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kaihuntrr · 9 months

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A bunch of Scott designs I did for warmups <3 using my personal head canons for each one! Explanations for their looks and ‘names’ down below!

Life Series: Scott!

I love all of them so much,, I wanted to keep their outfits and general vibes simple, they’re all pretty but also some practicality in their wardrobes as they are in some type of survival game ehe.

3rd Life: Poppy

Self explanatory name, this version of Scott is the sweetest and the most disconnected from the survival games. He only wanted to live with his husband in their little paradise in forms of flower valleys and endless wheat fields, completely isolated from the war. His outfit is of a gardener, overalls and a sunhat with his and Jimmy’s favorite flower; poppies. He grew out his hair and ties it, not wanting it to be in the way of his work. He is overly protective of his husband, wanting to keep him safe and away from danger for as much as he possibly can. A widow’s rage is something else.

I imagine 3rd Life designs to be more humanoid, so Scott here is an elf! This soul of his moved on to Empires, where he spends the rest of his days with his husband in sweet bliss.

Last Life: Star

Earned the name after being victorious in the game of betrayal. A guiding star to others, he keeps the titular mark on his forehead for the remainder of his time in the Life Series due to being a winner, a reminder of him losing his final life to a lightning bolt. He is the most cunning, using his wits and trust to be a strong ally. He lived in the center of all the chaos with his partner, his best friend Pearl, using little moths to communicate to each other. With sheltered forests and a cottage as their ‘home’, he has deer-like features and antlers to boot. Perhaps this was an attempt to recreate a copy of Poppy, as he has some memories of ‘his’ previous life. He dresses in a neat dress shirt and vest, matching with his best friend and fitting the aesthetic of their pretty house in the woods. Just don’t touch the wall, please.

I wanted to use yellows for this design, as he starts off with two lives! Plus, the contrast looks so good <3 this soul is the host of future life seasons, having full clarity of this life when he goes into future events. Once a series is over, all precious memories will wash over him and the star will hover over his head. This is his ‘real’ form, his ‘winning’ soul.

Double Life: Venus

Named after the brightest ‘star’ next to the moon, he feels isolated. He felt something familiar as he was brought into this life, but he never expected to be connected to Pearl. He shouldn’t blame her, but he doesn’t deal well with being alone. Somehow, he still has a brief memory of Poppy’s as he feels.. something when Jimmy’s soulbound isn’t with him. He loves being with Cleo, his chosen soulmate, and being Pearl’s soulbound meant he could feel her frustration and loneliness. Should he have been there for her? Likely. He couldn’t bare seeing her face again. He couldn’t bare losing her again. Not again. Maybe it was better this way, they’re both hurting. He hopes this is better.

I used green as he was green in his iconic and heartbreaking moment of splitting off with Pearl and Martyn to join up with Cleo, and also I can remember him being mostly green until Pearl ups and ruins that- he’s a ram, his horns shifting to ram horns to solidify his stubborn nature to reconnect, and a general ranch aesthetic given he and Cleo made a whole soulmate ranch thing. The hair over his eyes are to hide his teary eyes, still missing and hurting over his soulmate.

Limited Life: Coral

A fitting name for the person who established the Coral Isles. The cottage was in the middle of it all, so he wanted his life to be away from all the drama, just by the side of the map near the ocean to relax. Unfortunately, things just won’t stop coming for him. Be it being the boogeyman first, allying with someone who you swore was supposed to kill you, and more memories of your past life you don’t understand coming back to haunt you, it’s a little too much. He can’t help but be flirty with Martyn though, the man definitely bites back. He finds his partner’s overprotective-ness rather adorable, and he’d do anything for him back, even give him time.

Fish!! Drastically different than my AU design, which is good- used his red skin as he did wonderfully as a red name and whenever I think of Limited Life I’d always think of Red Scott, which I adore <3 he does have long hair, can’t not have his long hair for him!

Until series five comes out, these are my thoughts and ideas for Life Series Scott! I’d love to write out possible interaction ideas but I’m afraid this post might be too long LMAO- a good break from Sea Prince content, but I absolutely adore the life series and the pseudo-story I have for this guy in particular. Who knows, you might see fullbodies of them in the future? :D no promises!

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phntmeii · 9 months

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♡ Dating Aemond Targaryen Headcanons:

❝ I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.❝

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: Honestly not shocked Aemond was voted high for headcanons lmao. I will say he was a bit tougher simply because he doesn't have many lines/screentime to base him on so it might be a bit OOC!!

⚔︎ Aemond's interest is something that would keep hidden to himself for a good while. He isn't one to want to show emotions especially ones that he could consider a weakness.

⚔︎ His interest in the beginning can be only seen through his silent watchful gaze across the hall toward you. It's piercing and intense that Aemond might not realize that it seems more threatening than affectionate honestly.

⚔︎ If you happened to find out, it's because one of his siblings found out first. Both of them CANNOT keep a secret for their LIFE and would embarrass him with (semi)good intentions.

⚔︎ If it's Aegon that found out, he found out because he recognizes such a stare from himself. He would immediately (probably drunkenly) approach you and try to wingman by asking you a slew of questions to get to know you then drop Aemond's name around the conversation.

⚔︎ "An interest in books? Eh. Not for me personally, my lady, but I can assure you that my brother cannot pull his head out of one."

⚔︎ If it's Helaena that found out, it's because Aemond told her in the hopes for advice and explicitly told her to keep it a secret. Cue her telling you the moment she next saw you casually.

⚔︎ "Aemond? Oh! He told me of how he dreams of you through the night, you know!”

⚔︎ ^ Sweet girl thought this wasn’t a big deal because she dreams vividly about people all the time.

⚔︎ Once the secret's out, he has no choice but to approach you. He keeps his head high and looks to you with the same intent stare. His voice is low as he confirms what has been said about him.

⚔︎ At the beginning, he is hesitant to initiate any affection. Due to his previous experiences with women at the hands of Aegon, he finds it difficult and becomes reclusive.

⚔︎ He'll mainly take you for walks and read beside you but keep quiet. He more so waits for you to initiate conversation and watches you.

⚔︎ He may seem annoyed or irritated but that's just his resting face. Everything you say is ingrained into his mind and whatever you express interest or like of is immediately logged for future reference.

⚔︎ Once physical contact is more accepted, he tries it more in a gentleman-like manner. Kissing the back of your hand each time you meet, offering his arm when you two walk together and more.

⚔︎ His favorite is admiring your face while his hand holds your cheek. It's almost as though he's trying to memorize each part like it was artwork.

⚔︎ He tries his best to impress you when possible. Aemond wants to prove himself to you and prove he's worthy of your affections.

⚔︎ Whether this be with his knowledge of history and philosophy, sparring, or some other skill of his, he wants to prove he is worth any of your attention.

