#and the Herald's Shield

[sceptixfakemon]

coat of arms of the House of Pipistrelles azure, a cross gules, in fess point a bat cendrée, in first quarter a radiant sun argent, in second third and fourth quarter a radiant sun gules, atop a knight's helmet crest a plume azure and gules, bearing a lambrequin azure doubled gules

[illustratus]

Coat of Arms of Edward IV, King of England, in his Capacity as Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece

by Pierre Coustain, c. 1481

[tokoriart]

✶ Commission for Rekkabold ✶

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

George H. Taggart - Witnessing Without Fear - Review and Herald - 1966

[dchuntress]

i'm so used to marvel's style of continuity where basically every single damn thing is canon even for characters with forty decades of history who barely age in the actual timeline that i genuinely don't register that things in dc comics get un-canoned with new continuities/resets. in my head it's all just one big continuous timeline to me and dc characters just have a really bad memory and don't remember all of the details of what happened back then

[queenofyore]

6.) Shield I

“Shields of the Coastal nobles typically display the rampant dolphin. Though there are many different factions of these coastal lords and ladies the matching motif harkens to an ancestral legend. The great descendants of the dolphins all hail from the same pod.”

You know I’m a sucker for heraldic shields~

[ldy-lilith]

🌊The Great Storm of Sashelas 🐬

[kryp-does-random-stuff]

Once I got a commission from a hungarian guy, for a... sorta friendship Tee - his best friend was polish so they wanted something epic but historical-ish buddyness represented - kinda like this. So I've drawn it for them. Ta-daa!

[ashenxrogue]

Ajax just set a personal best for clearing 11-3-1 of spiral abyss (pyro lector + cryo herald) in 35 fucking seconds

my boy might have gotten arrested in the plot but that has not stopped him

[dieverged]

like i don't really care anymore i love that nima has protagonist syndrome, i love that her whole THING is and has always been in service to and for people. i worry so often about overpowered mary sue characters but honestly it's so FUN to just have a protag! even if she plays herself as the companion, because she always does.

jiyu is a protag in his own right, as are all my oc's of their own stories yknow, but his is one without choice---- & he mimics nima in that way, too. but i don't know it's so interesting to me, he becomes the hero that people needs not because he wants to be but because they need him, they needed that so he became that.

i don't even think nima considers herself that, a hero? something more than she is? she knows she is important and doesn't lessen herself to something she's not, but she doesn't make herself all important either! she will always be the companion. jiyu, the unwilling hero.

[heraldic-shields]

Since the image in your profile picture is a square version of your arms, would it be considered your banner of arms?

the short answer is no. Other shield shapes than a heater (shield) were used sometimes, although it was uncommon (there were also regional variations in the shield shape). Notable clergymen and priests, along with whole branches or the church got theirs on an oval. If a noble lady did something notable or was headstrong and independent, she would get her own coat of arms on a lozenge (diamond). I don’t recall whether or not a square had a special significance or not. Point being, it doesn’t have to be a shield shape.

Banners of arms are a much more complicated topic that I haven’t really delved into. They’re more complicated, a bridge between heraldry (shields, coats of arms) and vexillology (flags), and are weird because of that. But it isn’t really a banner. Yes, sure, the header image of the blog is also known as a “banner”, but that’s not really a true banner. Same reason why we don’t get mad that a coat of arms is on a crest or seal when it obviously is meant to be embroidered onto someone’s jacket. Two different types of coats, two different types of banner.

[marlini]

may actually finish thesis chapter next week

[must-mofasa]

Golden Lion Shield - Kiss-Cut Stickers

A kiss-cut provides you with the ultimate flexibility for implementing your vision—this method cuts the sticker into any shape you desire, while leaving the back intact so that it can be smoothly peeled off the page. Don't miss out on the latest version!

A close-up image of a golden lion shield sticker, featuring a detailed and majestic lion head design. This sticker is perfect for adding a touch of regal style to your laptop or other personal belongings. The vibrant gold color and intricate details make it a standout accessory for any lion enthusiast or fan of ancient mythology.

Don't miss out on the latest version!

.: Made 100% with durable vinyl that comes with strong 3M glue for decorations that last. Perfect for spicing up indoor decor (not waterproof). .: Choose between 4 sizes to match your needs. All stickers are 0.004" (1mm) thick and come with a stylish glossy finish. .: White and transparent sticker options available.

