#my first time drawing wings of this sort

[terra-is-tired]

qpac and the beautiful baby boy himself

[finniigan]

Drew a friend's OC to cheer them up after some flight troubles :p

[chisatowo]

A very quick random card au Rokka concept drawing since they've been living in my head rent free

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging

fem reader

Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...

The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 

The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 

He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.

Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.

Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.

It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.

He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 

You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.

But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 

He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.

“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 

You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.

If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.

“Does she talk?”

The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.

He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”

The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”

The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”

“I want this one.”

The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”

But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.

“That won’t be an issue.”

And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.

The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.

“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.

Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.

“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”

He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.

He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.

“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”

He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  

Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 

You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”

His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.

He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.

He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”

After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.

“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.

Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.

“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”

The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.

“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”

Your big eyes skitter around. 

On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.

Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.

Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 

And they aren't the only ones.

On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.

Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.

You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.

You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.

“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”

part 2

[prokopetz]

Code Green

A game for 3–7 players, about being where you're not supposed to be.

Last night, you were suspended in a tube of brightly coloured goo in an underground research facility, operated by an organisation whose three-letter initialism's meaning is strictly need-to-know. This morning, someone noticed your tube was empty. Nobody has determined how that happened yet, and you're not inclined to stick around until they figure it out!

Or, in other words, it's been nearly a whole week since I got that massive revision to Space Gerbils out the door, and apparently my brain has decided that's enough of a break. This thing was written start to finish in under 12 hours, so let the circumstances of its authorship guide your expectations. Special thanks go once again to Caro Asercion, whose micro-RPG Dwindle introduced me to the design space I'm fucking around with here. Go buy their stuff.

Anyway:

What You'll Need

Code Green is a tabletop RPG for one game moderator (GM) and up to six players. Each player will need a copy of the Profile Grid, below, as well as three tokens of some sort: dice, coins, beads, etc. You'll also need at least five six-sided dice (for the whole group, not per player, though it's fine if each player has their own set). If you're using dice for tokens, it's recommended that the dice you plan to roll be visually distinguishable in case they land on someone's Profile Grid.

Rolling Dice

There are two ways you'll be asked to roll dice in this game: rolling d66, and rolling a dice pool.

To roll d66, roll a six-side die twice, reading the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. For example, if you rolled a 3 and then a 5, your result is 35. You may also be asked to flip a d66 roll; to do this, take your result and swap the digits without re-rolling. In the preceding example, if you flipped your roll of 35, your new result would be 53.

To roll a dice pool, pick up the indicated number of six-side dice, roll them, and take the highest individual result. Duplicates have no special significance. For example, if you rolled a pool of three dice and got a 2, a 4, and a 4, your result would be 4. If you would ever roll a pool of zero or fewer dice, roll two dice and take the lowest instead.

Character Creation

Each player should create their own character. There are three things about your character which are always true:

You are newly born into the world. You may know things about the world (e.g., from your programming, having read them on a computer terminal, etc.), but you haven't experienced them.

You are implausibly good at remaining inconspicuous; unless you're deliberately drawing attention or doing something which requires a dice roll, humans will almost always fail to spot you.

You are not human. You can decide what that means.

To find out what else is true about your character, roll or choose three times from the Form table, and three times from the Function table, placing your results into the correspondingly labelled slots on the Profile Grid, below, in any order you please. Your three results from each table should be different; if you elected to roll and get the same entry multiple times, flip your result, and re-roll if it's still a duplicate.

Think about what your three Form traits and three Function traits imply about your character's physical makeup, but don't set anything in stone just yet – you'll see why not in a moment.

Finally, roll a six-sided die five times, and record the results in the order in which they're received. The resulting five-digit number is the only name your character has when play begins.

Table 1: Form (d66)

11–12. Blood 13–14. Bones 15–16. Brain 21–22. Claws 23–24. Ears 25–26. Eyes 31–32. Guts 33–34. Hands 35–36. Heart 41–42. Hair 43–44. Legs 45–46. Lungs 51–52. Nose 53–54. Skin 55–56. Tail 61–62. Teeth 63–64. Tongue 65–66. Wings

Table 2: Function (d66)

11–12. Accelerated 13–14. Autonomous 15–16. Auxiliary 21–22. Cryogenic 23–24. Cryptic 25–26. Elastic 31–32. Electric 33–34. Entropic 35–36. Invasive 41–42. Invulnerable 43–44. Kinetic 45–46. Magnetic 51–52. Phasing 53–54. Polymorphic 55–56. Projectile 61–62. Pyrogenic 63–64. Telescopic 65–66. Toxic

Playing the Game

Play proceeds in a series of scenes. In each scene, the GM will set the stage: a challenge to overcome, a peril to escape, a mystery to investigate, etc. Given the nature of your characters, most things will be mysteries to you!

Initial Token Placement

Once the stage has been set, place each of your three tokens on a different square on your Profile Grid. If you have no preference, you can roll d66 for each token and place it in the square whose marked numeric range contains the number you rolled, flipping or re-rolling your result if you get a square which already contains a token. The placement of these tokens represents your initial state when the scene opens. Depending on the nature of your character, this may be reflected by a shifting of internal focus, or by a physical transformation.

Participation

To participate in the scene, simply tell the GM what your character does; the GM will describe how the world responds, and ask what you do next. Whenever you wish – or are forced – to do something more than lurk and observe, you are obliged to make a test.

Making Tests

To make a test, first choose a pair of traits – one Form trait, and one Function trait – with which to face the challenge. For example, if your Form traits are Legs, Tail and Teeth, and your Function traits are Cryptic, Invulnerable and Phasing, you might test your Invulnerable Legs against the trouble at hand.

Next, count the number of tokens present in the rows extending from each of the chosen traits. The illustration below shows which squares would be consulted in the preceding example:

Next, roll a dice pool containing a number of dice equal to the number of tokens present on squares extending from the chosen traits. Do not count a token twice if it's on the square where the two traits intersect (e.g., the green square in the illustration above). In the event that no tokens fall on squares extending from appropriate traits, remember that you are allowed to roll a pool of zero dice by rolling two dice and taking the lowest rather than the highest.

Finally, compare your result to the following table:

1–3. Less than human. Whatever you'd intended to try still happens, but it cannot overcome human opposition (or adversity which would challenge a typical human), and any lasting effects are transitory and easily explained away. 4–5. Mostly human. Your effort can contend with human opposition (or circumstances which would challenge a competent human), and its lasting effects make it obvious that someone (or something) has been interfering with matters. 6. More than human. Your effort easily brushes aside any human opposition, and its lasting effects are impossible to rationalise as anything other than the intervention of inhuman forces.

Without Applicable Traits

In the event that you're forced to make a test and no possible pairing of your traits is applicable, you don't get to roll anything, not even with a pool of zero dice; simply resolve the outcome as though you'd rolled a result of 1–3. Other characters may attempt to preserve you from this fate by assisting you, in which case you roll one die per assisting friend; see below for more details.

Assistance

If you wish to assist another character in making a test, consult your own Profile Grid, considering only those squares which contain tokens. Only the specific pairs of traits represented by the squares on which your tokens fall are eligible for assistance; for example, if one of your tokens falls on the intersection of Cryptic and Teeth, you may assist with Cryptic Teeth, but not any other pair of traits involving Cryptic or Teeth unless those squares also have tokens on them.

If you're able to identify an eligible pair of traits that seems applicable to the test at hand, explain how you're using it to help, and hand the player making the test one extra die. Any number of characters may assist on a given test.

Providing assistance neither requires nor permits your character to adapt (see below) – it needs to be your own test for that!

Adapting

After resolving a test, your character adapts, shifting focus or form to reflect what they've learned. Take one token of your choice from your character sheet, and move it to a different square which doesn't already contain one. You can move any token you wish, but it must end up on a different square than the one it started on unless no valid destinations are available. Adapting is not optional, and must be carried out after every test.

Suffering Strain

If whatever you're making a test against is particularly strenuous or dangerous, you might suffer strain as a consequence. Strain will often be incurred on a result of 1–3, and rarely on a result of 4–5; only the most foolhardy efforts will incur strain even on a result of 6!

To incur strain, roll d66, and place a small X on the square on your Profile Grid whose indicated numeric range contains the number you rolled. If there's a token on that square, immediately move it to an empty square of your choice, unless fewer than three unmarked squares now remain; in that case, simply remove the token entirely.

For the remainder of the scene, tokens may not be moved to any marked square. In addition, if you suffer further strain, and the square indicated by your d66 roll is already marked, your character is incapacitated, and may not participate in tests at all until they recover.

