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ivys-garden · 5 months

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More Minecraft ideas, what part of Minecraft needs improvement?

You're wrong, it's ponds.

Ponds, lakes, lava pools. They all suck in Minecraft, they end up just being big holes in the ground with nothing interesting about them that make the landscape ugly and hole ridden

Now you might say “Ivy, literally no one cares” and to that I say, wheesht and accept my ramblings ya donut

So, how do we fix Ponds? It's simply really: make ponds generated structures.

Ponds would now be generated structures taking up one chunk, with an actual human made design to make them, you know, look good. There would be, say, 100 or so different designs to stop them looking to samey (they'd be so small that something like that would be feasible)

Lakes would be done similarly, only with the key difference, they would be made up of 4 chunk “cells”, each making up a corner of the lake.

ponds and lakes in plains or forest biomes would be made of blocks like mud and dirt.

Ponds and lakes in deserts (or oases if you want) would be made up of grass and sand

Ponds and lakes in tundras would be frozen over on the top layer of the water and with clay spawning around the water

Now, let's see some things that can be found in ponds and lakes:

Frogs

Nothing new here, frogs and frogspawn are most common ponds, pond frogs also only come in the green frog varietie.

Perhaps the oasis can have a desert rain frog variant that gives a purple frog light

Toads

Toads and toad spawn can be found in lakes and ponds in forest and plains biomes. Toads emerge from toad spawn in the same way frogs do. Toads have an exaggerated size, being double the size of the frog

Toads come in several colours (Green, Brown, Yellow, Orange and Lime) but these colours do not harbour any game mechanics (in other words: sorry but there are no toadlights)

Toads will eat all mobs with wings, that being the Parrot, Chicken, Phantom, Bat, Bee and the player if they are wearing an elytra, so watch out.

All the aforementioned mobs are scared of Toads, making them and effective deterrent to phantoms in particular

Cattails, Reeds, Rice, Algae and Papyrus

I'll just do all the plant life stuff at once (these will generate dependent on the pond or lake cell)

Algae is a new decorative blocks that can be placed on water

It will connect to other blocks, creating an unbroken surface across the water

Algae has a bright green hue and can be found in both ponds and lakes with the same frequency

Papyrus is a new plant that spawns naturally in the oasis, it is used as a more efficient way of making paper as it can be bonemealed and only one papyrus is needed to make paper

Rice is a plant that grows in water in lakes and ponds spawning in cherry groves.

Rice can be used in two recipes:

Rice Bowls:Putting rice, a bowl and any meat together will craft a rice bowl

This food source that can be eaten twice, eating the meat and then the rice

Sushi: putting rice, dried kelp and one fish into a crafting table creates Sushi, a foodsoarch that can be eaten instantly without playing the eating animation, not very nutritious but good in a pinch

Cattails are a purely decorative plant found in ponds and swamps

Reeds are more common around rivers and lakes, being a fern like plant that grows two tall.

Reeds can be used to craft a new item: Pan Pipes

Combining 3 reeds and 3 string will create pan pipes, these can be played to draw passive mobs towards you so long as the button to play them is held down.

Pan Pipes can also calm neutral mobs like wolves, iron golems and bees, but doing this instantly focus the Pan pipes into cool down

Pan pipes have a cool down double that of the Goat Horn

Bagpipes

By putting Pan Pipes, 3 iron nuggets, 3 red wool and 3 green wool together you can make Bagpipes.

Bagpipes have durability on top of having the same level of cool down as Pan Pipes. Bagpipes cannot be enchanted.

Bagpipes have the ability to PERMANENTLY pacify all hostile mobs in the chunk the player is in.

Bagpipes will break after 10 or so uses

Willow and Palm

Willow and palm are new wood types, Willow spawns around lakes and ponds and Palm spawns around oases.

Willow has a dark Bluish-green colour, complementing mangrove, where as Palm is a desaturated pale white

(These will generate depending on the pond or lake cell)

(Part 1/3)

#minecraft suggestions #minecraft ideas #minecraft #ponds #part 1 #part 1/3 #the beginning

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novlr · 8 months

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how to describe? Houses, rooms, interiors, palaces, etc?

Creating immersive descriptions of indoor spaces is more than just scene setting—it’s an invitation to the reader to step into your world. Describing the interior of buildings with vivid detail can draw readers into your narrative. So let’s explore how to describe interiors using multiple sensory experiences and contexts.

Sights

Lighting: soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light.

Colour and textures; peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams.

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

Sounds

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

Smells

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

Activities

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

Decorative style

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

History

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

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alextydaisuda123 · 25 days

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STEAMPUNK TOWER (Characters: part 9 - Mr. Stick)

Yeah, not drawing Mr. Stick is a crime. He is obliged even in Steampunk. But who is he here? It's simple. Here he is a self-taught inventor, just like Pizzahead, the only thing that distinguishes them from each other is that Stick is not crazy, and especially does not injure himself on purpose. But besides this, he is also greedy for money and that is why he sells his inventions for exorbitant amounts of money (and he still takes money from Peppino). Well, at least he does everything well. Like for example his cylinder, which is half a mechanism, with a propeller inside. Well, to boot, his boots are just as mechanical. Why does he need this? Just like that, for your beloved self:> And yes, he smokes a pipe ._.

And yes, Steampunk Oleg (@onelittleornotthing), this impudent ass is yours >:)✨️

#pizza tower #pizza tower au #steampunk tower #mr stick #mr stick pizza tower

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shardminds · 13 days

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you hate me for it

pairing: azriel x gwyneth berdara rating: e (for emotional damage) wc: 2k ish primary tags: angst, implied/referenced child abuse (canon typical), vaginal fingering, enthusiastic consent. for more detailed tags, warnings and the author's note, please see ao3 ♥

read on ao3 or proceed under the cut

It’s always the same dream. Always the same lick of flame at his wrist, always the same vice grip on his forearm.

“There now, halfbreed,” his brothers would say, his father would say. “Scars for the scar of the family name.” And his hands would melt, skin sloughing from fat, muscle, until only bone remained. They would melt too, uncharacteristically, dripping away as charred black split to reveal milky red and white - marrow, maybe.

Flames work up his arms. Shadows replace them.

The stench of it is too much, even in his nightmares. So much that he wakes up gagging, bolting for the bathroom before the grip of terror fully loosens from his heavy limbs. He’s careful not to touch anything on the way just in case. He’s scratched them raw before. It would not surprise him if it happened again. He hadn’t, thank fuck, but a recently healed scab between his knuckles split just to spite him as Azriel clenched his fist.

It’s not unusual for him to sport bandaged knuckles or to even wear gloves on occasion — tight leather fit, reinforced at the joints. They restricted his dexterity only slightly, but never enough to impede his skill. They hid a multitude of other sins too. He’d be able to get away without too many bandages this time around. Just a small one to cover the reopening cut between the third and fourth fingers of his right hand.

