't mistake this for anything else."

—/—/—

“We will work together.” Sam announced, and while he earned some protests from Kate and Shang Chi, others listened to him in rapt attention, “Kate, Joaquin, Shang Chi, you’re with me and Daredevil. Peter, y/n, you’re with Frank and Bucky. Settle down for the night… we move at dawn.”

Peter took a deep breath, looking at Kate who was still fuming with anger. He was a bit skeptical of Frank, but now looking at him and Bucky who were discussing something in a hushed tone, he realized when it came to having a common enemy; these two were probably the best as a pair.

Daredevil was sitting alone on a beam on top of the altar, looking at the scene below. Peter knew he had to stay away from that man, as his Spidey senses tingle every time daredevil looked at him, like he was staring into your soul. In all honesty, Daredevil scared the shit out of him.

His eyes moved to y/n working alone on the ammo and supplies, and his senses perked up looking at how tense she looked. He then looked at Joaquin talking to Kate while looking at y/n, but then looking away as soon as she looked at him.

Shang-Chi sidled up, his voice low. "Quick question, completely unrelated to tomorrow’s impending doom."

"Go on," Peter said, bracing himself.

"Are they... generating a noticeable amount of static for you?" Shang-Chi asked, gesturing with a subtle tilt of his head.

"Yep, totally," Peter replied, his eyes following the gesture.

"But… why?" Shang-Chi raised an eyebrow.

"No idea," Peter said, with a shrug that was probably a bit too casual.

Shang-Chi hummed thoughtfully. "Is this about Kate?"

"I don’t think so," Peter said, his gaze moving back and forth between his two friends. "This feels... personal."

Shang-Chi's eyes narrowed, "Joaquin would have told us if something was going on with her, you know because she’s…"

"Yeah." Peter said, though he couldn't quite suppress a small grin.

Just then, Y/N’s gaze snapped towards them, making Peter and Shang-Chi deeply engrossed in examining their suits.

“Anyway,” Peter said, changing the subject, “bit bummed we’re not on the same squad.”

Shang Chi swooned, “Aww man, me too.” he pats Peter's back.

—/—/—

You agreed to take the first watch while everyone got some rest. One to give Kate some space at the moment and two, to stay away from that one man.

Frankly, staring at a wall was more appealing than him . The one actively pretending like you don’t exist.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice made you look up from the sniper rifle you had set up on the nearest intact roof from the church.

“Yep,” you breathed out, going back to looking through the scope at the distance.

Bucky joins you on the ground, lying on his front, “I heard about Kate.”

“I’ll have a chat with her later. Kingpin’s first priority right now.”

“Okay.”

“Can’t sleep.” you ask him.

“No… I had a bad dream.” he breathed out.

That was enough to drop your stance and turn to him.

Bucky and you had made a pact early into your friendship; if any one of your nightmares returned, you would tell each other. No matter how bad or grotesque, the other would listen.

You took a deep breath, holding his hand, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Washington… Steve, Sam and Natasha on the highway…” he let out a shaky breath, “it’s been a while. First one since that flag smashers situation.”

Bucky looked at you with a warm smile, which just made your heart ache even more. This gentle, kind man went through hell and back all to be a pawn in the hands of the devil. The people who stole his life don’t deserve to be called human.

“How are you?” you ask him.

“I’m alright. I should be asking you this question. Are you good?” he says, squeezing your hand.

“I had an episode before coming here.” you gulped, your brother’s cries still ringing in your ears.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Bucky asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Joaquin stayed over.” you blurted it out like it was a fact.

Your heart contracts thinking back to that night, his tender touch, his familiar scent, how his arms cocooned you, how easily you fit right into them; like you belonged right next to him.

You shake yourself out of it, just to find Bucky looking ahead, a smug smirk on his face.

“Well well… you won’t need this old soul to sing you melodies to sleep now that you have a boyfriend-”

“-he’s not my boyfriend!”

“- to cuddle to sleep…”

“-I’m gonna throw up!”

“-Ah, cute couples courting each other… How I miss it.”

You punch his arm with full force, knowing full well he won’t feel it, just to make him stop.

He laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh. 

For a moment, you forgot about Joaquin, the impending doom, Kingpin, the whole chaotic mess. It was just you and Bucky.

You look through the scope to check the environment, but what you saw made your heart drop. Amongst the pitch dark desert… a red, fiery dot on the horizon. Your sharp inhale alerts Bucky as he shoves out his firearm, and you scream into the comms, “Mayday! Mayday! Missile approaching 20 seconds out!”

Looking through the scope you come to a horrible realization: it wasn’t going at the church; it was coming right at you.

“Bucky run!” you scream at him, already on your feet with him running down the stairs when a deafening sound pierces through the atmosphere, and you feel the heat of the blast on your skin. You are thrown to the ground, and Bucky grabs your form and shoves you under him to protect you from the debris.

And then, the gunfire started.

War had begun.

—/—/—

You ran out of the debris with help of Bucky, and found mercenaries littering the streets. Bucky shoves you behind a wall, and together you scout the area. There were some 8 people covered in tactical gear and state of the arc weapons surrounding the church.