All strain is cleared – and any discarded tokens restored – at the end of each scene. Incapacitated characters also recover at this time.

[oofthwoods]

'23 grid ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: an overview of fem!driver relationship with a few drivers on the grid. just a bunch of cute headcanons that i can't get out of my head. i only added the ones i feel she would be closest with, but feel free to ask me about any other driver!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: recommend reading the introduction for the backstory.

˒ ⌕ — MICK SCHUMACHER ( 47 )

more than mere teammates, mick and her have been glued to the hip ever since they met. with both of their parents being ex-formula one drivers for the same team, it was clear from the very start that they would see each other very often. as kids, wondering around the paddock, as teens, supporting each other on the track and now, as young adults, competing against each other on porsche and f1.

while mick is a sweet, introverted guy who tends to think about every word that leaves his miuth, she is the complete opposite — loud, bashful and someone who should have a bigger filter between your brain and mouth. is the epitome of orange cat × golden retriever, and fans eat it up.

while mick sometimes can calm her, it's more likely that she brings him into her shenanigans.

˒ ⌕ — MAX VERSTAPPEN ( 33 )

her and max couldn't have a more different upbringing. while he was roughly shaped into a champion by his father, she had been carefully brought into the motorsport world by yours.

they've met during her years as a red bull junior, and what started with max being a bit annoyed by her non-stop talking quickly turned into an honest friendship, where they both can say whatever they want.

it leads to max saying the most unhinged things and her being the only one who jokes along instead of feeling concerned.

˒ ⌕ — LEWIS HAMILTON ( 44 )

probably one of the cutest driver pairings in the grid. fans love to dig out old picture from the two and compare to it now.

lewis has always had a soft spot for her, ever since she was a kid roaming around in the paddock. he would show her his car, explaining all the things to her and claiming that his team was better than whatever team her dad was on.

once she came back to the paddock, now as a driver, he took one look at her and immediately took her under his wing. they both are, in their own ways, alone within the rest of the grid and he wouldn't let the media, or anyone for what matters, dim her light.

on the daily, he is always checking up on her, not in a overbearing fatherly way, but more as an older brother figure.

during her first months he managed to convince the media outlets to pair them both together for every interview, and he was always quick to shut down any stupid question sent her way.

if she annoys him for long enough, she manages to make him agree to coordinate his outfits with her.

˒ ⌕ — FERNANDO ALONSO ( 14 )

similar to lewis, she met alonso when she was very young. although he had a bad reputation during that time, she always loved to hang out with him, because she loved how cool he looked every time he won a race.

it took him some time to warm up to her, as he was never that great with kids when he was younger, but when she gifted him a drawing she had made of him winning a race, he was done for. yes, he was still seen as some sort of villain, but everyone agreed that he looked more human when she was on him arms.

he would grab her from her father's garage (with his permission, of course) and would take her to his, always waiting with her favorite flavor of pizza. it became a tradition for the both of them to eat it before a race, being his or hers.

whenever he could, he would watch her races from her garage, proudly wearing team merchandise with her name on it. when she won her f2 championship, he made sure to stand closely to the podium, and he would deny it, but he cried a bit when she raised her trophy.

such a cute duo because he tries to keep up with the things she likes, but still doesn't fully understand everything, so one day he would randomly say that her outfits is slaying and would leave with a polite smile while she stands there, confused, wondering where the hell did he learn that.

still tries to continue their pizza traditions <3

˒ ⌕ — LANDO NORRIS ( 04 )

they both barely knew each other before her debut in f1, but somehow clicked instantly. it might be because of their self depreciated tendencies, or their constant sarcasm. who knows? the only thing that matters is that when a reporter asks a stupid question, they can communicate with a single glance.

lando tries to get her intro photography but gives up once she couldn't fully understand how to correctly operate a camera. claims that she is a pretty good model to make up for it <3

somehow they know everything about everyone. it's a mix of lando knowing the drivers very well, and her knowing a lot of the mechanics of different teams. whenever something happens in the paddock, they both definitely know.

˒ ⌕ — GEORGE RUSSELL ( 63 )

met simply because she thought his pose was so funny that she had to ask him if he thought about it previously or decided to just wing it during filming. he was slightly confused that she seemed so friendly after they had just net, but quickly understood that was simply how she acted.

the most meme worthy duo. with his perfect timed actions and her dynamic facial expressions, their faces are always seen together plastered on twitter.

the butt of most of her jokes. she constantly sends him tiktoks and he claims that he is tired of it, but always sees each one and gives a little commentary.

if lewis is her caring older brother, george is her annoying one.

˒ ⌕ — OSCAR PIASTRI ( 81 )

the two of them have a long running joke because they don't know when they met. they've never competed against each other, as he was always one year above in the series, and never raced for the same team, but somehow, they feel like you've always been friends.

(they once actually sat down to try and trace back to their first meeting, but only got as far as to a gala in 2020, but they both remember already being friends during that.)

people thought they would never see them interact because of their distinct personalities and were very surprised when she pulled him into a hug after their race in bahrain.

always bantering and joking, oscar likes that she understand his sense of humor and don't take it too seriously.

˒ ⌕ — ALEX ALBON ( 23 )

met solely because she felt the need to tell him how pretty his girlfriend was. he was very confused but appreciated the compliment (even though it wasn't dedicated to him).

after that he kept getting drawn by her straight to the point comments, always failing to conceal his laughter after she says something, either during debriefing or interviews.

she pretty much became his and lily's daughter. they take her out to eat after races, lily tries to teach her how to golf and alex convinces her to die her hair if she scores at least 10 ponths.

[flamingpudding]

Part 4 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

How to catch a baby brother

Richard 'Dick' Greyson had a problem. It wasn't a nuclear level of problem but it also wasn't a paper cut level of problem either. Because apparently he had a baby brother no one in their family but Damien knew about. Granted Damien had confessed that said baby brother was dead and had supposedly died eight years ago.

The explanation that Talia had apparently pulled another Jason was not helpful at all. According to Damien, in response to Tims findings, there was no other way for the twin to be alive other than Talia having preserved his body and then decided after eight years to drop it into the pits. Well lets just say his opinion on that woman if it was already down in the depth it certainly was now.

Which, considering the glowing Lazarus green eyes, could mean that there was now an eight years old child running loose in the Bat Cave with Pit Madness. Not just a simple feral eight years old that looked like perfect B adoption material and so happened to be blood related.

"Guys we need a plan. We can't just let our little teethling run loose."

"Richard, do not refer to my brother as little teethling." Dick only grinned. "Well the little biter needs a nickname and until I find something else fitting its teethling. Or do you have a better suggestion?"

Sweet little Baby Bird was now glowering at him. Oh protective were we, his little brothers definitely were the cutest. He was definitely going to tease sweet little Dami about this later once the first phase of new little brother crisis was over. For now they had to find the little guy first. The Cave wasn't exactly childproof.

"Let's use Jason as bait." Tim suddenly suggested causing the second oldest to grimace. "The little guy apparently likes biting him. We could use that as an advantage."

"Absolutely fucking not." Little Wing disagreed and Dick chuckled in good humor.

"Aw come on Little Wing, this is your chance to make a bond with our new baby before any of us can."

"For once I agree with Todd. Absolutely not, who knows where he has been. I will not have my brother become sick from biting him." He would have cooed at this, if Jason's face change from surprise at the agreement to a purely offended scowl wasn't so funny.

"Okay no biting bait. But we gotta draw out the little guy and calm his Pit Rage." If that feralness the kid displayed had even anything to do with Pit Rage.Considering the glowing eyes though he would think so. Dick eyed Jasons for a moment, he didn't seem to be affected at all nor had he said anything about the Pit being upset or feeling anything strange. So maybe the little guy wasn't suffering to an extrem from it? But he had apparently been brought back by a Lazarus Pit, so the likelihood with their experiences so far was slim.

"Well we gotta find a way to secure the little guy before B comes back or Alfie finds out." Jason mentioned still scowling at Damien. "By the way, I want to be here when you guys tell B about this. I wanna see his face and make fucking sure the little biter won't be turned into another kid soldier."

"Jason." He scowled, this was definitely not the right time for that sort of discussion but he had a point, they needed to find little… what had Damien said his name was? Wait did Damien even tell them the little guy's name? They all had just been using nicknames so far.

"Dami, what's the little teethling's name again?"

"I haven't told you yet." Ah okay so he didn't have a hole in his memory. "It's Danyal, but when we were younger he didn't like the way grandfather and our teachers called his name and insisted on being called informally as Danny."

"Okay right, so we better find little Danny and get everyone together to introduce-"

"Might I ask who this 'little Danny' is, Master Dick?"

