#traffic cone warrior

[mrlimesapper]

lol so, I had the urge a few days ago to make a bit of a challenge seeing what sort of character/creature designs I could come up with for a traffic cone.

I've been thinking about Traffic Cone Wizard since then. Tonight I'm starting to think about a team of "road warriors". Just... not the Mad Max kind xD Well maybe slightly Mad Max. But this is a bit more literal.

[moeblob]

@indigowallbreaker

The Shez That Smiles Back actually got art BEAT YA TO THE CONTENT (good luck with the cake)

[annachum]

Through the Shards of Time ( a Loki x Sigyn fanfic )

* This is co written by me and a good friend of mine on Instagram - Hannah LaTray. Enjoy 😊😊😊 *

She hated the color orange now.

But how?

She, orchestrater of light, detested the beautiful autumn hue of whirling leaves and round citrus, and dumpy pumpkins? How could she decide to show contempt toward one of the warmest colors of nature? The strong hue of a sunset?

Because it was the stiff orange she hated. The artificial glow of old, 80s lamps or a traffic cone or...

The dull, soulless orange of the prison cells of the TVA. The smell of old, dusty computers mingled with a strange, metallic undertone. She couldn't describe it. (Midgard mechanics were of no significance in Asgard, and she wasn't too interested in the darkness of the forges to linger long amidst the pouring liquid steel.)

And after however long cuffed in an orange prison box, devoid of any life beyond her own, her spirit withdrew.

Marks that should have faded over time blazed against her skin. There was no time in the TVA. No one aged. No wounds healed. She might have been in there for years, decades, but how would anyone tell?

Now she told herself, no more orange. Not for a long time. They say Time heals all wounds, but she wasn't sure it would. Not when Time gave her this pain to bear.

With every step her foot took, a ribbon of colors whirled to catch her shoes. She walked up and up around the ruins of the palace on a bridge of glowing particles. Bricks fell as vines wove through shattered stained glass windows. Where once the most selfish, conceited being to ever existed was now crumbling away.

They really ought to start putting this place back together. Especially if they were about to be... well, not so alone in a few months.

Thankfully, she was passed the worst months of morning sickness. And now, deep within, she could feel the two of they starting to kick and roll.

She put her hand to her stomach as she ascended higher. One of them was really excited today.

She closed her eyes and smiled as a rudh of wind blew through her acorn colored locks. How wonderful to feel the air again.

Here at the end of time, the world was nothing like Asgard. Of course, Loki said it was quite different after he took the throne. He mentioned all that stayed the same was the gaudy castle, and the wall of roiling smoke.

"Unfortunately, I am not sure how to rid us of that," he mused as it thundered moodily outside the fallen study wall.

It only snarled when Renslayer got too close.

As she was today, it seemed.

"Deviants! Strayers from the Sacred Timeline! You will not destroy his work! Your impure, chaotic magic shall not taint our victory!"

Everyone had that odd neighbor.

Sigyn paused in her ascent. The winds whipped her braids about as the sparkles of the Aurora borealis held her miles above the ground.

"Midgardian warrior, your hands cannot subdue the growing branches. No science could bind their vines. How would you rule? What magic lights your soul to hold such power?"

Renslayer went silent.

Then, rather icily, she shouted, "Magic is as corrupted as your meddling with the chosen path. He rid us of your trickery in the TVA."

"Your lord built a cage, to stop our gifts. Outside his bars, even here, he could not take away what was ours to weild."

"He should have!" Renslayer said. It was a flat retort, and for a while, their furious neighbor was silent.

Perhaps Loki would do her a favor to send her somewhere else where she could live out her bitter life in peace. It must irk her to have to deal with so many rogue Lokis wandering in the void. Granted, wih the new Keeper of Time, the land was no longer barren.

Now, everywhere, the end of time bloomed.

Thick bushels of grass rolled together with moss.

Water bounced through rocks and wound between the twisting boughs breaking through the mud.

Even the sky, once a thick smog of gloom was changed. It was as though all the rays of the sun must break through a thick sheild of leaves before it streamed to the world below. Everything was washed in a glow of rich green.

Loki decided he might actually, as inconceivable as it sounded, hate the color orange now. Such a gawdy, eye grabbing corperate color. It wanted so much to be gold. But instead, it was more like gold with a terrible burn.

It was so irritating for the eye. A wonder at all why Kang would choose the color for his oddball band of pencil pushers from across time and space. It was bound to aggravate them in opposition to relaxing their minds. And here Kang would sit in a much more calming palace of purple starlight. He really had been a tyrant.

But now, the purple was washed away under the flourishing greens and golds. If only Thor could see him now. A higher ruler than either of them could dream. And there went Thor, still shirking his kingly responsibilities in a little hut, playing 'dad'. Well, Thor was always a bit daft. Affectionate, energetic and loyal, but still daft.

Loki opened his eyes.

Thor.

Thor thought he was dead. He really ought to let him know, somehow, that he was alive. He wasn't sure what to say to him, though.

"Hello, brother. Sorry to give you a scare, but I'm quite well and very much alive. And, you won't believe this, but I rule EVERYTHING."

What would Thor say to that?

Honestly, Loki had died in Thor's mind so many times, it might just be a funny surprise. But then again, technically, he wasn't the one his brother held in his arms as his vision went gray with death. So would it be best to let his brother live his own life?

Loki walked across the chamber to a row of mirrors. He drew his hand across the glass of one lined with silver and gold.

The colors rippled away to reveal a room where Thor hunkered down over a table. His great arms were bent around him as with deep precision, he squeezed a tube of frosting over the gingerbread cookie, lacking its lower leg.

His hand wobbled. The gingerbread man's mouth became less of a smile; instead akin to seeing an old acquaintance you really did not want to talk to.

Thor sighed. "I'm afraid my skills are not as well versed in the arts of confectionery decorating."

A young girl entered the kitchen. Humanoid, but not of Midgard, so not from that Meteorologist Dr. Foster. But her hair was braided in Asgardian style, which would mean Thor did it himself.

Loki smiled.

"Oh, sure you can," she said, "You told me you used to paint the walls with the vengeful blood of the dark elves all the time."

Thor shuffled. "Well, yes, of course. But that type of artwork is quite different this."

"You just need bigger cookies," she said, practical as always.

Thor rose in his seat. He clapped a huge hand to her tiny shoulder.

"I will never turn down Bigger Cookies." And he wrestled her into a bear hug as she laughed.

Loki slid his fingers over the cool glass once more to close the window into his brother's life.

So ironic to think, these two princes of celestial power, orphaned, kingdoms destroyed, split apart by time, and yet still, peicing the shattered glass of their lives together. Thor, a father? Perhaps a husband soon, judging from the glances he and Sif exchanged. And here he was himself. He'd lost everything, but yet now had all he'd ever wanted. A purpose, a kingdom, and... the love of his life climbing up the stairs toting the bagful of food from her trip to New Asgard.

What was she thinking? She could fall to her death from such a height!

He hurried from the mirrors to her side. "Sigyn! Love, allow me to help you with--"

She gasped as she finally reach the top. She smiled, clearly not fine as she said, "Loki, dear, I'm fine! There were more stairs than this to the river tower back home!"

He hoisted the bags from her. "You can't have walked all that way. You do know you can ask me anytime to open a doorway for you."

She patted his cheek. "I did, you old fool. You didn't answer."

Loki spun around. Indeed, his mirror specifically linked to Sigyn danced with the fragments of light to signify her request for a portal.

"That can't be right," Loki rushed to the mirror. "I'd never miss your request. When did you ask?"

"I'm here now, so I don't see how it would make much of a difference. Unless," she smiled demurely, "of course, there's a chance you happen to know a magical trickster who controls the flow of time itself who could go back and offer a lady a hand."

"That's just it! I should know if anything is wrong!

"Don't tear yourself apart. This is a new world for us. You hold every reality in this palace.

One singular soul could slip past your notice."

"But I shouldn't!" He whirled. "You, most of all!"

The ice in his eyes turned sharply to green. She was alarmed for a moment; it took a great deal to get him to start shouting. But she knew the anger was not directed at her. She looked him directly in the eye.

"Now, please. You're not the one meant to deal with temperamental instability at this time."

He stared at her. "What?" Then, he closed his eyes. "Oh. Of course."

"It is a lot of power for one man to hold alone," Sigyn assured him.

He sighed. "Any weight of power is too much for a man," he returned, coolly. Then, he added, "But, I am no mere man."

She was surprised he would admit to such a blanket statement of the burden of his new position, but seeing he accepted her suggestion with no further batting her worries away meant the sudden promotion was no

the root of his outburst. She knew him well enough after centuries growing up together.

She ran back through the moment in her mind, and reached the answer.

"You aren't going to lose me," she said softly.

He stood straight. He lifted his head. His smile was airily dismissive. "Of course I won't. How could I ever let you slip away? I'd know the second something was wrong."

"Then why don't you trust yourself?" She asked.

"I do," he said too quickly.

She folded her arms. She tipped her head to one side. "The hunters won't search for us anymore. There is no one out there who would know who I am. And no one in the Nine Realms knows you're here, or even alive. I can fend off a midgardian. I'll restrict my visits to there if I must go out, until you're sure there's a way to safely leave with me."

He scoffed. "Nothing is going to harm you." He looked down toward her middle, and

added, with notable definity. "Any of you."

