#object repaint

[rachels-dollhouse]

🌸📺Sakura📺🌸

This sweetheart's name is Sakura. She loves experimenting with all sorts of bubble tea flavor combinations, loves retro anime, had dreams of becoming a magical girl in kindergarten, has a bedroom adorned with cute plushies, listens to lo-fi and runs a blog dedicated to the kawaii aesthetic, occasionally posting about the love of her life, Chloe.

(Forgot to take a 'before' picture before customizing her, sorry about that 😅)

[metalheadgirlie]

Ave Satanas ;3

[cherenkovs]

bumper sticker that says I ❤️ My Agender Bicycle

[leathfaic]

Simon Riley it turns out, doesn't have a taste in furniture.

It's not that he has objectively bad taste. He just has none at all.

Which he reckons in hindsight he should have anticipated. He never really furnished his own place after all. Always lived in cheap, outfitted places. Never homes, always just places to stay.

And now he's being confronted with a question he can't answer.

"What would ye like?"

Instinctively answered with "Whatever you'd want, don't really 'ave an opinion."

Only apparently that answer doesn't count.

Even as a kid it was second-hand furniture. The few times there was enough money to repaint something Simon as the big brother had to let Tommy pick first. He usually went with blue. No blues then, that's a start right? He doesn't need to give his brain ammunition to pull him back to his childhood. It has more than enough.

And Ghost has all the blue he'll ever need to see in his life in Soap's eyes.

Good thing he didn't say that sappy shit out loud.

Knowing what he doesn't want is a start but nothing prepared him for a vast store full of things. To make choices like "Which couch do you think will give you the least back pain when you can only test-sit them for a few minutes?"

The only thing he knows for sure is that these gigantic stores would make for a mean close-quarter training ground. He's half tempted to ask Price if they can find one that's about to close down and no one would mind getting shot to shit. It would be a fun challenge.

"Simon, ye with me love?"

Shaking his head to clear it and then giving Johnny a quick thumbs up he struggles up from the sofa he'd been sitting on and contemplating.

"Ye like tha' one? Went right to broodin' on there like ye felt all at home."

"Fuck off."

The defense comes instinctively but he has to admit Johnny is right. Giving the couch another cursory look, like it might jump up and bite him, he can't help but be a bit perplexed.

It's very large, definitely bigger than Soap's old couch. It's also very...red. Which isn't blue. But still it looks like someone spilled an intensiley dark wine all over the thing. Did he like red couches?

Apparently.

Simon Riley, it turns out, has a great taste in furniture. It just took him a moment to figure that out.

He picks sturdy things. Solid woods, iron fastenings, robust. Somewhere in the realm between industrial and old hand made styles.

Soap has been trailing him happily, barely saying a word because letting Ghost pick is easy, he almost always found himself agreeing. It wasn't always his first choice or even something that caught his eyes, but slowly and surely the flat was coming together.

It made him giddy, even knowing it would be a while until everything was delivered and assembled.

It would be lots of warm colours, light wood and dark iron in contrast. But most importantly it would be theirs. Something they'd make their home together. And wasn't that novel?

Two trained SAS operatives picking the carpet they found most cosy? Not plotting for tactical advantages but for a home to come back to. A place to share comfort and to share nightmares and panic attacks.

Because no matter how right they got it they would still be themselves, drenched in blood and now on an appropriately coloured sofa.

Johnny knew he should snap out of the line of thought he was barrelling down before it took him to darker places, but he was ensnared already.

Would one of them sit in that flat, drowning in grief when luck finally ran out for them? Would the signs the other left behind before deployment be a comfort or would they feel haunting?

Or would it just be Price and Gaz, lost in a place that had been a home and was just empty? Soulless. Ready to be emptied of all traces that could tell of secrets that better stayed hidden.

Would it just be one of Laswells people, burning the place without a care, just a precaution after a taskforce lost?

"So it's no' tha' one for sure."

Torn from his thoughts Soap looks up at Simon in confusion.

"Starte' broodin immediately. Can't 'ave you in a shit mood every time you hit the sack. 'ave too many plans for tha' place."

Soap finds himself snorting as he gets up from the bed he was testing.

"Fuck off." he throws back softly. Sees a warm smile spread behind the medical mask on Ghost's face.

"Ye're right though and ye need to tell me of these plans."