⚔︎ Absolutely caters to you especially in public settings or events. Too overwhelmed? He’s guiding you out of the room to calm down. Someone is getting too pushy? He’s ready to defend you in a moment’s notice. Feeling ignored? His attention fully turns to you to entertain your conversations.

⚔︎ Aemond is also one to fully understand your boundaries to keep you comfortable. He would never want to push too far considering his own past regarding being pushed like that. Any requests you make of him will be fully honored by him.

⚔︎ Aemond does have quite the soft spot for you and strictly for you. Once comfortable with you, he can’t help but melt when you’re excited about something. He’d be studying his book for the day and once you come in with a newly-designed outfit, twirling around happily to show it off to him, he slowly breaks out into a warm smile and sets his book aside to give you his full loving gaze.

⚔︎ Aemond’s Main Love Languages to give are: Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.

⚔︎ Aemond enjoys having your presence around him, finding it to be calming. At dinners, he sits right beside you and defaults to looking over at you to feel comfortable. Knowing you’re by his side soothes him.

⚔︎ He’ll also try and teach you any little thing about his personal interests just because he likes to share with you. This is even better if you also know about the subject matter! He gets very excited at the prospect of someone as knowledgeable as he is!

⚔︎ Aemond likes to give you daily reminders of how much he simply adores you. In fact, each time you two are getting ready in the morning, Aemond walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and telling you how stunning you look.

⚔︎ Aemond will make it his internal mission to ensure you never feel unloved or unappreciative. And if you have any insecurities? He’s spending every moment reminding you that you’re precious in every sense of the word.

⚔︎ “Darling, surely you are not here sulking when you are the perfect definition of beauty itself? I feel as though *I* am the one unworthy of being in your presence with such perfection.”

⚔︎ Aemond’s Favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

⚔︎ Both of these play a part in soothing his insecurities imo.

⚔︎ Obviously, while he feels losing his eye was worth the prize he claimed, it nevertheless makes him feel odd because he knows people are staring at him for it.

⚔︎ He wouldn’t wish to scare you with what his eye looks like which is why he covers it. But showing his scarred eye love and appreciation with gentle touches and kisses as well as endless praise, he’s looking up at you with sparkling puppy dog eyes.

⚔︎ “You truly believe… I am worthy of such affections? …Are you sure?”

⚔︎ While Aemond can maintain his stoicism in public settings, in private, he can’t help but want your gentle touch and complimentary words. It becomes a craving of whenever you’re in his presence.

⚔︎ This craving can cause him to unintentionally grow possessive and overprotective. He sees himself as your personal protector and he would rather die than fail to protect you in any manner.

⚔︎ Aemond may shoot threatening glares or bluntly insult other people if he feels they grow too “familiar” with you. Aegon would tease him for looming over you all the time which Aemond will insist is for your protection. (You were just walking to the privy.)

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#asoiaf #asoiaf headcanons #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #asoiaf x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond headcanons #aemond targaryen headcanons #hotd headcanons

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 2 months

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Hope Morphin Q&A

About a few months ago, I got a message from a surprising source: @hmrphin/Hope Morphin.

In case you don't know, Hope Morphin is a model and makeup artist who the character of Marc was based on. I also made a post about how their friendship with Astruc had ended thanks to the Rising Sun Flag controversy, which they had actually read one day. We talked a little, and they told me to message them on their Instagram to confirm that this is the real Hope.

They said they'd be down to answer some questions, I came up with a few, and I got their permission to post this on my account. So, without further ado, as Sid the Science Kid once said, let's go get some answers.

Question: When did you and Thomas first get to know each other, and how?

Answer: It was years ago, when the series premiered on TFOU. There were a lot of people complaining on twitter that the characters of the show were in 3D instead of in 2D, and I answered one of Thomas' tweets saying that characters' butts looked better in 3D rather than in 2D (yeah, I had a terrible sense of humor back then, glad I don't do that anymore) and he answered "yeah we could say that lol". Then, it became a running gag between us on the web, and we met for the first time at a french convention called Japan Tours, the 2015 one. So yeah, I think it was when I was... 20/21 years old, something like that.

Question: It's okay. We've all been cringe at some point in their lives. Did you two meet up again after the convention?

Answer: Yup. In fact, after the convention, he sent me a friend request on Facebook. Then, we chatted for a bit and he asked me if I wanted to be a model for him, and I met him for the second time during that model session.

Question: How did Thomas approach you about creating a character in his show based on you?

Answer: So, it was after I modeled for him. It happened after S1 has ended, so when we were chatting, he asked me which one was my favorite character. I answered Nathaniel, because at this time I felt quite close to this one (we love the angsty artist boy lmao). He told me that he didn't understand people liking Nath because he found it was a very empty character aha, but then he told me that they were searching for inspiration to create a boyfriend for him. He told me he wanted the persons to be happy that he got a boyfriend and that they would “stop bothering him with Nathaniel”, and as he wanted to take inspiration on someone looking androgynous he thought I was a good inspiration, so I accepted.

Question: Interesting story. Didn't know Nathaniel was so popular before Season 2. Did you have any input in the creation of Marc in terms of stuff like his design or personality?

Answer: Yeah he rather was, I remember a lot of people wanted to see more of him ehe. Not at all, I even though that he was joking on the moment, then one day he sent me Marc's characters sheet. I had the same haircut back in the day. Also, I was always wearing armor rings and I was wearing those kind of rings when I had this conversation with him, and he told me that Marc was going to have one of those as his miraculous. I was also still writing a lot back in the days, so I guess he still did took some stuff there and there in my personality to create him.

Question: You mean this design?

Answer: Yup! I was wearing only black sooo yeah the red and rainbow wasn't in my wardrobe aha.

Question: Do you know why they made the design rainbow themed?

Answer: Nah, he didn't told me :/ My guess is to make him more LGBT+ themed...

Question: Okay, sorry. Next question: What are your thoughts on Marc as a character? What do you think of his relationship with Nathaniel and his respective villain and hero forms, Reverser and Rooster Bold?

Answer: To be honest, when he first appeared, I really liked him. I thought he had a lot of potential as a character, his villain form was really cool and I really liked the ideas behind him, and I liked the relationship that he got with Nathaniel, from enemies to associates ehe. But after that... meh. There wasn't nothing much on the LGBT+ relationship with Nathaniel (we had to wait until the end of season 5 to see them hold hands... wow), and I didn't really find myself anymore in his character. I liked the design of his hero form and I liked the concept of his power, but like the other heroes that appeared during this episode, we didn't see Rooster Bold that much and I think that doesn't really make him feel appealing. I have the feeling that Marc and many other side characters could be way more develop in very cool subthemes but this is never really done in the series. Instead, now, they are just the characters getting out a whiteboard and giving terrible ideas to Marinette for her to date Adrien =="

Question: Just for fun, do you have any personal headcanons for Marc?