"I trust you to keep us safe," she said. "I know, no one should have to stand by and see their homes destroyed. The weight upon the soul to see your people killed, one by one, is a grief no heart was meant to carry."

She put her arms around his shoulders.

His muscles were tensed under her touch. He turned his eyes to the side. "... I've already watched you die once before. And, I assume, you saw the same of me. The only family I have left is my brother. It doesn't seem my fate deals kindly with those I love, dear Sigyn. I fear all too soon, you might rise to join the ones who are gone."

"Wouldn't be much trouble for you if you can pull me back."

His hands held her upper arms. "That does not matter. I cannot bear to watch it happen again."

She nodded. "I know. Even if I knew I had the power to bring you back, it wouldn't change

what I knew you would go through."

Loki lifted a hand. Carefully, he curved his fingers to catch the side of her hair. He lifted the locks up and around the points of her ear.

"I wish you didn't have to hide them," he sighed. "They're quite becoming for your face."

She smiled. "You don't don't have to hide yourself either, if you like."

He knew he could, but after all this time, he found it harder to slip back into the form of his bloodline. He thought it would become easier after Odin faded away, but it changed nothing. His mind must have settled on this. Not a small frost giant prince, but not quite Asgardian. Something strange and odd in between.

He looked upon his fingers. "Do you find it strange, hands that only could bring death and ice, somehow had the magic to bring this to life?"

She looked up to the great boughs of branches rising around them.

"It doesn't surprise me at all. Your color has always been green."

She reached out her finger to touch one of the vines. From the weaving emerald spirals within, the magic shifted. And then, over the pathway, a flourish of blossoms moved over the vine, before vanishing again.

In that timeline, there was suddenly a strange rush of hope from the people moving about their lives. A sudden burst of light in their hearts, from the richest emperor to a mother with her child on the side of an alleyway waiting out the rain.

Loki took her hand in his. They walked to the shattered window. Renslayer remained silently sulking, so there wasn't much to disturb the sanctuary under the cheery rustle of leaves. Even if there wasn't much sky to speak of, the way the colors changed from peridot to a more peacock hue, they could tell that night was approaching. Dots like fireflies flitted through the vines, as if to compensate

for the lack of stars.

"Do you miss the sunset?" Loki asked.

"Not at the moment," Sigyn shook her head. "I can do with... less orange in my world for the time."

Loki glanced at her. He smiled. "So could I, my love."

[ilopisara]

17.01. 19:51 | Ilo Pisara vs Jokisen Kiekkokoulu 2 - 1

Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round as I regale you with the tale of Ilo Pisara's latest gladiatorial conquest on ice! Our valiant warriors faced off against Jokisen Kiekkokoulu in a clash that will be etched into the annals of hockey history—or at least scribbled on a bar napkin somewhere. Firstly, let us raise our sticks to Teppo Winnipeg. This puck-moving maestro danced around defenders like they were traffic cones at a toddler’s birthday party. With one goal under his belt and six interceptions, he was more thief than defenseman—pilfering pucks left and right without so much as an "excuse me." His 75% shot accuracy? The man must have had homing missiles instead of pucks! Sami Noddy—you slippery eel! Two assists while playing defense tighter than my aunt's facelift. An 85% pass completion rate is nothing to scoff at unless you're trying to make your teammates look bad—which we might forgive because hey, two points for Sami means two points for us! And Jani Saari... oh dear Jani. You scored once but hit the net less often than a fisherman with tremors—a mere 20%. But who am I kidding? A win is still sweeter than grandma's apple pie even if it has fewer shots. As we bask in this narrow yet scrumptious victory (2-1), remember: consistency breeds champions or at least decent playoff contenders. Keep grinding like coffee beans before dawn; there are bedtime stories waiting to be written about us—and not just by parents desperate to put their kids to sleep! Onward Ilo Pisara!

[jennifer694125]

Unleashing the RuPaul Fierceness: A Glamorous Makeover for Traffic Safety Cones

In the world of road safety, traffic cones are the unsung heroes, quietly directing traffic and ensuring order on our streets. But what if we could inject a bit of glamour, flair, and the unapologetic fierceness of RuPaul into these mundane objects? This article explores the creative journey of transforming ordinary traffic safety cones into fabulous, attention-grabbing icons that not only enhance road safety but do so with a touch of RuPaul's signature style.

1. A Colorful Makeover: Embrace the Rainbow

The first step in this fabulous transformation is to bid farewell to the traditional orange hue and embrace the vibrancy of the rainbow. RuPaul is synonymous with bold, expressive colors, and your traffic safety cones should be no exception. Consider painting each cone in a different color or go for a gradient effect that not only catches the eye but turns the road into a runway of color.

2. Glamorous Accessories: Bedazzle and Bling

To truly capture the essence of RuPaul's fierceness, bedazzle your cones with glamorous accessories. Think rhinestones, glitter, and sequins. Transform these otherwise utilitarian objects into dazzling showstoppers that not only catch the light but also the attention of drivers. After all, safety can be glamorous, darling!

3. Witty and Inspirational Quotes: Slay the Day

RuPaul is known for his inspiring quotes and mantras that encourage self-expression and confidence. Apply the same philosophy to your traffic safety cones. Paint them with witty and empowering phrases that not only grab attention but also promote safe driving. Imagine a cone boldly declaring, "Cones say, 'Slay the Day, Drive the Fierce Way!'" – a message that combines safety with sass.

4. Runway-Ready Shapes: Beyond the Conical Norm

Break away from the conventional conical shape and redefine the silhouette of your traffic safety cones to mirror runway-worthy shapes. Think exaggerated flair, curves, and angles that make a statement. Imagine these cones sashaying down the road with a shape that not only directs traffic but also serves as an artistic expression of creativity and style.

5. Interactive LED Lights: Illuminate the Runway

To bring a dynamic element to your fierce traffic safety cones, introduce interactive LED lights. Create a light show that not only enhances visibility during low-light conditions but turns the road into a runway of illumination. Sync the lights to a playlist of RuPaul's greatest hits for a showstopping effect that turns safety into a visual spectacle.

6. Drag Queen Decals: Add a Touch of Glam

Pay homage to the drag queen aesthetic by adding fabulous drag queen decals to your cones. Picture RuPaul's iconic silhouette or the glamorous faces of drag royalty adorning each cone. It's a touch of glam that transforms these safety essentials into works of art, celebrating the bold and empowering spirit of drag culture.

7. Lip Sync for Your Life: Choreographed Cones

Take inspiration from RuPaul's Drag Race and choreograph your traffic safety cones to "lip sync for their lives." Arrange them in playful formations that mimic dance routines. It's a fun and engaging way to capture attention and inject some entertainment into the serious business of road safety. Picture cones sashaying in formation, encouraging drivers to approach safety with a sense of joy and engagement.

Conclusion: Strutting into Safety with Fierceness

In conclusion, the transformation of traffic safety cones into fierce and fabulous road warriors is not just a whimsical exercise but an imaginative way to rethink the mundane. By infusing the RuPaul flair into these everyday objects, we elevate their presence from functional to fabulous. Remember, safety doesn't have to be dull – let your traffic safety cones sashay, shantay, and slay on the road, reminding everyone that even in the realm of road safety, a touch of fierceness can make all the difference.

[guu]

dni: you’re taller than 5′6, used to shake salt into your hand as a kid and lick it, call youtubers your precious little meow meow, have seen more than 5 disney movies, love dark chocolate, eat spinach, don’t smoke, never thought about stealing a traffic cone, are not under some sort of curse currently, owned a DS lite, are an only sibling, never stole money from your mom’s purse, have seen an episode of sherlock BBC, kin bruce banner, don’t “get the appeal” of xena warrior princess, wear your shoes inside your house, never committed a small act of arson, have never had a warrent, think the ocean is terrifying, own a tiktok account, dont own or would not like to own a haunted doll, blue is your favorite color, eat shrimp, have a fictional husband who you think is hot but not at least a little ugly, own a bath mat, play a sport like tennis, have never eaten paper even once, or you think the smurfs are hot

[mitamicah]

Spoilers from both Trollhunters the book and Trollhunters the series!