Part 1 //Part 3

[mudhamster]

Fake freckles (Bkdk, humor, 700words)

Katsuki held up the tape barrier and Izuku, his hand on his aching hip, slipped underneath with difficulty, panting: "Thanks, Kacchan."

The blonde let the tape snap back without a word, the unmistakable sign for the reporters to storm the scene. They watch as they come, and Katsuki squares his shoulders in resignation.

"I hate this part."

Izuku quickly limps in front of him, a filter for both parties, and looks reassuringly over his shoulder into a dirty, grumpy face, "You did great. Don't worry."

"Hero Deku," the first round of questioning begins, "how long does it take to repaint your freckles every time?"

Izuku actually gasps in surprise at this, and the reporter leans further over the barrier, "What product do you use? I'm Mako, from the beauty channel-"

"Fuckin' what?" Kacchan's deep, scratchy voice asks from behind him and Izuku lets out a small, disbelieving laugh, fighting sudden goosebumps.

"Sorry," he apologizes immediately, "but I don't-"

"You think those are fake freckles?"

"Kacchan-"

"Are you guys fuckin' stupid?"

The reporter swings the microphone up while Katsuki crouches over Izuku like a shadow, "Have your shitty eyes checked, you-"

The reporter has no objection at all to changing the subject to the blonde in order to stop his impending barrage of insults.

"Hero Dynamight, you too are often seen with freckles in the summer-"

Literally smelling the nitro, Izuku jumped in, "Kacchan doesn't have any - ugh, it's mostly ash that sticks to his sweat-"

"Deku used to have freckles when every motherfucker and their aunt out there called them ugly," the blonde cut him off and Izuku pursed his lips a little embarrassed, "he has freckles on his elbow, behind his knees and on his goddamn ass."

"Kacchan-"

"How the hell is he supposed to paint there? Huh?"

Izuku rubbed the bridge of his nose and looks apologetically into the camera, but Katsuki wasn't done yet.

"You think he's got nothing better to do than get his ass fake-freckled after a fight?"

"Oh my god," Izuku breathed, subtly tugging at one of Kacchan's gauntlets, "I think that's enough. No one even remotely thought about my butt-"

But Katsuki had wriggled out of his grip and pulled out his cell phone. To Izuku's growing horror, he opened a rather green album and almost stuffed the phone into the reporter's mouth.

"Eight years ago, see? Four of them, right under his eye."

Izuku had never seen anyone flip through an album so violently. All cameras zoomed in on Kacchan's fingers, which aggressively zoomed in on his cheeks frame by frame. 

He tries again, "Kacchan-"

"Fuck off, Deku."

Then he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Six years ago, four years – last year! Look, you dump jackass."

The whispering grew louder and Izuku bit his lips, mentally playing bingo as to what the headlines would be tomorrow. His ears burned. His face was warm. 

"Seen enough?"

The crowd backed away as Kacchan reared up to his full height, and Izuku was too slow to slap away the hand that gripped his collar tightly. With shameful ease, he was lifted from his feet and held up to the camera like a plushy.

"Kacchan-"

"Four here," he turned his wrist until Izuku's other cheek was almost stuck to the camera lens, "and four here. Amateurs y'all, shit."

Izuku pinched Katsuki's hand until the grip on his collar loosened and he found himself safely on his feet a second later. He was flushed from his knees up to his ears by now.

With what was left of his dignity, he tried to bow, thank the civilians for their support, and turn away - but he only managed the first as he was dragged away by the collar again. A storm of flashbulbs exploded behind them, the shouts drowning each other out. The reporters were ecstatic.

"Fake freckles," Kacchan hissed beside him, his little finger crackling with murderous intent, "I've never heard such a load of shit before."

They turn the corner and Izuku side-eyes his best friend.

"You've got a soft spot for my freckles," he concluded with a tiny grin. 

Katsuki punched him hard in the upper arm.

"Ow-"

"Shut the fuck up."