He did not scream. But his heart rate shot up with Alfred just appearing behind him like that. Really sometimes Alfred could be as bad as Cass in the ways of sneaking up on people without them knowing.

"Alfred, hey hi what are you doing down here?" He was not nervous, no he wasn't. The way the butler narrowed his eyes at him did definitely not scare him at all, nope.

"I was informed that all of you returned uninjured." Though his eyes narrowed at Jason's hand that got cut earlier and his brother instantly tried to hide it behind his back when he noticed Alfreds eyes on him. "But the four of you, despite having returned to the Cave, have not come up yet. So I was merely checking on you, to make sure nothing was wrong after all."

He gulped. Really there was no way of ever hiding anything from Alfred.

"Jason brought a child to the Cave that we found out is Damien's twin that had died eight years ago but was brought back to life and is now feral and hiding somewhere in the cave."

At least it was Timber that blurred out everything they knew so far.

"His name is Danyal." Baby Bird added and the four of them waited for Alfred's reaction.

"I see. I will go prepare one of the rooms then and inform Master Bruce to return sooner from his meeting with the Justice League then. As well as prepare for a family dinner as soon as possible, I assume. Will my help be needed in finding young Master Danyal?"

"No worries Alfie, I think I have an idea on how to draw out the little shiiii-biter. You made cookies, right?" Jason at the last minute corrected his words because of the look and Dick couldn't help but snicker.

"I indeed did. If my help is not required then I will be on my way."

Giving them all one last look over, the Butler smiled before he turned to leave. Dick, Tim and Jason let out a sigh in relief once Alfred had left again to which Damien only eyed them strangely.

A little while later Jason went to get the cookies and came back with the plate and staring at a green post-it note. "Since when does Alfie stick green post-it notes with cryptic shit on plates?"

"What?" His brother only shrugged offering the note to him. Tim was looking over his shoulder at it and the two stared at the strange writing.

"I think Cass or Steph might be pulling a prank on us? These look just like random squiggles."

"Let's leave this for later and look for the little teethling." He passed the note to Tim, noticing the curiosity in his eyes. Oh boy, he probably should make sure his little brother gets some sleep instead of trying to encrypt whatever was written on that little note all night.

"Now everyone lets take a cookie, resist eating it and go hunt down our little teethling."

Damien narrowed his eyes on him. "I told you to stop calling Danyal that." The little baby bird still took a cookie though and marched away into the bat cave. They had separated wandering through the Bat Cave trying to cover as much ground as possible and by this point Dick was ready to call for Cass to join them, maybe even wake up Duke just so they would finally find the little kid.

That was until a familiar yowl of pain resounded in the Cave. The direction made Dicks stomach sink once he remembered just what was in the Cave in this direction. "Jason!"

Once he arrived there he feared for the worst. Jason avoided the area, because B had placed their Lazarus Pit there and his brother had often said that it was one of the reasons he didn't like coming to the Cave that much anymore let alone into this area of the Cave. To hear his brothers shout of pain from that area couldn't mean anything good.

Well that was until he got to the scene. Dick didn't know how long he stood there frozen but at some point he knew he took out his phone to take some photos of what was happening. Tim was already laughing and Dick was pretty sure that Babs was most likely recording this with one of the many cameras B had in the Cave.

Jason lay with his back on the ground, with one hand his brother was still holding the cookie waving it desperately before Danny's face who was biting down on the other arm sitting on the downed vigilante's chest. Little hands gripping onto the arm in an attempt to make sure no one was taking his chewtoy away from him. Meanwhile Damien was trying to lift the little biter off Jason by holding him with his hands under the kids armpits.

"You little shit! FUCK! Come on, here is the cookie! Take the fucking cookie! OUCH FUCKING HELL! How is he resisting Alfies cookies!"

"Danyal, No! You do not know where Todd was or how dirty he is. Let go of his arm this instant. We do not want you to get sick!"

"Hey!"

This was gold, Dick decided, and would go straight to the black mail as well as family memories folder.

[cartoon-brainrot]

I posted these on Twitter one by one, but I was waiting to have the full collection to post them here!

I saw a lot of people draw the MLP as trolls, so I wanted to give it my own spin!

You’ll notice I didn’t just slot them in the main 6 genres, mostly because I just tried to find the genre that would fit them the most! As much as I love funk fluttershy or rarity, I don’t think their music style fits them <3

Fluttershy was the first one! I went with Classical-Metal, (although I debated for folk for quite some time) mostly because I thought that would suit her the most- and because she’s a metalhead in EG! Her hairstyle is taken from one of the outfits she used when she models for photo finish!

PinkiePie was so obviously Hyperpop I didn’t even think about it twice! The music, the colours, the style, the excessive accessories- it all fits her so well!

Applejack is country, I couldn’t take that from her. Just pure old country! I had some trouble with her hair, cause I wanted it to be big and poofy like Delta or Holly’s, but the first sketches weren’t quite right. I changed it at the last minute and I’m glad I did, because now I absolutely love it! And yes, her hat is more like a hairband, it’s missing the top- that’s where she slides the ponytail into!

Twilight was classical- I had no doubts from that, but I thought being a mix between techno and classical would fit her very well! I gave her a sort of gown-like tailfin, and her wings also work as extra fins! All in all, I wanted her to look like a mix between an angel and a jellyfish! Her hair is lighter because it!s always subtly glowing- and also because dark hair wouldn’t work for either classical (who have cotton candy shades) and techno (whose hair is always glowing)

Rarity is still a debate between Classical-Pop and Swing! I thought classical pop was great for her, especially because of her songs, but swing was SUCH a good style and genre for her! A lot of her outfits always have that vintage vibe, and her hairstyle reminded me of the headdresses they used in the 20s-30s!

Rainbowdash is PopRock, obviously. She has goggles for when she flies and her earrings are clear! The pop trolls are all brightly coloured so I kept the rainbow hair instead of using less colours, but I dimmed them so that she would blend in better with the rock theme!

And yes, all 6 of them have their elements on them! It’s just that they’re not all visible!

Twilight has it on her chest, Applejack and Rainbowdash have them on their belts! Pinkie pie has it on a hairclip, Rarity has it on a pin on her dress and fluttershy has it on her back!

[ouroborosorder]

Guide Ahead Means Something To Me

Writing about Guide Ahead is…. extremely difficult, for a few reasons. One is that it is a very dense story, and to fully unpack it would require an essay so unfocused that it would be functionally unreadable. But the biggest one is that Guide Ahead is a story that focuses really heavily on the subjective nature of interpretation. How can I speak authoritatively on the thematic meaning of the plot when even a basic description of its events demands a deeper poetic interpretation?

The answer is “I can’t.” So, let’s piss off my English teacher, and coat an entire essay in the phrase “in my opinion.” Because I have to get personal if I’m going to tell you why Guide Ahead is my favorite video game story ever told.

I was raised Mormon. My mother was religious, but my father was absolutely not. You can understand why I related to Cecilia basically immediately.

Ultimately, the thing that draws me to Guide Ahead is the very thing that makes it hard to write about. Guide Ahead is, in my reading, a story about the subjectivity of divine meaning.

The most obvious manifestation, and the most important, is Law. But, Law’s execution, in traditional Arknights fashion, is kinda unclear, so I’ll recap for those who have hobbies outside of this, unlike me.

Law is the supercomputer buried underneath Laterano, and is the sentient religion that binds all the Sankta together into a hivemind of sorts. The Sankta are actually just Sarkaz connected to Law, given halos, wings, and empathic communication between each other. But, the main thing they gain, is a biological impulse to obey the Lateran religion’s thirteen doctrines. Anyone who breaks these doctrines are marked as Fallen, are cut off from the empathic connection, and slowly revert back to Sarkaz. Law represents religion as a concept and a community. Saints and sinners are just one and the same. But despite that, the laws of religion are created just to perpetuate the existence of a special in-group. One enforced by empathic connection they cannot share with anyone outside of them. That is Patia’s point - the Sankta have created an “us” and a “them,” and even the devout Liberi are not seen as “us.” They’re just converts, not real Sankta.

But, Falling has… weird grey areas. Like how Andoain was able to shoot Lemuen, or draw his gun on the fucking Pope, and not Fall in the process. This is because the doctrines are not actually the guidelines they’re held to. The Doctrines are subjective interpretations of the objective Law that they are all beholden to. That Law being “It must survive.” Law only is interested in the perpetuation of Itself, and, as a result, the continued existence of the Sankta as a societal structure.