“Get to the others, I'll handle this.” he told you.

“Stay safe.” you look at him.

“Yeah, I'll join you at the church.” he winks at you, and runs out.

As soon as Bucky headed out, you ran in the opposite direction.

—/—/—

Sam had three people firing at him, redwing shooting lasers at every person entering the Church. Kate was perched up a beam, shooting arrows to injure, Daredevil had num-chuks out and about at the altar, attacking five soldiers at once. Peter swung around the area, shooting webs and hanging them on the ceilings. Joaquin was fighting alongside Sam, taking two soldiers at once.

The Punisher screamed at him and Sam, “I’m heading outside!”

“I’ll cover!” screamed Shang Chi, already blasting a group with his rings.

The two men stepped outside, and what followed was an immediate shower of bullets and blasts outside.

Joaquin shot one, but the other kicked away his gun. He readied his hands to fistfight him, but the soldier had other plans. He fished out two daggers, and began attacking him blindly. Joaquin on instinct picked the nearest object; a knife. He gave it his all, slashing and stabbing at him, but a machete was no match in front of two razor sharp daggers. Soon, the soldier was successful in disarming him, and just as he was about to slash his throat, he shook with bullets flying into him.

Joaquin turned around to look at the attacker; and found you with a semi automatic in your hands. 

Sam spoke through the comms, “everyone get out of here it’s an ambush. Fall back!”

It was mere seconds before he saw you fall back, a bullet piercing through your body.

—/—/—

The sting registered in your bones before you opened your eyes.

A blinding light welcomed you back, sunlight falling right on your face. Looking around, you found yourself in an empty room, dust all around, lying on the floor next to a window. When you tried to get up, your abdomen felt like it was on fire. Looking down you found your upper suit gone, your tank top rolled up to your stomach, and bandages covering your lower body. A large patch of blood seeped through from your right side, just below your ribs.

“You got shot.”

You gasped as you heard Frank’s voice from the entrance, he stood on the doorway with a frown, his skull vest covered in blood. Your hands grabbed around the nearest piece of fabric; a familiar  shade of green, and you covered your front.

Frank had his eyes on his shoes, he spoke again, “Don’t strain yourself. We’re safe for now. Take some rest.” saying so he went away.

You looked at the jacket on your body and let the realization set in.

It was Joaquin's.

The one he was wearing beneath his suit.

As on cue, you heard shuffling outside, and in came Shang Chi and Joaquin.

Shang Chi ran to you and hugged you fiercely, all while staying careful of your wound.

“That was quite a scare y/n.” he spoke, helping you lean on the wall behind you.

“You should have seen the other guy.”  you tried to joke, but he didn’t smile.

“That wasn’t funny, y/n.” Joaquin spoke, his eyes blazing with fury.

Shang Chi gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, “I'll be outside.” he said.

“Go easy on her, please,” he told Joaquin in a hushed tone, and left the room.

Joaquin didn’t come near you, instead opted to stay next to the door, his eyes trained on you.

“I had to fish out a bullet from you under a flashlight. And you think this is funny.”

“Nice to see you too, Joaquin,” you bit back.

Joaquin’s voice was a low growl, his eyes blazing. “You almost died!”

Anger and frustration boiled inside you. He refused to talk to you, and now he’s going to give you a lecture on staying alive. Pushing yourself up against the wall, wincing at the pain, you retorted, “You think I wanted to get shot? I saved your ass back there!”

“I didn’t ask you to save me!” He yelled

“You were one second away from being kebabbed by that guy’s daggers!” You yell back.

“I patched you up!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” You try to throw his jacket at him, but due to your wound, you just drop it on the floor.

He scoffs, “You are going to get yourself killed!”

“Then so be it!” you screamed with all your might.

Just as Joaquin was about to respond, Frank's voice cut through the air, flat and emotionless. "Enough! We have contact."

He stood in the doorway, his expression grim. 

You locked eyes with Joaquin. A silent agreement of halting your personal matters until the situation is in control.

—/—/—

“Where are you?” Sam’s voice spoke through the comms that Frank had connected to an outdated radio he had found around the house you were camped in.

“A broken down house in the middle of nowhere.” Frank replied. He was right, this small two bedroom house was in the middle of the desert, with no other thing in sight. You had searched about some during the mission prep, about how people just abandoned their houses to move to cities.

“Peter and Daredevil are on the lookout. I’ve got Kate and Bucky with me. Is anyone injured?”

“Y/n took a bullet through the abdomen. She’s fine now.” Joaquin spoke, his tone monotone.

“Okay, tell her to stand down. We’ll meet near the kingpin's base and infiltrate in. I have contacted tony for more backup.”

“Wait! I have a plan.” you speak up, “after Frank and Daredevil told us of kingpin running for mayor, it got me thinking…”

The comms went silent, and after a while, you heard Sam, “go on y/n.”

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself, “Kingpin is about to run for mayor right? He’s got to have a voter’s base, people who will support him for his kind deeds of giving back to the community after going from rags to riches. But, what if we reveal his true face before he does this?”

“Go on.” this time it was Bucky speaking.