[maxislvt]

https://www.tumblr.com/maxislvt/720434423402807296/httpswwwtumblrcommaxislvt720433685821849600?source=share

DROP IT!!!!!

warnings: horny thoughts towards the end, no specific genitals

you're so proud of yourself for buying your first house and moving out. it's definitely not your dream home, but it's a start so you go out of your way to keep it up. the lawn stays mowed, walls get repainted, and the house is always clean.

the garage is strangely difficult though. you don't know how to fix the garage door so you hire someone else but narrowly avoid a freak accident fixing it. all your friends get sick after trying to help you clean, so you just brave it alone after that.

it takes weeks to get it clean and usable again. after enough cleaning you realize there's an attic of some sort in it. you make the choice to open the hatch and climb up only to immediately climb back down once you see the rune and the altar. Maybe you believe in witchcraft, maybe you don't but you know better than to touch mysterious shit you don't know the origin of

for a few days you consider just ignoring it and going on about your life without the extra space. unfortunately, whatever is trapped in that had other plans because it keeps appearing in your dreams and it's accompanied by a voice that makes you feel....odd to say the very least.

after like 3 weeks of weird dreams and getting wet/hard over a disembodied voice you climb back up to the attic and try to figure out what to do and you spend like 30 minutes looking around trying to find some sort of instructions only for the portal to randomly spark up and Wanda crawls out

Wanda can't even explain anything because you spend 5 minutes just screaming your fucking head off 😭

Eventually she manages to explain her whole situation. don't ask me what the situation is but she's bonded to the house and can only leave for so long

I'm not sure if I want her to be a horny demon or one you can sympathize with. either way, I imagine that you two are roommates for a bit.

Wanda still needs to eat and uses normal human amenities so she covers her half of the rent with cursed and strange objects you can pawn at the local occult shop

I meant for this just to be funny but she fucks hard!!!

maybe she isn't immediately focused on having sex with you but once she gets the idea she can't let it go. if Wanda was normal and respectful then, she certainly isn't now. Wanda gets a lot weirder. she doesn't force anything but she's definitely messing with your dreams and thoughts again!!

Wanda plays all innocent and unassuming at first. She acts like she's so confused why you're too shy to even look at her or aren't as comfortable cuddling as usual.

you don't know if you've gone off the deep end and are suddenly okay fucking a demon or if Wanda is fucking with you, but eventually it gets to be to much and well 🥴

she's as rough or gentle as you prefer, assuming you give up easy. if she has to spend a long time chasing you, she definitely goes a little overboard regardless

she tries to start out slow so you can get adjusted, but eventually she gets really needy and is just as whiny as you are. Wanda overstimulates both of you because she doesn't wanna stop.

despite being a demon, she's very praise heavy. even if you're just laying there, whining, and taking whatever Wanda is kind enough to give you. she won't shut up about how adorable you are or how good it feels inside of you.

if you're not loud, she's going to make you loud! Wanda knows she's doing a good job but she wants to hear you beg and whine like a needy little pet

oral is her go to. if Wanda could live between your legs, she would. sometimes she does it to tease you. she does whatever to make you cum as hard as possible and you have to keep going on with your work or watching your show

also you make a joke along the lines of "this isn't going to bond my soul to you or anything is it?" and Wanda gets really quiet 😭

[aggressively-crying]

Probably bad transformers animated headcanons

Bumblebee listens to 100 gecs and uses TikTok. Both of which he does with his speakers turned up. In public.

Prowl has considered buying a fur suit but stops himself every time he's about to go through with it.

Optimus purposefully misuses slang and memes to watch the crew members that know what the terms mean die inside. Even pronounces them wrong for extra flavor.

Ratchet watches soap operas. It started out as simply being curious as to what trash the humans consider good stories but then he got legitimately invested.

Sometimes Bulkhead tries eating human food just because it looks really really good, but it always inevitably tastes kinda gross because he wasn't meant to process that kind of material. He wants to find a way to convert it to energon but until that day comes, he's forced to simply stare and long for it.

The repair crew has movie nights once a week with Sari, both to get a better understanding of human culture, and as an excuse to hang out. Every once in awhile they accidentally pick a movie that they don't realize Sari probably should not be watching until it's too late. They do not speak of the Friday the 13th incident. Or the time Sari picked Coraline and Optimus had to leave halfway through.

In that vein, after realizing how jumpy he was about spiders on Halloween, Optimus actually tried giving himself a degree of exposure therapy so no harmless tiny arachnids needlessly die by his axe. Now he at least TRIES to bring them outside with a cup and a piece of paper, but he's not above just asking Bulkhead to do it instead.

Ratchet has taken to finding old junker cars and trying to fix them up in his spare time. Their makeup is painfully simple compared to Cybertronian anatomy, and it's not like he has to worry about what happens if he can't fix one fast enough. He still thinks just selling spare parts on the open market is barbaric, but it's kind of therapeutic for him to just work on something like that without the stress of having someone's life or even just general well-being in his hands. He lets Bulkhead repaint them when he's finished.