While reading the book I was really impressed with how many differences there were between the character so I have worked on giving my take on six characters from both media, book vs series, and how they differ from each other :3 

I should mention that while there was illustrations in the book I tried for the challenge not to copy those but follow along the describtions in the book - when possible - to give my own interpretation of the characters ^v^ 

Steve

First up we have Steve. Starting out as the stereotypical bully in both version their paths seperates quickly resulting in two different ending for the musuclar blond Jorgensen-Warner is the book version of Steve. Here's how he is described from our first encounter with him: "He was handsome but in the oddest way- He eyes were too small and his nose piggish: he had a ridiculous amount of hair and a couple of teeth that looked like fangs. Yet somehow in combination these features were sort of mesmerising. His unnatural muscular bulk and odd way of speaking -crisply, politely, as if he were a foreign student who had learned English in class - completed the strange package." page 21-22 For his outfit I went with the description of him on page 224 "[my clothes] ... didn't cast me in the best light when compared to Steve Jorgensen-Warner, who looked rather rakish in blue jeans and a shirt - definitely not a blouse - opened to the third button. He dribbled the ball casually with his left hand." The bold passages is added by me   This Steve is later revealed to be a changeling aka a troll   Before we go on: can any of you explain to me what a "ridiculous amount of hair" even means :'D? I had a lot of trouble with this prompt because isn't this so darn subjective :'D? and the official art look way less ridiculous than I'd figure it'll be :'D x'D Palchuk is the series version of Steve. His facial appearance being way less specific (I'd say he has normal sized eyes, a big roman nose and some more or less normal teeth) and his way of speaking is definitely not polite. Like book Steve, this Steve starts out with pushing smaller guys into lockerrooms yet after that he becomes way less of a terrifying bully and much more of a silly goose who brings a lot of the comic relief in my opinion Douxie says it best in Wizards when he calls Steve the "village idiot" x'D I do not recall seeing Steve being that sporty in the show, he is much more interested in becoming homecoming king  no basketballs around x'D While book Steve is revealed to be the enemy (a troll) series Steve joins the "good guys" creating the creepslayerz with the character Eli Pepperjack

Blinky

Blinky is just called Blinky in the book  Here's a bit of description of him "The third [troll] had scarlet eyes, eight of them on long stems. (...) The thing from my house glided toward me with a surprising grace for something with an indetermined number of legs, all of which were hidden behind a patched kilt scaled with layers of medals, prizes and trophies and award ribbons. An incalculable tangle of tentacles twined around one another as if dying to squeese something to death. As it passed the oven, the firelight revealed olive-green skin, reptilian texture, and lacquer of slime lubricating its undulating appendages Its moth a horizontal gash.. " The bold passages is added by me   So yeah this Blinky is quite something :'D I stopped caring to draw tentacles after a while but overall this was silly but fun to draw  since his teeth later is described as big as traffic cones I believe he must be very tall :'D Also he's close to blind   Has a bit of a dirty mouth but in a very "read" way if it makes sense :'D cannot seem to stop calling Jim dimwitted and tiny and Tobias big :'D Blinky's full name in the series is Blinkus Galadrigal  he has six eyes instead of eight and they are all working just fine, thank you very much x'D His tons of tentacles and legs has been replaced by four arms and two legs and while he is still olive-green he is now made of tone like texture just like the other trolls  the kilt turned into shorts and he is quite a bit smaller now not even as tall as Jim  He still has this very academic way of speaking yet he is way nicer to Jim calling him "Master Jim" instead of "the short one" x'D

ARRRGH!!!

Book ARRGHHH!!!s full name is Johannah Mmmm ARRRGH!!! and she is a pretty big deal warrior among the trolls in the book - she's so badass in fact Blinky has decided to call her by her last name to honor her for her deeds for trollkind   Here's a qoute from the book describing her appearance   "The goliath emerged from the tunnel as comfortably as a dog from a doghouse, coarse black fur pouring into the chamber before I could make out any actual arms or legs (...) Even beneath the fur I could see loops of muscles flexing. (...) ARRRGH!!! was built like a gorilla but three times larger: Two arms, two legs, and, thankfully, just two eyes. Horns, curled like those of a ram (...) The thing's orange eyes cast about with animal perceptiveness, and it used its snout and sniffed. Its jaws fell open to reveal a purple, slavering mouth armed with haphazard daggers of teeth." Page 75-76 The bold passages is added by me   (Also worth mentioning: the qoute is from before the protagonist knows of ARRRGH!!!'s gender which is why he calls her an 'it') At other times in the story we learn that ARRRGH! has quite scarred arms and really wishes for better tooth hygeine; so much so that Tobias actually end up making her a brace out of chicken wire :'D Idk I find it quite adorable :'D Now unto the serie's ARRRGH!!! - first up he is male, his name is Arghaumont and he is famous for another reason than Johannah: he was a general of Gunmar but retreated from the war making him a traitor to his people yet a hero for the good trolls in the series. Series ARRRGH!!! is likewise built like a gorilla but made of stone and having a mane long and green like it is moss  his horns is way smaller and less curvy and his teeth hygeine is never brought up  also his face is way less dog like x'D 

Tobias 

Book Tobias' full name is Tobias M. Dershowitz yet he is going by 'Tubby' or 'Tub'. Here is a describtion of him from the book: "You could call Tobias Dershowitz chubby, if you were being cute, or husky if you were being diplomatic. The fact is he was fat, and that was only the beginning of his problems. His hair was a thick, orange, out-of-control hedge. His face spilled over with the kind of freckles that make kids like Tub look like overgrown toddlers. Worst of all were his braces, marvels of modern torment: whips of stainless steel crisscrossing each tooth seperately and lashed to a dozen silver fasteners. The braces clicked so much when he spoke, you expected sparks. At least he was tall..." page 27 The bold passages is added by me   The outfit I went with is described on page 259 like this: "He stood in the driveway decked out in his best approximation of a ninja: black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, a black hoodie, a belt made from a red curtain sash, and an oversize fanny pack holding his gear (...) It was unfortunate that the fanny pack was lime green..." To describe Tub is a bit difficult because sadly he is not much in the story as I'd liked - mostly he is being quite serious and let us know he is not happy by being sidelined not speaking troll nor being invited on hunts which I completely understand tbh :'D What I do find interesting is how Tub and series Jim has seem to have switched roles a little bit: In the series Jim is the one giving a speech about how he is insecure about his place in life and how he wants more - in the book this is Tub in more than one occassion: "We have to accept who we are. And before you ask, I'll tell you. We're nobody. We have no life. We have nothing to look forward to. We're not special. I just want it to go away. All of it. The stupid being scared. Doesn't it seem we've been scared forever?" page 37 "Jim, you're wrong. We were meant to do this. This is exactly what we've been waiting for. They've chosen us. Of all people! Us! (...) Jesus, Jim, take a look at my life! You know what I'm worth! To anyone? Zero! Nothing! I'm a fat loser and will always be a fat loser. Until this. This is like a present. Full of, man, I don't know. Hope?..." page 196 (talking about trollhunting here btw) Oh yeah and book Tobias gets this badass scene where he uses his dentist's tool to kill trolls I loved that   Now series Tobias is way different :'D first up his name is Tobias Domzalski and his nicknames are Toby and Tobes. He is way shorter and has more neat hair (what is it with the series neating up the hair :'D? x'D). He also seems way cheerier and pretty happy with his place in life more or less  Unlike Tub, Toby is in it from the start being an important player in the story   He doesn't have the same drive to be something more than he is as Tub has instead Toby is going with the flow starting out quite afraid of everything troll and ended up being as brave as the rest of the team *tbh Jim's scared out of his wits too so they mimic each other x'D* Where Tub has dentist tools Toby gets a badass hammer so I'll say its an upgrade  

Claire

First off we have Claire Fontaine, a foreign student from no other than Scotland with a taste for military clothing and liqourice   Here's how she's described in the book   "She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and left ir with an adorable smudge of white dust. I thought she was beautiful, though she wasn't in the classic sense. The popular girl would say she wasn't skinny enough. They would also point to the fact that she didn't wear makeup or do anything to tame that hair. And her clothes -well, what could be said about her clothes? Her boots were not sexy and knee-high: in fact, they were ankle-high and rubber-soled and looked picked from military surplus racks, an array of pea-green coats and multi-coloured slacks, all of which looked as if they'd been through actual World War II combat. And that beret she wore before and after school wasn't of the look-at-me-I'm Frensh variety: it was more in the style of I'm-going-to-invade-your-country-and-be-your-new-dictator. Only one thing didn't make sense: that bright pink, exceedingly girlish backpack that inexplicably hadn't one anti-establidh patch sewn onto it (...) Oh, I forgot to mention that Claire Fontain came from the UK. That's right- the girl had an accent. I think you are starting to get the picture." page 30-1 The bold passages is added by me It is hinted at that Claire is quite tall and a great deal taller than Jim (more when I get to him) and she is actually a whole year older than Jim since they both have birthday May 2 but Claire is 16 while Jim is 15  Since Trollhunters in this story is not a "protected title" (aka the chosen hero type) Claire ends up being one herself even though nobody even herself didn't know: AND. SHE. KICKS. BUTT! She's even better than the guy that had 40+ years experience so yeah safe to say she's badass :'D Even before that she has a hilarious scene calling out Steve in the wildest shitstorm of Scottish slang I lived for it x'D She's described quite a few times with lots of bracelets, sometimes made of wire so I gave her a bit of both   She's not really a part of the popular group but has her own thing going on   Now onto Claire Nuñez the series' version of this badass   Here Claire is hispanic and pretty much one of the most popular girls seen around  her style is way more ... I've called it punk rock in purple but Idk exactly what to call it x'D she's shorter than Jim and slimmer looking than her book counterpart   She enters the story not as a trollhunter but as a victim of having her brother stolen by changelings and as time progresses she becomes a fastlearning and quite competent sorcerer dealing in shadow magic   Unlike Fontaine, Nuñes is seen wearing make up, shorter hair with dye in it and hair clips instead of bracelets  