He washes them first, careful to run the faucet just enough for a constant stream, just enough to avoid the groan of the pipes. It’s almost mechanical how he takes each task. Wash, Dry, Treat, Wrap, Secure. Again and again. Over and over. On the battlefield or in the bathroom — it’s all the same. Just reminders of violence.

At least now it takes him minutes. It used to take hours. Hours and nothing but rags and scraps and a shallow bowl of dirty water.

Wispy tendrils curl across his knuckles, soothing in their own way. Soothing and insistent. Warning.

A patter of footsteps, the creak of hinges he’s been meaning to oil for far too long. Sea water.

“Az?”

Fuck.

“Go back to sleep, Gwyneth.” It comes out tired, weary as he tucks one end of the bandage beneath another, knotting the ends a touch tighter than he needs. Not at her, never at her.

But she makes no attempt to turn away. No, she molds to his back, curving around his spine until there’s no space between them. The press of her warm lips against Azriel’s shoulder blade rips through him like a brand. Her delicate fingers slip around his waist, drawing idle pattens in the space below his belly button. He clenches against it, feeling her nails graze the skin - gentle but searching. A coil of darkness circles her wrist.

Azriel’s mind jumps to her swordsmanship, the effect it’s having on her hands. She’s growing calluses. He wonders if she’s noticed.

“I’m not tired.” She says, and it catches against his spine, rides the length of it like a landslide until the words settle in his gut, just south of her fingers. The way she toys with the hair dusted above the waistband of his shorts—

It’s a game and it’s not. They play and they don’t. It’s sex and it’s sacrament.

In a roundabout way, he’s lucky she’s tolerated him this long. She’d listened all the times he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it. When the walls close in and everything feels too claustrophobic, like he’d never left the basement, only seeing the sun through cracks in knotted floorboards, dust dancing on shallow breaths. He’d been mean about it more than once, when he pushed her away or left her stranded, nothing but the wings on his back and the ache in his chest to guide him.

If he’s being honest, he’s surprised she stayed at all.

There’s no escaping the fact that he is an asshole. Even if he never wanted to be.

Gwyneth Berdara, never one to be underestimated, was one hell of a quick study. She learned how to keep him put, keep him talking, how to crack him like ripe fruit until all his secrets spilled free, like pomegranate seeds. Hers for the taking. The parts of himself even Rhysand and Cassian learned not to talk about, she barely flinched at. She took it all, never once turning away.

No need for daggers or swords; her greatest weapon is her tongue.

“Are you?” She asks, punctuated with a kiss to the back of his neck.

Azriel turns then, hitching her up onto the bathroom counter in the process as he stands between her legs but, if she’s surprised by this, she doesn’t let on. The cool night breeze through the open window has her nipples peaked through the shirt she’s wearing. One of his, naturally. Dark against the pale of her thighs. She looks at him with such defiant eyes, a challenge wrapped up just for him.

“Tired?” He curls one hand under her chin, tilts it to the side just a little. She gasps as he runs his nose along the line of her throat. “No, but I can fix that.”

Her index finger dips lower, snapping the fabric against his flesh. Azriel’s patience snaps with it. “Come to bed.”

“Why?” He asks, purposefully petulant.

She slides her heel up the back of his thigh, the movement only serving to reveal more of her milky flesh. She says “Come and find out.” But all Azriel hears is white noise as he slips his free hand under her shirt.

He pretends to consider it, he really does, and he used to pride himself on patience, but there’s no use pretending. Not with her. He has no intention of going anywhere just yet. “No dice. I’ve got everything I want right here.”

It’s the melodic sigh that sings to him, as she relaxes into his hand at her throat. She’s warm and soft and slick to the touch, honey cooling on his fingers as he toys with featherlight pressure. The thing is, Azriel doesn’t need to see to know just where she likes it. He knew the atlas of her body the moment they kissed. Intel gained from rigorous training, survival and aid now serving his baser instincts. What a double edged sword to know where she is weakest. What a gift to touch her anyway.

What has he done to deserve it?

“Do you want me to touch you?” He clings to the brief acceptance he’d been allowed, her open legs and heavy breaths, knowing she’ll say yes but needing to hear it anyway. His hands aren’t as smooth as other males, skin thick with callus and scar. He should have asked before he even tried. He shouldn’t have let it get this far. Should’ve let his arms burn to stumps, should’ve cut them off when his brothers offered him the saw, should’ve—

Gwyn grips his wrist in her palm, fingertips against the marled pulse point. With each beat it whispers don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.

“After all this time you still need an answer?” She says, barely above a whisper. Do you not know already how much I love you? How much I care?

He knows — oh, he knows — but it’s not enough.

“I would like one.”

She peels off her—his shirt, and each inch of skin that appears only serves to drive the lump further up his throat. A twirl of black sits at the crease between her thigh and her hip, and Azriel wants to trace its path like nothing else. Like he’s done before. Like he will do again.

They play like this sometimes; like a game of cards and he’s one draw away from folding, and Gwyn hides her tells so well ever since she realised he’d learned how to read them. Part of him is disappointed that she’s not wearing any underclothes. He would’ve made use for them in her mouth.

“Is that good enough?”

Azriel shakes his head, focused too much on the darkened burn of his hands against the ivory of her throat. Gnarled gore against perfect smooth. A privilege just to touch her like this.

Sometimes, when he removes his hand, the print of it stays. Her flesh tainted by his touch. A path to her most intimate parts left in bruises and brands from his own fingers. To corrupt this last perfect thing— to have her skin slough under even the most gentle caress, even if her lips parted in pleasure as he did so.

He wakes screaming from those.

“I want to hear you say it.” He says, quiet like confession. Truthfully, it’s the only way he could ever admit this; below a whisper, for her ears only. “I like it when you tell me what you want.”

“Azriel, oh Azriel.” It comes laced with sarcasm, if a little heavy. Like she’d roll her eyes if they weren’t half lidded and focused on his lips. “I want you to touch me. Please.”

And when Azriel whispers “thank you” against her lips, he means it. Sighs it into her mouth like a prayer. Gwyn doesn’t pause before kissing him as he slides one, two fingers inside her, moan catching on his teeth.

Times like this, he wishes he had full sensation in his fingers. That the fire hadn’t robbed him of the sensitivity in at least half of them. He can still feel the pressure as she clenches around them — desperate, eager — but he wished he could feel it more. Wished the pads of his fingertips could trace the walls of her and memorise them, like he had done with his tongue so many times before.

It’s not like he has no feeling, just less. Scar tissue marring the sensation like feeling through the gloves he used to wear on solstice visits to Rosehall, before he was carted back to his cell and his father tore them from his arms and threw them to the same flame they burned him with. Acrid leather smoke choking him with each breath. It’s hard to remember how things truly felt; the silks of his mother’s dresses, the rough concrete floors of his father’s basement, the unmarred feel of his own skin before all the scars.

But there are other ways to feel her.

