Decided to polish some jacket designs!
Emmet originally received a strait from the League after they thought he posed a safety risk to others and mandated him to wear it. Big surprise, they literally just went to a Unovan hospital and asked if they had any of the old jackets lying around. It's ill-fitting and unpleasant, not to mention the hasty edits they made to his uniform to act as a secondary restraint looks awful. As much as he is still operating as usual, having to walk around in the strait is humiliating and dehumanizing, especially because of the stares from other people.
Of course this crime against dignity and fashion had to be corrected, so Elesa called her designers and offered to make the League Council a more appropriate uniform for him. The only rule given was that it must still restrain as well as the original straitjacket, so Elesa ended up modelling the jacket after a vest and the secondary restraint after a double-breasted greatcoat. It's meant to look like clothing, more like everyday wear than something out of an asylum. It also uses hand covers (i.e. socks) instead of a grossly oversized sleeve to keep the hands restrained.
It resolves a lot of the issues Emmet had with the original, namely that it blends in with the crowd rather than making him stick out. It also has an air of professionalism and formality that the original didn't have. He's much more willing to wear it and keep it on, as well as being more comfortable in it.
I'm struggling to describe this in sentences so as for the differences:
League Straitjacket:
actual retired straitjacket from hospital storage
made of old canvas and leather
uses oversized belted sleeves to restrain arms
uses belts and buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back
can't fit anything thicker than a tank top underneath
Elesa's Modified Straitvest:
bespoke articles custom tailored to Emmet's measurements
made from stiff cotton and fabric staps
uses belted cuffs and hand covers to restrain arms
uses straps and locking slide buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back
able to fit a collared shirt underneath
Elesa's outfit also has the added bonus of being more breathable, soft, and being able to function as regular clothes.
Anyways bonus sketch comic:
Dignity restored.
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trick or treat!!!
MAYA HI!! I LOVE YOUR HALLOWEEN COSTUME IT’S AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU GOT ALL THE CANDY YOU WANTED FROM ALL THE HOUSES YOU VISITED BUT JUST IN CASE, I HAVE A FULL SIZED BAR (snippet of the beginning of the “drabble” I’m writing for your prompt, which is in quotes because it’s actually going to be over 2k words) FOR YOU!!
Tim’s awareness comes back the way it always does. Sound, then scent, then pain, blah blah blah.
He’s not up to dissecting it. He’s in a hospital bed and everything fucking hurts, from the space behind his eyes to his fingers, but especially his ribs. They feel like they’re on fire.
‘What happened?’ is what he tries to say.
“Nghhgghh,” is what he manages.
“Be quiet, Timothy.”
Tim’s brow furrows, an action that hurts his skin.
Because Damian doesn’t talk to him like that anymore. Occasionally, Tim says something to him that earns him a biting reply, but he usually deserves the nip for whatever it is that he said.
Then he places the wrong note he’d heard in Damian’s voice.
Shit. This is probably Tim’s fault, then.
He clears his throat to try again, not even bothering to open his eyes. It’s a routine at this point — he knows if he opens them he’ll be blinded by the lights.
“What happened?” he manages to squeeze out this time, but it sounds like he spent an entire day screaming, his voice is so hoarse.
“You fainted straight into my arms,” Damian lies. He means for it to come out sarcastic, but even he can hear the flatness to it, the way it lacks the dry humor that he usually parries with.
“Ha ha,” Tim says from the bed, his voice weak. Everything about him feels weak right now — the lack of color in his face, the lack of volume in his hair, the lack of strength in his posture.
But especially the bandages wrapping his torso.
His next comment is much more genuine. “You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
Tim opens his mouth to answer, but Damian doesn’t let him.
“Stop talking,” he orders.
Tim is almost offended, until he feels cool plastic pressed to his lips, and he understands.
He lets Damian help him drink.
When he pulls away, he feels a gentle stroke along the side of his lip — Damian’s thumb brushing away a droplet of water.
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Lye „Lyke“ Lychen as a sacrifical altar (to Aterika’Kaal)
(but he's also kind of the sacrifice)
my @secret-samol gift for @bronanlynch! for the Aterika’Kaal/Lyke prompt of „what if things had gone differently and Aterika'Kaal was still with Lyke“.
notes on this under the readmore!