Answer: Well of course ehe, I have ton of those :D

Mmmh... For example, I think he is a dog person, that he's also fond of fashion such as Marinette but that he just don't have the patience to learn how to draw and how to design clothes... Also have the headcanon that him and Nath often meet at one of their places to do some little workshops together to work on their series and on tons of other projects :D

Got also tons of headcanon for future!Marc, such as him being a model for lgbt+ brands and Nath designing his clothes, I would love to see this shy patootie being at the front of the spotlight ehe, full of confidence and all :D There's tons of ideas to have with this character, I remember when I saw lots of artists drawing him with alternate clothes back in the day, such as shishitsunari or hazy (will try to find them back but it's been a while lol). I wish those clothing styles would be canon, with Marc rocking those kind of genderless clothes.

Links to fanart of Marc with different outfits: (https://www.deviantart.com/hazydayclouds/art/72918-756895643) and (https://ladyofacat.tumblr.com/post/176231424098/rises-from-the-underworld-marc-is-perfect-i-want)

Question: This one's a little tough, so if you don't want to answer, that's perfectly fine. What exactly went down before Thomas blocked you? Did you have any conversation online or in real life regarding the use of the Rising Sun Flag in "Ephemeral", or did Thomas just block you with no warning?

Answer: Honestly ? Blocked me without any warning. We were talking less and less, and, since I have affective dependancy, I had the feeling that I said / done something wrong. He was often answering only when I was defending him on social medias during these times. But we didn't have any harsh conversation from what I recall. So, I did the tweet about ephemeral, pointing out the use of the rising sun flag, and, well, maybe he had a plugin on twitter that blocked everyone using the term "flag", and maybe it blocked me automatically. The thing is : he has my number, he has my address (well, my old address now, lol). He had many ways to tell me this was a misunderstanding and that he didn't want to block me. He didn't call me, didn't send me any text after that to talk about it, so he clearly didn't want to make anything to sort out the problem. To this day, he still hasn't send me any message to talk about it. He commented on some of my facebook posts I did last year (I posted some makeups I did for my school) just saying it was cool, so... Yeah, not the type of friend I want to keep. I still have him as a friend on FB if I ever get the guts to try to send him a message to tell him everything that was wrong towards me and towards other people, but I clearly have other things to deal with lately.

Question: So he blocked you and didn't say anything else?

Answer: Yup, exactly, blocked me and didn't say anything else :/ After years of supporting him lmao.

Question: I'm really sorry to hear that. And you still haven't heard from him after all this time?

Answer: Well, apart from some comments he made on my facebook posts (I posted my makeup from my makeup school and he commented "very nice!") nothing at all. But honestly I'm not too bothered by that. I heard new stuff that he did prior and I really don't think it's a good idea that I interact with him again. I keep him in my facebook friends because maybe one day I'll send him a message to try to confront him, telling him that he had a very terrible behavior towards me and other people... But not today, I have other stuff to deal with.

Question: Despite everything that's happened between you and Thomas, do you still keep up with Miraculous Ladybug? If so, what do you think of it?

Answer:

Well, I've kept up with it because I still have lots of friends who are watching it (for example Octolady, Kogenta and Candy...), and they help me keep a little hype.

So I watched the episodes... There are some stuff that I like. There's good LGBT+ representation, and I like seeing an international known cartoon doing that (especially a french one since we have lots of far-right rising lately).

But honestly, I don't have the same hype as before. At the beginning, I was hyped because S1 looked awesome and had lots of cool fights, lots of wholesome characters and all, but the animation problems and differences are really making me bothered. Also, I have the feeling there's a lot of characters who could be more elaborated and who aren't, and... That's kinda sad, because there's a lot of topics that could be explored thanks to them and not just brushed off in one episode.

Plus, to be honest, I didn't really like the ending of S5. And I don't like the idea of it going on for seasons and seasons and seasons, milked until there's nothing more for it. The fewer the better in my mind...

I also seen the movie and didn't really liked it. Too much fanservice and didn't really made sense. The animation was nice, though.

Honestly, I love the writing team, they are wholesome people and they are doing their best for this show, but people like Thomas and Zag are the kind of people I don't want to support anymore. So yeah... To sum it up : still watching it from afar to see if nice stuff is happening, been pleased with some little stuff, displeased with a lot more, but I don't think I'll keep watching it both because I'm not that hyped up anymore and because I don't want to support anymore these 2 people. I supported Thomas too much before, was too attached to him and was a terrible person towards fans who didn't deserved it because I was too blind, so yeah, won't happen anymore.

Still, I'm glad there's still some people who are fans of Marc and who felt helped thanks to this character. I really hope he will have a better representation in the future (clear relationship with Nath, maybe even some trans / non-binary representation ?) in order to inspire young people.

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I'd like to personally thank Hope for being willing to answer my questions, and I highly reccommend giving their Instagram a follow.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marc anciel #rooster bold #reverser

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zynxwrite · 9 months

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pairings ❰ rotxo x f!reader

roxto crushing on a dance performer, he tries to confess his feelings with a cute gift. fluff fluff fluff filled with fluff.

"Come on, Rotxo! I'm sure she'll love the gift you're making, I mean you hand picked those shells until sunset!"

Tsireya made an effort to brighten Rotxo up by speaking positive statements that was empty of lies. He had just recently confessed to her his long-standing crush for you. Who would not? the way you move was majestic, the way your body swayed and danced with the wind, as for your mane glittered with the stars, while the music sang to your movements.

Rotxo spent the entire day collecting seashells of various shapes and sizes along the shoreline. Each shell held a meaning, representing a moment or memory he had shared with you. He arranged them carefully in a small, intricately designed small woven basket that he had crafted himself, pouring his heart and soul into every detail.

He was not positive of his plan, there are other males, that some are attractive and adored your dancing as he loved you. There's no way that you would see sight of him!

“But what if she doesn’t like it?! And what-what if she thinks it’s trash?” Roxto looked down at his unfinished work, the seashells reminded him of you. It was beautiful and ethereal. His fear of rejection poured into his feelings, he wasn't sure if he would continue this.

‘oh boy..he sure is nervous.’

Tsireya eyed her brother so that he might give Rotxo some confidence as he continued to give off an anxious vibe. Simply rolling his eyes, he stepped forward his friend.

"Trust me, girls like her like these kind of gifts. Jus' go with the flow..?" Ao'nung tried to sound normal as he didn't care, but he does know surely that the seashell gift would fascinate you. Eh, what can he say, Rotxo had a good taste when it comes to designs.

“I’m really not sure of this. What if I just admire her from afar and-”

“Rotxo. Calm down.” Tsireya made sure that he looked at her. “Take a deep breathe. She will like it. I promise.”

"Look," Tsireya said, trying to emphasize her point, "You've known each other for so long. She values your friendship, and that's a strong foundation. The gift you're making is not just any gift; it's a reflection of your memories together, and that's something special. Don't underestimate the power of genuine sentiment."