Azriel slips a thumb to her clit and Gwyn flinches, hands jumping to his shoulders. Her blunt fingernails bite into his flesh and it hurts so deliciously he almost loses the tentative grip he has on things. On reality. Chain slipping from his grip a little more with each noise from her lips. Each one he pulled from her.

“You’re teasing.” She gasps, breaking the kiss as he circles his thumb again, practiced pressure allowing him to press ever so slightly until the telltale whine and hiss of oversensitivity drags him back. She’s always sensitive. Like no one he’s ever known.

“Am I?”

“You are. Don’t.”

He is, but that’s just how it goes. That’s how he peels apart the layers she also hides behind — teasing with touches he can’t quite feel until she breaks beneath him like a wave. He works her a little deeper, a little faster, revelling in how she squeezes around his fingers, curses lost to a god neither of them can hear and Azriel can’t bring himself to care about religion when he’s discovered heaven right here.

She trembles as she comes, breath heavy and laboured. How he can bring her off with just this alone fascinates him still. There’s no getting over just how close to perfection he is allowed, despite all the things he did to get there. The stains on his soul run deeper than the marks on his skin, but Gwyn drags him close anyway, lips sealing around the side of his neck, kissing up to his ear with breathless pants.

Azriel thinks, for a second, that maybe she loves him.

It’ll pass.

Her lips catch his earlobe.

“Please.”

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwyneth berdara #azriel #don't ask me to tag things again i'm doing this at gun point #ficminds

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eebie · 2 years

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had a dream about a guy named Mr. Star and he ran a cruise line. and his ‘cruise ship’ was a massive whale called the Megawhale which had pipes and portholes all in it. and he hired me to operate a pod that would clear the path of debris for the megawhale 2 swim smoothly. but i got a really shitty pod that overheated and I had to dock it in the whale. the mechanics were like yeah this ones known for breaking down it’s fine. so while they were fixing it i went to explore the inside of the megawhale which looked like a nice airport mixed with a hotel, and it was completely empty. the only people around were all in uncanny/cutesy mascot costumes and wandered around . a lot if empty food stalls too. and Mr. Star teleported next to me in a zap of light that sounds like a static shock and starts swearing at me for not doing my job and threatens to kill me for wasting his time bc he’s working on expanding the megawhale . Mr star is like this 10ft tall guy in a dark purple business suit with a sparkling yellow tie, and an unattached floating head that looked like a cartoon star. he was a complete asshole but i loooove him ill draw him later

#my rambles

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siliconecuk · 8 months

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

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unalloyed (18+)

(Daemon Targaryen x modern f!reader / nurse!reader)

A bonus chapter for this world was never meant for a fire like yours

series order: part one - part two - unalloyed - part three.one -

word count: 3.2k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: language + nsfw/smut! (18+), mechanic!Daemon

❗️best to read parts one and two first to fully understand this chapter

April 2023

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Your voice pipes up from the corner of the room.

“Of course we are, love. Bobby said so himself,” Daemon stands in front of an open hood. He twists his wrist in a circular motion, driving the wrench in further, “and he can’t say no to me.” The repetitive movement draws your eye to his strained bicep, his short black sleeve tightening each time.

The garage-like room is brightly lit, its uniform walls painted a dark steel gray, big enough for conducting work on just one car. You sit atop a high stool, your legs freely swinging beneath you, in front of the rolling tool tray. Like its custodian, or Daemon’s assistant, you hand him what he needs from time to time. An impact wrench. Hood light. Spark plug pliers. Words that would have flown over your head, if not for Daemon guiding you through them.

Oh, the irony. Daemon teaching you about things from your own world. And you can’t deny it, ever since he came into your world, it all the more started to feel like home. You were used to simply drifting through your days in relative mundaneness. Work, apartment, friends. Nothing was ever new. Until him.

With Daemon, every day feels unpredictable. Exciting. Yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt more comfortable in your own skin. You’ve never placed as much trust as you had in this confusing sequence of your life, slowly unfolding before you.

It’s true, out in the open, for you to see.

Daemon feels like home.

The auto shop that Daemon works in has been temporarily closed for several days, as Bobby, the owner, has gone on holiday with his family. Plus a few friends, who also work for him in the shop. He gladly extended the invitation to Daemon, who refused, saying, “I’d much rather stay here, and be with my y/n.”

Daemon has been coming to the closed auto shop while everyone’s on holiday, because he wants to occupy himself while you’re on your shifts. Merely staying in the apartment alone makes him feel as if he is “wasting away” apparently, and a few other choice Daemon phrases, such as how his “skin burns with yearning for you.” So, he’d much rather surround himself with chassis and fuel and metal, his time quickly passing with the advanced mechanics that he has grown to admire. Today, you only had a brief morning shift, after which you headed to Daemon straightaway.

You sit patiently, as Daemon continues to tinker on one’s of Bobby’s personal projects. Your eyes eagerly follow Daemon's movements, so adept that he comes off as seemingly trained from years of work. Truth is, you found him scrambling in the street, half out of his mind, just months before.

This cherry-red 1968 Chevy Corvette is only one of the few vintage pieces that Bobby has been painstakingly restoring throughout the years. Nestled in one of the inner working stations in the auto shop, separate from the main room, it allows work to be done to it in relative privacy. This is one of Bobby’s precious babies after all.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Daemon asks, his change of stance indicating that he has been watching you for a while.

My love. Damn him. You look down, warmth rushing to your cheeks, “Just,” you start to say, wondering if you should shy away, or do exactly what he’s good at. You shrug your shoulders innocently, “uhm, I’m just admiring the way your broad shoulders look in this light.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, lips pursing flirtatiously. Daemon’s gaze grows hungry, and he reaches for a towel, wiping the grease off his hands. He lowers the hood of the red Corvette, gently pushing it shut with a click.

Daemon’s smirk is mischievous as he struts over to where you sit, “Is last so?”

Nearly every shred of boldness leaves you, as you melt under his intense gaze. His eyes run over your body, practically undressing you. Your crossed legs tighten against themselves to alleviate the growing heat, but he reaches for your knees, prying them apart. He spreads your legs to either side of his waist, wrapping them around him. You nearly go off-balance from the high stool, making you grip Daemon’s shoulders.

“Daemon,” you opt for sense, although your body screams otherwise, “not here.”

“Why ever not?” He leans forward, and kisses your neck, sucking hard before pulling away.

“Be…cause, you work here. And there might be surveillance cameras in place.”

He merely switches to the other side of your neck, leaving soft bites in his wake, “Not in this room. It’s Bobby’s private working space.”

“All the more reason why we shouldn’t… here.” Your eyes flutter half-shut from his lips grazing your skin, and his teeth against your neck, “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” Damn it, just give in.

“He allowed me to work on this while he’s away, and to use this space however I please.” His hand migrates to the back of your neck, tilting your head back. You glance up at his deep violet eyes, heavily darkened by his dilated pupils. He purrs, “Gods, my love, I want you.”

"Mmm, to use this space yes, but not for..." you raise your eyebrows at him, knowing he gets the point.