AU
In this scenario Lyke would succeed in getting the heart of the Motherbeast in Episode 47 and while Alaway would notice & probably still call out to Aterika’Kaal the way he presumably did in canon, Lyke would be there and get to make a compelling case to Aterika’Kaal the likes of „If you stay with me I am going to feed you. I’ve taken care of you until now, I’ll keep doing that“ (argument supported by the fact he’s currently holding the heart of an incredibly powerful dead god).
Aterika’kaal agrees and they barely escape through the Sanctum of the Stone Chorus portal. I think it's fun if Lyke then stays there after the hour described in the move is over, maybe knowing he can't convince Pickman & the others that what he's done is actually good, and fine, there's not even anything to worry about he has this totally handled, But yeah he then sets out from whereever in Sangfielle Aterika'Kaals domain is (Austin did say it was an actual place somewhere), and the rest of the Blackwick Group is left to wonder what the hell happened since Lyke just vanished! Alaway has possibly fucked off too after losing the heart. And them getting fired, the Carnival of Moted Light etc. would still happen (and I guess Chine would succeed at what they were doing since Lyke isn’t there?) and who knows if they’d take any action in finding Lyke after that!
All that aside though, Lyke basically offers himself to feed on (through blood and/or energy) and to sustain that he keeps consuming(not literally eating) powerful objects/artifacts/resources and possibly eventually living things (I’d imagine he'd still take work as a „please deal with this weird shit for us“ person and when he has to kill a cursed beast or whatnot... might aswell feed Aterika'Kaal?)
(What also plays into that decision, and is part of Lyke justifying this to himself, is that without him, Aterika’Kaal would become too powerful. So he aims to function as kind of a conduit & control the power intake so to speak. I think this probably doesn’t work for very long.)
I think this eventually goes bad for him because it’s super taxing on his body and the whole deal kind of flips with Aterika’Kaal feeding/keeping HIM alive. He starts finding bodies in the domain again (alternatively, Aterika'Kaal gets better at hiding them because it knows Lyke doesn't particulary like it when it does that). Lyke probably gets stronger due to this power/magic wise, but also way more fragile (he's constantly anemic!).
(„I love you. I want us both to eat well.“ - Christopher Citro)
(„When I write of hunger I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.“ M.K. Fisher)
Notes:
I put some resources Lyke’s canonically had in-game + some extra stuff in this picture (the arrow is a reference to Marn’s epilogue, the bugs are bugs (with possibly sinister connotations. If you want them to have those, it’s optional) and the fur is from the Ravening Beast). Another detail I came up with I might aswell tell you because otherwise noone might ever know: the ring with the blue stone is a gift from Es.
Sketch Notes:
1. Lyke turning his head to kiss a rose / exposing his neck was one of my very first ideas/sketches I made while working on this, and I liked it too much to not include it.
2. This is supposed to be Aterika'Kaal giving Lyke a blood transfusion but it rather looks like it's feeding on him instead...! I like how the relaxed pose turned out.
3. I wanted to draw something smaller in a simpler style to fill the big canvas I was drawing these on (even though now I put them in separate files anyways...). The day I drew this I saw a tweet about a medieval monks sketchbook, so I was still thinking about that. I didn't even plan to color it originally but I ended up getting invested, haha
Inspired mainly by these 3 quotes:
„KEITH: I’m a walking- I am a shrine to Aterika’Kaal.“
(Sangfielle 12: The Secret Ledger of Roseroot Hall Pt. 4)
„KEITH: There's a version of dealing with Aterika'Kaal that ends with Lyke being satisfied that he rehabilitated a god or at least it looks […] like what he thinks Aterika'Kaal would have been before the YVEs showed up. That's probably his main retirement path, but it also might kill him instead.”
(Sangfielle 47: Wax, Iron, and Ichor Pt. 4)
„AUSTIN: As you’re fading, the last thing that you do is make this blood sacrifice to Aterika’Kaal. Your own blood.“
(Sangfielle 52: Six Travelers: Lyke)
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(SFW) been wanting to cry for some angsty stuff for ATOC, can I request a hc list of how would X, D, R and A react when the Crown is fatally injured, possibly shot by an arrow or stabbed?