This is the first and strongest example of what I mean when I say Guide Ahead is about meaning. Law says that the failure of religion is ultimately that religions supplant any subjective meanings with an “objective” meaning. But this “objective” meaning is just another person’s interpretation of the in-group’s best interest. Laws biologically programmed into the Sankta’s souls are revealed to be nothing but interpretation of Law’s interpretation of events.

People Fall not because they have broken a concrete law, but because Law… because the in-group has decided they did. Or when they broke the rules, they did something that’s good for the church. There is no objective laws within the Lateran religion, no matter what the machine is named. The system just declares sin when it deems worthy, and absolution when sin is a benefit.

It is this very hypocrisy that drives Andoain.

——————————————————————————————————

I remember being pulled aside at church one day. Everyone above 14 was given a sermon about the recent legalization of gay marriage. He said it was wrong, the church would never accept it. I asked him if it was like the time the church refused to give black people the Priesthood. He said this was different. I asked him how. He did not answer. I left and someone followed me out. He asked if I was okay. I told him whatever he was saying in there was not the teachings of any god that I know, and wasn’t the teachings of any god that loves me. I kept going to church after that, but deep down, I think I didn’t believe in it anymore. I didn’t feel like part of the community, I lost that reciprocation with my people. I just… began to think.

Andoain, as an antagonist, is defined by a search for meaning. He was the bishop of an Iberian church, and Iberia is doing pretty bad lately. His request for aid from Laterano was denied, and the message was clear to him. “You are one of us, but they are not.” But that answer just created a new question. Why? Why would those who claim faith and utopia as their ideals reject those who are suffering?

He searched for an answer in exile, and he didn’t find one. Instead, he found another story. The Sarkaz man who died in the watchtower to warn a town who hated him of an invading force. And this story made his question develop. Why would someone who is hated by everyone give their life to protect those very people? And why would those people then cry over the grave of someone they hated?

He had seen the realities of the Sarkaz and Sankta laid bare, but he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it. He tells Cecilia these stories, knowing full well he doesn’t know what to make of them. I think he tells them to hope he finds the point partway through.

——————————————————————————————————

As much as I hate the Mormon church for dear god everything they’ve ever done holy shit look at them? My feelings are predictably complicated. Years later, my family fell upon hard times. I don’t want to say more than that for my own sake. We were struggling to even live. But… the church helped us. None of us gone to church for years, but they offered a hand. They gave us access to the Bishop’s Storehouse, gave us food and supplies for free, because we were starving. 

And yes, I know. I know they do this in an attempt at creating a false brotherhood in an effort to create a fascist sense of community. I have also read that part of Brothers Karamazov. I have also read Guide Ahead, come to think of it. But… Shit. Most of them tried to pretend we didn’t exist when we met them in the grocery store. And… they still helped us. In their eyes, I was Fallen.

But still, they saved us, and didn’t even ask for faith in return. I still can’t figure out why.

This is why I just… can’t see Andoain as a villain. I mean, yeah, he shot Lemuen, but even she doesn’t blame him for shooting his friends while holding the Stick That Makes You Shoot Your Friends. His entire goal is an attempt to sort through the cognitive dissonance between what the church tells him and what the church does. A dissonance that is, because of Law and the doctrines, innate to what the church is. An experience that should feel damn familiar to anyone who has spent time as an apostate. His plan is to simply confront the Pope about this hypocrisy, to get an answer, to find a meaning.

The answer he gets back is… It Must Survive. Law must survive. The in-group must survive. It doesn’t matter if we cry over the grave of the Sarkaz, because the Sarkaz would die for us. He searched for the answer to a question, the meaning of a statement. You are one of us. They are not. All this time, he searched for the meaning of those words, but in reality, those words were the meaning. That was all they ever had to say. He just needed to accept that.

…but if the in-group is all that mattered… why allow Mostima in Laterano? Why give her her position? She’s not needed for the survival of the in-group, the Law has deemed her an exile.

And… Why not Andoain?

Before he leaves, his gun is taken from him. A gun that, according to the church, has meaning. A meaning he takes as truth. He believes a part of him is left behind there. I don’t think he realizes it, but Mostima and Fiammetta are the question he left behind. They are Not Sankta, but yet they are accepted. And… I don’t know if there is a meaning to that. I still can’t figure out why.

——————————————————————————————————

For a long time, I missed those days spent in the community I had left. I would remember the things I left behind. The churchball basketball games we were destined to lose. The conversations held on the roof of the storage building behind the church. The scouting activities that were clearly an excuse to go bowling. The shitty halloween parties with the game where you ate donuts tied to a string hanging from a fishing pole. I missed it, for a time. I couldn’t help but look back.

Cecilia is searching for meaning to almost everything. When Andoain tells his stories to Cecilia, he tells her that he can’t find the meaning of them. That if there is meaning to be found, she’ll have to find it herself. So. She does.

Cecilia was faced with the same situation Andoain was obsessed with. But for her, it wasn’t hypothetical. She existed between Us and Them. She felt the pull between the community and the love and fun they represent, and the outsiders who were hated and rejected by the people around her. Society told her the meaning of her dual identity, the meaning behind each half, and then told her to choose. But… she’d experienced otherwise. She’d felt the kindness of the Sarkaz from the Pathfinders, and the hatred from the Church. She’d felt things that contradicted the meaning that she was told was true.

Her story isn’t just being forced to pick a side between the church or apostacy, it’s being forced to pick what meaning she ascribes to the world. Ultimately, that’s why her answer can only be her own. Your belief is… subjective.

And she answered… with a bell. A Sarkaz girl, bearing a halo, ringing a bell that has not been rung since the Sankta were still called Teekaz. A bell that once marked the beginning of the new era. A bell that carries the weight of a Sarkaz, hated by the place they called home. A bell that rings with the melody of a Sarkaz lullaby once sung by a Sankta. A bell that asserts her answer. She’s not Sarkaz, she’s not Sankta. She is Cecilia.

Everyone else finds their own subjective meaning within that action. Something as mundane as the ringing of the bell suddenly has more meaning than divine scripture.

No one else understood the nuance of what she said, but they understood parts of it. They understood what they wanted to. Those who know nothing of Lateran culture understand it as just… a beautiful welcome, celebrating the arrival of talks of peace. Most have their meaning determined by the church’s traditions. The pious see it as the beginning of a new era, whatever that signals to them. To the Church, it is that their talks will bring about a new era of peace. To the Pathfinders, it is a signal to begin their attack on Laterano to begin their new era.

There is so much meaning in that action, but in the end, it’s still just a fucking bell. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in Laterano. But this bell meant something more than the other bells. This bell had meaning, and that meaning made it divine.

This, to me, is what Guide Ahead has to say. That there is so much meaning to be found in something as mundane as a ringing bell. Within such a simple action, there is personal expression, liberation, the sound of change. And in all of this, there is the echoes of divinity, the echoes of faith, as if all of these things are, in themselves, divine.

——————————————————————————————————

When I left the church, I couldn’t help but look back, still tethered to a community who hated me. I think I wished I could stop looking back. I don't know if I realized I was.

In the end, everyone else looks back. They still have meaning to be found in Laterano. Andoain looks back, a part of his soul anchored there by the symbol he was told to believe in. Mostima looks back, knowing she’ll return just as she always does. Fiammetta looks back, because she refuses to let herself leave. Ezell looks back, unsure if he will be able to return home after what he has found.

But… Cecilia doesn’t. She has decided that she is not defined by the church, or the meaning they try to give her. She has decided to leave Laterano and see the world outside of it, to explore the world around her and find the meaning for herself.

And the last thing Cecilia does is... defined by ambiguous meaning. She sees Andoain walking in the sunset - and a word appears to her. The title of Martyr. A title she doesn’t understand the meaning or weight of, but that she feels is appropriate regardless. A title that, to other people, would mean something more. But to her, brings to mind the saints she heard of as a youth, a word her mother told her was important.

The story is ending, and they end it with an assertion. Cecilia is finding meaning, and others will find what they will within. Perhaps even she doesn't know all of it.

A while back, during a theater rehearsal, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had years before I left the church. I remembered speaking with my friends outside of the chapel after a sunday service. My friend said a sentence that has stuck with me ever since. “I don’t think science goes against God. I think God uses science and math. I think those things are holy, because they’re… what everything is made of.”

I remember looking around the rehearsal space and thinking that if science could be sacred, then… so is this moment, now. So is my time spent with the people I love. This is sacred. What I missed, what kept me looking back. It wasn’t the actual religion, but instead… just belonging to something. So… I stopped looking back. In that moment, however fleeting it was, I had found whatever it was I needed.