"For fucking?" Daemon's smirk has returned in all its shameless glory. His wandering hands squeeze your thighs, slowly inching ever so close to your heat.

"Daemon, come on. There'll be plenty of time for that when we get home."

He leans in close, his breath heating up your face, "You don't want to fuck me now?" Tauntingly, he reaches up the white shirt you wear underneath your scrubs, and palms your breast under your bra, "Darling, I think you do."

"Fuck. I do, I just... " you bite your lip, resolve weakening.

"Tell me what you want." Daemon has always been sure of himself, taking all that he pleases, caring not whether he leaves a storm in his wake. It's something you admire about him, his ferocity, his brazenness. This prince is chaos in human-form. Your prince.

He has helped you get rid of any uncertainty you might have about yourself, about why he would settle for you. A whole new world ripe for the picking, and he only wants you. When you asked him if he only stayed with you because you've become too familiar, he irately responded, "My love, if you believe that to be the truth, then you underestimate how much you mean to me."

You wish to mirror his bravery. You wish to take what you want, like how he has taken you. And you have, in your own way, grown more into yourself. Becoming more confident, in large part due to Daemon's influence.

He repeats, edging you on, "What do you want?" His hand tilts your head up by the chin, "Tell me. If you truly wish to stop, then just say so."

"Daemon-"

"But," his pupils are dilated, so much that his violet eyes are nearly blackened, "if you want to fuck me here, now, as I want to fuck you... then demand it."

"Daemon, I - "

"Whatever you want, my love, you shall have."

"I just," you hesitate, biting your lip, while your eyes hurriedly scan the higher corners of the rooms. No cameras, like he said. He persists in peppering soft kisses across your jaw, and down your neck, practically begging you to answer.

Before you could change your mind, you whisper, your voice raspy and heated, "Fuck me."

"Hmm," Daemon hums from deep within his chest, acknowledging your request. Something carnal quickly switches on inside him, and he captures your lips in a desperate kiss. You startle a bit when his rough hands lift you up, carrying you. He takes a few steps back, and gingerly plops you down atop the hood of the Corvette.

The surface is cooler than you expected, and the metal feels smooth against your skin. Daemon is quick to lower himself down to you, feverishly reconnecting his lips to yours. Your hands reach out to touch him, but he grabs them and holds them firmly down on the hood. You squirm underneath him, and the movement causes friction on his dark-wash jeans.

"Qogralbar nyke," he breathes, "Jaelan naejot qogralbar ao sīr quba."

His High Valyrian is like music to your ears.

"What was that?" you coyly ask.

"I said," he leans back, so that he can gaze at you fully, "I want to fuck you so badly."

You swallow, your body practically screaming in anticipation, "Well, go on then."

Daemon smiles proudly, "I like this side of you, my love."

Smirking mischievously, you prop yourself up on one elbow, and start pulling his black shirt off with one hand. He assists you, shimmying it off much quicker.

You sit up fully, grasping on his torso, your palms tracing the firm planes of his chest.

He chuckles lowly, at the sight of his y/n clinging onto him like some serpent. His eyes trace the curve of your jaw, the swell of your lips, the fire in your gaze, and he can't help but feel so damn fortunate despite his lot.

Sure, he is in a strange, perplexing world and all. He's far from everything he's ever known. He might be angry at times, for everything that has been taken from him. He might be lost.

But he has you.

As if you are privy to his thoughts, you ask, mirth in your tone, "What are you staring at?"

Daemon holds your gaze, unblinking, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The corner of his lips turns up in a contented half-smile.

"My life."

Your hands pause in their wandering, and your lips part in surprise. It is as if the rug has been pulled from underneath you, and you are grasping at air. His words never fail to catch you off guard.

"God, I might never get used to that," you breathe, mostly to yourself.

"Hmm?" he leans in closer.

"Nothing," you smile, "I just love you, Daemon."

He kisses you lightly, his hands moving downward, slithering underneath your shirt, "And I, you." He pulls your shirt up over your head, ruffling your hair in the process.

It's easy to see the unmistakable want in his eyes, as he takes off the rest of your clothing. He doesn't stop, until you are laid fully bare, your smooth skin contrasting against the gleaming red frame of the Corvette. You slide your buttocks upward, so as not to slip off, hooking your fingers in Daemon's belt loops, pulling him with you.

"Come," you implore. He need not be told twice. He unbuttons his jeans, and hurriedly kicks them off his legs, his boxers sliding down with it.

He clambers on top of the hood, the front of the car tilting under the weight.

"Is this okay?" you ask, as the car gives off the slightest squeak.

"Yes," his stomach presses onto yours, and you feel his hard length against you, "if it isn't, then I don't fucking care."

"Daemon," you scold playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Forget about the bloody carriage, it's fine," he groans, and reaching off to the side, he takes a condom, fished from the pocket of his jeans moments before.

"Do the honours," he hands it to you, his face contorting with obvious impatience as you carefully peel the wrapper off. He pushes his silver hair back away from his eyes, straightening himself to give you a better angle.

"Calm down, my love," you tease, pinching the tip of the rubber with one hand, and sliding it all the way down his cock with the other. "There. All done."

"Gods, I can't wait until I can fill you with my seed. When we can fuck freely, without these annoying contraptions." He positions himself in your entrance, which already glistens with precum.

"Mmm," you bite your lip, not entirely averse to the image he described, "perhaps one day, soon."

"I'll hold you to it," he swears, before swooping down again to kiss you. His tongue collides with yours, your teeth practically grinding against each other in your unabashed hunger. The passion goes straight to your head, and you suddenly bite his lower lip hard, causing him to growl. The almost animalistic sound is enough to make your pussy throb.

"Get inside me," you moan, "Now."

His thumb briefly reaches up to soothe his lower lip, and he collects the faintest hint of blood from the cut. His cock twitches at the sight. His sweet y/n, wantonly showing him how much she wants him. Needs him.

She's got some fucking Targaryen fire in her. Daemon recognizes a similar spark in you. His innate vanity further intensifies his desire for you, as if it weren't already breaking any and all possible boundaries. Daemon has never wanted anything, anyone, more than he wants you in this very moment.

Who in the seven hells could have foretold that his other half, his soulmate, would be this divine being from a whole other world? This inexplicable creature, sprawled atop this intricate steel carriage. Her legs spread wide, juices spilling from her cunt, ready to take all of him.

Daemon chuckles, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, "As my lady commands."

He enters you, inch by inch, a faint ache spreading through your cunt as it stretches to accommodate his girth.

"Look at me," he steadies your face, with one hand gripping your jaw. When your eyes meet, he pushes himself inside to the hilt, his balls grazing your skin.

A strained moan leaves your lips, your back arching slightly. Daemon's hungry eyes devour the way your body shudders in response, when he pulls out, only to slam back inside you.

"Fuck," you pant, desperate for more, "faster, Daemon. Harder."