Jim 

First up we have book Jim. His full name is James Sturges Jr. and lives with his single parent, his dad, after his mother went away the day before his birthday in start May and never returned. Sturges Sr. had been traumatized loosing his brother to trolls although none of the characters didn't know this yet - only Senior had seen the creatures making him paranoid and in turn making Jim very embarrased about his father. At the same time Jim seems to honestly worry for his father and his behavior too makes Jim very cautious and fearful a character. Book Jim is pretty much a typical teenager for the most part  He is seen to be a tad clumsy and not exactly brave really. And the author's choice of basically not describing him anywhere made my job way harder trying to be book accurate :'D So I've mostly inspired him of the official illustrations in the book   Here's what I could find about our little trollhunter   First off: he's a short fellow  that is first mentioned on page 14; "Sunshine is important for growing boys." (...) "I am not growing" I took after my dad when it came to size and was still waiting for that growth spurt everyone kept raving about. "In fact I think I'm shrinking." This is brought up most of everything Jim through the movie from him not being able to reach a point of a chalkboard (page 32) to people's dissapointing sighs taking meassurements when he is chosen as Romeo (107) and him wearing super high heels for the same reason (224) but also Blinky directly calling him a "little fellow" (page 127) On page 27 we learn that he is getting a bruise on his chin after being slammed into his locker by Steve  Lockers he has been thrown into enough to have learned to open them on the inside :'D He is a skinny fella which Tobias so politely call "lack of muscletone" due to "glandular" at page 120 He is not very good at anything describing his room full of stuff from hobbies he tried and failed at (page 63) The longest describtion about his appearance is probably page 105: "I lowered my eyes and regarded the chewed, dirty fingernails holding my script, thes scuffed shoes on my feet, and realized that these were the symbols of my pityful life: worn-out, insignificant, ready to be thrown beneath Dad's industrial mower" It pretty much says it all when this is the longest quite I could find :'D For the outfit I mostly went by the small describtion on page 89-90: "I tucked the medallion beneath my shirt. After a full day of wearing it, maybe the rest of the suffocating fear would go away too. My plan was to dart into the kitchen, grab my sweatshirt and be out of the house. " I added jeans since he is said to wear jeans on page 283 - the medallion sneak out beneath the sweatshirt/shirt on page 97 which is why I added it on top here as well   Now since there's a bit more to both versions of Jim due to their role as the protagonist I've added in a little extra features here being the medallion in the book vs the amulet in the series and the weaponry given to the characters   For Sturges we have the medallion who's described like this: "It was a bronze medallion conntected to a rusty chain. It was engraved with a foreboding crest: a hideous, snarling face; indecipherable markings of a sevage language, and a magnificent long-sword across the bottom." page 9 The medallion is treated like it is a common artefact if a bit rare in the book - its purpose is to translate trollspeak for the wearer. Jim is giving two swords in the book; a rusty longsword he calls Clairesword (do I need to explain this one?) and a cutlass he calls Cat #6 after the one cat at Tobias' house that liked Jim  x'D For Sturges' personality my feeling about him is that he is a bit more ... passive than his series counterpart. He is not really standing up for himself that much and would rather blend into the background. This qoute from Claire sums him up pretty nicely I believe   "You're a good person, Mr. Sturges. A bit gloomy, but good" page 246 I do like that Jim in this version is a Taurus  (I am a taurus too x'D) born on May 2nd so that's a plus   It is probably also worth mentioning that in this world trollhunters aren't a chosen hero type like in the series: trollhunters or paladin was once a title held by many warriors yet now there's very few left. Sturges was a proud paladin family making Jim a chosen candidate for the honor of becoming a trollhunter but he is not the only one - or even the best - in the book. In fact out of the three trollhunters we learn about I'll say Jim is the weakest (and he is not even the least trained; ouch :'D) Jim doesn't get a nice armour like his series counterpart either but is seen in the illustrations wearing a blue hoodie (like the one in the little doodle)   The full name of Jim in the series is James Lake Jr. He is the child of a single parent and lives with his mother whom Jim "mothers a lot" (Tobias' words in the first episode) This Jim is pretty "tall for his age" (Jim's own words uttered quite a few times across all three series) yet with quite skinny legs (he is called out for this by multiple characters). He is much more competent in life than his book counterpart being an exceptional cook, good at Spanish, seemingly alright in PE and at school he seems to stand pretty good if only holding himself back. Unlike book Jim, series Jim seems much more active and longing to be something more than he is - he is seen to be quite brave and protective of his friends, very kind and selfless. Also even from the start he seems much more nimble than his book counterpart being able to climb the robe (a feat book Jim didn't do before later) and with his training as trollhunter he becomes even more badass   Trollhunter status in the series is way more important since the title is given to only one chosen warrior of Merlin chosen by the amulet of daylight (the medallion in the book). This also makes the amulet way more special and important in the series which probably explains its shine up from rusty bronze thing to silver and blue. While Lake Jr doesn't have named sword he does have a magical armour and sword made of daylight   We do not know the exact birthday of Lake Jr but the creators have replied to a fanquestion saying it would be around fall especially October so by that estimate Jim is probably a scorpio  pretty far from the before mentioned taurus in the book   While Jim Lake Jr isn't seen with long lasting bruises in the original series he does get two more permanent scars in Wizards  

[gotmilk5101520]

3Below: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 6 D’aja Vu (Part 2)

Part 1

“Easy”

“peasy-” We now return to your daily schedule hunting of trolls.

“I’m really starting to hate that song”

“What the-?”

“You’re an alien?”

“I really do not like that word”

“I prefer Akiridion”

“Uh...” Well how is anyone suppose to know you’re Akiridion if they never heard of them before.

“You have a magic omelet” Yes. With his suit of bacon and Eggs Sword he fights trolls.

“You have a very nice house” I can’t believe Jim had Aja in his room before Claire. Then again Jim’s been in Claire’s room plenty of times.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait”

“I’m supposed to believe this peculiar, skinny-legged human”

“Why hasn’t anyone told me my legs are that skinny?”

“Skinny legs” Again with the skinny legs.

“Aja! Who...”

“What are these?” “Uh...”

“Bounty hunters?”

Wait was Varvatos just hiding there the whole time even during the last two loops?

“Glorious!”

“Glorious!”

“Glorious!” Getting punched by stone is glorious.

“Varvatos wants answers”

“Or more punching with the big one!” Varvatos can go all night.

“Grab your gear, Pepperjack”

“Got a creeper on my 6”

“That’s your 12″ Hey i still don’t what’s my 6 or 12

“Quick! Your blue bubble thing”

“It’ll shield their memory”

“Easy pea-” Getting sick of this song.

“This robot Lady’s cooking is almost as good as yours, Jimbo” Jim vs Mom Blank in Hell’s Kitchen or they could have a Food War.

“I have a million questions”

“Ask away, Miss Nunez”

“Like, how does your house know my name?” “Because i watched every episode of Trollhunters, and i know that you are possessed by a bitch right now. Hence why you look sick” “I knew it!”

“Your teeth of steel are fascinating”

“Do you use them to chomp your enemies?” Well if this was Tokyo Ghoul then yes. Or worse Berserk.

“When this Porgon attacks”

“he always goes after a component of the Daxial Array”

“Uh, what? Isn’t that the name of the band you were looking for?”

“Wait”

“Where did Aja go?”

“She left right before you said we should be careful”

Jim’s just about done with this babysitting job. Or Akiridion-sitting

“Give me the chocolate peanut butter device” Sadly it’s not made of actual chocolate and peanut butter.

“Easy pea-” End my pain.

“You knucklehead”

“Knucklehead?”

“That is a fun word”

“But it does not sound like a nice one” Trollhunters x 3Below & Knuckles. Featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry series.

“I once rushed into a place called the Darklands by myself”

“If my friends hadn’t helped me”

“a lot of people would’ve gotten hurt”

“You don’t understand”

“My mama and papa did get hurt”

“and now bounty hunters are after us”

“This is why i am training to be a warrior”

“This is why i cannot be patient”

“I cannot lose anyone”

“ever again”

“I don’t think that’s something we can control”

If you listen closely you can hear Jim’s bones breaking.

The squad pulling up to save the world.

“Oh”

“Sorry!”

Shannon’s Volcano Count: 5

And no one saw that.

“For the glory of Merlin”

“Daylight is mine to command”

“Oh”

“I want one!” You can find one under a bridge near you.

Shannon’s Volcano Count: 6

“Finally, some excitement”

“A-Plus!” Yeah, it’s not everyday that you see the volcano’s erupt.

“Oh”

Rip Steve’s arm.

“Actual freaking monsters!”

“Or do you prefer creatures?” Well the secret’s out.

“All right. All of you, i wanna see both hands”

“in the air”

“Or, um, however many you have”

They’re gonna need a lot of handcuffs.

“I might have a solution”

“If i can initiate the self-destruct mechanism in the Dekyon Charger...”

“we can reset the day again”

“But this time, the charger will be destroyed, and your troll menace will not find it”

“But then, today will never have happened”

“Which means...”

“we never become friends”

“Fear not”

“Fate will no doubt reunite us all in due course”

“The truest of friendships have the power to transcend”

“both time and space”

“Huh?”

“You’ve played your last trick, Porgon”

“That takes care of that. Hopefully we don’t have to deal with him again in a book”

“And the winner is...”

“Steve Palchuk...” “Huh?”

“For his traffic cone volcano” Curse you, Steve the Palchuk!

“Hey, at least one person on this planet will always appreciate your genius”

“Um...”

“I’m talking about me”

“You knucklehead”

“you knucklehead”

“Sorry, there”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Everything is”

“Awesome sauce!”

“awesome sauce”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

“Why?”