Sari does NOT actually know how sex works. At least, like, not accurately. The version of it she told to Optimus was wildly off-base, but still juuuust close enough to freak him out.

Similarly, Prowl has observed nature long enough to get a sort of incomplete idea of how all that goes down, and has come to the conclusion that organics universally lay eggs.

Bumblebee plays horror games with the lights off just to prove hes not chicken, and then has horrible nightmares for a week straight. He also fully believes in every video game creepypasta/myth you tell him, and swears up and down he's seen Herobrine.

Bulkhead is terrified of mice because he doesn't understand how anything can be that teeny tiny and he heard they can chew through metal like some kind of freaky organic scraplet. He gets nightmares about Ratchet opening him up and finding a whole colony of them chewing on his wires.

Sometimes while Megatron was just a head in Sumdac's lab, he'd be bored enough watch whatever was on TV between schemes and naps. The only thing he would ever admit he liked was wrestling because he felt at least a little vindication watching the pathetic organic wretches beat the slag out of each other. That and it reminded him a bit of his gladiator days.

Shockwave is a pretentious energon tea drinker and has whatever the Cybertron equivalent of a loose leaf tea infuser is. He INSISTS it's objectively better and whatever the more normie type of energon is simply cannot compare.

Lugnut has date nights with Strika but they usually start off as sparring matches that get juuuust a little out of hand. He would not have it any other way and loves when his big scary wife throws him across the room and into a wall, then immediately rushes over to check if he still functions. It may be the concussions, but he swears she looks like a holy being towering above him from where he's slumped over on the floor.

Blitzwing is actually pretty functional from day to day. He's had his multiple faces for long enough that he knows how to cope with them and work with them. Sometimes he has poor impulse control, and sometimes he can't stop himself from feeding his anger, but overall he's actually pretty good about keeping himself in check. He just leans into the whole "crazy" schtick because he knows that's how others see him and no matter what he does, he's not gonna change their perception. It's sort of a spite thing when he annoys people with it, but it's also kind of a self deprecating cry for help that he's REALLY hoping someone will eventually pick up on.

Starscream is only a Decepticon because he wanted to pursue acting but nobody would hire a Warframe. He sought out fame and adoring fans in the gladiator arena, and he got what he was after until Megatron kicked his skid plate and Starscream was suddenly no longer the popular seeker heartthrob bad boy, but a laughing stock who fell when someone bigger and stronger clipped his wings. He originally joined Megatron with the intent to climb the ranks and snatch his following out from under him, but then the war broke out and his whole plan was thrown off track.

No Cybertronian is 100% okay with Earth vehicles looking the way they do and not being alive. It's pretty creepy seeing what they think is just some guy carrying an organic around only to remember right, yeah, the organic's controlling him like cordyceps in an ant and he was never alive to begin with.

Blurr has to intentionally talk much slower than he would at his natural speaking pace just because nobody can understand what in Primus's name he's saying.

Between him, Jazz and the Jet Twins, it's actually kind of a meme on Cybertron that the elite guard badge messes with your speech synthesizer because Sentinel is the only member that speaks even slightly normally.

Jazz once attempted to show Sentinel a nature documentary that Prowl recommended. Sentinel proceeded to purge his fuel tank about five minutes in and forbid jazz from watching that filth outside his own quarters.

Both of the jet twins play fortnite whenever they're on earth and come up with the nastiest incomprehensible insults they can to spam into the microphone because they think that's just part of the game that nobody is taking seriously rather than unbelievably toxic people having mental breakdowns at losing.

And finally,

Cybertron has its own cryptids and urban legends: a long, serpentine beast, as long as 60 Warframes that slinks through the oil of Iacon's aqueducts. A jet black cybercat with three tails that will take your spark if you look it in the optics for too long. A shuttle painted in neons, appearing at the station on its own when there is only one transformer at the station, speaking honeyed words in a voice that sounds too familiar, and promising to bring you home safe, but keeps driving and never stops until you're in stasis or offline. A spectral figure that haunts the underground tunnels that few dare traverse, keeping to the shadows and darting out of sight, but you can always hear their engine revving, and always hear their anguished wails. A frame-bare mechanical avian, practically skeletal, that circles over the sea of rust, massive in size and always waiting to swoop down on unsuspecting mechs. They are spoken of in hushed whispers, none know for certain whether they are real or simply fiction. Most think it's silly to believe in such things, but the superstitions around them persist.