Leaning forward, he bends your legs towards your torso, anchoring them on his shoulders. He drives himself even deeper, his thick cock disappearing completely in the depths of your cunt. Again, and again. Your back slides repeatedly on the hood, the sweat causing you to glide on its surface.

Your breasts rock back and forth with his every hard thrust, and Daemon momentarily slows down the pace, to lower his lips down onto them. His tongue swirls on your nipple, sucking greedily, pulling away to breathe a raspy, "Fuck."

When you reach up to touch his face, he catches your hands mid-air, and slams them back down on the hood. His grip on your wrists is firm and unyielding, and all you can do is lie there, as he mercilessly ruts into you.

"Daemon," you whisper, as your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, his name sounding like a prayer.

"Uhh, fuck," he pounds into you, his balls rhythmically slapping against your backside, "my love. Ñuha jorrāelagon."

My love. That one you know well. You repeat his words, "Ñuha jorrāelagon. "

"Ahh," he grins, "Avy jorrāelan."

He rocks back on his heels, pulling you close. He holds your legs up wide, your feet suspended in the cool air. He fucks you even faster than before, his pelvis blurring in the ceaseless motion.

The look on Daemon's face is something feral, his lips pulling back against his teeth. Strands of his silver hair have fallen in front of his face, partially shielding his vision. He groans, making every effort to bury his cock even deeper inside your dripping cunt.

"Gods," he curses, as you tense around him, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Daemon," you moan, heat pooling low in your belly, the throbbing in your pussy almost growing too much to bear, "I'm getting close."

He keeps going, the most unhinged noises escaping his lips, the filthy sound of his balls slapping against your backside echoing throughout the room. His knees scrape against the polished hood, but he does not dare stop thrusting. Not until his y/n comes undone beneath him.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," you let out a strained cry, as your juices spill out of you, squirting onto Daemon's cock. Milky white droplets spill onto the red Corvette, sliding along its curve.

Daemon releases his orgasm, one which he has been struggling to hold back so that you might cum first. His cock twitches inside of you, and he collapses midway, his forearms framing your face.

With desire burning in your eyes, your lift your head up to kiss him. He welcomes it, his lips dancing against yours, with soft moans emitted from both of you.

His body grows still, and he slides his cock out of your cunt. He focuses on the kiss, on your hands blindly grasping his face, his hair, his neck.

You pull away to take a breath, looking flushed all over.

"Daemon," you pant, searching for the right words to say. Anything that might be adequate to encompass how you feel. How much he means to you.

"Daemon, I - " Nothing comes to mind. Even I love you does not seem enough. You could say it a million times, and it would never be enough.

He understands the turmoil in your expression. Pressing his forehead against yours, his silver locks falling to frame your face, he professes, "I know, my love. Whatever it is, I know."

The two of you stay there for a while longer, your naked bodies pressed against each other. Basking in the calm, in the glow of your lovemaking.

"I hope we didn't mess up Bobby's car," you say, as your head rests against Daemon's shoulder, his arm lazily wrapped around you.

He only laughs, evidently unbothered. Of course he doesn't care. His tone is wry when he responds, "The bloody carriage is fine. Even if it isn't, I'm sure Bobby will understand."

You smile at his use of the word carriage instead of car. His Westerosi vernacular can't help but slip through, and you've grown fond of it.

"Daemon," you lean on one side, slapping one hand lightly on his chest, "don't you fucking tell him anything." Of course he wouldn't, but you can't help but jest.

His expression is positively smug, with his head resting on one hand, every bit at ease with himself as he always is, "What? I'm sure he will love how I fucked you senseless until your pussy was dripping on his precious carriage."

"Well, fuck," you relent with a heavy sigh, lying back down. "Whatever, then."

Daemon laughs, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His fingers lovingly trace your lips, "He will never know. We can fuck on top of every other carriage in this bloody place if we wish to."

"Do you promise?"

His face inches closer to yours, until your lips are flush against his. A minute later, he answers, "I promise."

Daemon knows he promises something more, something far greater.

I promise to protect you. I promise to defend your honour. My heart is now intertwined with yours.

I promise to love you until my heart stops beating. And perhaps even beyond that, in wherever the next realm might be, I will fight to keep you.

Words will never suffice, but he tries, "My love, I - "

You notice the turmoil in his eyes, in the love burning in them. "Daemon," your hand reaches out to caress his face, "I know."

- end of unalloyed -

preview of part three

August 2023

A flash of bright red passes by, your peripheral vision noticing it as if on instinct. You don't look back as you turn a corner, not wanting to see if it is a similar vehicle.

If it is, then that's just fucking cruel. As if the universe is mocking you.

But no matter how much you deny it, every single thing reminds you of him.

Cars. Broken laptops. Your worn-out couch. Old movies. Pizza. Burnt food in your kitchen. Helicopters. Fantasy series and books.

Damn him. Damn him to his ridiculous seven hells.

It has been weeks since Daemon Targaryen disappeared from your life, as easily and as abruptly as he had entered it.

Without a trace, as if you plucked him from your imagination. Except he did leave a mark so indelible it cannot be denied. He left his mark alright, in the form of your broken heart.

You remember the torture reflected in his face, the rage, when his brother came to take him away. You knew how badly he wanted to go home, so you made his choice for him.

You told him to leave.

Stupid girl. You want to go back to that very moment, and scream at yourself to make him stay. You know you should have held him in your arms, keeping him rooted in place. In this world, with you.

But you opted for selflessness. You chose to have your heart broken, so that Daemon can go home. You know that he would have stayed if you only asked.

Fuck, I should have asked.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

😭😭😭

I felt like writing this first, so we can see more of their relationship. And so it's even more painful when they will be apart. Enjoy the heartache! Hahahaha.

Part three will be the final chapter, and we'll see these two idiots almost unable to function without each other. Particularly Daemon! + A happy ending?? We'll see.

Taglist (series/Daemon/HotD): @omgsuperstarg @sebastian025 @iilsenewman @padfootsvixen @teapartydreams @lucytheripper @kindalslightlyacidic @naelys-the-aster @zoleea-exultant @vainillasmil157 @llovinjoonie @outundertheocean @grimistangel @ladespedidas @nanabarnes @pineappleandro @luckythirtxn97 @knockemdeadgirl @stella-cadante @milber32 @canvashearts @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @kryzeira @selahstars @captainweirdo42 @nitimurinvetitumsposts @iilsenewman @aemondmyl0ve @eternallyvenus @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola @blackravena @vyctorya @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #modern!daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #matt smith

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son1c · 1 year

Text

what lies beneath

falling stars fic masterpost

The manta ray battleship was a prototype. It was easy to forget that fact while lounging in the cabin, but down on the lower deck, it was impossible to ignore. It was stuffier, for one thing. And it reeked of budget cuts.

Eggman was a man with very clear priorities. He would allot as much time and money to things as he thought they deserved. And when it came to something that was never supposed to leave the garage, he skipped out on lights for the underbelly.