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[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

At work plagued by thoughts of a mech bigger than you can imagine.

She starts like most of them do, a Titan excavator rig modestly sized for their line: maybe a house or thereabouts, a big house. (Doesn’t matter why she signed up - perhaps a breadwinner, a lone mother or eldest sister, a daughter of aging parents nobody else will take; doesn’t matter what site they sent her to, Earth or Enceladus or Venus or Europa. She’s there, and she lets them strap her in and adapt her for the piloting interface and pump her full of protein ooze and electrolytes and hyperstimulant cocktails as obediently as the next laborer.)

Upgrades come, from big house to bigger, with shovels like hillsides and treads like highways. Still she remains in the cockpit, out only for one day every six months to say hello to her burgeoning family, who have moved nearby to make it easy on her, to meet the baby nephews and nieces whose names she doesn’t yet know.

War comes. The facility hunkers down. It just makes sense to retrofit their biggest digger with shields, to expand her arsenal a little more, give her a better engine, pour all their leftover resources into making her a great guardian, and she rises to the occasion, shielding them from orbital rays, absorbing the energy and taking the pain of it up into her own engines. When the corporate rats who own the site finally turn tail and run the workers and their families band together and do the needful repairs themselves. Her nieces and nephews grow up learning engineering by the light of oil lamps from stolen Old Era textbooks and jailbroken datapads. She hardly ever now glimpses their faces with her own two eyes from within her steel shell but it is a worthy sacrifice to her, to them, for both parties know she is still there, still with them, embracing them in a great steel hug and watching through a thousand glass-lensed eyes.

Years pass. The brightest of her nieces works out how to modify the nutrition cocktail going into her cockpit so she will never age, never die, never fall sick. Somewhere in there all the metal and ceramic encloses her ever-sleeping body like a lotus flower around the benevolent, immortal form of a bodhisattva.

The outpost survives the war, somehow. Refugees hear of the little town on the colony that could, guarded by a goddess the size of a temple, and flock there. It makes sense to add to her control, among her array of sensors and actuators, the new city’s power generation and delivery system, its wall defenses, its waste management, its communications mains. Nowhere is anything safer than with her.

With all these new additions come techs and custodians to keep her in good care. They build modest crew cabins nestled amongst her treads (now rusty from disuse) so they can be close to her, the better to help her.

Slowly more and more falls under her purview, new cabins, then mezzanines and stairways and platforms between them; each generation has their own superstitions that they add to those of the last before them, so paintings crop up on her metal panels now, in nooks and crannies, often crude symbols that promise good oil changes or swift code updates, or simply depictions of their goddess, of the war she survived. Still she watches.

Her nieces and nephews are all dead now, and their nieces and nephews look on through rheumed eyes as the city attains new heights, heralded everywhere on every planet that still lives as an oasis of peace and prosperity. Still she watches.

A new company comes, enticed by the stories. They want to buy her. Buy her! The people scoff. As if you could just buy a person! - A person? asks the representative from Acher Spaceways, perplexed. - We heard she was your goddess.

She is both, of course, the goddess who lives, the goddess who is one hundred percent flesh and one hundred percent machine.

Acher doesn’t like this. They send machines - zero percent flesh, entirely drones - screaming down from the stars for a more insistent negotiation, one phrased in metal slugs and incendiary fire.

So your goddess rises up to meet them.

It is over in a short day. The drones lie in pieces; Acher, from orbit, licks their wounds, and the goddess rebukes them with a single laser blast, modified from her very first mining waymaker photonic drill.

The blast is precise and surgical. It tears apart the whole platform, spinning central axis to annular habitat space, which supernovas into a blossom of shining proof in the night sky at which the citizens below cheer.

But the pieces are falling, and soon they will pepper the surface below with molten debris, kick up dust into the atmosphere and make it all but unbreathable. The people could leave, the goddess advises them through short-wave radio bursts. They could use her emergency shuttles to escape gravity before it is too late, or they could go underground and salvage her rarest and most precious resources to survive until the surface is safe again.

Here is the thing - every pilot is augmented, and most augments are for the benefit of the plainly physical, for strength and speed and stamina and sharpness of perception. When her people augmented her, they augmented something else entirely. With every new module, every sensor upgrade, every painted symbol and hidden shrine, they gave her a superhuman capacity not for stamina or speed or strength, but for love.

