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#I LOVE THE SHAPE LANGUAGE!
nerdpoe · 10 months
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Danny has an Ice Core.
He isn't aware of it, but this does, in fact, greatly influence how his ghost form looks as he grows up.
His appearance starts getting more rugged, eyes a paler, more piercing green, hair a bit more uncontrollable and wild.
He packs muscle easily, even in human form.
When in ghost form, he has an aura of something patient and dangerous, and that sense only grows the older he gets.
Basically, our boy starts to look like a viking.
No matter how goofy and bumbling he really is, his first impression is always a horrifying moment for whoever is meeting him.
And as his ghost form grows with his human form, he outgrows his hazmat outfit. Frostbite and the Far Frozen fashion him some new clothes-which only compliment and play off of the viking aesthetic he's got going on.
And with the height he inherited from his father?
Our man is a very, very intimidating figure to look at. More so than Dan; because while Dan was dangerous and scary, he was all energy and lightning and rage.
Adult Danny comes across as lethal and terrifying, all ice and persistence and that final, terrible silence before you realize you've already died.
Dan felt like the warrior in front of you. Danny feels like the wilderness in winter, vast and unforgiving.
Anyways, when a summoning for Klarion goes horribly wrong and Danny gets called instead, the Justice League has a moment where they're convinced they've summoned something much, much worse than Klarion.
And Danny, standing there completely confused, is not helping by remaining silent and still while staring John Constantine in the eye.
Good news, the bad guys are also very concerned about the weird ghost viking and are actually moving to stand side by side with the Justice League on this.
Bad news, who the fuck is this guy?
"...Fuck," is all Constantine whispers, backing away slowly.
@simplestoryteller
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I don't know if you've already been asked this before, but would it be okay to make tintin fanart with your chang design?
Absolutely! I'd love to see what people make with my design! Be sure to tag me so I can see it!
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He's a little tricky to draw so here's a sort of model sheet/style guide for him. Even though this is my own design I struggle getting him right half the time! This is what his design has become after I've spent ages drawing him so you will find plenty of examples of my own art breaking these "rules." I've done one for Tintin some time ago here
You don't have to adhere to this strictly in order to draw him! This is only a guide if you want to emulate my way of drawing him! Have fun with it. Chang would want you to.
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scribefindegil · 8 months
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As much as I adore conlangs, I really like how the Imperial Radch books handle language. The book is entirely in English but you're constantly aware that you're reading a "translation," both of the Radchaai language Breq speaks as default, and also the various other languages she encounters. We don't hear the words but we hear her fretting about terms of address (the beloathed gendering on Nilt) and concepts that do or don't translate (Awn switching out of Radchaai when she needs a language where "citizen," "civilized," and "Radchaai person" aren't all the same word) and noting people's registers and accents. The snatches of lyrics we hear don't scan or rhyme--even, and this is what sells it to me, the real-world songs with English lyrics, which get the same "literal translation" style as everything else--because we aren't hearing the actual words, we're hearing Breq's understanding of what they mean. I think it's a cool way to acknowledge linguistic complexity and some of the difficulties of multilingual/multicultural communication, which of course becomes a larger theme when we get to the plot with the Presgar Translators.
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lylahammar · 3 months
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I’m so happy I’m fat 🥰 I love grabbing substantial handfuls of my tummy and feeling its comforting weight 💕 I love shaking my body around and feeling myself jiggle like pudding 💖 I feel really sexy when I wear bodycon outfits and fill them out, or let my fat rolls peek under my crop tops ❤️‍🔥 I love that my my body is a comfortable place for my girlfriend to lay, and that I can carefully squash the lights outta her when she wants pressure 💘 I love that my body fat keeps me warm when the power goes out during a winter storm and our house gets down to 32 degrees inside 💗 I’m so glad that I got over my teenage obsession with staying skinny and grew into a fat and happy adult 😊
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bogcreacher · 1 month
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CHALLENGING YOU TO DRAW THE BUG DRAGONS
on it boss o7
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splankie · 3 months
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*remembers i can draw whatever i want forever*
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winterleech · 3 months
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I love how this is the universal way to draw Otasune. Like yes everyone has their own spin on the two and there’s many an art style they’ve been portrayed in but every artist has to draw them like this at LEAST once
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keenadraws · 8 months
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The Andalites
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monpalace · 1 year
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ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.
content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.
warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.
notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?
i'll eat them. omnom
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LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.