It wasn't like he was going to answer the door if the Federal Aviation Administration came knocking for a safety inspection.

The oppressive darkness of the lower deck was assuaged only by Omega's eyes. Twin red beams cut through the blackness, revealing a space cluttered with walkways and skinny guardrails. Thick metal tubes snaked around the space as well, and far off, beyond the reach of Omega's eyes, the three Team Dark members could hear the pulsing sound of the engine as it kept the manta ray airborne.

Rouge stretched her hands above her head. "Well, boys," she said. "Let's get to work."

Omega, being a robot, had no problems seeing in the dark. And Rouge, being a bat, also didn't have much trouble. Shadow, however, was cursed by his hedgehog genes to struggle, so he let the two of them lead the way as they explored the lower deck.

Shadow kept his ears standing straight up, listening for anything that might sound out of the ordinary. What he heard was a lot of whirring mechanisms and hissing pipes. The heavy clanking of Omega's footsteps also filled his ears as they descended deeper down the outer staircases. And as they approached the engine, the sound of its roars nearly drowned out everything else.

But not entirely.

Shadow's ears swivelled. He stopped in his tracks, his hands clenching the guardrail as he stared out into the darkness. But the black wall didn't move. There was nothing there. He let go of the guardrail, only to stop for a second time, his finger catching on a nick in the metal.

"Omega," Shadow called. "I need your eyes."

Omega rotated his head like he was an owl, illuminating the guardrail that Shadow was still standing in front of. Now bathed in red light, the metal revealed a secret: two sets of five lines gouged into the metal. They were thin and straight, almost like someone had dragged their fingernails across the guardrail. But even the toughest claws would need to apply a lot of pressure to dent metal.

Rouge walked up to Shadow. When she saw what he was looking at, she muttered, "How kind of the Doctor to put together this surprise for us…"

"Be on your guard," Shadow said. His ears twitched again. "We're not alone down here."

Beneath them, the landing gear shuddered. Omega looked down at it, and through the lattice of the staircase, everyone could see a dark shape dart across the wheel. Shadow lost sight of it when it left the scope of Omega's gaze, however.

Omega started to get excited. But before he could draw his weapons, Shadow said seriously, "Hand-to-hand only. We can't afford to damage the engine with stray projectiles."

Omega's shoulders slumped. If he had a mouth, he'd be using it to pout right now. "FUN LEVELS DROPPING," he said. "EXCITEMENT DECREASED TO 'BELOW AVERAGE.'"

"Oh, please," Rouge said. "Aren't you forgetting about something? Or were you being too generous before, and those hands of yours can't really crush cars between them?"

This reminder perked the robot up. With newfound excitement, he scanned the space below them, but whatever had been there before was gone now. The only things caught in the red beams of light were dust particles and the dirt stuck to the landing gear.

A sudden bang made everyone turn to look at the engine. Standing on top of it was the figure from before. It glared menacingly at Team Dark, its black body glinting when the red light from Omega's eye beams hit it. It focused its orange gaze on Shadow. Even from this far away, Shadow could feel the coldness of its stare.

It was the Shadow Android.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the claw marks weren't just on the guardrail. They were all over the landing gear too. The fake hedgehog must've clung to it when the ship had taken off, and made itself a stowaway within the bowels of the manta ray.

And now it was raising its hand up, preparing to smash down on the engine.

"Omega!" Rouge said, her eyes wide with alarm as she realized what the Shadow Android was planning. "Throw me!"

"QUERY: WOULD YOU NOT COUNT AS A PROJECTILE?"

Rouge stomped her foot. "Oh, for the love of--"

Shadow intervened. "I won't miss," he said as he picked her up. Then, he threw her at the Android. With his superior accuracy, he managed a direct hit, and Rouge knocked the fake hedgehog off the engine right as it was about to ram its fist into the power core.

The two of them disappeared over the side of the large engine, locked in an intense struggle.

Shadow and Omega leapt over the guardrail and chased after them a moment later. They landed on the landing gear, and the mechanism shuddered from their sudden weight. But Shadow ignored the creaking metal--his eyes scanned the darkness, his ears held as high as they could go.

Then, he heard it. The faint sounds of someone choking.

Shadow didn't hesitate. He raced toward the far end of the lower deck, where the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could begin to make out the orange glow of the Shadow Android's eyes. It illuminated Rouge's face as well as the pinched expression she wore. The Android had her pinned up against the wall with its hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing.

Rouge's fingers weren't strong enough to pry the Android's metal ones off of her. Thankfully, Shadow's were, and he wrenched them free before the bat's lungs could start to burn from a lack of oxygen. She gasped, her heels clicking when they reunited with the floor.

The Android swung around to face Shadow. In the low light, it almost appeared to be glowering at him, the darkness creating the illusion of a vitriolic expression. Shadow matched it with one of his own, his heart clenching painfully as he stared back at his own face.

Why should this thing exist? Shadow still wasn't sure who he was, or who he was supposed to be. To create an imitation of him was to paint a picture of nothing.

But this Android wasn't nothing. Unlike Shadow, it knew its purpose. The machine was comfortable in the knowledge that it was a pawn. Shadow, meanwhile, despised the thought of bending to Doctor Eggman's will.

And yet, the Shadow Android still had something that Shadow didn't.

And it made Shadow sick.

The dark hedgehog slammed the fake into the floor. The force of the impact dented the ship, but the Android remained unharmed. It attempted to break free of Shadow's grasp with a kick to his stomach, but Shadow wouldn't be shaken off so easily. He held firm to the Android's neck with one hand, and drove a punch into its jaw with the other.

But again, the Android was unharmed. Its head whipped to the side, but there was no dent left in its cheek, and when its eyes returned to meet Shadow's, it was as if to say, Is that all? Pathetic.

The Android's stripes began to glow. Its body grew hot, too hot to touch, and Shadow was forced to let go, his glove smoking from where it had been grasping its neck. Then, the Android slid back before jumping onto its feet, its whole body shimmering like the hood of a car that had been left out in the summer heat.

Shadow got back to his feet and balled his hands into fists. He wondered how long the Android could keep up this impression of an oven before it started to melt.

The fake hedgehog surged forward, still radiating heat. It raked its claws at Shadow and managed to graze his cheek, the superheated metal slicing through his skin like it was wet tissue paper. With a hiss of pain, Shadow backed further away, realizing he wouldn't be able to rely on the Android self-destructing. He needed a new plan, and fast.

Omega chose that moment to rejoin the fight. The large robot grabbed the Shadow Android with his big mechanical hands, unfazed by the extreme temperature the Android was letting off. He then tore one of the Android's arms off, and the detached limb sparked hideously when it hit the floor.

"HOSTILE HAS BEEN DISARMED. LIMBS PENDING REMOVAL: 3."

A second later, the Shadow Android slammed a kick into Omega's chest, and the subsequent clang rattled the robot enough that the Android was able to wriggle free from his hands' iron grasp. Now on the floor, the Android grabbed its detached arm with its one good hand before hurling the broken limb at Rouge's head.