While Rotxo tried to calm down. Tsireya talked to Aonung with just her eyes. They communicated by expressions. ‘Try to be more supportive, brother. He’s your bestfriend.’ She eyed Aonung. ‘I literally don’t know how.’ All Tsireya can do to react is simply sigh. Her brother has seaweed for brain.

"You're right," Rotxo finally said, mustering some determination. "I've spent so much time with her, and every moment has been magical. I can't let fear hold me back."

The sound of gentle waves caressed the shore, creating a soothing ambiance, which somehow managed to calm Rotxo's anxious heart. From afar, he saw you with a metkayina male giving you some freshly picked out flowers. He stopped walking and took a look of his own gift for you. A necklace made out of seashell. Seriously? What’s that compared to a whole bouquet?! Oh dear. His anxiety roared more. His ears folded as he saw you smile..Oh. How he wishes you could smile at him like that.

He notices Tsireya and the sully kids’ head above water to watch him confess to you. Neteyam gave him a thumbs up to show support while Tuktirey whisper-shouted a ‘Don’t be scared! You got this!’

Thank Eywa his friends were there to support him. He finally had the courage to finally walk up to you as the na’vi male was finally away from you. Good.

He could feel his body tremble as your eyes met his. he was like a child who’s scared of non-real monsters. But just seeing you look at him made him..calm.

“[Name]! Uh-Hi-wait, no. Uh-...Your dance was beautiful earlier. It made me feel relaxed, truth!” You couldn’t help but giggle at him stammering. He’s so cute. Was he not? You turn eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oh, Rotxo! What is it?"

Alright...This is the time. Butterflies filled his stomach, but he knew he had to do this. He approached with a warm smile, trying to mask his nerves.

"I know it might sound strange, but, um, I collected this seashell for you," he said, feeling a rush of vulnerability in his voice.

You looked at the seashell with amazement, touched by the gesture. "Wow, Rotxo, this is stunning! You made this for me?" you asked, your eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I've always admired how you appreciate the beauty of nature and the little things around you, just like this seashell. And, well, I've been wanting to tell you that... I really, really like you."

He waited patiently, but nervously for your respond. You have been silent for almost 30 seconds. Even his friends started to get nervous. Will you reject him? Will you not? WHAT WILL HAPPEN?! They wanted answers as soon as possible.

“Oh.” Oh? OH?! Is that all? Just oh?

Your eyes widened, your heart beating faster as it absorbed Rotxo's heartfelt confession. You were touched by his sincerity and courage in baring his feelings so openly. You were...happy. But couldn’t respond. Why>

If you couldn’t respond. Then he will talk, again. "Each of these shells has a story," he began, his voice steadier now. "They represent moments we've spent together, moments I cherish deeply." He picked up one delicate spiral-shaped shell. "This one is from the day we explored the hidden cave together." And he continued with the others. You were fascinated because they were just like a songcord.

Finally, Rotxo reached the last seashell. It was the most exquisite and rare shell he had found, a shimmering iridescent one. "This shell," he paused, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "this one is for you. Just for you, because you are the most beautiful and extraordinary person I know." He looked directly into the reader's eyes, his heart laid bare. "I-I love you, and I wanted to tell you in a way that showed how much you mean to me."

Finally. Your mouth started to move to say something.

“I-” I what? I love you? I hate you? “I..” Please just answer. “I-I appreciate this.”

“I never knew you had feelings for me, Rotxo..” Oh, he was getting rejected for sure. “I love you too.” Wait-what?

“HELL YEAH! YOU RULE, ROTXO!” Spider yelled out of excitement. Making you startle as he came from nowhere-and there you saw a few you na’vi above the water..Who has been watching you for minutes.

“Wait...You do?-how-”

“How can I not fall in love with the one I first performed to?” You smiled and held his hand with the shell-cord. “Don’t you remember? You were the one who first saw me dance years ago.”

Relief washed over Rotxo, and he felt a sense of peace in knowing that he had expressed his emotions genuinely. Regardless of the outcome, he cherished the connection he had with you and the unwavering support of his friends.

“Of course I do.” He smiled. "I've admired you from afar for a long time. Your kindness, your smile, the way you light up the room whenever you enter. I can't help but feel drawn to you, and I've wanted to tell you how I feel for a while now."

You smiled, placing a hand on Rotxo's shoulder, "Your feelings mean a lot to me, and I appreciate your honesty. Let's see where this journey takes us, together."

This night is truly beautiful.

“And that’s how Rotxo and [Name] became official~” Lo’ak Teased. “And you and Tsireya are next.” Neteyam whispered with tease which Aonung overheard and his eyes was ready to strangle someone. “Oh, great mother. Here we go.” Kiri sighed.

As the night continued, the group celebrated under the starlit sky, sharing stories, laughter, and dreams of the future. Rotxo and you held hands, walking along the shore, their hearts now connected in a way that felt like destiny.

"I can't believe I finally told you how I feel," Rotxo admitted, his voice a mix of vulnerability and relief.

"I'm glad you did," you replied, their heart filled with happiness. "You've always been there for me, and I cherish our friendship too. I never imagined that it would lead to this, but I'm so glad it did."

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spdrvyn · 17 days

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I loved your post about Miguel x autistic reader and I really want more pleease

overwhelmingly peaceful

summary: you found your place in spider society, but that didn't take away from the fact that it can get intensely noisy. you don't hesitate to turn to where you know for sure you'll be safe.

tags: fluff. suggestive joke/s. autistic reader. reader is gender neutral. hobie's here too i guess. author doesn't know how to write british slang.

notes: i'm really glad that you guys enjoyed the autistic reader drabbles i posted so i'm more than happy to write this request! projecting even more in this one, thank you for letting me self-indulge <3

The mere existence of The Spider Society was always enough to astound you. You thought that people didn't Miguel enough credit for basically building the place from the ground up, not to mention how many times he's had to travel to different universes to recruit all different kinds of Spider-People.

Of course, you were more than honored to be one of those people. There was a very good chance that you just got lucky to be on his team, Miguel caught you in that one moment where your abilities were at their peak and your light was really shining through. Luck or skill, you didn't care. This was the result of it, you were content with that.

Unfortunately, the society has its downsides. Considering the sheer amount of spiders that pass through, the hustle and bustle is too hard to ignore. You can't exactly carry around headphones every time you're there because where would you leave them just in case you'd be tasked to another mission? So you just tried to avoid the noisiest places, even then, it's hard to get any semblance of quiet.

"Oh my god," you mumbled to yourself, as you silently glared at the cafeteria table next to you. Charisma was just a natural trait to any spider, with that came very boisterous laughter from other people too. Surely, they were nice people, but in front of your salad? Really?

"You good, mate?" Hobie intervened, he leaned his head to the side to get a better look at your face, a small grin came onto his features. "Lads beside you 've always been that noisy. Can get them to shut their traps if you want."

An inaudible sigh left your lips as you shook your head, combing the hair out of your face. You gazed down at your untouched food for a moment, you liked hanging out with Hobie. He understood you and he was funny, but you weren't quite sure if you could handle being in an environment like this right now.