When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.
(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)
(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)
It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.
Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.
He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.
Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).
What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.
When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.
(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)
(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)
A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.
He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.
During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.
The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.
He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.
The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.
You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.
You'd already given him a large snack earlier.
The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.
He takes a bite of it gratefully.
"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."
You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.
"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.
"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"
Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.
He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.
He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.
Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.
You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)
Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.
He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.
Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.
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ARAM is often humbled in your abode.
He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.
He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).
Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.
He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.
Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.
("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."
(You never had the heart to ask again.)
He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.
His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.
It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.
It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.
When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.
He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.
He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.
Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.
The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.
He craves more.
The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.
Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.
He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.
You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.
He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.
You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.
"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"
He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.
He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.
(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)
(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)
Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.
You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."
"Did I look ill before?"
You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.
The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.
"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."
And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.
He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."
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humming-fly · 2 years
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According to the wiki Meta Knight has a bit of a potty mouth, which makes sense when you remember he’s technically a sailor 
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jsabbuddies · 26 days
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Possible jsab designs
The boyfriends
Hunk and twink
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prommytheus · 10 months
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the quadrilateral boys
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starflungwaddledee · 7 months
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kirbytober 2023 21 + 26 : fav characters + ship [ prev || next ]
putting this at the top because it's extremely important but i received a message implying that some folks headcanon these two as drastically different ages. you may headcanon whatever you like of course, but in my work i firmly think that they're both full adults who are at least 25+. this is abundantly clear in my work. i'm not interested in headcanoning any of them as literal children and i would never touch that shit. dni if you think that sort of ship would actually be okay. don't be a freak. thanks.
very typical to take your favs and then also shove them together but isn't that the point. anyway i have literally never seen anybody else ship them (if you're out there... hello... 😭) despite them both being very main characters and i don't know why?? they could be so cute i think...
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they are both industrious adventurers, prolific hard-workers (team task doers), and a little cheekily competitive!
i think that bandee is no stranger to a wide variety of close and intense relationships; he's beloved by many and loves them all equally but distinctly in turn. magolor on the other hand has been sooo isolated and lonely for such a long-ass time, he barely knows how to be friends let alone really care for someone. bandee is smart enough to be suitably wary but kind enough to give him a chance despite that, which i think would knock him off his non-existent feet instantly. in reply, magolor could give him something unique by loving and prioritising him utterly singularly, in a way bandee wouldn't even have realised he was missing
in awtdy (pictured in the sketch page; if you see a tattered looking magolor in my art it's probably this au) in particular they are both thrown into the angst soup together and come out insanely trauma bonded at the hip. their friendship/relationship is central to the plotline; together they're working on a solution to the timeline anomaly, while also hiding that they even really know each other the whole time
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wundrousarts · 2 months
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Wow, love this still from the animated Nevermoor movie!
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quirkyfries · 2 months
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I do not own these characters!
Surprise surprise, ruin appears again XD. I wanted to practice half-rendering lighting, and I have a few doodle pages in my sketchbook that I can subject to experimentation. As funny as my reference was, their poses were very similar. Oh well, this was still fun to try to render! Watching videos of the guns in action was also an experience, for reference purposes.
This doodle is based on chapter six— when Eclipse and Ruin were preparing to leave to go.. run some errands xP.
These characters belong to @sinclairmaxwellao3 ‘s SAMS Mafia AU! Please go check out her work at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54344629?view_full_work=true
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koszmarnybudyn · 1 year
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This was great, such a little treat for me, the cast is so funny.
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