#Ok yeah seriously I needa go to bed now bye bye

[cupcakesmoothie]

...So I may have went a little insane designing the MC from @psychopomp-enthusiast's Blade x Reader fic To Mourn The Living

Am I confident in my art skills? Lmao (No)

I am not rendering this (I did have an idea for the highlights but) it's 5 am oh god and if I don't go lie down right now I am not waking up tomorrow (Today at 8)

I tried to keep the design androgynous but well. Am Girl. So I am a little biased towards Reader being also Girl. I think I did ok tho

The first HSR fanart I've made and it's fanart of a fanfic. Typical me behaviour tbh

I did research for this for some reason like I stared really hard at a couple wiki tabs for a while (Haven't seen actual scales on either of our High Elders) and skimmed the fic again. The scales were specified to be silver?

While doing the aforementioned research I think I've crafted a theory? I somehow completely missed that there is more than one High Elder, like there are other ships that have their own High Elders too and like??? I'm making some connections??? Is this a "I've connected the dots" moment? Who knows.

I did think maybe the whole storms thing had something to with Jing Yuan and his Lighting-Wielding Thunder-Clapping Spirit-Squashing Lord (YESSSSS FIRST TRY BABY OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD) but the whole thing with black hair and evil vibes just felt off to me. AND THEN. Until I get a reply on this/the fic gets updated I won't say anything further, but ough. I am so normal about the media I consume guys

I kinda felt like putting the scale pattern on the outfit was a little OOC since MC was mentioned to not really follow Vidyadharan customs, but I also figured they were close to Bailu and have horns so? Maybe?

I gave MC blue hair because Ice type. I was gonna give them really long hair, but then again, not a High Elder. The hair was mentioned to obscure their horns underwater tho so I think some length is fine?

It was actually really hard to find physical descriptions of the MC? I mean for a fic like this, that's actually a good thing, it gives me more leeway to do whatever I want but also literally one of the reasons why I don't do fanart is because I wanna be accurate as possible (This is probably some kind of anxiety thing, idk)

[orionares]

BTHB: Handcuffed

Psych

@badthingshappenbingo

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In the name of the father, my Colt 1911 and the universal hatred of hippies, I will not strangle Spencer with these cuffs….

"Psst...Lassie?"

We will get rescued and then he'll go back to San Francisco with O'Hara….

"Lassito? Can you scratch my back?"

And I will get a reward from the Mayor for self-control…

"Laaaaaasssie, please? Can't reach it- Hey! Do you ever use your cane as a back scratcher?"

"SPENCER!" Lassiter hisses loud enough for the bearded well, hippie guarding the arid decrepit living room to hear. The Police Chief scowls at the blank eyes of the guard and waits for the man to turn back to whatever the hell he'd been doing.

What fresh hell is this- he had told O'Hara that a fishing trip alone with Shawn wasn't going to end well. But then Marlowe had joined with O'Hara's puppy dog eyes and-

"What?" Shawn replies with the irritating casualness one isn't supposed to have while handcuffed back to back.

And also after being kidnapped.

Lassiter lowers his voice down to a loud whisper, "What did I tell you?"

"When Ron and his friends took us from the boat?"

Of course Spencer would figure out their captors name.

"How in God's name do you know that..man's name?" Lassiter asks, already prepared for the idiotic performance sure to follow. In the briefest of moments, Lassiter's heart lifts at the delay in response from Shawn and the beautiful possibility of a semi-mature response.

"'Cause I'm psychic."

Idiot.

Ron lumbers over from his near hour long guard at the door and sneers heavily, "You two needa shut up."

"Kidnapping a Police Chief and a civilian-"

"Psychic," Shawn interrupts because, of course.

Lassiter rolls his eyes and continues glaring at Ron. "Is making things worse. And a hippie like you, destroying this-"

Shawn wiggles in his spot and somehow manages not to irritate Lassiter's injured arm. He dramatically tsks and states," Look, Ron, my good man, as we had tried to tell you while we were on our boat before you swooped in and took us, we are just two men doing manly fishing ...manly...ly."

Lassiter sighs and quickly weighs the pros and cons of persuading Ron to duct tape Shawn's mouth shut. No, they were two men , forced by a pregnant detective and her puppy eyes to "bond".

"Wai, you's kinda young to be a puh-lees chief," Ron says, cocking his head to the right like a German Shepard. Normally, Carlton Lassiter would tear into Ron head to toe for well, everything, but it's the man's current attention that leaves Lassiter well, speechless.

Attention directed solely on Shawn.

Shawn chuckles, not even attempting to stifle down his delight at Ron's comment. "As much as I am delighted at the compliment, alas, I am not the Police Chief in this dynamic duo. No, I am Shawn Spencer, Master and commander of Psychfransico in beautiful San Francisco. This silver haired fox is my idol and Police Chief of Santa Barbara, Carlton Lassiter. "

Ron naively scoffs at Lassiter and chuckles, "You 'ain't a Police Chief. You look like his Daddy."

The squeal of delight from Spencer- is it possible to double the mortification he's already drowning in?

"Stooop," Shawn replies with giddy shyness. "I'd shake your hand , good man, if I could. Speaking of hands, I know you and your merry man of kidnappers-"

"Ya'll went on our land and we can't have that," Ron counters.

Lassiter blinks out of his daze of mortification and snorts at the happy conversing between Ron and Shawn.

How cute.