—————————————————————————————————

Look. You probably had a different interpretation of Guide Ahead. This story is just… So goddamn dense. There is so much there that I didn’t even touch on. For the love of god, I just did an analysis of Guide Ahead and didn’t even really discuss Fiammetta?? What kind of hack writer am I? (I just… couldn’t talk about her without being more personal than I am willing to be in public.)

If you have an interpretation that is different than mine, that’s great. I encourage you to hold on to it, and hold it close. That meaning is yours, and yours alone, and that’s a precious thing.

Because to me, what I found… is that very idea.

There is meaning to be found in anything - and a meaning that is yours, and yours alone. All you have to do is find meaning. and the idea that there is meaning to the world, that everything has meaning not because there is a “true” meaning to it, but because we find one there, because we put one there… that makes everything feel… divine, to me.

So… wherever you find meaning, you can find the divine.

You can find divinity in a ringing bell. In a terrible cactus tart. A carnival game you know how to beat. The promises of peace around a table. A cup of coffee. A city you hate. A community you love. A flower growing near a grave. A weapon you carry. A people you surround yourself with.

Those are all… holy to me.

And to me… that meaning is enough.

I hope yours is for you.

[goobyngreedy]

Introducing my Hazbin Hotel Au where Angel Dust is an overlord! The main differences mostly have to do with these 4 so I did a little drawing to show their respective character changes!

1.) the first and biggest difference is that Angel Dust is an overlord, and the vees arent. Angel Dust still made a deal with Valentino, but when he became friends with Charlie, she told her dad all about Valentino and he "disposed" of him. It wasn't hard for Angel to gain power after that using the skills he learned in the mafia.

2.) Eventually without all their additional income and power they had from Val; Velvette and Vox soon make deals to keep some sort of power, and that just so happens to be Angel they made a deal with. Vox outsmarted Angel a bit by making him think he was getting a better deal only owning his soul half the time.

3.) Husk also ended up making a deal with Angel rather than Alastor (which Angel actually won by cheating the whole time)

4.) Angel owns a club in place of the Voxtech tower, called "The Angel's Wing" and it is by far the biggest and most popular club in the pentagram. This club has a lot of different schemes and business practices going on behind the scenes.

5.)Husk is a bartender there at night, and was tasked with playing rigged card games with drunks at the bar to rack up cash. In fact the entire staff is compiled with scam artists. Angel will do anything to make money.

6.) Velvette has quite a few jobs, always with a headset on and by Angel's side as a sort of assistant. She also makes the outfits/costumes for some of the staff at the club. She always seems to appear right at the right or funniest time, which quite annoys Husk, but they are kind of friendly.

7.) Now Vox's whole deal is a lot different than the others. Since he has a looser contract than the other 2, Angel has to compromise on some things, and one of them is how Vox uses his surveillance. Vox usually works in the surveillance room, with a mic to assist the staff on what is going down, who is ripe to be scammed, and sometimes even let them know exactly what to say to get new clientele. However Vox also has a tendency to Pester another overlord, Alastor and Angel ends up having to clean up messes for him, and suck up to the other overlord, which makes him harder on Vox than the others.

8.) Just so you are all aware I AM IN NO WAY MAKING AN AU WHERE ANGEL IS AN ABUSER. He still has his trauma with being owned by someone and because of this he is one of the more remorseful and less violent overlord. He mostly deals in hustling/scamming, and prostitution where the doesn't mistreat the workers.

That's all!!

[vanessamooney]

The Age of Us pt. 1 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 2

Part 3 coming soon!

In First Year you're a ball of glimmering potential. You're staring wide eyed at the brilliant castle before you from the boat house and on the walk up a little Draco is trailing behind you, holding up your robes to prevent them from dragging in the mud. You don't even notice the sweet gesture as you spend the climb up rambling to him about how excited you are to begin learning about magic, bouncy as ever with a smile wider than he's ever been able to draw out from you. Not even his mother's white peacocks at Malfoy Manor brought out such a smile from you, nor the time years ago when you two rolled down the hill on your family's estate, covered in twigs and wrestling in a pile of dried leaves, giggly as ever.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco watches proudly as his girl is sorted into Slytherin house, and he welcomes you with a radiant smirk as you trot over to the house table and seat yourself right next to him. He watches eagerly as Potter and that blasted orange haired Weasley boy are called out next, moping methodically along to the sorting hat, watching them with a glare he reserved for the mud-bloods his father would point out on trips to Diagon Alley. He hopes Potter will be sorted into Slytherin, after all, 'connections are key' Lucius would say and who better a connection than the chosen one?

'Oh Draco,' You tut, 'look at the sky!' you're in awe at the ceiling which you've only just noticed, the enchantments were executed so gracefully if you hadn't of read Hogwarts, A History before the year began you would've had no clue the great hall ever had a roof. 

He looked at you with the same dirty expression sculpted on his face that he had given Potter through the ceremony, stuck like cement, but when he noticed your doughy lips parted in wonder, he reached over and with a nimble finger, he closed your mouth for you, leaving you blushing a tomato red. 

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Up! Up! Up!' 

You're standing over your broom, watching the other kids stand in organised lines across from you in the fields, succeeding with calling their brooms to them. Draco had succeeded on the first try, of course, and you're embarrassed to be one of the last people whose brooms have still not so much moved from their original position.

He catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic look, crossing his lips into a firm line. The broom in his hand is tossed carelessly to the ground and he makes a leap towards you, his hands reaching to tenderly adjust your arm in another position. 

Draco had received lessons over the Summer and was already worrying his mother as he hastily flew around the Manor windows on the shiny Nimbus Lucius insisted he needed. You watched him on warm Spring afternoons with your feet firmly planted on the ground in the grassy meadows as he perfected his flying, your hands busy with knitting because 'a little girl like yourself needn't fly,' as your mother had so often reminded you when you dared to ask.

'There, try with your hands like that, and say it firmly,' Your best friend instructed you, watching your worried eyes and flushed cheeks.

'I don't know Draco, maybe I just can't fly,' you confess, worried that really was the possibility. 

'Just try,' he furrowed his brows, 'for me?' 

You shakily nod your head, the last one on the field now without a complying broom. The Longbottom boy had now been escorted to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch and you hoped such a thing wouldn't happen to you but Draco seemed to read your mind when he notices your wandering eyes.

'Just look at me, look at my eyes, Y/N,' he began, rubbing your shoulders 'Don't focus on anything else,' 

You gulped, staring into him with an openess you reserved only for him 'Up!' 

The broom snaps into your hand and you squeal in excitement, throwing it away as quickly as it flys to you and embracing Draco in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. 

You don't notice the glares the two of you received from Potter and his gang, but Draco does, giving them an equally dirty look before marching over to the remembrall that had rolled over and snatching it right off the ground.

 ╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

 There was a troll on the loose in the castle and you've been escorted back to the Slytherin dorms by the Head boy and girl. Everyone had gone up into their respective dormitories in fear of being taken by the ghastly monster but you had tugged on Draco's sleeves with puppy dog eyes and begged him to stay in the common room and play a game of friendly wizard's chess with you.

He sighs and rolls his blue eyes to the back of his skull but reluctantly agrees and you sit warm by the fire on a bear hide rug. The chess board is nestled between the two of you and Draco instinctively goes to grab the white King but you start to sulk.

'Oh Draco, please, can I be white this time?' you beg, looking up at him with the biggest and glassiest eyes you could possibly muster. How could he say no? 

'Ugh, you just want to be white because you want to use the Wayward Queen opening, you always use that one,' he retaliates, pressing the white King into your little hands.

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

You blow him a raspberry and make your first move. Pawn to E4. 

'Ah hah!' He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you with a light scowl brushed on his features, tussling his air with his other hand in frustration. 'You're doing it! You're doing the same opening!' 

You give him a ghastly stare and with a swing of your arm you knock over all of the chess pieces, huffing and puffing as they spread fallen all over the board.

'Fine! Stay down here and get eaten by the troll then!' You hiss at him, and run up to your dorm room to scream into your pillow.

 ╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're sitting in the first potions class of the year, listening to Professor Snape lecture Harry about not listening after watching him methodically take notes on the Professor's wise words from a couple rows away. You weren't able to get a seat next to Draco at the front of the class and you silently thanked this luck, having boasted about how much you've studied all Summer in preparations for potions and knowing Draco had not read even a single passage. 

You sat next to a bushy haired Gryffindor girl called Lavender who weary looked in a mirror and you smirked as you watched Draco's ivory head listening to Snape assign the first task ever: brewing a common poison antidote. When Snape announces the winning pair will receive 5 points each to their respective houses your eyes twinkle with anticipation.