The bat easily avoided the arm. But the Android hadn't actually been aiming for her--instead, it was trying to hit the button behind her on the wall. And when its detached arm smacked into it, the mechanism holding landing gear in place released, and the floor of the manta ray ship suddenly had a great big hole in it.

Wind rushed up from the gap in the floor, and the air inside the engine room was pulled out, toward the hole. With nothing to hold onto, the four combatants struggled to retain their footing as they were all dragged across the deck by the wind.

And then the Shadow Android grabbed Shadow's shoe. Taking advantage of the hazardous conditions it had just created, the Android kicked itself up off the floor, and flung Shadow at the landing gear. But Shadow wouldn't go without a fight, and he snagged the Android's wrist at the last second.

The two of them sailed through the air, the suction from the outside of the ship drawing them in like water to a drain.

"Shadow!" Rouge cried, but her voice was drowned out by the wind.

Thinking fast, Rouge reached into her pocket and pulled out a big green gem. How something that large had managed to fit inside of her pencil skirt's pocket was anyone's guess. Maybe she had picked up a trick or two from Amy, and developed her own sort of hammer space. Or maybe it was just a really good pocket.

Regardless, she now had the gem in her hand. With a pained expression, she thought, He owes me big time for this.

Then, Rouge threw the gem to Shadow, hoping it would reach him in time, and that he would catch it. Thankfully, he saw the flash of green over the Android's head and reached up at just the right moment.

The Chaos Emerald smacked into Shadow's burned hands like an oversized baseball. And he could feel it--that mystical, familiar energy. Unlike the kind his own body generated though, the energy emanating from the Emerald was soft and warm. He knew it wouldn't hurt him to use even before he tapped into it.

And as the gem hummed between his fingers, he remembered something.

A phrase.

He said it now.

“Chaos Control!”

The Android attempted to knock the Chaos Emerald out of his hands with a kick, but Shadow was faster. He let the Emerald's Chaos Energy fill his heart, and he kneed the Android in the chest with a javelin of green energy. It pierced the Android's metal chest plate and short circuited the imposter, its orange eyes flickering out instantly.

Dead.

The sight of it unnerved Shadow. He hoped he would never have to fight another fake of himself again.

And then the wind pulled Shadow and the corpse of the Android out over the gap in the floor. Shadow kicked the Android downward, where it was taken by the wind and presumably fell to the desert far below.

Before Shadow could meet that same fate, Rouge grabbed his arm. With her other hand, she held onto one of Omega's fingers. The robot had torn a hole in the floor with his other hand, keeping them all anchored.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Rouge said to Shadow, "but I've had enough of your dramatic exits for one lifetime!" A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, but she still managed to wink.

It gave Shadow pause.

Rouge’s words. Her actions.

Because Shadow didn't need her or Omega to save him. With the Emerald, Shadow could've easily teleported himself back onto the ship if he fell. And yet, it was only because of Rouge that he now had the Emerald in the first place. And that meant something to Shadow.

It meant that when she held his arm, he didn't try to wrestle himself free, and instead he allowed her to hold him there, dangling precariously over the ten thousand foot drop.

Then, the landing gear groaned as it pulled itself back up into the ship, and the three Team Dark members quickly followed suit. They all turned to look at the wall where the button was, and Omega's eye beams revealed Sonic standing there with a buzzy bomber hooked under his arm. Once the wind was no longer ripping through the lower deck, he released the buzzy bomber, and it hovered by his shoulder.

The blue hedgehog waved at his friends. "Not too shabby," he said. After speeding over to them, he knocked Rouge on the shoulder. "Maybe there's somethin' to this 'team' thing after all. You ain't half bad, Rouge."

Rouge puffed up, a little indignant. "Obviously!"

Shadow asked, "If you're here, then who…?"

"Don't sweat it! My copilot's the best there is." Sonic snickered at the stares he received. "What? You guys were takin' awhile, so I figured I'd teach Buggy the ropes. And it's a good thing I did, too, cuz Mr. Ivo forgot to install the switch for autopilot!"

#falling stars au #the. The. THE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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kideternity · 3 months

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[Image ID: A digital inked drawing of Digimon character TigerVespamon. They are a wasp themed humanoid robot, with a round head with large bug like eyes, a pointed bug like mouth, and pointed V shaped horns protruding from their forehead. They are wearing a ragged scarf. They have large shoulder pads, a triangular chest, small waist, and pointed thorax with a stinger attached. They have four skinny wings in the back and segmented limbs, with sharp pointed feet, panels protruding from each thigh and front of the calf, and long pipes coming from their upper arms. Throughout the design there are many areas such as the neck, underarms and lower legs that expose mechanical features, such as sockets and more pipes. They are in a three quarters action pose, holding two large swords, their right leg bent in on itself behind whilst the left leg is fully displayed. One sword is held above their head, and the other is held just above the left leg. Both are pointed towards the viewer. /End Image ID]

Buzz buzz

#digimon #digimon fanart #digital monsters #digisafe #tigervespamon #tiger vespamon #dinu yells into the void #dinu yells in the void #dinu's sketchy art #i know the swords aren’t accurate to the canon tiger swords but i was having sooo much trouble w them + general arms #so i changed them to fit better the reference i was using SUE ME!!!#anyways. tried smth a lil diff with lineart today too #idc what anyone says ever colouring sucks fucking shit INKING FOREVER BABY!!!!!!#i love you inking mwah mwah mwah #i meant to do this so much forever ago like after the amphimon drawing but then uhm. the horrors of life got in the way.#but I finally had time and motivation to just. fucking go at it today. happy pride this bug mech is a lesbian. good bye now

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mist-touchedxiv · 4 months

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The Floating World of Doma was a buffet for the senses, and sometimes you made yourself sick with the inundation of excess. "Floating World" was an apt name for the red light district, you felt intoxicated just by the atmosphere of desperation, danger, excitement and dreams.

Once upon a time, the crush of people, the noise and maelstrom of scents from the sweet and savory of the food and plum perfume of the pleasure houses would've made the Viera faint, but decades of travel and more had helped the former Wood-warder become inured to the assault on the senses. Plus, the smoke of his pipe helped ease his quite keen sense smell and piling his long sensitive ears under a straw hat had the added benefit of muffling the worst of the sounds while helping him not draw too much attention.

Loksen took a sip from the saucer of sake and shifted his position on the stool of the food stall he'd been eating, watching the parade of nightlife flow by in the street of the red light district. While the smoking of tobacco had a primarily practical effect of dulling the intense smell of the city, Loksen privately enjoyed the added benefit of it being a pleasant accompaniment to a good meal and drink.