[rohanneofcoldmoat]

I've seen a bunch of fun conversations in fandom about Brienne's attachment to her shield, how she places such emphasis on it being the one Jaime had borne himself from Harrenhal, and how that perhaps plays into why she had it repainted rather than buying a new one at Duskendale. But it's also interesting that that was the shield Jaime chose to equip her with in the first place! (very deliberately, it would seem, since it was placed in the stables alongside her mare, and her gold, and her "I can do what I want" parchment) something something giving her things that carry personal significance to him something something wanting to tie himself to the objects defending her

[gloryofroses19]

Midnight Memories

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fiancée!reader

T/W: Allusions to sex

“You should wear this and only this,” was the first thing [y/n] said as she came upon her fiancé in the kitchen. Bradley Bradshaw had the body and confidence to pull off anything. Laughing to herself, the future Mrs. Bradshaw mused how that apparently extended to her stolen worn out college t-shirt and a pair of hideous heart decorated pink satin boxers. 

Putting his bowl of cereal on the countertop, Bradley shimmed his body for her with utter abandonment. They had parted in their bedroom after testing if the bath could in fact fit two people. With science and his fiancée satisfied, Bradley left [y/n] in the bedroom as he went in search of clothes and found this outfit. His things were haphazardly packed and dispersed among various incorrectly labeled boxes. He had claimed it was because of the two detachments and their wedding being a month away, but he knew [y/n] had her doubts. 

“Should I be jealous that you’re wearing an ex’s present?” [y/n] asked with a raised eyebrow as Rooster took a bite of his Froot Loops. 

“They’re actually a gift from my mom.” Pausing to take another bite, [y/n] took the opportunity to move in closer. “Carole Bradshaw always loved a bargain and thought these discount Valentines boxers were a necessary purchase.” 

“Well clearly, have you seen your ass?” Punctuating her statement, [y/n] placed a loving smack to his ass. 

Abandoning his spoon, Bradley gave her a warning smile before he picked her up and placed her on the countertop. Slotting himself between her awaiting thighs, Bradley took in their shared surroundings. Their starter home was a three-bedroom ranch style house with a deck and large backyard in San Diego. Though overrun with boxes due to the late arrival of furniture, it already felt like home. 

Looking at the mantle, Bradley felt tears rush to his eyes at the intermingling of their photos. He felt the familiar rush of love for [y/n] because of the care she took to organize it. She gave each photo the proper care and attention as if to show gratitude to people who got them to this point in their life. Even going as far to put the last photo he took with Maverick. Although not visible, it was still there like the influence Maverick still had on his life despite their Cold War. The mantle was completed by the center display case. Inside the display case was the F-18 his father gave to him before he died. For their one-year anniversary, [y/n] had it repainted and fixed after the years of wear and tear. He appreciated how she understood his sentimentality towards the object that reminded him of his father and helped foster his dreams and the man he was today.  

Noticing the mist overtake Bradley’s chocolate eyes, [y/n] wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders. “You okay?” Playing with the baby hairs at the base of his skull, [y/n] watched as he blinked the tears away. 

Breaking his revelry, Bradley turned his attention to his love. “Yeah, just thinking about how much I love you.”

Returning her own sentiment of love, [y/n] then wrapped her legs around his waist drawing him nearer. “Our kitchen chairs are the only furniture we do have, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’d be so far away and then I can’t do this.” With a flash of a boyish grin, Bradley crashed his lips into [y/n]’s. His tongue slips inside mouth, gentle but demanding but [y/n] does little to stop him and instead smiles at the remnant taste of sugary cereal on Bradley's tongue. 

Breaking too soon for her liking, [y/n] chased Bradley’s lips. Allowing her to brush her lips against his, Bradley mumbled the song lyrics that had been swimming in his mind. “I was a lost boy when I met you.” 

Because he was a lost boy when they met. He was proud of his career in the Navy, despite an unexpected beginning resulting in four years spent at UVA and a poli-sci degree. He worked his way up from a petty officer to a naval aviator. A lieutenant that graduated top of his class at Top Gun by his own merits with hopes that he made his parents proud. But Bradley found it hard to find a place to land safely after his only remaining family member betrayed him.