You leave your partner behind to gather the ingredients for the potion: Bezoar, mistletoe berries and a unicorn horn. You bump into Draco in front of the ingredient cupboard, and beam at him proudly. 

'I read about this potion in the potions book,' you smile sweetly up at him, purposefully brushing against him as you shove to grab the vials. 'It should be a piece of pie,' you laugh accusingly, standing as tall as your short legs allow you to. 

'Good luck,' Draco laughs vacantly, handing you a unicorn horn from the top shelf you couldn't reach. His fingers brush against yours and you scoff, heading back to your cauldron.

Lavender is sat twirling the knife on its tip on the chopping board as if she'd never seen the utensil before and in the time you were gone had managed to spill water just about everywhere, wetting your parchment and bleeding the ink of the potion recipe.

'My goodness,' You exclaim, rushing to take away the knife and wipe up the water, 'have you two left hands?' 

You watch the potion brew and bubble as it cooks, anxiously tracking the time with an hourglass. When the final grains of sands trickle through the narrowed passage, you hastily reach for the unicorn horn you powdered earlier and your heart sinks when you see your partner already poised over the cauldron, a pinch of the precious powder between her fingertips. She carefully sprinkles it into the cauldron and you watch in horror as a noxious cloud of black smoke billows forth and envelops you both in char.

'How many pinches did you put in?' You scream, wiping the soot from your eyes. 

'Two,' Lavender whimpers, eyes stinging from the cloud. 

'It was meant to be ONE!' 

Everyone in the class is now giggling at your misfortunes and Professor Snape has now come over to see what all the commotion is about. 

'You two better clean that up right now,' Snape chastised in his nasally voice, condemning you to blush in shame beneath the soot on your cheeks.

As Snape made his rounds, meticulously examining the colors of each potion, his scrutiny lingered noticeably longer on Draco's cauldron. The pungent aroma that emanated from Draco's concoction filled the classroom, matching the textbook's description exactly, causing you to wince involuntarily.

'Malfoy, Zabini, 10 points to Slytherin,' Snape announces. 

Draco's triumphant gaze locks onto you as he revels in his perceived victory in the silent competition between the two of you. With a mocking laugh, he directs his attention to your soot-streaked face, his expression one of haughty satisfaction as he proudly asserts his well-deserved win with a piercing stare.

 ╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Eyes drifting over to Pansy Parkinson you can't help but notice she is staring at your best friend, and you don't like it. You're in Charms class with Professor Flitwick and you're sitting a few seats down from Draco who is stuffed in-between his minions and looking increasingly annoyed from the class introduction Flitwick is moping on about. Pansy has painted on herself an innocent expression she only wore around Draco and you wished you could shake her until the ribbons came undone and her mask fell off.

Despite her Pureblooded nature and family status, you couldn't rid the feeling of unease whenever she was around and sharing a dorm with her turned to be nothing short of a Lovecratian nightmare. There was something about her that set your teeth on edge. You wanted to pry off her veil and examine her flaws beneath a microsope; you wanted to disect her and unravel the intricacies that made you burn with an inextinguishable fire.

You gaped at her when she cheered on Draco who had quickly succeeded in levitating his feather, leaning over the desk so far you thought she would topple right over and end head first in the middle of the classroom, bouncing on her horribly cut bob upside down and out of the classroom window and into the grounds. You imagined it so vividly you started to chuckle to yourself and didn't even realise Draco had been beckoning you with the usual smirk you loved across the desk. 

Pansy looked at him eagerly, daydreaming about her name dancing on Draco's tongue rather than yours and she blushed a million shades of red when she realised she was drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth. You shot her a look of disdain, features twisting haughty from her sopping desperation. She knew that you had won - as did you -knowing it was your name on his lips, not hers. 

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Potter,' You're seething through your teeth, acknowledging his dreadful existence as you and Draco pass him on the way to the Quidditch fields. You're dressed head to toe in green, showing support for your house. Draco's Slytherin scarf is wrapped securely around your neck, flowing behind you in the wind and you delight in his scent. You can't help but watch Harry in pure disgust, not because you hate him by proxy, but because Draco should be seeker, not him and it wasn't fair.

'Rosier,' He starts back, his eyes narrowing to a squint at the two of you for an instant before he hurries back to the safety of the rest of the Gryffindor team. Malfoy smirks at you proudly, leading you to the Slytherin seating area with a gentle hand on the small of your back, luxuriating in seeing his scarf around your neck.

And when all of Hogwarts watches Harry reveal he has caught the golden snitch, you feel nauseous and you can only think back to all of the nights you spent comforting Draco when he found out Harry had made the team. You scowl, your fingers sliding down to find Draco's beneath the bench and you squeeze them hard. It should've been him.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You wake up in a panicked sweat, the hair on your face sticking on your damp skin. You feel tears sliding down your plump cheeks and you reach up to wipe them away but they won't stop. Nightmares invaded your dreams, mercilessly rocking you awake in a sea of no hope. When you look around your sleeping quarters, you see strange figures in the form of your wardrobe, capes draped across armchairs and coat stands twice your height. Your dormmates are sleeping peacefully In their own beds, their light puffs of air comforting you - but it wasn't enough. You needed Draco. 

Gulping, you manage to place your wobbly feet on the floorboards and wrap a Slytherin blanket around your tiny figure, tip-toeing out of the room without causing anyone else to lose sleep. You left the girls a silent prayer for their safety and you snuck down the stairs.

The common room was now empty in the middle of the night, the hot fire still roaring its song to warm the unforgiving dungeons the Slytherin house called home but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being watched by prying eyes and you squeaked with the floorboards, rushing up the stairs opposite and straight to Draco's dorm. 

You padded on the door softly with care to not wake the wrong occupant. You whispered his name more times than you could count, counting instead the hot tears that flew to the ground from your leaky eyes. When the door opens revealing a half-asleep Draco he knows right away to open his arms and hold you tight, and that is exactly what he did. That night he inhales your sweet scent and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, lulling the bad dreams away.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Snow topples from the sky and for the first time in your life you're happy about it. Christmas break came and went all too soon and now in front of you lies the vast whiteness of Winter. She covers Hogwarts in a thick blanket and you sink in it's softness, snow filling your boots and socks. 

'Ah!', you jump around from the chill, pausing Draco is his steps as he's foraging for a stick to finish the snowman the two of you had spent all afternoon building. He lets out a hearty chuckle directed at you when you point to your boots, mouthing 'wet' and pouting with your pillowy lips. 

He is stifling a laugh as he goes back to searching for the perfect twig and you don't feel content at this reaction. Without a single further thought, your gloves pawed into the sheath around you and formed a perfectly round globe of snow. You eyed your target meticulously, catching the eyes of Blaise and Pansy in the process and before Pansy could warn her precious Draco, you've already belted the snowball at him and watched as it exploded into dust on his back. 

Draco whips back to see you howling in laughter, bracing yourself with your hands clutching your thighs, the pom of your beanie shaking erratically. He frowns, glancing over to his friends who shrug their shoulders at him, and while Blaise sends a cheeky smile, Pansy is mouthing your name and pointing to you crudely.

'Hey!' he yells, abandoning the stick he spent oh so long looking for and creating his own balls of destruction. He was going to make you regret this.

That afternoon you all walked back to the castle covered in snow and ice, hair wet and lips pink but you silently wished the day would have never ended and you replayed it over and over in your head that night, cackling silently when the image of Draco's scowl turned into a mischievous grin and it all lingered in your mind.

[babybinko]

My second batch of venture bros genderbends are finally done! :D [first set here]

PLEASE LOOK UNDER THE CUT!!! I made all these nice drawings and doodles of them and I want people to see them without this post being super long! :') [My thoughts on the designs and doodles will be under the cut as well]

Okay NOW I'm going talk about my thought process on some of these:

Baby Rusty: I love the baby Rusty, the frilly socks and sleeves were a must. I actually drew her with the original set of genderbends but I turned off her layer and forgot about her 💀

Jonas Jr: not much to say about her, I tried to make her like Rosie the Riveter. Her little bandana has the Venture logo on it :)

Jonas Sr: I wanted her to be a hot bitch, her outfit is maybe a little scandalous for the time era they were in but I think it fits, canon Jonas is a whore. I think everybody would want her and that every celebrity, politician, and anybody with any power would chase after her so badly.

Blue Morpho: I made her so incredibly slay. I fucking love her outfit, I found the inspo for the outfit on Pinterest but I changed it up a bit. Also her gun has the bayonetta butterfly wings on it as a charm because I HAD TO.