Maybe an extra rrq that the Crown is a gentle, cinnamon roll type, that overly kind soul you'd want the least to get hurt but yeah now they're dying
The editor for this tumblr ask literally crashed when i was almost done with X's entry and I've never felt more devastated in my entire life ksahkj. There is also something very similar to this prompt though, it's more about the Crown sacrificing themselves for the ROs. If you're interested in that I'll link it here
I apologize if this isn't the best but I'll try to redo what I can
Azad/Ashti
You were absolutely foolish to get yourself hurt. No matter how kind-hearted you may have been, the Imperial Guard was made to lay down their lives for you. Any injuries you sustained was a stain upon their honor, their own failure to complete their duties.
The Royal Protector fights the icy cold waves of guilt washing over them. They save the lectures and punishments for another time because all that matters in that moment is you.
Their first priority is to get you to safety, the only sign you may see of their inner turmoil not found in their words, but their actions.
The protector's hands shake ever so slightly as they apply pressure to your wounds, hoping to staunch that they can before the healers arrive. A cold sweat chills them down to their very core as they listen for your pulse- only to find it fading away by the second.
They try to reassure you, but it doesn't work. In desperation, they find themselves practically ordering you to keep your eyes open, to not leave them while they're trying to save your life- tightening your bandages up. The unspoken words of concern and love dying in their throat when they look up to see just why you haven't responded.
By the time the healers do arrive, it takes their combined effort to finally pry the Royal Protector from your side.
Dara/Delal
Having served in the military for so long, the General was used to the bloodshed and horror of it all. Gore, suffering, and pain were things they could stomach. Or a least, the ability to do so was required of them.
It's when they see the arrow impaled in your skin, smell the metallic scent of red staining their cloak that the General realizes they may have been wrong. A complex bundle of emotions stirs under those layers of armor, but they have the strength to push through and remain vigilant.
If not for you, then for their own sanity.
Without a second thought, they tear their cloak, torn strips used to either secure the arrow in place and prevent it from moving. If not that, then to help stop the bleeding of any wounds.
They hold their Crown close, all propriety forgotten as the only thing on their mind is you. You need them in this moment and the last thing they'd ever do is fail you. Even if it's killing them on the inside.
What you need in these moments is strength, a shoulder or person to lean on. Which is why they allow you to squeeze the life from their hands. They listen to your weakened voice, giving you the same, almost practiced, words of reassurance they've given countless others.
Yet something about the words this time shakes the General to their core. This time, it feels entirely too raw, like a hundred old wounds made fresh again. The feeling paralyzes them, the unadulterated fear deep in their hardened expression.
As the situation worsens and all seems lost, the General straightens themselves, remaining by your side and keeping a steadfast vigil by your side. Never once do they stray from you. Even as crowds of healers all frantically apply aid to no avail. They remain by your side even as the anguished cries from loyal allies and friends alike sound throughout the halls at news of the inevitable.
And there they remain, even when the last wisps of golden sunlight in those eyes of yours wither away.
Rozerîn/Rêzan
To say that you were everything to the Sorcerer would be an understatement. They had found themselves and their entire life turned upside down by your very being, your warmth and kindness endearing you to the Sorcerer.
You were their purpose, and their friend.
So it's surprise that when they rush to your side, panic and fear overtakes them. The tension is almost palpable in the air as they order, practically beg for others to secure your safety- to fetch the healers- to do something.
It's also in this very moment that they curse their own abilities, or lack thereof. Healing magic simply wasn't a big priority, especially when there were so many others who could look after your health and safety.
If only they had studied more - practiced more- perhaps paid more attention to their surroundings or kept a better eye over the many enemies of Arsur.
A gentle hand, your hand, frees them from the mental prison they were trapped in, lifting the weight of guilt and shame enough for them to focus on pouring every once of themselves to saving you.
You had saved them, been there by their side from the very start.
They had to return the favor, to repay you for all your trust.
Those sentiments ring through their head, repeated over and over again like a mantra as they feel a sharp pain in their skull. Hands trembling from the sheer amount of magic they were using.
The darkness, a very similar one you once saved them from sets its familiar claws into them, the Sorcerer collapsing besides you- their fists bunching up the fabric of your clothing. With what little strength they can muster, the Sorcerer pulls you to their chest, cradling their dying star to their chest.
Xelara/Xelef
The mercenary was a mess. Clever words had long left them by the time they reached your side. Instead there were only frantic, broken phrases of concern and orders to remain still less your wounds worsen.