That is until he met [y/n]. He knew [y/n] was always going to be there to welcome him back and love him, even when an ocean apart. It’s why he chose this home for them. Bradley was forever grateful for [y/n]’s support in his career despite knowing how his constant leaving was hard for them both. He chose this home for its location with the knowledge that one day he would happily retire as a father and become a Top Gun instructor. Close to the San Diego naval base and a two-hour drive from Top Gun, he could be home to see his future wife and child before they’d outgrow it because of the baseball team worth of children he planned to have.

In recognition of the song, [y/n] knotted her fists in his shirt and pulled him harder against her. The action caused Bradley to groan softly, low in his throat. He continued to kiss her, each time with increasing urgency, cupping her face between his burning hands. [y/n] had first played this song for him the night of their first date. Stealing his AUX cord after they returned to the car, wet and out of breath from playing in the surf, [y/n] promised him a band that she knew he would love. And she was right. The synthwave music of The Midnight became the playlist for his nostalgia for 1980’s music, car ride sing-a-longs and shared listening parties with [y/n] when separated.

Between shuddering breaths, [y/n] breathily asked. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.” 

“Show me the way home, honey.” With the taste of her still on his lips, Bradley secured his arms around her thighs and walked them down the hallway to their bedroom. 

A/N: Fun fact, ever since writing my first Bradley work, I’ve tried (and failed) to incorporate The Midnight's music because I just know he would love them. Thank you again to everyone who's still reading my work!

Taglist: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @shaded-recs @n3ssm0nique

[enby-art-creations]

Rainbow Alicorn skeleton

[rachels-dollhouse]

🖤📺Chloe📺🖤

Everybody, meet Chloe. Her favorite hobby is collecting all sorts of cactuses, she lives for the grunge aesthetic, she may or may not have accidently broken someone's ribs in a mosh pit, she spends a bit too much money on cigarettes, she will definitely bash your face in if you talk shit about Kurt Cobain, she only goes to sleep around 3 in the morning and right now she's waiting for her beloved girlfriend to arrive.

[carrie-tate]

Did you decide on the element for your oc?

Oh, I've already decided! I really liked the idea with the Master of Color and I decided to develop it into something solid... So get acquainted!

Gerda!

Her name was chosen for a very long time and in the end I got tired and made a banal reference for the sake of reference (We have Kai, why not add Gerda?)

Basically, her abilities are tied only to the fact that she can change the color of herself and the things around her. That is, she can easily mimic in environment. Or repaint something a different color. Usually she can completely repaint only small objects, for example, make an apple blue. With larger volumes, she can change color much longer and needs constant contact with the surface (roughly speaking, she can paint with her fingers without paint). At the same time, objects do not change their original properties after repainting, only the color changes. So her abilities are limited to tricks to hide or distract someone.

In battle, Gerda uses a much simpler thing - a pole/stick/staff... Hm, in general, you can see it on picture. The weapon is simple, but at the same time decent, since it is always easy to find a suitable alternative if she lose her main weapon.

In general, her main tactic is to hide and stealthily hit her on the head with a pole, simple and effective!

[gamebunny-advance]

Kun3h0 Accessories DLC + Patch Notes v.1.0.1

Added:

GAB accessory

Karrot-98 accessory

Changed:

Updated top.

Fixed hair bug. (Hair would easily slip off model.)

Minor improvements.

(More pics and notes under the cut.)

So I finally finished up Kun3h0's accessories and fixed up her top.

So, we've got her GAB and her drill, the Karrot-98.

GAB started out as this little dino thing that I just cut up and sculpted onto.

The original plan was to sculpt onto the original arms after I cut off the wings, but they kept bumping into the head, so I opted to completely resculpt them.

Now they can still turn their head, but that's the only point of articulation. I really should have sanded it more, you can really see the texture still in the clay, but such as it is.

The collar isn't the most elegant thing in the world, but at least it's there~ It's also disappointing that I couldn't get the edges of her screen completely straight and even, but it is what it is.

Overall, I think it's a decent recreation of the original design, even if the purples aren't quite right.

I should take a pic of them next to my other GAB recreations so y'all can really see the difference in scale. I believe this is the smallest GAB I've made so far, and also the only one that has the big heart-shaped tail~

Next is the Karrot-98, Kun3h0's magical drill. I don't have any "before" pictures, but it's made from another accessory that came with the doll, a little clay, and a piping tip that I had lying around + extras.

I don't have a set design for the Karrot yet, so I just kinda painted it with colors I already mixed. When Kun3h0's holding it, it does kinda get lost in the pinks of her outfit, but by itself I think it looks fine. If I come up with a better color scheme for it, then maybe I'll repaint it.