“Every shred of evidence we have, we leak it. Let’s broadcast it to the world who Wilson Fisk truly is. His crimes, his true intention after he becomes the mayor.”

“And how does this happen? No media house will publish anything bad about him. He’s the reason they are afloat right now.” Frank asks you, his gruff voice laced with curiosity.

“Internet.” you breathe out, “Running a crime syndicate on this scale… he’s got to have records. And he won’t be trusting it with anyone, so it’s got to be on a system he’s carrying all the time. His phone, laptop, something personal. I’ll run a cyber attack on their system, take every shred of data from his database and let it go wild on the internet. It will all be anonymous, untraceable.”

Shang Chi looks at you like you just won a marathon, and Frank had a smug smile on their face.

“There’s a catch,” Joaquin said. “A large-scale data exfiltration isn’t going to happen with a simple DDoS or Trojan. You’ll need a more sophisticated approach, likely involving a man-in-the-middle attack against his network.”

“Yes. exactly.” you state.

“Which means,” Joaquin continued, “you need to be within range of his local network.”

“Which means I’m going with you,” you said.

“No you are not!” Joaquin says calmly.

“Y/n,” Bucky’s voice came through the comms, “you have to lay low. I swear if I see you on site I will knock you out.”

“If we leak the evidence of all his crimes, his sentence might increase, and no matter if he bribes his way out… there will never be a chance of him running for mayor. He will lose all credibility.”

“You are injured!” Shang Chi protests.

“I won’t be fighting anyone.”

“And how do you plan on infiltrating his lair without a fight?” Joaquin asked you.

“Leave that to me.” Frank Grumbled.

To Be Continued...

<< Chapter 2 || Series Masterlist || Chapter 4

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Next Chapter will be up soon... Love y'all, Take Care!

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[lleafyleafsterr]

I think the funniest thing about shipping mantis x loki in rivals is their ironic similarities that people wouldn’t have thought to compare before.

loki is the god of mischief/lies. mantis can read his mind or feelings to find the truth.

they’re both green, Mantis has antennas, Loki’s helmet has horns.

Mantis’s abilities in rivals revolves around nature/life, and y’all know about Loki’s connection with “trees”….

and also they both have dumb (usually blonde) brothers, which, also fits my comparison because iirc Loki and thor aren’t siblings in norse mythology and are uncle/nephew instead? which makes them only brothers in the mcu, mantis and peter are only siblings in the mcu, too.

[quibbs126]

Okay, I think I’m FINALLY done with these designs. Well okay, I said Megatron might need some reworking, but shush, I’ll do that another time

I was not expecting this to take as long as it did. Apparently I started making this at 9 in the morning, and it is now 9:30 at night. Optimus, I am almost certain this is your fault

Anyways, as mentioned prior, the idea here was to give the Earthspark Cybertronians protoform designs like the Terrans, what they might look like when they were in this stage, because I haven’t seen anything to claim Cybertronians in this series don’t also have this stage, unless I’m wrong

I mean theoretically, Cybertronian protoforms could look entirely different from Terran protoforms, but we don’t know at this juncture, so I used the Terrans as my main references

Pretty much the main thing was trying to turn their blocky features smooth, while also taking out a bunch of their little details, like their antenna and horns

Honestly I still think Elita turned out the best, which is maybe a bit sad considering she was the first one I finished, but oh well. I don’t think everyone else was horrible, but I think she just looks best

I think Bee’s design is fine, and it was honestly refreshing after struggling so much with Optimus, but I can’t help but feel like his eyes are still wonky

Like I’ve said, by the end of things I think Megatron came out the worst. He was the second one I did, so I wasn’t sure, but by now I think he is. The real struggle with him is that his entire helmet is comprised of angles, when I need curves. And then there’s his side things, which I still do not know how to translate here. The idea I was trying to go for here is the top half goes around his head, while the bottom half is attached at the ends, but it’s the bottom half that looks weird. But ah well, hopefully I can fix it later

And then there’s Optimus. The majority of the time I’ve spent on this was him. It was mostly the struggle of his vents and trying to make them un-blocky. It was getting really frustrating particularly because I couldn’t think of anything new to do with them to change them, drawing the same thing over and over

But then I remembered, this Optimus was once Orion Pax, a fact I was planning to omit. But that meant I had something else to draw on

And it’s what finally got my brain to make his side things into the curves you see now. It’s also why his middle thing is solid black, like how it seems to be in the picture above

But yeah, I wouldn’t rate his design as the absolute best, but it’s serviceable and I’ll take what I can get

But aside from trying to change their designs, I think I had fun. I noticed by the end of it that they all have different face and eye shapes, and that’s pretty fun

Speaking of which, I notice with this how small Optimus’ eyes are here. They may not look it in my drawing but they’re a lot smaller than the others in the show. Is that one of the reasons his design looks so off? Like I know it looks weird, I just can’t place how exactly

But yeah, take these designs, the culmination of my drawing abilities for the day. I’d like to do more with them, I just don’t know what. Best I can think of is like, a fic premise where the Cybertronians somehow get reverted back to these protoform stages, and the Terrans now have to help them out