It almost feels out of character for them, at least, for those who only knew the mercenary by reputation. Having lived the life they did and taking on a profession that exposes them to danger so very often; the Pale Sword had a relationship with death that bordered on being blasé. Even when other Crescent Blades fell in battle, their leader could keep a rational mind about it. For many, this helped to cement the band of mercenaries as relentless, a force to be reckoned with.
If only the gossip mongers and general public could see them now, form hunched over your own. The corner of their vision blurred from the stinging of tears threatening to spill.
They had expected an end like this for them, perhaps even desiring it over the withering they'd have to endure from aging, but for you? Nothing like this was supposed to happen to you. You were the Crown of Arsur. The leader of millions that all relied on you being safe and well. And, perhaps more importantly to the mercenary, you were also the keeper of their heart.
Were? No, you are the Crown of Arsur. And you will live through this. You have to. Otherwise...
The Pale Sword ends the notion right then and there, focusing on the present and being by your side. By now, they've done what they can for you, whether through what general first aid they know or through the healing magics of one of their Blades.
Moving you was out of the question, the very attempt to do so drawing a loud cry of pain from your lips. A wince of guilt burns in the mercenary as they pull back, trying to keep your focus on them instead of the carnage of battle.
The feeling of helplessness isn't an unfamiliar one to the mercenary, however, it's one that the Pale Sword despises to their very core. But what could they do for you that hasn't already been done? What could they do to ease your undeserved suffering?
What they do best.
Lie.
It only takes a moment for mercenary to pull their act together, a practiced, albeit softer smile, gracing their features. What would have been smoothed, honeyed lies of your condition fall flatter than they'd like. Your weak smile tells them as such, a weakened, forced laugh humoring the mercenary and giving them one last act of kindness they know deep down they do not deserve. Nevertheless, they embrace the comfort wholeheartedly, bringing the back of your chilled hands to their lips, their touch- their kiss, returning your gift with one last hug of warmth before the light in you fades away.
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I loved NewWave and it's nominated for my top reads 2023, BUT THE JASON FICLET??? I thought it was going to be a light read but it hit me full force in the face because I didn't expect to identify so much with Jason! When I read your Jason it was like I was reading myself and I want you to know that I started reading it early at night and finished it at dawn because I constantly had to stop and cry because of how much my heart resonated with his! loved it
HI THANK YOU <3
I'm glad you identified with him! Jason is very much a character who's a little like me too. He's a born writer, and his way of using fiction to put the world in a framework that he can understand is very relatable. It leaves him a little out of touch with the reality of situations, but that's a feature and not a bug.
I can't relate as much to the racial undercurrent in the story, but I don't want to understate it. It has to suck for Jason to feel constantly compared to the blonde haired blue eyed 'perfect sidekick'. She provides something seen as valuable and ideal that Jason never could. Coming from Steph's viewpoint (and considering canon) the idea of her being unattainable perfection is deeply funny, but it's very real to Jason. Adding in Tim - who's identical to Bruce and comes from the same social strata - makes Jason feel like it's every man for himself.
That's what makes his connection with Bruce even more important, though. He's the polar opposite of Bruce in every way, but although Tim and Bruce are similar in a lot of ways, Jason and Bruce have a deep connection and understanding that Tim and Steph don't. They're both dreamers who make the world a stage, their need for justice comes from a place of great pain, and they love in quiet ways.
Jason's a special kid. Like Steph, he has so much value that he doesn't see. Unlike her, he wants more - he's hungry for it, that life with meaning and kindness. He's finally attained something good, and he's scared of losing it. He has so much to offer that he can't see, and the happiness of the story is when he's seen.
New Wave was my way of giving a character who's been routinely fucked over by canon and sidelined by fandom the spotlight. She's special and perfect and loved and recognized and important because...she's none of those things 'in real life'. I wanted to give that to her. Steph's a character I related to when I was her age, and I wanted to give that to myself too.
Jason came from a similar place. I do think canon & fanon are like...overly obsessed with him lmfao. There's a billion 'Jason joins the manor' stories and it's why I almost didn't write the story lol. But he's rarely given the chance to be a kid, one who exists in his own right - to join the Batfam out of his own choice, which is something bizarrely rare in fic. And kids like Jason are the forgotten ones, and it will always be Jason's dream to show the forgotten children that they're as much Robin as he is.
I'm glad it meant something to you ;-;. This story meant a lot to me too, which is why I can go onnnn about it lol. Thanks for reading and enjoying! <3
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