"No, no- it's fine." He raised a brow at your lie. "Okay, it's not. But you don't have to do that for me," you picked up your small take-out box of salad and juice, "The canteen is just too much right now for me, sorry."

Hobie shrugged, picking up a fry and expertly throwing into his mouth. "No problem, always got my drummer to bother. You going to hang with your boyfriend now, eh?" His smile turned more cheeky and you stared at him meanly to take away from the fact that your cheeks warmed at his comment.

You huffed and stomped away, "Oi, you didn't deny that!"

Miguel's office (a.k.a man cave) was dark and decrepit. For some odd reason, also liked a smell of any kind. You designated each area of the headquarters with a scent, but his area lacked any of the sort which you enjoyed. Not to mention, silent.

It wasn't like he really allowed any loud noise anyway, he had a strange list of items that were prohibited from entering his corner. Bells, blenders, on occasion, phones but that was from one time Gwen forgot to shut her alarm off and she got a small lecture on being considerate because the acoustics caused every sound that passed through to reverberate and increase in volume.

That means it would only make sense for Miguel to also hear your footsteps from a mile away, his platform already lowered for you to hop on and he's hunched over his desk. Sparks fly (not just from the sight of him, I swear) from the spot that he worked on and if you're not mistaken, there's a band wrapped around his head which meant he was wearing goggles.

You set your lunch tray down on the one empty spot on his desk before approaching slowly, you bend down to rest your hand on his shoulder and to lean your head against his. "What are you working on now, beautiful?"

Miguel put down the small soldering tool and took off his goggles, putting the freshly made panel closer to his eyes. "People submitted suggestions to make the wrist devices less bulkier," he blindly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an assassin, I've come to take your life." You spoke lowly, ominously. When Miguel doesn't turn to face you, you pout. "The noise in the cafeteria is overwhelming," you shift and properly situate yourself on his lap.

"I was just about to head out for lunch," Miguel sighed, before placing the panel in a small container.

"So... back to the cafeteria? People are sure to go speechless from catching a look at you," you joke, but there's a somber fry in your voice that he doesn't ignore. His warm breath tickled your neck as he pressed brief pecks down the column of your throat, the low hum he let out vibrating against your skin. "Are you that hungry, hermoso?"

"What I meant was," he paused, brushing more hair out of your face, properly tucking it behind your ear. "I was going to head up to my place for lunch. Where there's no people?"

You breathe a small 'ohhh' and Miguel chuckled, "That checks out, actually." You nodded. "Obviously there's no people, would've been weird to have anyone there two nights ago when we–"

"Okay, that's enough." Miguel cut you off, nearly smiling from ear to ear. "Get your lunch, mi sol."

"My hero."

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n

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moonshynecybin · 4 months

Note

you cantttt just say rosquez feminization and not elaborate…. penny for your thoughts

shout out to @lestelledreams who sent me another ask like this but tumblr ATE my response when i tried to post it. luckily i draft in notes app…okay so it would be easier to list thoughts i DONT have about rosquez feminization… under the cut bc we do in fact get a lil nasty here

so i’ve talked a bit about some of the non-racing oriented things marc does for his body like his hot girl routine (laser hair removal. skin creams. slutty workout videos) like my girl enjoys being SMOOTH he enjoys being conventionally SEXY (personally. bush til i die but whatever live your truth marc) and the first time he’s doing it as. okay i’m famous and photographed all the time AND around my hot older crush/idol who has fucked more people than i’ve ever even met in my lifetime… like a little insecure part of marc is like this is what vale wants… and one thing about my man marc is he will COMMIT. so he waxes himself hairless the entire time they are fucking the first from 2013-2015 (and beyond) and frankly vale would like him either way but MARC gets off on it so hard… making himself pretty for vale… and maybe vale says something like that in the moment, just like mindless dirty talk about how good he looks how he made himself all pretty like a girl, and marc jolts like he’s been electrocuted and whines and comes right then even though vale had like JUST got inside him… and he’s curled around vale panting eyes shining leg hitched around vale’s hip asking him to keep going and it’s SO clear he liked whatever that was a LOT.

so vale uh. catalogs that information. and starts to test some hypotheses #olditalianmeninSTEM by which i mean the next time marc is blowing him he curls his hand into marc’s hair and tugs a little until marc looks him in the eye and vale just sends it like they’re whipping 310km/hr around the track— like breathless mischievous confidence… starts feeding him a stream of dirty talk, calling him gorgeous telling him nasty stuff about his tits riding that lovely edge of complimentary and degrading and getting sooo gender about it, and he watches marc’s eyelashes flutter and his hand on vale’s hip tightens and then marc like. literally chokes himself on valentino’s dick he’s clearly so so into it and vale feels crazyyyyyyy… SORRY..

and then it’s onnnnn baby it is. using the feminine forms of italian endearments in bed. playing with his tits. losing the condom. weird roleplay where they laugh so much. it is delightfully horny and slightly goofy gender transgression that they are both SO obsessed with… like the sex whiplashes through tonal dissonance it is simultaneously the most intense thing they’ve ever felt and like. lethally campy. at one point they are BOTH the baby girls bc they love being hot and are not serious people

that being said it culminates with vale just like. buying disgustingly expensive neon yellow designer lingerie and leaving it in marc’s motorhome with a lil note that has like. a dumbass turtle doodle on it instead of his signature. like something very silly and valentino. and then they have the WORLD’S most insane sex about it where vale says all kind of nasty stuff about marc being his best girl and spits in his mouth and tries to get him pregnant. hashtag catholic weirdo moments. crucially it is never formally discussed until like. genuinely ten years later when vale is like impish nervous smile WE REALLY SHOULD HAVE TALKED ABOUT THAT EH? and marc’s like ? best sex of my life? wdym?

#i love them they’re like one big red flag. NOT the racing kind…#PLEASE know. i am a lover and haver of body hair this is just what i think would go on in their brains vis a vis their perceptions of gender #and marc’s deep commitment to being smooth all over like a dolphin #callie speaks #motogp #rosquez #asks

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Text

Threadbare (3)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part Three: Rupture/Fracture (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve skirts the line between protector and absolute doofus. Your fashion show begins.

[Image submitted by ask and does not reflect reader's race or body type. It's just a visual of the gown described in this chapter. Also from an unknown source. Credit to the creator.]

Warnings for canon-level violence and some mild language. This story is rated Teen. WC 4251

Captain America: Man of Action.

Steven Grant Rogers? Eh, not so much.

It’s a risky strategy—to do nothing—but Steve’s run out of ideas.

He doesn’t know what’s upset you. He doesn’t know what Tony does know. He doesn’t have a backup plan to his initial, lame, ‘date’-in-the-diner-downstairs idea, and yes, he knows that was pathetic in-and-of itself. Steve got the words out, though, didn’t he? That’s progress in the trench warfare he’s waging on the one thing that still completely intimidates him: womanhood.