As he took a drag on his pipe, through the smokey haze he spotted why he'd spent the past couple of bells perched on this spot (the grilled fish and yakitori and ramen were a nice bonus): a group of extravagantly dressed of Hyur and Roegadyn men with hard edges to their faces and posture that spoke of a disturbing comfort with violence parted the crowd as they walked down the street, an almost animal response to danger from citizens. It was time. Extinguishing the pipe and paying the vendor with a friendly grunt of thanks, Loksen gathered up his bow and sword and entered the flow of foot traffic. For a tall man, Loksen was quite adept at hiding his presence, a practice he would never lose as it was ground into his very bones at a young age. He made his through the crowd, never losing sight of the group he followed as they trudged past pleasure houses, music halls and various pubs.

Soon they arrived at their destination, one of the most renowned pleasure houses in all of Doma, a grand venue of merry-making surrounded by a tall wall where discretion was a cardinal virtue. In a practiced fashion, the group of rough men Loksen had been tailing spread out and created a protective perimeter at the entrance of the establishment.

A large sophisticated looking male Au Ra exited the building, followed by a beautiful elegant Hyur woman being trailed by a small young girl whose head was covered by a scarf, the madam and an attendant no doubt. To be a VIP in this place was to be quite important indeed and the company the Au Ra kept spoke of importance and danger in equal parts.

"Dojima Tendou, I have a writ of capture for by the authorities of Doma," announced Loksen with a strange melodic accent as he stepped passed the flabbergasted bodyguard caught unawares by his arrival into the open space in front of the entrance. His surroundings came into greater focus as his senses sharpened, no longer hampered by smoke. Loksen rested his hand lightly on the top of the scabbard, his fingers grazing an almost invisible trigger mechanism near where the guard met the scabbard, approaching with a laconic swagger. With a loud bang and a flash of steel, it began.

#ff14 viera #ffxiv viera #ffxiv rp #ffxiv #ffxiv oc #male viera #Spotify #viera ffxiv #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv writing #loksen tyr #oc rp #bnuuy

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vauslogia · 8 months

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If you knew how much Photoshop slowed down for me while I was drawing... The second type of Phyrexian dragons. I would call them Rams, or something like that. As you can see, these are very massive carcasses with a similar shape of porcelain elements, as in Vorinclex, and a “hairy” covering. Their design is the complete absence of external eyes. Their heads are strong enough to break through walls. On the main shoulder joints there are also spiked porcelain elements, like shoulder pads. The neck is short, but has two branches. The main muscular frame and volley fire pipeline with clots of green mana in single shots. I wanted to give them a jaw similar to some species of mammalian predators. I assume there are pistons inside for a death grip with porcelain fangs. This carcass tears and shreds. The cervical region is also crowned with a porcelain hood, and behind it there is thick “fur”. I wanted to pay attention to the wings; they are protected by plates at the base of the phalanges and also have blades. I wanted to combine the image of the dragons of Atarka’s pack with the Phyrexians; I imagined how one such individual stands on its hind legs, like a bear, and emits a loud roar, with echoes, as if screaming from a metal pipe. I also wanted to make the tail, which is completely covered with porcelain, a dangerous element. And separately, several different elements similar to the tusks of Vorinclex. This is a kind of synthesis of a bear, a dragon and a machine. I think this is exactly what the green praetor looks like, but less of a dragon than these little dogs. I don’t like mechanical elements that can be damaged, so everything is hidden under the flesh, if you can call it that. This carcass runs faster than it flies, another pair of smaller paws has sharp poisoned claws, they are less armored and strong, but are capable of piercing and poisoning the victim.

#2d art #monster #illustration #art #dragon art

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tj-crochets · 8 months

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How do you make stuffed animals? I’ve bought a pattern for less complicated animals, but you made that blorbo and I don’t think there are any templates for that? What should be my next step in developing my animal making skills?

Hey! This answer is probably going to get pretty long, so it's going below a read more

You're right, I did not use a pre-existing pattern for the blorbo plushie. There's a couple different methods people use to create plushie patterns; if you find you don't like the method I use, that doesn't mean you can't make plushies! Keep trying until you find methods that work for you In my experience, the best way to develop skills in plushie pattern making is to sew a bunch of different plushies. While you use patterns, look at how the pieces look in 2D on the paper and how the end up in 3D in the finished plushie, and start to make a note of what it takes to make simple 3D shapes like a sphere (darts or different segments), a cube (six squares), a cylinder (a rectangle with two circles for the end pieces) If creating a new pattern entirely from scratch seems too much to start with, you can repurpose pieces of other patterns*! I've got a fluffy ostrich-y bird pattern that's just a pattern for a round dumpling for the body, a pattern for a...I think it was a snowball for the head, and then some simple rectangles to make the cylinders of the neck and legs. Another thing! A lot of plushie pattern making for simpler plushies made of knit fabric is just drawing. My manta ray patterns are just a drawing of a manta ray, plus a seam allowance added around the outside. Same with my eel pattern (mostly. it has one dart), my fish pattern, my other manta ray pattern...there's a lot of patterns you can make flat when you're starting out and use stuffing and the stretch of the fabric to make 3D. It's still what I use for simple flat pieces of patterns like wings, arms, ears, etc. That reminds me: seam allowances! I use 1/4" seam allowances, because that's what my sewing machine is set up for and it's the most common seam allowance I've seen used for plushies. You can use whatever seam allowance you want, but I have found it's a loooot easier if you have a tool you can use to add your seam allowance once you've drawn your pattern. I use two mechanical pencils taped together whose points are 1/4" apart. I put one pencil on the line I drew for the pattern, and use the other pencil to draw the line of the seam allowance. A few other tips, in no particular order but numbered so I can keep track of them 1. when matching up pieces of a pattern, make sure they match before the seam allowance is added. It'll make your life easier 2. fold paper to get symmetry in your pattern pieces 3. if you need to match a straight line to a curved line, or two curved lines together, you can use a pipe cleaner to measure the length of the curved line and then straighten the pipe cleaner to know how long to make your straight line (like matching the bottom of legs (rectangular pieces) to feet (circular pieces)) 4. If you are creating a pattern to use with a particular fabric, check how much of the fabric you have BEFORE you draw the pattern just like an inch too long to cut out of the fabric (I learned the hard way lol) 5. if you are worried your pattern won't turn out how you want it to, you can always start with monsters. There's no wrong way to make a monster plushie, you can just accidentally make a different monster than the one you intended to make. It's still a monster plushie, and that's not a bad thing to make! :D 6. if you have multiple pattern pieces coming together at the same point, like the top of a beach ball or the top of my octopus pattern, think about what angle you want that junction to form. For the octopus, I wanted the very top of it to be flat, so I made sure the pieces coming together totaled 360 degrees to be a flat circle. If I'd gone for less than 360 degrees, it would be pointed, if I'd gone for more, it would be kind of ruffled? Almost? Point is: divide the angle you want by the number of pieces you want to form that angle to get what the angle should be at the point each piece comes together *don't sell patterns made from pieces of other peoples' patterns though

#ask away!#weasel-the-scout #how to create sewing patterns #sort of. this is very freeform as I thought of it #if you (or anyone else) have more questions please feel free to ask!

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