Next, I completely re-did her top. This time, I doused all the fabric in fray-check first to keep it from pulling apart while I was sewing it together, and I completely redid the sleeves. Originally, I had painted the arm guards onto the sleeves because I didn't think of any other way to do it. This time I tried making them with craft foam to better replicate that they're supposed to be two different materials. I'd say it was mostly successful.

Since it's kind of a pain to slip the sleeve into the guards, I don't have any pics of the top without them on, but the sleeves are more form fitting, so the top looks more like a proper tracksuit without the guards on. It's a slightly better look than the original IMO, but it's still not perfect: the guards are basically like a Miku sleeve, so you can still see into them even though the only opening is supposed to be through the cuff (which are barely visible in this pic, but they can stick out for a more accurate look.)

I would show the new top next to the old one, but I kinda destroyed the old one trying to test ideas for this new one XP (in fact, the collar IS from the old one, I just ripped it off and reapplied it to this one).

Lastly, I fixed her wig a little bit.

I don't have pics of it, but I just stuck some velcro to her scalp and the inside of the wig, so now it should stop slipping off while still being removable.

I'm just against completely gluing it down because I still have a lot of yarn left from this project, so I would eventually like to make her some alternate hairstyle wigs just to use up the yarn.

Now I feel pretty confident in saying that she's actually "done." There are a few places that I could touch up with paint, but as for "making" anything else for this doll, I did everything I really wanted to do.

Admittedly, Kun3h0 is one of my most self-indulgent designs (as though everything I make isn't in some way self-indulgent), so to have a physical object which embodies so much of what I like, truly satisfies me. We'll see if I still feel that way about her a week from now, but at the moment, she is the culmination of almost every creative skill I have, and I'm very pleased with the results of that effort, more so than possibly anything else I've ever made~ <3

I may post more pics of her when I can actually dedicate some time to making a proper scene and/or backdrop. There's a lot of little details that I like that I haven't really taken pics of. I dunno if I have the courage to do it, but it'd be cool to take some pics in an actual arcade with her~

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Sam's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Shadow Word Count: ~ 0.47K Relationships Mentioned: Sam's dad (completely made up, don't think you missed something in canon or I'm spoiling something, I'm not) TW: Death (peaceful/happy) the horrors that hotdogs are --------------------------------------

One of the many advantages to being a shadow, was easy passage to and from the human realm. Nobody paid any mind to things they thought were a trick of the light. The family business relied on this. And Sam loved it. He and his old man used to walk in the human cities together all the time, filling in the shadows of people to get around and take in everything the sights, the smells, the sounds - which admittedly, not all of them were very pleasant, but it was the city. What else could he have asked for?

People were stupid, slow and unobservant. While wallets and money were all well and good, they never saw the value of their belongings like Sam's father did. Sam remembered wandering the city, slinking from alley to alley, shadow to shadow, keeping up with his father best he could and picking up whatever trinkets he could find in hopes his dad would find a way to put a valuable spin on it. The other lovely thing about being a shadow was transportation was easy. All they had to do was allow an object to slip into the void that was their torso, and they could pull it out later. Anything they wanted, they would just expand their body to fit. Sam remembered how proud he was when he did it to his first hot dog stand, and the look on his father's face when he showed him what he brought home. They had repainted it together, rebranded it, and "borrowed" some other materials from the humans to upgrade it. Thankfully, hotdogs are hotdogs regardless of whether you're in the human or the monster realm. The amalgamation of deemed undesirable meats stuffed into a somewhat more palatable tube was almost surprising for it to have been a human invention. It didn't matter though, it had been Sam's first business he ran with his father in the monster realm. Even after his father passed, his memory lived on. Sam was rather satisfied with how his shop was coming together - on a college campus no less. He knew full well what he could do with the prices- and then tuition would practically pay for itself. He chuckled softly as he set the last of his wares down and picked up what was effectively a blacked out mirror. "They still don't know how t'get a good photo of people like us dad, but they can't hold a candle to our business either. I hope you're with mom. I can't wait t'tell y'both 'bout how far I've come." He smiled softly, placing the photo somewhere he would see it all the time, before moving to flip the sign on his door from "closed" to "Welcome In". Not that anyone was waiting or anything. But it felt good to be back on his feet. ------------------------------------- A/N: Does this make sense? hopefully it makes sense lskdjfhdskjf if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!