Shannon’s Volcano Count: 7

Changing the song like we haven’t been hearing the same thing over and over.

Why am i hearing a bird now?

[herbgerblin]

Imagine Duck taking Minerva ice skating. It seems like with all her cool warrior skills she would turn out to be really good at it, but I also like the image of her holding onto his shoulders like a kid using a traffic cone for balance. Duck is glad he has years of floor hockey experience to keep himself from losing his balance in front of her.

This image is very pure and good. I especially like the idea that Duck is pretty well versed with skating on the ice, so he’s just coaching her as she slowly masters Staying Upright on the Frozen Waters’ Surface. Give her a couple of weeks and she’ll get the hang of it! I think she would also find fascination with the earth’s drastic change in season’s altogether, and frequently travel outside on especially snowy days to study how the different animals hibernate/adapt.

Minerva, from across the lake: Look, Duck Newton! I found this frog near an exposed part of the lake! Did you know that in winter they respire oxygen through their skin?

Duck: Great, Minerva! Now please put that back and get off the ice!

[pixelartarchive]

traffic cone road warrior, or something like that

[finalfantasyxivwritings]

Submitted by @owlespresso

Relationship: Wol!Reader/Thancred

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Deciding to take the advice of a dear friend, the Warrior of Light adventures across Norvrandt to explore the land with new eyes. Il Mheg is one such beautiful place you yearn to see, though equally dangerous in more ways than one would expect: beware of the pixies pranks and, more than anything else, don’t eat anything that they offer you.

You unfortunately fail in the second part of that warning.

-

Il Mheg is a wonder in its own right, a splendid land dotted with vibrant color that extended to not only the flowers, but those who lived there. 

You consider it a great honor to be able to traverse the land among the native people, the fae who generously allow them to pass through and visit. You were immediately curious about their culture, including the wide variety of colorful foods.

It became abundantly clear that they used flowers in several of their staple dishes, obvious from the way vendors flaunted them on the road and in the streets. 

The sun shone bright over Il Mheg as you wandered about, entranced by the quaint mushroom houses and bustling foot traffic. It was only a half-hour until noon, when you’d planned to rendezvous with Thancred in the center of the settlement, which left plenty of time for you to explore and indulge in some of the local treats!

Gil ready in hand, you trotted up to one of the fae vendors. The brief conversation you had passed by in an admittedly pleasant blur. They spoke so quickly that it was difficult to keep track of what they were saying, but you could only assume they were glad to see a paying customer.

The pastry that was shoved into your hands moments later was a visual feast of color. Pink pastry dough lovingly fashioned into several flowers was nestled against dollops of mint green-tinged whipped cream, and the entire thing was covered in crystalized sugar. All of it was wrapped up in a fluffy, cone-shaped crepe.

It was quite a sight to see, so glamorous that you almost didn’t want to eat.

Then, your stomach rumbled. 

Needless to say, the succulent pastry was scarfed down in about five seconds. Chomping down the last bite of the delicious treat left you wanting for more, but you restrained yourself in favor of minding the time. You didn’t want to be late for your meeting with Thancred. It had been awhile since you’d last seen him, and your concern for his well-being and eagerness to see him far outweigh your need for another crepe.

And that’s how you landed here.

While making haste to the Aetheryte, you were unable to stop marveling at your surroundings.

It seems as though you’re were early, though. Thancred’s nowhere in sight, leaving to your own devices. Well, at least there’s plenty to look! Your gaze flutters around the arera, taking in the pure mystique of it, catching bits and pieces of passing conversations. 

In the middle of hearing a fae’s qualms about the recent rains, something peculiar begins to rise within you. A steady, building heat that causes sweat to gather on your brow. Maybe it had just gotten hotter out? But that did little to explain the mounting arousal between your thighs. Your absentmindedly rub your thighs together, frowning when it did little to alleviate the tension.

Your lower stomach begins to tingle, a warmth bubbling in your body and making your cheeks much too hot.

This is unlike you. You know your body, and you know that this isn’t normal. 

Panic begins to set its claws into you as you desperately try to figure out what’s wrong, bouncing on your heels to the side of the clearing, unseeing gaze fixed on the gleaming Aetheryte.

Should you try to find a healer? Maybe ask around—gods no, you’d die of embarrassment!

Heading back to your inn room seemed ideal. Teleporting shouldn’t take too much out of you, but Thancred—

The sound of your name brings your thoughts to a cold, dead stop.

“There you are,” Thancred says, unmistakably happy to see you. Your heart jumps in your chest, the steady rhythm pounding in tandem with the thrum of arousal in between your legs. The afternoon sunlight catches on his stark, white hair and your pulse jumps, sings in relief at the sight of him, “My apologies. I mixed up where we were supposed to meet–was wandering around downtown like a lost fool.”

“Oh, it’s fine!” you assure him hastily, and it’s impossible to stop your gaze from running over his face. There’s the ever beguiling angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips–where your attention lingers for much too long before flickering downwards, “I wasn’t waiting for too long!” You get to the firm shape of his chest, outlined lovingly by his tight armor, before getting ahold of yourself and looking him in the eyes.

Which, is a bad decision, because oh gods, he’s looking at you and you suddenly feel like some hapless, giddy school child experiencing puppy love for the first time–besides the mounting, insistent need coiling inside of you.

“How blessed I am to be forgiven so easily,” the lavish croon of his voice makes your spine prickle, “Come along, we have all of Il Mehg to explore. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on the way, I’m sure.” 

He gives your shoulder a firm pat, and even with the frustrating barrier of cloth between you, you feel another shock of need.

“Y-Yep! That sounds fi-fine,” you jump from your standing position and begin to scurry in the direction of the western exit, which leads out to a large, welcoming field of flowers with a few large, scattered trees. 

There’s the thumping of Thancred’s boots behind you, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s eyeing you with contemplative concern. 

You’re more interested in the idea of being chased–Thancred chasing you, being down on you from behind, pinning you to the ground–

No, no, bad. If you keep thinking like that, you’ll lose your wits and actually do something you might regret!

“Are you feeling alright?” he inquires as he matches your pace. You are very decidedly not alright, caught between cancelling this entire outing entirely, asking him to fuck you senseless behind one of those trees, or continuing to weather the strange, mounting symptoms until the day’s end. The latter option sounds the most unappealing. “You’re usually not so…”

“I’m fine,” you say, too quickly, too firmly. There’s a nervous bounce in your step as the both of you pass underneath the pearly gate and into the wilderness. Distantly, you wonder if one of the flowers from that delectable pastry is responsible for this, and if so, wonder which kind it is, “Just, uhm, feeling a little off today, is all. It’s nothing I c-can’t sleep off.”

“If you say so,” he says slowly, skepticism clear as day in his voice, “So! Where would you like to head first? There’s Longmirror Lake–I hear the massive ruins of an ancient city lay underneath it! Of course, there’s also the impossible to miss castle in the middle of Longmirror…”

He goes onto list several possible spots you could visit, outlining the best parts of each, but you have a hard time parsing his words when you’re so focused on the rhythmic sound of his voice, coupled with whatever ailment insists on ruining your day. Had it stayed to a minimal level, you likely would have been able to ignore it–but your knees are getting weak and the subtle movement of your clothes against your skin is suddenly more grating than ever before. The overwhelming scent from your floral surroundings only contributes to your dizziness.

Thancred says your name a second time, and shakes his hand in front of your face, jolting you from a daze you didn’t even know you’d been in. 

“Any of those are fine–whichever you want,” you bring a hand up to rub at the bridge of your nose. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth. 

“Alright, we’ll head to the lake, then. It’s the closest one,” fortunately, he has no qualms about making the decision. You’re hyper conscious of the air against your skin, your clothes weighing down your body, clinging with sweat. The scent of the flowers, Thancred’s warm presence beside you. Your fingers curl into tight fists, palms much too hot and slick.

“Okay,” you say and your voice is strained.

It’s eating at you. It’s eating at you and you can’t stand it. With every step, you feel the moisture that’s gathered on your undergarments rub back against your cunt. Your gaze flicks to look at him, fixing on the angle of his jawline, on the elegant shape of his nose.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he turns to look at you, lips upturned in a slight, amused grin. Prick, stupid prick and his perfect face–you’re suddenly stuck by the idea of your thighs clenched on either side of his head, his tongue dragging up and down your clit, lips working relentlessly at your cunt while his hands grip you tight. You take a sudden, deep inhale and you realize that you’ve stopped in place.

He repeats your name and suddenly, he’s much closer, leaning into your space and narrowing his eyes. You wish you were anywhere but here, right now, because all you can do is stare at his lips with wide, hungry eyes and hold your breath.

“Pardon my assumption, but you certainly don’t look alright to me. You’re not acting like yourself and your pupils are the size of dinner plates,” he says. He leans in and presses his forehead against your own to check your temperature, and his innocent concern seals both your fates.

Your mind gives out.

Whatever you’d been poisoned with possesses you for that one moment and before you could even realize it, you seal your lips against his own.

Oh gods, oh gods– Your brain ceases to work as panic wars with your ailment, and your body all but crumples into his arms, face pressed to his chest. He catches you, of course he does, because he’s Thancred. He’s Thancred, your Thancred–

“Oh, my god,” your voice is a mere whisper against his chest. Your left hand presses against his abdomen and the thundering, agonizing arousal reacts instantly, “I’m–I’m so sorry!”