It is her love that saved them, so they must save her back.

For two days they work tirelessly, the whole city, while above them the shattered pieces of Acher Spaceways looms ever closer. When they are done the treads are gone, the cabins dismantled, only the little drawings carefully preserved under coats of abrasion- and heat-resistant paint. And under her, their city, their Haven, lie rockets, ten of them, repurposed from the old all-ore crucibles, fit to move an asteroid.

She’s out there somewhere by Orion now, they say, the fourth jewel in his belt. And she has only grown: from three thousand then to three hundred million. Creatures from all over come to pay her their respects, or to visit lovers, or to live there themselves. There is always room in a body that is ever expanding, like the cosmos itself. Over all of them, she watches, eternal.

Among all the stories they tell of her, they repeat this one the most - how she tore apart a whole space station for the sake of her people, knowing she would die if she failed, for how can a whole city hope to flee? She guards them, and in turn they do not abandon her. They are two halves of the same whole, they say reverently, love manifest - the people and their city; this pilot, this great machine. This Haven.

[heraldicpride]

A pride shield commemorating the Stonewall riots.

Or, in honour a power fist Sable issant from a chevron inverted paly Rose and Bleu celeste masoned Argent; in base a fasces fesswise axe pendant Tenne bound and bladed Sanguine.

The power fist used was drawn by Eugenio Hansen, OFS and licensed CC-BY-SA 4.0, sourced via wikimedia commons.

The field is gold to represent the value of Stonewall to the modern Pride movement. The inverted, brickwork-style chevron recognises in its colouring the central role of transgender activists, the fist emerging therefrom black activists and other IPOC. Between them those two especially honour Marsha P. Johnson.

The fasces is a traditional symbol of law, order and authority of the temporal power. In the modern era it is associated with, and gives its name to, fascism. Here it is toppled over, the axe fallen. The bindings and blade have been tinctured with the sanguine stain, traditionally a mark of dishonour, being the mark of blood spilt unjustly.

[fanged-fanfics]

Headcanon of the beast cookies and the reader who was the only cookie who was able to brew ambrosia? Both before and after corruption. (Headcanon name for this reader cookie is Ambrosia Cookie)

☆ Sweet Like Saccharine — Beast Cookies x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I avoided using pronouns for Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt Cookie since they both don't have confirmed genders, and since they're unreleased I'm basically guessing their personalities

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Burning Spice loved using your talents for celebrations. He's an extremely prideful Cookie, and the ambrosia you brewed was better than anything on Earthbread. He always made sure to order in whole jugs of it, especially for when he won over Golden Cheese

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As the Herald of Change, he used your drinks as a sort of pick-me-up. Whenever he was stewing in his turmoil, a bottle of ambrosia with you was his favorite way of relaxing, if only for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eternal Sugar would use your gifts to bond. A quiet moment with you shared over praising your talent was a great way to get closer, especially when Sugar could laze around drinking with you rather than working

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Before becoming a beast, Eternal Sugar would almost always take time off to just drink with you. A moment of calm, Sugar lounging around and consuming all Sugar can in the carved out free time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Silent Salt always drinks right before a fight. Salt's concentration is always so sharp that not even the strongest wine could dull it, so Silent Salt deemed it harmless to indulge just a little

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Even when Silent Salt wasn't known as an amethyst knight, Silent would use your talent to keep busy when in a noisy situation that Silent didn't want to be in. Silent would also stay right by your side, being a social shield for you so no one could bother you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mystic Flour essentially never drinks, but she remembers receiving your bottles fondly and never turns down ambrosia when it's offered. Though she has to be careful not to open her eyes, or it would immediately sour

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Back when she was granting gifts, your ambrosia was what she'd always adore the most. It was an offering that she gladly accepted, rejuvenating her just a little longer to push through the day

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Shadow Milk would basically drink for any reason. To celebrate, when bummed out, for really any excuse he felt deserved it. Ambrosia is sweeter and richer than anything on Earthbread, so of course he wanted to indulge whenever possible

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Before lies and deceit became all he knew, he used to split it with you over work. It'd be a way to try and work through the realization of existence together. A dull cure, but something that helped nevertheless