[kiokodoodles]

What's Rus funny/strange "howimademynewday" headcannons?)

Love him and others from your writing)

I don't think I know the reference but if it's asking about Rus doing Rus things, here's what headcanons I have:

Rus would spend hours coding for something so specific and silly. Helio (his brother) would think he's just doing work, but really Rus is coding how to use his piano keyboard as his game controller

He sorts everything by color. He'll even get containers that matches the color of his stuff. He even paints his drawers to match the color he's putting stuff in (he repaints every time there's no more room). And it's not even sorted by what object it is. He sorts everything by color. All of those containers and drawers have different stuff. The only thing they have in common is the color. Drives Helio crazy

He made a soundboard app of his own and he carries it around to play. If Helio is getting sassy with someone and he disses someone? That one loud beat you play when someone is dissed. If he witnesses an awkward moment? Sad trumpet sound.

He hums when he's nervous. If you hear him humming a song for a bit, that's when you know he's trying to calm his nerves

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! I’m looking for a game where you play as dying gods in a world that has mostly forgotten them. Do you know of such a thing?

Thank you!

THEME: Dying Gods

Friend, I am holding your hands lovingly. How did you manage to ask about a very specific game that I designed? 

(Don’t worry, it won’t just be shameless self-promotion).

Forgotten Gods, by quinnntastic.

you are gods.infinite, all encompassing,Forgotten.

Forgotten gods, trapped,adrift in the cosmos,left behind by a societythat no longer wanted you.

but you weren't Forgotten alone.

~*~

FORGOTTEN GODS is a game about otherness and clutching each other tightly in the face of the uncaring.

write letters to each other. remember who you were, who you are, who you will become. 

This is a single-page, slightly abstract, epistolary game. It gives your characters a beginning set-up: that you are gods, forgotten by your people, who have only each-other to talk to. A game that works very well for two players, it’s a great start for pairs of friends who may find it difficult to keep in touch across time zones. There is very little in terms of game structure; however, if all you need is a premise by which the two of you can write little pieces of fiction for each-other, this might be a neat little place to start.

If you bought the TTRPGs for Trans Rights in Texas, or the TTRPGs for Trans Rights in Florida bundle, you already own this game!

Mischief by Moonlight, by Mint-Rabbit (me!).

You are small gods, stolen away by colonizers inside the everyday items of those whom you loved. Your artifacts have been repainted, refurbished, and reconstructed until you hardly resemble your former selves, and you have found yourselves among other relics, closed up in glass cases,  temperature-controlled archives, or stuffed on top of a collector's shelf. 

However, some small remnant of your old magic remains. It is not grand or powerful, and it doesn't last nearly as long as it used to, but it's enough to do something about your current situation - whether that be haunting the museum, aiding other small spirits, or moving your artifacts to a different location. 

Mischief by Moonlight is an ode to all of the artifacts sitting in places like the British Museum that have no right to be there. You play as small deities, separated from the peoples who venerated them, bound to everyday objects that a museum has put on display. You’ve been separated from nearly everything and everyone that gave you power - but you haven’t diminished into nothingness. 

This game uses the VRBS system, by David Garrett, which consists of assigning action words to your characters, along with three tally-boxes per word. Failure will propel your character forward in that each failed roll allows you to either add a tally to a verb of your choice, or to add a new verb to the list of things your character can do. Your small gods will navigate different rooms of the museum, in an effort to help out other deities, haunt the staff, or whatever else your heart desires. 

If you like random roll tables, easy-to-learn rules, or if you just like the idea of poking fun at the British Museum, this game might be for you!

The Dying of the Light, by Keith D Edinburgh.

You are a God. 

For millennia, you have been worshipped faithfully, your powers striking awe into the hearts and minds of your followers. 

But something is changing. Your Followers have heard of a new way. The Age of Reason is dawning. Can you keep the flame of your divinity alive in the face of this unknowable threat?

The Dying of the Light is a one page roleplaying game for 2 or more players.

This game is only one page, and carries a simple collection of rules. It uses d4’s, d6’s and d8’s, and tracks the popularity of gods over a century. There’s not a lot of flavour for this game, so I think it might be a good companion to a larger game, especially if the game decides to check in on the world (and the effect the Gods have on it) over large periods of time. Otherwise, your group might have to work a bit to add a larger story - describing each act of the gods, inserting events that cause followers to fall away, etc.