Colonel Gentleman: Not a lot to say, I wanted to give her like horse riding esque boots and I gave her a purple flower cause she likes the ladies. I know generally WLW flowers are Violets and Lavender but I wanted to draw a rose so, Purple rose compromise <3

Dr.Boyfriend 2: With my last round Dr.Boyfriend was the only one people had complaints with. I think people wished he was more Masculine and I agree but if I switched up the design too much it wouldn't look like Dr.Girlfriend. I hope giving him armor and making him look like a knight helped him look more masc. I made the sheer wings cross over his chest to make it look like it was holding up the shoulder armor. Also his guild book is insanely high quality because I was procrastinating drawing his armor.

Goofy and Goober (Watch and Ward): I think they ended up really cute, I tried to make their hair colors close to Doc and Jacksons since I heard they are supposed to be like their "main" self inserts. With Ward I had a really specific idea for her hair, I kept thinking about this haircut from my sims and had to do it. It might be hard to see but her ponytail holders have skull charms on them. I also purposely gave them both some sort of ponytail hairstyle so they would match but be slightly different :) (They are absolutely prank calling or trolling their clients on that phone btw)

Shoreleave: OH MY GOD I LOVE SHORELEAVE. I kept turning her folder back on just to keep looking at her when I was drawing the other characters. She is so captivating to me, she looks so soft and human. I want to take a bite out of her thigh. My biggest inspo for her was Cammy from Street Fighter, I felt like her dressing a bit skimpy works for her since canon Shoreleave kinda does. The girls out for the girls.

Alchemist: I love her design so much too. I wanted her to look like some kind of nun or priestess. She looks like if a Zelda fire temple was a person. I kinda gave her like a weird little hime cut under the hood. Also I put the Triad logo on all three of their designs (+ Triana).

Jefferson: Had a lot of fun with her, I didnt change her design much from canon though so there's not much to say. I did give her more flared pants though. Drawing her hair was a really fun change of pace, I very rarely get to draw textured hair.

College Rusty and Monarch Drawing: I love this one, Monarch turned out so hot dude. You can tell what character I like more LMFAO. I made rusty very obnoxious 80s while keeping the colors of the original college rusty outfit. Monarch kind of looks like postal dude but its fine because shes slay.

Hereditary Venture Family Dinner Drawing: This was one of the first drawings I started but the second to last one I finished. I wanted to draw the family doing something together but I think I really truly just wanted to draw Dermott again. 😭 Nobody has said anything if they noticed but I did give hatred the shirt from these edits. (I believe the one on the left is from reddit and the one on the right is by SquashFold on Twitter)

Dermott piercing Dean's ears drawing: Even though its messy its in the top 3 favorites I did, It was also the last one I did. I just love the idea of Dermott giving goth Dean at home ear piercings. At first I didn't know if I wanted to make Dermott giving her piercings at the mall where she works or at home but the mall idea was too much work for a last minute sketch. Dermott is so mean older sister who shoplifts and works at the mall.

Drug bathroom drawing: Another one of my favorites, its based off a specific deleted scene from Invisible Hand of Fate where Pete and Rusty talk at the bar but Pete comes out of the bathroom sniffling at the start. I love the way I drew Pete pushing the hair out of her face and both of their expressions.

Bdsm 21 drawing: Okay first of all, The little devil Monarch was so cute I was screaming, crying, and throwing up while drawing her. I fucking love her, shes the smallest part of the image but my favorite. I also am quite fond of the bdsm 21.

Quizgirls Pete and Billy: I tried looking up Vanna White dresses to base Pete's outfit off of but I couldn't find one that Pete would actually wear so I just had to make shit up. Billy's design is really basic but the bow in her hair is actually from one of my rejected main Billy genderbends.

Me and The Bestie: I put a lot of effort into this one for no reason. Literally the moment I saw Jonas in the problem machine I thought he should be made of like blue slime. When I was working on this I kept thinking about Momopatchi's Hatsune Microbe drawing so this Jonas was definitely inspired by that. I gave Jonas makeup because she was having a party movie night on gargantua and I felt like she would still have makeup on thats like completely fucked up and deteriorating on her face after many many years. Vendata's outfit was partially based on Marguerite Chapman's from Flight to Mars, never seen it but I was looking up old sci-fi movie costumes to work with and I thought it would look good :)

[unwri-ten]

Hehehehehe haaai :3

Here to bother you !!! And also ask u a question!!! How did you come up with your lamb design? Like what was the inspo? if there was any? Im curious since My lamb just popped up one day basically

OMG HIIIIII this was quick I commend you for that one PFF- As for the question... Good one hmm. Honestly the way I draw them is sort of adjacent to how I learned to draw my persona!

For clothes I usually take inspiration from artists I find cool.... And trial and error cuz I was DEFINITELY winging it the first couple of comics and drawings into the fandom LOL IG personality also plays into it? 1.) My Lamb is more the type to dodge and use lightweight weapons so they use a tight-knight bodysuit to maneuver around without complications of clothes catching on branches or tripping over their cloak, 2.) They always keep hoods on since hiding their features was part of their life for a long time and it feels uncomfortable to be on crusades without that safety net and etc. WAHH THIS ENDED UP BEING WORDY BUT YEAH I just do lots of brainstorms and keep into account the setting and the person I'm dressing for a design

[haunted-moon]

Long Way Home [Part I]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part I

My first glimpse of Azriel had been when he arrived at my doorstep, searching for the High Lord. 

My father was famous in Velaris as a healer, and Rhysand had crashed through the front door—heavily injured and seeking the services of him. Unfortunately for him, I was alone in the house as father had gone to the mountains outside Velaris for an errand. I was mainly a chemist, researching herbs, concocting potions and salves; but I had dragged the half unconscious Rhysand towards one of the beds reserved for the patients. 

His injuries were mainly on his wings, they were torn through with arrows. The said arrows seemed to be poisonous, because his skin was quickly losing its pallor. It was my first time treating someone without father by my side, but I had steadied my nerves and my hands enough to bandage the wounds appropriately. Then I made him drink a small cup of herbal antidote for the poison in his system and covered him with a blanket to rest.

As he rested, I cleared wooden splinters and pieces of the broken entrance door (Rhys had literally crashed through) and was erecting a temporary barrier of canvas when the commanders Cassian and Azriel appeared. 

Apparently Rhysand had sent them some sort of signal to indicate where he was before passing out. They were relieved to see him in a peaceful rest, and I told them that they could take him back after my father did a once over to make sure he would heal well. That meant one of them staying the night, and Azriel had volunteered to do so. 

I had noticed the royalties and members of the inner circle around the town, but it was my first encounter with any of them. Rhysand radiated an aura of pure, lethal power even when injured, and Cassian had the rough, fierce power of a wolf. 

And Azriel—well, he was the shadow incarnate, his power being in the way he observed and gathered every bit of information about anything that surrounded him. His intelligence shone through the depths of his dark eyes, drawing in anyone like a moth to candlelight. While we waited for Rhys to wake up, he carried in a new door from the carpenter's workshop and helped me affix it to the entrance. 

He was a fae of few words, politely murmuring thanks when I brought over blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the bed next to Rhysand's after dinner. He didn't lie down, instead just bundled himself against the cold with the blankets and kept a patient, quiet watch over his High Lord. 

My father returned with the first light of dawn, and Rhysand woke up a couple of hours later. After giving him a thorough check-up, father told him that he would heal perfectly without any scars. I had done everything right, and I was proud. 

This incident had led Rhysand into inviting me to the House of Wind and joining the inner circle. He was leaning heavily on Azriel's shoulder, but still had the poise of a powerful ruler as he painted a pretty picture if I accepted—having access to the limitless library, using its resources to gain knowledge in a field of interest and using it whenever needed. 

I was hesitant at first, since father would be left alone if I left, but he himself had urged me to accept the offer. In the end, I accepted it with all my heart, and moved in to the House of Wind later that week. 

When all the belongings I needed were shifted to my new quarters, I was warmly welcomed as a new member of Rhysand's household. Though I was very shy, none of them made me feel like an outsider and happily took me in, which I was grateful for. 

The library was paradise for me. Rhysand arranged for a branched off space in one of its floors to be my laboratory to experiment what I had learnt. Amren helped by bringing me the rarest or the most poisonous herbs, and she never told me how she procured them even after me begging on my knees. I began to be happier, but also more knowledgeable with new healing potions. I divided my week so I could spend at least two days with my dad and the rest in the House of the Wind. All day, I made myself useful by studying and experimenting, or assisting the royal physician in her activities. 