That’s not to say Steve is fighting against you and all you are, but he doesn’t know where he fits in anyone’s equation of life and partnership. Relationships imply relating to each other, and he lives in a tower with superheroes, a billionaire, highly-trained agents who are all ranked above the other 99% of their classmates, and several legitimate aliens.

This does not instill him with confidence on his relating-to-the-average-human skills.

Before Steve was a super soldier, he was also pretty shit with women. It never got better because there was no time to try.

Since Steve has time now, he’s convinced he’ll do something stupid, and that’s really why he sits on his laurels.

This behavior apparently frustrates more than just Steve.

“So how’s your girl?” Sam Wilson asks nonchalantly, petting his beard while watching the final assessment of their newest recruits.

“Faulkner looks injured. His form is off and he’s slower than usual.” Steve makes a note on his tablet.

“Yeah, guy got kneed in the berries for a bad pickup line at the bar last night. Don’t change the subject.”

“Not necessary,” Steve grumbles in avoidance.

Sam scoffs. “You didn’t hear the pickup line.”

“Guy gets hit like that and you think that makes me want to talk about dames more?”

“Ladies, Cap, go with ‘ladies.’”

“Old-fashioned man with—“ he yells out “—find your balance, Pritchard, then block—“ then sighs “—old-fashioned notions.”

“This might surprise you, but we noticed. Maybe you should make some effort to be in her space, huh?” Sam jots something down. “I’m just saying, she spent weeks here. With you. Close. Convenient. Maybe it’s your turn?”

Steve scans the fighters across the room, his brain processing nothing he’s seeing for a moment.

“Maybe it is…”

Steve isn’t actually doing nothing, per se; he’s simply keeping tabs (respectfully) from afar. He sets up an alert for your location if the posted cops call in anything whatsoever. He’s got an alert for Richard Fisk, too, and that has let him know that the man who threatened you has spent one overnight in jail on the opposite side of the city within the last week. It reassures Steve that Kingpin’s son is not wholly focused on you. Maybe this will all blow over? That’s good, right?

Your storefront’s curb still sports a police cruiser, but inside aren’t the same two men from your run-in with Fisk.

Steve rolls the garment bag he brought off his shoulder and does not take an extra deep breath right before pulling open the door. It’s a normal breath. He’s fine. Fine.

Again, as several other times before, you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Oh my god,” your fourth assistant squeaks from behind the counter.

He knows his name. They know each other’s names—clearly—but have never met.

The young man stands taller. “Oh…my god. Hell-oh.”

Steve…is not sure whether the once over your youngest employee gives him is flattering or objectifying but rallies to get to his point.

“You must be Byron,” Steve tries casually, suppressing the awkward smirk rising with gentle heat to his cheeks. “I was wondering if the lady of the house was in to return this.”

Steve’s glad he has the jacket as a prop, something to do with his hands as he nervously glances toward the upstairs where he knows you live anyway. You’re here. He knows it. You’re working, and Steve doesn’t want to interrupt you. He has no other options, or at least, no other options that don’t make him feel a bit creepy.

“‘Fraid not, sir. But—“ Byron gathers his wits more admirably than Steve seems to be “—I’m sure I can help with anything you require, Mr. America.”

“Just Steve is fine,” he smiles back. Steve scans the open fitting rooms for Dominica or any of the others he has a rapport with, but no such luck. “And just the jacket.”

“What seems to be the problem with it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not mine. I was just standing in for a fitting when I got called away and…accidentally took it.”

Byron eyes Steve suspiciously. “You…you stood in…for the fit of another client’s jacket? Another client that…looks like you?”

Steve rolls his shoulders in discomfort. “She asked me to,” he defends lamely.

Byron keeps looking at him as if Steve’s grown an extra head instead of just a head taller than his original stature. “Ok,” your assistant shrugs, “let’s see who the marker is for.”

Steve shoves the hanging bag in Byron’s outstretched hand, nervous again. He shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea. Damnit, Sam, stay in your lane.

Deftly, clearly recalling a move he’s executed thousands upon thousands of times, Byron unzips the bag, tucks the opening under the shoulders of the jacket, runs his hand down the left side seam, and flips up the corner to peek at the lining.

Steve sees a glint of metallic he never noticed.

“Remind me of your middle name, Mist—sorry, Captain Rogers.”

“It’s Grant,” Steve blurts without thought. “Why?”

“This is your jacket, sir, down to the threads.” Byron smiles, a glistening white band of teeth bared for the enjoyment of all, and gleefully spins the garment around to show a delicately stitched ’S G R’ in silver against the deep purple.

Steve’s cheeks are on fire.

“But…” he stammers. “That’s not…” Steve hunches over the counter as if it will settle a bet his mind and heart are arguing.

You asked about the color…and he said he loved it.

You shyly asked if he’d spare the time to help you…and he jumped at the chance.

You made him a custom jacket and tricked him into having it fitted.

Steven Grant Rogers: Idiot.

“Captain!” a voice exclaims from the stairwell. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tarik shuffles down the last few steps looking a little worse for wear and sidles up beside his coworker. His gaze drops to the counter.

“Oooh, I see ma’m’selle went with the midnight—“ Steve doesn’t understand the next few words he uses and Tarik notices the glazed look. “The shine,” he clarifies. “Gives it that color-changing look.”

Byron leans to his left. “He says he wants to return it.”

As soon as Tarik tries to lift the hanger up though, Steve pulls it back.

“No, no. Not returning. I only…thought…” He tucks the jacket back under the protective liner, scrambling for an answer. “I didn’t know…it was for me,” Steve tries once more, like that helps to explain anything. “Hey, can I ask you both a question?”

The young men put on perfect customer service faces and wait.

“Is that unit outside keeping everyone safe in here? I mean, do you all feel, ya know, covered, I guess?”

They look at each other quizzically.

“Yeah, I guess,” Byron shrugs.

“Nothing’s happened,” Tarik mutters.

While Steve is pleased to hear that, his concern for you isn’t exactly diminished. “But she’s never here alone, right? Is no one staying overnight? You’re not…worried about Fisk?”

“We’ve been working some insane hours since the overhaul,” Tarik admits, but there’s no chance for Steve to ask what that means. “Doma was here until three in the morning, so she’s off today. Abby’s set to come in—“ Tarik checks his watch “—an hour or so for Ronny.”

“It’s family dinner night,” Byron jumps in. “Mom’ll kill me if I miss.”

Steve softens. His ma would be the same way if she… “Family dinner night,” he repeats, holding the garment bag a little closer. “Right, and no other unnerving customers bothering you?”

The younger assistant gulps and continues to stare.

Apparently, Steve counts as ‘unnerving.’

If there’s no threat anymore, then truly how the hell is Steve supposed to get closer to you again? In the most bizarre way, a villain looming over you was the perfect excuse for Steve to spend all that time and effort on you, and shifting back to ‘normal’ scenarios of dating a civilian isn’t exactly in his wheelhouse.