"Can you two stop sharing your feelings and get back to the fact that you and your little pals kidnapped a Police Chief-"

"And psychic!"

"Spencer, I swear to God-"

"What? Accuracy is important!"

"STOP!!" Ron bellows before staggering back to the counter. The over dramatic fall is one of the many reasons he had taken Lilly to a small gathering of hippies banging drums and reviewed in great details the detrimental behaviors of tree huggers.

A great activity for a four year old, despite Marlowe's eye roll.

"Are you really a Police Chief?" Ron blubbers. Lassiter groans and opens his mouth for another smarmy comment. Unfortunately, the motormouth champion of the West Coast beats him to it.

"He is. One of the best in the west. Just like I am and my psychic skill. Just how I predict that you make that right move and let me and the man who sleeps with two pistols in his bedside go."

It's three- one in the dresser, one under the pillow and one in the ejection slot on the bed frame, Lassiter thinks before the non- irritable side of him sparks a thoughtful observation.

Has Spencer been giving me compliments this whole time?

Ron opens his mouth and gawks momentarily at Lassiter before clumsily turning and lumbering out the door. Shawn sighs louder than necessary and then comments, "He seems nice."

"Do you two want a room to braid each other's hair," Lassiter growls with increasing volume," AND MAKE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS?"

"Gus and I did that last week," Shawn replies calmly," the friendship bracelets, I mean." He leans towards the wall, humming softly, before pressing a small sharp object against Lassiter's wrist. "I was going to just cut us free instead."

Lassiter Scrunches his nose and imagines his Lilly and his Marlowe smiling back at him and how he'd miss them dearly if he would be arrested for strangling Spencer. "You had a sharp object this entire time?"

"No. I found it but didn't want to use it with our main man Ron in the room,” Shawn states. Lassiter can feel Shawn’s hands fidgeting with the handcuffs. The Police Chief lets out a frustrated humph as Shawn continues to work before the glorious sound of a click from the handcuffs.

“Lassie, can I ask you a question?”

"No."

"No, seriously."

He'd bang his head against the wall if he could. Lassiter inhales and exhales slowly, knowing full well that Spencer could and would keep this game up if he wanted to. "Fine," he says slowly, "What?"

"How do you be a good father?"

Oh.

Oh.

The pain in the ass, the bane of his existence, the-

The handcuffs click and the cold metal around Lassiter's wrist drop to the ground. "Hold on," Shawn mutters as he continues to fidget with his own cuffs until they also drop to the ground. Shawn turns around and repeats his earlier question, "So yeah, how do you be a good father?"

Turning on the floor to face Shawn would take an awkward, frustrating set of movements so Lassiter stays back to back with Shawn. "Is that why you asked me to go fishing?"

Shawn grunts as he rolls onto his hands and then pushes himself up onto his knees. He shrugs and admits, “Me and my dad aren’t- well, we butt heads. With Jules being eight months pregnant, she figured out that I wanted to talk to you but-”

“Spencer, “ Lassiter hisses, softening his expression at the look in Shawn’s eyes. Is that puppy eyes? “How about this? We get out of here, I shoot some hippies and then I’ll give you six minutes.. and forty five seconds to ask me questions about fatherhood.”

Just as his daughter, Shawn perks up and grins as if just being told about a trip to the ice cream store. He stands and helps lift Lassiter to his feet. “There are six doors- two on the left and four on the right. We went down two flights of stairs with eight steps on each,” Shawn rambles, “and….when we were blindfolded in the back of the jeep, we took three left turns and a right turn from the boat.”

In normal times, especially back in the days when Shawn and Gus were causing chaos in Santa Barbara, Carlton Lassiter would scowl and walk away from the idiotic smile on Shawn’s face with Juliet on his heels. Right now, as he’s aggravated for being kidnapped, hungry and really wishing Marlowe hadn’t talked him into taking one pistol with him instead of his usual three, there is a small part of him that he will never outwardly admit that is a bit impressed and proud of Spencer.

A very, very small part of him. A minute size part of him.

“Ready?” Shawn asks as he pulls Lassiter’s uninjured arm over his shoulder for support.

Lassiter nods, thinking- Ready.

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Escaping comes way too easy.

Lassiter isn’t the least surprised to find only two of the six men that had surrounded them on the boat sitting in the room at the top of the stairs. He really isn’t surprised when Shawn manages to sow doubt in Ron’s mind long enough to give Lassiter the chance to grab the closest item and whip it across the room and clock the second man in the back of the head.

After calling for assistance, arresting Ron and his unconscious friend and threatening the two arriving SBPD officers with hell if they even think about saying a word, Lassiter stands in front of a police vehicle, watching Shawn talk animatedly to Juliet O’Hara on the phone. The same small part of him that was impressed by Shawn triggers a faint smile on the Police Chief’s face.

“I’ll be home soon. Yep…..tell Gus that he can breathe…..I love you too….kiss the belly for me. Ok, bye!” Shawn exclaims happily. He pockets his phone and tries to calmly cross the lot to Lassiter. Lassiter can feel the excited energy bouncing off the younger man as he asks quietly, “So…..how can I be a good father to my little girl? Like you are?”

Good lord. Lassiter sighs and replies, “You’ll be fine, Spencer, but ask any question you want.”

“For six minutes and forty five seconds?”

He’ll regret this dearly. “I will open it up to ten minutes-” he holds up a hand as Shawn’s eyes widen with excitement, “-don’t make me regret this.”