You push away from him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You’d ruined everything! You should have just said you weren’t feeling well You aim to take a step back, but the ankle where you put your weight slips on the dirt and. Panic and dizziness wind together and jumble your senses, your vibrant floral surroundings passing you in a blur as you start to fall. This is it, you sob internally, I’m going to die after looking like an idiot and kissing him out of nowhere–

Then there’s a firm grip on your wrist and you’re yanked to your feet. The momentum from the tug carries you forward and into his chest. Your face presses into his armor. He smells good, cologne and gunpowder and spice. You don’t want to move, not even to quell your feverish, unrelenting symptoms.

“Alright,” his voice rumbles deep in his chest and you can feel it, “It’s incredibly clear that something’s amiss. It would be in your best interests to come clean,” his arm tucks around your waist, pulling you tighter against him and your knees just about give out. He curses, letting go of your wrist and wrapping his other arm around you in a clumsy hold against his body, “Twelve, we should get you to a healer.”

Your hard nipples press tight against the constraining fabric of your cloak and it takes every ounce of your restraint to not start grinding up against him. Your body cries out for it, weeps for it, begs, but Thancred is your friend. Thancred is your friend and he deserves to know what’s going on.

“I ate a pastry back in town and I think it made me sick!” you urgently inform him, “I was just fine before that!”

“That explains it,” Thancred says with a sigh, his lips so close to your face, “Most of the plants here have… special side effects. The fae have lived here so long that they’ve developed immunities to most, if not all of them. It seems that the vendor who sold you that treat left out that particular detail,” you just about collapse with relief. Thancred knows what’s happening. Smart Thancred, strong Thancred–

Breed, breed, fuck, mate–

“That being said, it’s not a good idea for you to be out and about like this. We should get you somewhere safe,” Oh no. Does that mean he’s going to drop you off somewhere and leave? No, no, that’s the worst thing that could happen right now! Especially after going so long without seeing him, especially when you need him now more than ever.

“Don’t go!” the desperation in your voice comes as a surprise to even yourself, “I don’t–I want–”

Your frustrations mount as you try to articulate what you want, what you need.

“You want me to help you,” he spells your thoughts out and you nod, relieved that you don’t have to articulate them yourself. Thancred will take care of it for you. 

He doesn’t say anything else after that, likely deep in thought or in conflict.

“I trust you,” you whimper, “I’ve always trusted you, Thancred,” it pains you to tear your face away from his chest, but you tilt your head to look up at him and don’t regret it. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted.

It’s so much, so much, so much and the pure amount of sensory assault makes you begin to tear up. You tilt your head back down to hide your face, hands balling in the fabric of his jacket. Your knees start to tremble again, cunt sopping and body screaming out for his hands on your chest, ass, back, anywhere!

“Shh, it’s alright,” Thancred hushes, and the bestial part of your brain coos in content, so delighted he’s here and that he’s taking care of you, “I have my reservations about this. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” you say, leaving not even a second of silence, “Please, I need you! I’ve wanted you even before this!” your voice trembles with the weight of what you’d just said and pitches with desperation. Throwing caution to the wind, you continue,  “Thancred, please. I wouldn’t ask this of anyone else,” if you’re going to confess your carefully guarded feelings, you might as well go all-out. Consequences be damned! You can deal with them when you can actually think straight, “I”

He ducks down and cuts you off with a kiss.

It starts off as only a slight, gentle press, merely testing the waters, before he tilts his head for a deeper angle. Your eyes slide shut and your entire body loosens in a show of submission, more than happy to let him lead the way. His fingers curl into your hair, holding you where he wants you. His tongue rubs against your lips and for a moment, you don’t respond, too pleasure hazed. 

He gives your hip a light slap and you gasp, giving his tongue ample room to feel every inch of your mouth and tongue in a dexterous dance that makes you glad he’s there to hold you up.

Your shaking hands reach up to clutch his shoulders, feeling the broad muscle underneath his form-fitting armor. Your bodies press tight together, and you cling to him even when the need for air forces you apart. You gasp for it, dizzy and surrounded by him, him, him. His firm grip around your waist, his broad chest nuzzled tight to you, his scent. He’s perfect and he’s the only thing keeping you on your feet.

A thrill rolls up your spine at the knowledge that he can manhandle you so easily.

“Come this way, dear,” he murmurs, and his face moves away. Your protesting whine is met by a low chuckle as he carries you from the road and into a nearby grove of trees, with thick shrubbery and branches. He’s talking, but you’re not listening, eyes lowered as you press your face into his shoulder again and take a deep inhale.

It’s impossible to keep track of where he’s bringing you, but in only a few moments you feel your back settle against a tree trunk. Vivid, pink leaves loom above your heads, the sweet smell of the blooms more overwhelming than ever.

He presses you in tight, weight covering you entirely. Satisfying, deep, contact, contact, contact. You feel the swell of his chest, the press of his clothed cock against your sopping core.

One of his hands cradles your cheek and you automatically tilt your head into it, exposing as much of your neck as possible. The roughened material of his glove grates slightly against your skin. You want them off, but your coherency sizzles away when his lips dance over the skin of your neck. He plants a vast array of fluttering kisses over the unmarked flesh, making you squirm and whine. He shushes you again, tongue laving over the crook of your neck, before he nips there.

You buckle again, falling onto the knee he manages to shove between your legs just in time.

“Fuck!” you cry, eyes screwing shut at the oversensitivity. Sweat slicks your forehead and you feebly flop back against the trunk. Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he palms a breast, reminding you that there’s still an awful, cloth barrier preventing you from feeling every inch of him.

“Can you come just from this?” he inquires, much to unaffected. His knee begins to grind back and forth against you and you ride it, pressure and friction so good, too good against your sopping folds.

“Thancred,” you breathe, burying your face into his shoulder. It’s all sweet ambrosia, a devilish, intoxicating cocktail of sensations that numbs your mind to everything but the here and now, whittles your world down to only him.

His hand strays from the back of your head and grabs at your shirt, deftly undoing the buttons. You help him, throwing i haphazardly to the ground.

Your hips roll and buck desperately against his built thigh, head tilting back, back arching as he squeezes a tit. His fingers grasp the edge of your bra and yank it down to free your breasts. The material of his glove is still coarse against your hardened nipple, but it’s contact and that’s all that matters.

Then he ducks down, starting to lavish your chest in attention. Your dragged back under the mindless, euphoric haze. His tongue rolls around your untouched nipple.

“Thancred,” his name emerges from your lips as a warbled moan, and he hums in response, wrapping his lips around the perked nub and giving a firm suck. “Ah!” you downright squeal, panting as his fingers drip to your trousers, toying with the waistband,.

Your hands scramble and claw against his armor, suddenly possessed by the urge to see him just as bare as you are, to press against his firm torso. 

“Off,” the demand comes out as a weak whimper, but he obliges. One of his hands reaches and starts to undo the numerous straps over his chest, while his mouth stays busy. His lips pop from your nipple with a lewd, wet noise but he only moves to the next, devoting his free hand to tugging your trousers down. 

Your movements are hurried and manic as you help him, shoving both your bottoms and undergarments off at once.

“Oh,” he says, your eagerness seeming to surprise him. From there, your hands fly to his chest, helping him out of that tight, but agonizingly complex armor, “My, aren’t you eager?”

“Wear something that’s easier to take off,” you grumble. The thrall of the heat still has you in its firm grip, loosening your verbal filter and clouding your decisions. Off, off, off, is all you want. It doesn’t matter that you’re out in the open, that anyone could stumble upon your tryst at any moment. There’s no Eorzea, no missions, there’s nothing that needs to be done besides him.

“I’ll make sure to give that a try,” Thancred draws, and the top piece of his armor falls to the ground, revealing… another, admittedly tight-fitting shirt. You give a hiss of annoyance and he chuckles, grabbing the hem and taking it over his head, gently depositing it next to his armor. While he does that, you kneel, fingers greedily grabbing at his best, “Twelve, you really work fast when you want to.”

You don’t honor him with a reply as you finally undo his best, and grab his trousers, yanking them to the ground. The sight of his still-clothed bulge greets you, and you’re immensely pleased to know he’s as invested in this encounter as you are.

Unabashedly, you press your face against him, nuzzle your cheek into it. His breath hitches and you feel a rush of satisfaction, until his hands grab your shoulders. You allow him to tug you upwards, giving a startled squeak when he envelops you in a passionate kiss, the kind that makes your knees weak and your lower stomach feel gooey, hot want.

His cock presses against your stomach and you can’t help but wonder how it’ll feel inside of you. 

“Follow my lead,” he breathes against your neck and you shudder merely at the feel of it. His calloused, still gloved hands grab at your thighs, twining them around his hips, “My, my, you’re already so excited,” he purrs as his cock dips against your soaked cunt. You just about sob, eyes shut tight, head tilting back against the trunk. He’s so close, so agonizingly close to where you need him the most!

“Just fuck me already,” you beg, plead, on the verge of tears.

He hums in affirmation, bringing his weeping cock close to your entrance. The slow slide inside you burns with both pain and pleasure, leaving you a heady, listless mess. Your hips roll into him, a feeble attempt to get as much pleasure as possible out of it.

Whatever concoction you’d ingested made you wet enough for this to work without proper lubricant, thank twelve. You wouldn’t have been able to wait for him to procure some.