“Ok then,” he drawls, “would you—if it’s—if you wouldn’t mind letting her know I stopped by?” Steve waits for Tarik’s polite nod, fighting the urge to say you can call him. You could have called Steve this entire time. He left his personal cell at the fittings, so you absolutely have the number. If you haven’t used it yet, there’s probably a reason.

He finishes with a lame, “I’ll be on my way. Have a good evening and dinner with your family.”

Steve’s being supportive. He’s just here as an extra set of hands should the need arise. He’s absolutely not being a creep. He only sits atop your roof watching one cop return from the routine perimeter check in case you need help.

He won’t bother you, he doesn’t expect anything, and he can’t even see you. There’s nothing untoward about it.

Steve crosses his arms across his chest and watches the sun go down but with much less of a view and a swath of boring gray clouds all over. “For safety,” he grumbles lowly. “That’s all.”

He justifies staying because the cops neither spotted him nor cased the top of the building. He’s filling a gap in your security. It doesn’t, however, alter the fact Steve is skulking around the rooftop of the girl he likes, but he’s here. He expects nothing in return except the piece of mind that you’re okay.

Maybe some would find his night shift boring, but Steve brought his sketchpad and can see just fine in the ambient street light. The freedom to sit and draw all night long is wonderful.

No one watches him. No one looks for him. His phone sits at his hip, and since the Team think he is with you, no one calls.

Abby finally leaves at 1am, yawning a goodnight to the officer in the passenger seat and walking away unfazed. Steve even hears the man ask if she wants an escort home, but your assistant says ‘no.’ From the way the offer is worded, it’s as oft repeated as it is rejected.

If Fisk were going to leverage one of your employees, he’d have made that move by now, and Steve’s impression of Kingpin’s son is the man enjoys direct control. He wouldn’t want you obedient to keep others from harm. Fisk wants submission. He wants you to do what he says for him, not for anyone else. The irony is that Richard Fisk isn’t intimidating enough on his own and uses the muscle of bodyguards to complete the illusion of strength.

Steve knows the type. He’s only worried when he’s not close enough to handle Fisk himself, if it comes to that.

Luckily, the night passes quietly, and close or not, Steve doesn’t have to do anything. The rounds of perimeter checks are like clockwork while the lights glow from your apartment onto the thin windowsills below him.

Steve huffs. That means you never officially turn in. He crosses his arms again, wondering if you fell asleep at your drafting desk.

Byron returns, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, wearing an actual fur vest, at 5am.

The cops change shift at 6, the cruiser replaced by an identical car and two very similar passengers.

Byron emerges right at 6:10 with coffee for the officers in hand—two insulated tumblers—and fifty minutes later, one of the pair takes the cups back inside before his round.

Steve naps in the gentle spring sun as if this is truly a vacation, waking hungry enough for a late lunch and a walk in the park a few blocks over.

This is probably the park you stroll when overwhelmed, and stressed, as you probably are right now, but you never come out. He keeps walking, passing close enough to see your shop before another lap, and another. He gets a strange amount of enjoyment from trying every street vendor setup nearby until he’s back on the roof before sunset, remembering how you tucked your feet up on the folding chair and under the blanket about a week ago. It’s stupid that feels like forever ago.

Steve sighs before leaning comfortably on the cool concrete and his little bedroll.

He wishes he had the stones to barge in and demand you take a break, but the access door he’s staring at only opens from the inside and he doesn’t want to end up like Faulkner.

The white noise of the city must have lulled him to sleep. He’s startled from his propped-up position by a thunk on the slab at his back.

There you are, letting go of the mug from one hand with a phone in the other.

“Hold your horses, Stark. Let the man get his bearings,” you hoarsely joke before pulling it away from your ear and extending it toward Steve. Your voice sounds good in the morning.

Of all the things rushing through his mind, all he gets out is, “what time is it, Button?”

You give him a small, tired smile and stand back up from crouching at his side. Your bare feet teeter while one side of your open robe sash brushes the ground.

“Time for you to learn to take your charger on sleepovers, sweetie,” Tony’s voice blares. “No breakfast in bed for you.”

Wiping sleep from his eye, Steve focuses on you stretching your neck from side to side.

“You okay?” he mouths.

The same tired smile flashes as you nod.

“What’s that racket? You two sleep with the windows open? How hot did that room g—“

“Tony,” Steve interrupts, more forcefully than intended, “what’s happened?”

“Three ping fire.”

“Don’t you mean three alarm fire,” Steve groans and buries his face in his palm, shifting to wake his tingling legs.

“Location pings, Casanova, and as the dude with a suit intended as a walking fire hazard, I’m not exactly in a position to steal that department’s lingo. Ya feel me?”

There’s silence while Steve picks up the dead phone at his hip and pockets it. “No, I do not feel you.”

Tony releases a raspberry on the other end. “I am suppressing half a dozen jokes to make you feel supported in your romantic endeavors right now. I hope you appreciate that effort.”

Steve picks up the mug left beside him and moves to say ‘thank you.’ It’s not a travel cup like Byron or Abby brings out to the cops which Steve assumes means this was your drink. Tony must have called while you were waking up, too.

“Your efforts are—“ Steve turns to see an empty roof again “—unnecessary.”

You’re gone. The access door closed again.

“I bet you’re already halfway here,” Tony muses. “You doing that power-run thing?”

The call disconnects and Steve lets it fall with his arm, limp in his lap. He sips at the steaming tea for mere seconds before it occurs to him.

If he texts himself from your phone, he’ll have your number.

“Damnit,” Steve exclaims when the locked screen taunts him.

Thank god the Team doesn’t actually know how bad he is at this. It’s embarrassing, really. He deserves to skulk around on concrete treetops and sleep on stone.

He leaves the mug and phone by the door before rushing off. He notes how impressive it is that not only is the roof access door so quiet that he didn’t hear it twice, but that also counts as a security concern. He might just be splitting hairs. He’s also impressed by how you could sneak up on him. Perhaps he’s gotten too comfortable with even the fake idea of being with you, but the fantasy is pretty great.

As Steve runs back to the Tower, all he can think about is how perfect breakfast in bed sounds, and it’s distracting enough to slow him…just a little.

Fighting helps. Kinda. Or rather, fighting takes Steve’s mind off of other things right up until the tide of battle turns and Tony Stark has a spare second to insert himself into Steve’s life as well as everyone’s comms.

“So what’s it gonna take for you to really do this thing?”

Steve doesn’t understand at first because he’s busy checking in on the agents around him like he’s supposed to be doing. Stark, on the other hand, casually flies toward the hidden base of their enemy’s operations.

“What? You thought you fooled anyone?”

“Not the time, Tony,” Steve gripes, sending the shield in a bouncing arc off two trees and three bad guys. Honestly, he also did think that everyone bought you two together. Why wouldn’t they? It was convincing enough to haunt Steve.