Dinner had to always be eaten with everybody, and it was filled with jokes (mostly Cassian), laughter (from everyone), eye rolls at the jokes (from Nesta) and quiet smiles (from Azriel). After the meal, I had to walk beside Azriel to my quarters, his being adjacent to mine. 

As days passed, I slinked out of my shell of shyness and mingled with everyone. All except Azriel, of course. I mean, he was of a quiet nature, but I felt like he disliked me. I could see smiles and chuckles and small conversations drawn out of him by everybody but me. He never himself started a conversation with me, and when I tried to do so on the way back to our quarters, he gave disinterested one-word replies. 

I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But when I saw him speaking with someone else in the way I wanted him to speak to me, my chest squeezed painfully. It was especially rough when I saw him catering to Elaine. 

I never showed this turmoil on my face, though. Rhysand and Feyre were mates, and her older sister Nesta was Cassian's. It made sense if Elaine was Azriel's mate. 

Why then, that just the thought of it made me sad and hopeless?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

Read Part II here.

[denim-wizard]

My Little... Pirates? ((Aka I succumb to making a One Piece MLP AU)) ( part 1 // part 2 )

It always starts as a style experiment or practice drawing something new of some sort but tbh there is a darkness within me that is steadily brewing anyways HEY Y'ALL WANT. HEADCANONS? (this took me weeks to finally finish and post)

Introducing the pirate captain Monkey Do, first mate Zephyr Roar , and the fighting-cook Blackhoof Sanji (aka Devil Dancer) Coming up with names is Hard. Let's talk about these fools a little bit, with lots of headcanon to spare. Monkey Do ( aka Monkey D. Luffy) is our earth pony protagonist, and is largely unchanged. His cutiemark is a top down view of his iconic straw hat (or... is it? Some might say it looks a bit like a sun...) and his special talent is leadership. Earthponies are known for many things, and Luffy encompasses those qualities wholly-- he's loyal and strong, and has an endless appetite. an appettite that still contains a frankly concerning amount of meat. This little pony is not a harbivore. Zephyr Roar (aka Roronoa Zoro, or just 'Zoro' as Monkey Do calls him) is a pegasus who's special talent is the self invented three-sword-style. Yes he holds the other two with his wings. No he does not fly. Zoro's a real special guy like that. He largerly perfers to face his enemies on the ground, turning that pegasi speed into pure power. He's mean, he's green, and he thinks dust baths constitute as real bathing. Blackhoof, aka Devil Dancer (Sanji) is a unicorn who's special talent is cooking. His magic gives him a serious wallop in battle, and the old fashioned metal shoes let his superheated kicks pack even more of a punch. His natural magic is fire, and his time on Momoiro helped him learn real levitation, two traits that are just as powerful in the kitchen as they are on the battlefield. For all the stereotypes about unicorns that he breaks, Dancer enforces just as many-- he's prissy, wears fancy clothes, and he even shaves the fluffy fetlocks on his front legs to avoid contaimination while cooking. He's also got a taste for sweet things-- if the lollipop stick in his mouth was any indication. (if he still sounds like the godawful 4kids dub is for you to decide)

That's all I've got to say about these guys for now, and I hope you enjoy--I watched mlp as a kid and now that it's making it's resurgence I feel like I have a weird amount of thoughts about it. Headcanon and lore explanations my beloved. my ask box is always open, feel free to tell me who you'd like to see next. commissions open soon, hopefully

[nanamimizz]

tags: written for @prettyboykatsuki in mind. reader is gn, and is a rouge with a thief/street urchin background. marriage and discussion of children. takes place in act 3, spoilers for wyll’s personal quest. discussion of marriage. fluff.

synopsis: you overhear wyll bragging to the children. at first you think nothing of it until you hear him say somethings you weren’t privy to.

Wyll is good with children, a truth not doubted but known ever since you had met the fabled folk hero in the Emerald Grove. It’s something you hardly do not think of, if you don’t want to end up in some sort of frenzy of thoughts better left unsaid. At least for the chapter of life you two are currently in. Maybe, you think as you clutch the wishing acorn the love of your life had gifted you in the palm of your hand, maybe when all this is over you could discuss such things as a family with him. When Wyll is free of Mizora’s hands completely, when his father is safe from all plots and schemes and when the little friend in your head has been cast out - yes, you think, you would like to utter the words of a family to Wyll’s ever so kind ear.

Unlike you however, your intended is not as patient as you can hear him bragging to the tiefling children you have both met and saved in your travels to Baldur’s Gate. It makes you chuff, like a pleased tiger and shake your head oh so fondly as he utters tales of your adventures. As you draw near you can make out the words - he’s telling the tales of defeating the goblin camp leaders. The adventure feels like a lifetime ago but not the phantom ache of the knot on your head you sustained from Dror Ragzlin knocking you well and good on the head.

You hear one of the kids, Mattis with his shaggy dark hair and mischievous eyes that glitter like the gold he covets with his not-so-lucky rings.

“Looks like you don’t do much now, do you Blade of Frontiers?” Mattis mocks, snickering behind his red hand. Wyll laughs good-naturedly, letting the teasing roll off his back smoothly like water off a duck’s wing. It’s something you envy, how Wyll is never riled up by such empty words. Mattis pouts, petulant as he throws another half baked insult at the man.

“And what’s with you letting your allies take such a beating - first Karlach now this? Having a hard time picturing what good you are for Blade?” Wyll huffs a chuckle, a smug smile tugging at his full lips and you stare a little too deeply at how white his teeth are in the afternoon sun.

“Things are different now you see - I have another story for you…” Wyll continues on with the tale of where you fought off Roah Moonglow, a Zhentarim trader who stole all the gold in the common’s people’s coffers; there had been a fatal mistake that you had made and Wyll had saved you at the perfect time. Even had a second to spare to throw in a witty comeback and a brilliant smile your way before the fight continued. Mattis’s face scowled as even he had to admit that the story succeeded in making the Blade appear just as cool as you and Karlach.

If barely.

“So what’s different now? Did you finally know how to hold your own in a fight?” Mattis pouts, conceding that maybe the Blade of Frontiers was more cool than dorky. Wyll grins, brilliant teeth on display at the apple of his cheeks raised.

“I’m their husband now. No one can ever hurt them while I’m around.”

Scratch that. The Blade of Frontiers will forever be corny in the eyes of these tiefling children for as long as you and Karlach live - they even think that know-it-all wizard that hangs around you is cool by default. The children all gag, making their sounds of disgust with Mattis being the loudest of them all. They are quick to disperse, going off to do what children do best in the times they live in and you approach Wyll as they leave.

“Calling yourself my husband now are we? It’s been less than a tenday since you asked me to be yours. Unless we’ve had a ceremony within the same amount of time - I think it’s a little too soon to call you such a revered title.”

Wyll jumps at the sound of your voice, your quiet steps always managing to go under his senses. It makes you laugh a little, how the smallest testaments of your background manage to slip past the hero’s defenses. You watch with adoring eyes as Wyll flushes with a warmth that makes him shine in the daylight as he brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck from embarrassment.

“Please - don’t tell me you heard all of that?”

“Oh yes I did. Every word in fact.”

Wyll hisses in embarrassment, and even then he doesn’t hesitate to look back into your eyes when you gently run your hand on his arm.

“Do you mean that - that nothing can hurt me while you are with me?” You ask your voice soft with tentativeness. He softens, gaze going from embarrassment to an eager honesty simmered with so much affection you neve once thought you would be looked at with. Wyll is a smart man, perspective and he knows what it is you ask - the battles that you have yet to face but will have to as fate decrees; its golden thread dictating every action and word that is to be spoken.

Wyll takes the hand on his arm into his and gazes at you, the brown of his eyes turning golden under the warmth of his words.

“Yes, truly. I may be the Blade of Frontiers sworn to protect the Sword Coast but,” he pauses to lick his lips as if tasting the sweetness of his confession before uttering it to you, “I am first and foremost a blade sworn to you. So whenever our enemies are drawn near, don’t hesitate to point me their way.”

The devotion is heavy in each word spoken, something you had never been witness to - loyalty and devotion only gets you killed in the streets. So it takes you a moment to collect yourself, to pick yourself off the floor from the weight of the goodness Wyll holds for you. You swallow before speaking, your voice thick.

“You already asked me to marry you - you don’t need to lay it on thick.” You say, trying to deflect but Wyll only smiles, eyes fond and gently as he lets his thumb caress the top of your hand.

“I know, I can’t help but be sweet to you. And I swear to the Helm I’ll live up to my word everyday.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his.

“I’ll hold it to you Lord Ravengard.”

“I hope to exceed all expectations.” His smile is smig but his words are warm - lovinging and truthful. Just as Wyll always is.