Your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, tighter and tighter until he finally hilts within you, pelvises nestled together. A low moan unfurls in his chest and the desire in you lights anew, because finally, finally, he’s going to be just as affected and lost to ecstasy as you are.

“You can move!” you assure him, hips already beginning to twitch.

“Twelve, you feel good,” he says and swallows, throat bobbing. You follow the motion of it with keen concentration, leaning up to kiss his hot skin.

Then, he starts to move. His hips draw back and shutter forward, and you experimentally roll to meet him, mouthing absentmindedly at his chest. Your lips press against a nipple, tongue rolling over the hardening bud.

The pace picks up, and each time he slides back inside, his pelvis bumps your clit. You bite your lip as your nerves fray, a hand reaching down to rub at the bundle of nerves while the other wraps around his neck and clings.

“Make noise for me,” he says, “No one else is around to hear,” and that encouragement is all you need. 

He coaxes moan after moan, whimper and whimper out of you, muffling them with his own lips as he kisses you over and over. His tongue laves against your own, swallowing your pathetic little sounds. Your back slams against the trunk with each thrust, and the violence of it somehow sends your further into the brink.

Your eyelids flutter spasmodically and your heartbeat thunders in your ears, cunt throbbing with oversensitivity. Something molten hot and delightful blooms inside of you and you’re over the edge, cumming around his cock with little more than a minute of encouragement. 

Your juices spill around him and onto the grass beneath. You distantly hope none of it gets on his boots, which he hadn’t bothered to take off. 

You’re limp in his arms while he continues to fuck you, simply chasing his own orgasm. The idea of becoming little more than a sex toy for him is more arousing than it should be, but you don’t get to think further on it between his erratic, urgent thrusting.

“Fuck–” he snarls, low and deep as he pulls out of you. Cum shoots onto your stomach, warm and sticky and utterly fucking blessed.

Arms still around you, he staggers back and drops to his bottom, likely smooshing a few flowers in the process. He brings you with him, still seated on his cock even as he flops onto his back. Your face presses into his sweat-slicked chest and you wrinkle your nose, moving onto his side. His cock, still half hard, twitches inside of you and your breath hitches and the feeling.

The air is still, quiet with the exception of the chirping, vibrant wildlife.

“Thancred,” you murmur after several long moments, “We’re probably squishing the flowers–and we still have to see the castle! Gods, I’m so sorry,” With your problem taken care of, the reality of what’s just happened finally returns, as does your coherency. Gods above, you can’t believe you’ve done this!

Your brace one of your hands against the ground and you attempt to shift off of him–only to be tugged back down by an insistent arm around your waist. His cock has grown soft inside of you, but the fact that it still lingers makes you tingle with something warm and heady.

“No, stay here,” he grumbles, “The flowers will regrow. The castle will be there for the next millennia or longer.”

“But–”

“You’ve exhausted me, utterly and completely,” he teases, turning his head to kiss your forehead, “So indulge me.”

“Okay,” relief is palpable in your voice as you relent, settling against his side. Your eyelids lower, gaze absentmindedly sweeping over your surroundings, taking in the vivid blooms, the rich brown trunks, and… 

“Thancred, where have our clothes gone?”

[blue-duster-comics]

Another member of the 2020 New Warriors I've redesigned. The first change I made was getting rid of that godawful pink and replaced with a shade of orange because 1: it compliments his sister's blue color scheme quite nicely, 2: orange is often associated with safety, like reflective vests road crews and such wear and traffic cones and considering his power of projecting psionic shields it seemed the appropriate color. Another change I made was giving him a stockier build to make him actually look like a jock; his original design had him look like the kind of kid jocks would beat up for their lunch money. Plus it better represented his defensive abilities. I even gave him an armored costume made to resemble protective sports equipment. And the last change I made to him was his powers; the original had the ability to project psionic shields around anyone but himself, which to me sounds like a completely useless power as it leaves him wide open to attack. My version can indeed create shields around himself, however he has to tendency to put the safety of everyone else around him first even to his own detriment, hence the need for the armored costume. He also can't generate one shield through another. Even though he calls his superhero persona Safe Zone, he's mockingly referred to as "Safe Space" in the media due to the purely defense nature of his powers and his reputation as a big softie given his usually soft-spoken, protective and gentle nature despite being involved in rough and physically aggressive sports.  

[180abroad]

Day 125: Hadrian’s Wall and the Scottish Borders

When we first started planning this trip, one of the big sites I'd wanted to see was Hadrian's wall. But it's so far from anywhere else we wanted to go in England that I had resigned myself to the fact that I probably wouldn't get to go. Luckily, Rabbie's offers a tour of the wall from Edinburgh. Not only would we get to see Hadrian's Wall, we'd get to approach it from the north like an old Celtic barbarian.

It was a long tour, so we had to get up and into town early.

There must have been quite the party going the night before. Even the statues woke up with traffic cones on their heads.

Our guide and driver for the day was Nik, a middle-aged, born-and-bred Edinburgh man with the accent and stories to prove it.

As we drove south, we passed through the beautiful rolling hill country that makes up the Scottish Borders. The Highlands are seem to get all the glory when it comes to romanticizing Scottish countryside, but the Lowlands definitely have their own idyllic charm.

Nik told us some interesting stories about the medieval residents of the Borders and their complex relationship between England and Scotland. They were ethnically Scottish, but the Borderers resented both countries because their wars inevitably brought the razing and pillaging of border towns by both sides.

The Borderers were excellent horse riders and highly valued as mercenary cavalrymen throughout Europe. Whenever the English and Scottish armies fought in the Borders, the Borderers would hire themselves out to both sides, then sit on the sidelines of each battle until the winner was clear. They made special coats with English colors on one side and Scottish colors on the other, so they could flip their coats inside-out to match whichever side they decided to be "fighting for" at the moment. Hence the term "turncoats."

When they weren’t fighting as mercenaries, the Borderers spent a lot of time fighting themselves. One town would gather a raiding party and invade the next town over. That town would then gather a counter-raid to get their stuff back. Eventually, the raids became so bad that towns hundreds of miles away–well outside the Borders--were being raided by these crazy hill people. Neither country wanted to take responsibility for them, but when King James VI and I united Scotland and England under one crown, he was able to raise a police force to move in and establish order.

We also saw a lot of sheep on our drive. According to Nik, there are three sheep in Scotland for every man, woman, and child. Which is the perfect number, he said–one for meat, one for wool, and one for snuggling.

Our first stop was the abbey town of Jedburgh, just ten miles north of the border with England. Streamers hung up all over the town indicated that a festival was going on, but it was dead quite on this Thursday morning.

The abbey, like most abbeys in Britain, is only a picturesque ruin now. But this time it wasn't Henry VIII's fault--the Scottish destroyed their own abbeys during their own Presbyterian Reformation.

Before its destruction, the abbey was inhabited by Augustinians, who were known as cannons rather than monks. Whereas monks live and work in their abbey, cannons are priests who choose to live communally in an abbey but still teach and perform services in their local community.

We got about an hour to explore the small museum and wander through the peaceful ruins.

Next we headed down to the crossing between England and Scotland, where we pulled over for a quick photo op. There's no security or anything, just a pair of engraved standing stones.

The view was fantastic, though.

Our timing was good, too. Just as our group finished taking pictures, a kilt-clad busker showed up to serenade us with his bagpipes. More oddly, a man driving through the parking lot stopped and called one of our group mates over so that he could give her some sort of "helpful" pamplet. According to Nik, this guy is a regular feature at the crossing who stages this sort of thing all the time, making it seem like he's just a friendly local who randomly decided to pull over and give the handout to a passing tourist.

After a few very pleasant hours of driving (some of which my dad and I might have spent dozing), we arrived at Hadrian’s wall. Specifically, we arrived at Steel Rigg, a dramatic line of glacial crags that the wall runs along the top of.

It was a steep climb up to the top of the outcrop, but the view was well worth it. Even if the wall was never really used as a defensive installation, it was easy to imagine hordes of painted Celtic barbarians massing to the north.

And seeing the way crags rise up like a wall themselves, I can very easily understand how George R.R. Martin was inspired by this place to create his fictional wall of ice in A Game of Thrones.

Next, we went to the nearby Vindolanda excavation and museum. Vindolanda was a Roman walled settlement inhabited by the soldiers who manned Hadrian's wall, as well as their families and the various merchants and artisans who supplied them. The site has been meticulously unearthed, and the included museum is filled with fascinating artifacts from the Roman inhabitants’ everyday lives.

There was pottery, flatware, tweezers, and lots and lots of leather shoes. The Romans wore very intricate leather shoes, but apparently very few examples are still around. Vindolanda is a treasure trove of leather and wooden goods because the land it's on is basically a bog--pretty much the same story as with the Celtic artifacts we saw at the Irish National Museum of Archeology in Dublin.

Despite being such innocuous pieces, one of the collections that struck me the most was the wooden barrel staves on display. We could see the ancient branded markings in old Latin clear as day, and one stave still bore a round stain from when some Roman set something dirty on it. The world's oldest coffee ring, perhaps?

There was a fascinating collection of Roman locks and keys that were much more intricate than what I would have assumed they had at the time.

Other interesting finds in the museum included a piece of intricately painted glass that had been imported from Roman Germany, some surprisingly shiny Roman coins a bug-resistant wig made from local moss, and a small metal hand used for religious ceremonies.

But the pride of the museum's collections was a barely distinguishable pair of leather boxing gloves. Boxing was a favorite pastime in the Roman Empire, and there are countless artistic depictions of soldiers and gladiators wearing an ancient form of boxing gloves. But these gloves found at Vindolanda are the only known surviving pair in the entire world.

Normally, there is an afternoon guided tour of the ruins, but today's tour was replaced with a performance by a group of local Roman Legion reenactors.

They described their arms, armor, and troop composition. We learned that up until the mid-20th century, historians didn’t actually know for sure how the iconic Roman segmented plate armor worked. It wasn’t until an old wooden chest under someone's house was discovered to contain two intact sets that people were able to accurately recreate them. And by recreating them, historians and reenactors can learn firsthand how they work and would likely have been used.

And you know you're in for a treat when your tour guide is excitedly taking pictures along with the rest of the group.

We learned how most of the soldiers manning Hadrian’s wall would not have actually been Legionnaires, but rather auxiliaries. Auxiliaries were non-citizen soldiers who fought for the Roman army in exchange for citizenship after 25 years of honorable service. In the meantime, they got less money, worse equipment, and more dangerous postings.

The reenactors also described how the invincibility of the Roman army was not just due to the superiority of their arms and armor. At the time, the Romans basically reinvented the idea of a professional, standing army. The Celts of Scotland had a proud and fierce warrior culture, but they didn’t really have armies. When one clan went to war against another, they would just gather all the able-bodied men together and head out. They were strong and fierce, but they just didn’t have the skills and tactics that full-time soldiers are able to develop through years of constant, structured practice.

We got to see the reenactors charge, duel, throw spears, and even fire a ballista (basically a giant crossbow, for anyone who's never played Age of Empires).

Leaving Vindolanda, we headed back up to Edinburgh through the western Lowlands. Again, the rolling hillsides were spectacular. I was especially enthralled by the area around the River Tweed, the home of a famous British textile. We could easily see how the raiding parties Nik described could hide out in a fog-cloaked ravine and become virtually unfindable. Nik also pointed out the particular hillsides where the wild haggis love to run free--in circles, of course, because of their naturally lopsided legs.

We also passed by the narrowest hotel in Britain.

Back in Edinburgh, we finally got my dad his first taste of Nando's before heading back home. It was in a shopping mall at the edge of Old Town, and it was about an hour's wait between when we first put our names down on the waiting list and when we actually got our food. It was well worth it, though--especially considering that it would be our last Nando's of the trip.

Back home, we rested up and prepared ourselves for our last two days in Edinburgh. We would be staying in the city, and we had almost all of it left to see.

Next Post: Edinburgh, Part 2 (History, Hiking, and Beer)

Last Post: Glasgow

[ilopisara]

16.01. 21:53 | Ilo Pisara vs Liepo 7 - 1

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, let's break down the hockey masterpiece that just unfolded before our very eyes. Ilo Pisara has once again shown they're not here to play patty-cake; they came to serve a cold dish of puck domination with a 7-1 thrashing over Liepo! First off, Teppo Winnipeg – oh captain my captain! With stats like an '80s arcade game high score: one goal, two assists, and blocking shots as if he were swatting away pesky flies at a summer BBQ. A round of applause for this Puck Moving Defenseman who moves smoother than butter on hot toast. And Yuri Tarde in net? More like Yuri "The Wall" Tarde! Stopping pucks left and right with the grace of a ballet dancer – except when it comes to penalty shots... but hey, nobody's perfect. Still boasting a .93 save percentage is nothing short of sorcery between those pipes. Macho Fantastico lived up to his name - Macho indeed! Three goals plus four assists? That’s more points than my last Scrabble game against Grandma (and she’s ruthless). Sure there were giveaways - probably thought we were running some charity event out there - but all is forgiven when you light the lamp that many times. Jani Saari was dishing out hits harder than reality checks on payday while pocketing three goals himself. The man had possession time longer than any awkward silence after telling your in-laws you’re pursuing mime school full-time. So what do we have here? A team hotter than jalapeño poppers fresh from the oven. Keep this up folks; history books might need an extra chapter titled “Ilo Pisara: Legends or Aliens?” because normal teams don’t play hockey like this! Now rest up warriors; tomorrow we go back into battle where I expect nothing less than pure excellence—or at least enough effort so no one mistakes us for traffic cones on ice again.

[athanassezafirov]

traffic cone road warrior, or something like that via /r/PixelArt https://t.co/CkabuvAP0S https://t.co/yCP5Q0feas

[juniperandmagpie]

Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks for #NPS100

We are true weekend warriors, willing to travel really far distances for very short amounts of time. This time we drove 6.5 hours from San Diego to celebrate the National Park's centennial anniversary at King's Canyon and Sequoia National Parks for a mere 36 hours of time in the parks...

The National Parks actually celebrate their anniversary every year for the weekend of August 25th with free entry to the parks, but this year was especially important because it was celebrating the 100 year anniversary! #NPS100

We stayed at Sunset Campground in Hume, California smack dab between the two parks. Leaving straight from work and braving the LA rush hour traffic, it took closer to 7.5 hours to arrive in the pitch black night around midnight. Our camp site was unfortunately not very private, nor level, and happened to also be set on a bed of stone just below the soil. So we slept on a complete slant, slipping down through the night, without our tent anchored in - the things we do. On to the positive...

Kings Canyon National Park

We really enjoyed this underrated and less crowded National Park. The landscape of King's Canyon felt similar to Yosemite, but without all the people, so we affectionately called it Yosemite Jr. Huge granite rocks towered above our heads, spiking out in to pinnacles and enveloping you with the magnitude of their size. Boulders were strewn across the canyon floor, and King's River rushed by us as we traversed through the forest of pines, redwoods and sequoias surrounding us. It was silent and peaceful, and the portion of the trail we were on was basically flat the entire time as it followed the river through the canyon.

Things to see & do:

General Grant Tree: One of the largest giant sequoia trees in the world (we'll get to the largest one in a minute...), this tree is set in a forest of sequoias with plenty big trees to take in.

Road's End trail towards Misty Falls trail: This trail was great because it was so undisturbed. No cars, bikes or shuttles, just a few people enjoying the wilderness. This trail also leads to a 4-5 day backpacking loop which connects to the PCT. If you come to the trail more prepared than we did, you can make your way to the waterfall at Misty Falls.

Wildlife: We (luckily) didn't see any bears, but this area is much more wild and an active black bear zone. We saw tons of lizards, insects, and even a rattle snake (he slithered away unbothered).

Swimming: We skinny dipped in King's River (we forgot our suits). The water is really cold, but it is relaxing and refreshing even just to dip your toes in.

Kings River

Magpie flexing post skinny dip

--

Sequoia National Park

Giant sequoias are the world's largest single trees and largest living thing by volume. The trees are ancient, the oldest known one being 3,500 years old. Being amongst them knowing they were here long before us, and will still be there long after us is amazing. Their bark's evolutionary resiliency is also impressive. It it not only fire resistant, but actually depends on and thrives in forest fires, eliminating competing vegetation, and setting the stage for their cones to open.

In addition to housing the largest sequoia trees in the world, Sequoia National Park also boasts the largest mountain in the lower 48: Mt. Whitney, making the park's designation extend vertically nearly 13,000 feet.

Things to do & see:

General Sherman Tree: The largest living organism on earth and the biggest tree in the entire world in terms of density. There are other taller or wider tress, but none with as dense of wood in the trunk. Beware: this area is very touristy and crowded.

Crystal Cave: This drive was off the cut and quite out of the way. Entrance to the actual cave requires an $18, 1 hour guided tour. We opted just for the lush hike down along a waterfall that dipped down each layer of rock deviating directions ever so slightly. The walk back up from the bottom was definitely a work out!

Big Tree Trail:  A peaceful walk amongst the giant sequoias overlooking a vast meadow. Learn about the trees, climb through hollowed out fallen soldiers, and admire how small and young you feel next to these thousand year old warriors.

Fallen sequoia tree on Big Tree Trail

Moro Rock: This was definitely the highlight of the trip! The trail leading up to the rock is 1.6 miles each way, and the majority of the hike is through a shaded forest area that is serene and easy to traverse without much elevation gain. Then for the last quarter mile you head straight up Moro Rock to an unexpectedly breathtaking view of the high Sierra Mountains. The last portion of the hike felt a lot like a safer, easier Angel's Landing. There is a shuttle at the bottom of the rock that can take you back, but it is super crowded, so we just headed back the way we came on foot.

The beginning of the trail. Mostly shaded and flat amongst sequoia trees and ferns.

Our first look at the stairway to the top of Moro Rock (we had no idea this was ahead)

The long climb...

The summit...

Oh the views...

All in all these parks are great to visit. It's nice that they are both right next to each other, making for so much to do over your stay. The views are stunning, the magnitude of the canyon is immense, and the resiliency of the giant sequoia trees is inspiring. And since 84% of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks is designated wilderness, meaning accessibility is available only by foot or horseback, it makes for a very private encounter with nature and smaller crowds (even on a free entry weekend).

Have you been to these parks? We'd love to hear about your favorite sights in the comments.

'Til next time, stay wild!