“Guy’s not usually jonesing to drive a golf cart if he’s already on the bullet train, if you know what I mean,” Tony blusters.

“Really, Stark,” Wilson yells from his position on the other side of the valley, “a train metaphor was your best choice?”

Steve purses his lips in response, slamming into one guy, using the momentum to jump, and kicking another guy dead in the chest. That guy ricochets back into a third. The third guy’s gun goes off and drops two more guys. Steve still doesn’t want to have this conversation, even if the actual attack situation is going well for his side.

“I’m just saying if he needs some help sealing the deal—“

“—leave him alone, Stark—“

“—then I can put in a word.”

“Oh!” Steve pops the shield straps back over his arm after mowing down another line of men. “Like you put in the words that made her leave?! What the hell did you say?”

Dang it. If you and Steve were really dating, he’d already know the answer to that.

“Easy, Straps and Abs, it was a test.”

Sam beats Steve to it. “And did she pass?”

There’s a burst of sound and an explosion in the distance.

“Um. She got pissed, for sure, but I don’t know yet. I may have suggested that she only liked Cap for being, ya know, a shiny, blond beefcake.”

“You used those exact words, did you? I take it back,” Sam mutters. “That is the most hypocritical thing Stark’s ever said.”

“Somebody’s gotta top me,” Tony snorts. “Might as well be—“

“Are you KIDDING?” Steve finally breaks.

“It’s important to me that she likes you for you. Sue me—though I’m obligated to warn you you’ll be stuck in litigation for—“

“Stark!” both Steve and Sam shout in frustration.

The leagues of bad guys lose formation as their base crumbles and their radios cut out. They exchange confused looks and disagree on whether to continue attacking or retreat.

“Relax,” Tony purrs before Iron Man touches down in front of Steve. The helmet opens. “I’ve got a ticket to the Tovarich Spring Show with your name on it, and I think…” Tony scans the floundering group just as backup jets arrive to help arrest the survivors. “We’ll be home in time for Rogers to put on a ballgown and hop in a pumpkin.”

One spot of purple in a sea of white.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Ma’am, the screens you wanted set up are all positioned, and we are ten minutes from showtime,” the stage manager says in seeming slow-motion beside you. “Ma’am,” she tries again when you don’t answer. You’re too distracted by the wrong arrangements.

“I ordered butterfly bush…”

“What?”

“I ordered…I didn’t order white roses,” you croak.

Fisk’s signature flower sits on every table, lines every aisle, adorns the entire rim of the runway, and you did not order them.

Richard ‘The Rose’ is messing with you. It makes your blood boil more than it makes your hands shake because he’s not going to get what he wants. You’re not going to give it to him, but you are going to show what you can do. He can’t take credit for your work. He will not own you.

“We don’t have time to change them—“

“He’s here!” Abby bounds over, gripping your shoulder, panting after running all the way from the press tent. “Captain Rogers is here. He’s wearing the jacket.”

A nervous smile forces its way across your lips before you grasp Abby’s hand, quickly looking back at the single stalk of butterfly bush dangling in beautiful fuchsia clusters in a vase of roses. It’s a sign, proof that Fisk was able to rewrite your order, a threat that he can rewrite your life if he so chooses.

He’s wrong. You’ll show him. You’ll show everything tonight.

“Thank god for that,” you whisper, squeezing your assistant, “because Steve’s probably about to get a hell of a show.”

The stage manager calls for all the models to line up. You fuss with the finishing touches on all the men, asking how they feel, delighted when each and every one answers with some form of ‘great,’ ‘fantastic,’ or ‘never better.’ That’s what this whole line is about: confidence and comfort.

There’s no cookie-cutter mold for a handsome man. Every frame is inspiring.

You’ve explained to the models that they can reflect however they feel in the clothing on their walk down the runway. If they feel like strutting, then by all means. If they feel like beaming a beautiful smile, it’s welcome. Several pick a pocket to sink a strategic hand into.

A one-minute warning is given.

From your spot deep in the stage left shadows, you can see Steve front and center, pulling at his lapel anxiously before petting his thumb back and forth over the smooth fabric.

Nailed it, you think. He looks happy, so it’s just an added bonus that he looks so good and is covered.

Suddenly, his eyes find you and Steve sits straight up at the edge of his chair just as the lights go out.

The countdown softly descends from ten nine eight seven, the music cranks up above the short round of applause, and you exaggerate silent words, hoping not-quite-beyond hope that the super soldier can still see you in the dark.

‘For you, handsome.’

They’re off. Ten models. Slim and slight men radiant in perfectly crafted, fitted clothing that makes each look like a king in his own right. Not one is taller than 5’6’’ and not one weighs more the 130lbs. Next year, you’ll go bigger, but this statement is essential. One particular build is flawless to you, whether it ever changes or not.

Steve Rogers was just born to be loved by you in any body.

You get to watch it dawn on him, too.

Model 1: he’s a little miffed.

Model 2: his jaw goes slack.

Model 3: he’s transfixed and taking a shaky, deep breath.

By model number four, Steve doesn’t even see anymore, his head turning to where he knows you still stand, a soft expression in the soft glow from the stage.

Even in the dark and shadow, you feel pinned, flattered, and embarrassed. Your hands smooth down the navy overlay of your full skirt and tug at the thick structured cuffs to your metallic threaded bodice. It’s the same silver laced into Steve’s jacket.

Politely, Steve stands to cheer with the rest of the crowd, staring without demanding your attention, and you wait for all the models to start their final walk before stepping out into the cacophony of light and sound. The models flank you. Several grab your arm in appreciation.

It’s so bright. So loud.

The screens of fabric you had the crew raise are still visible at the back, lit through from the entrance where no one should be during the show, yet you see movement. Figure after figure files in, and then the noise shifts. Hands aren’t just banging together. Bullets are banging on the metal scaffold across the ceiling. Your audience’s screams morph from triumph to terror.

People scramble, knocking chairs and each other out of the way, pushing in opposite directions to avoid the same source of fear.

It’s chaos, and you can’t hesitate.

“Behind me,” you scream as loud as you can, and race to the edge of the runway.

Steve lunges for your feet as you pass, but you don’t let him stop you. Whatever he yells to do is lost in the din as you spin to flair your long skirt over the edge.

Rose stems snap and litter the floor.

Your back to Fisk’s men, you beat your fist to the star placard on your chest and activate the battery. It hums to life as electric current races through the silvery details on your chest and down your body, stiffening the thick, bulletproof fabric now on display high like a peacock’s plume.

And it works.

Steve stares up from the floor at a wall of red and navy around a silver star, and you have succeeded where Tony Stark could not. You created a shield not of metal but of thread.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @yiiiikesmish @trudy-shams @darsynia

A/N: I made myself entirely too emotional with this, so I am praying that you all like it as much as I do. I seriously need to go scream into a corner now though.

[Next Part]

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #fashion designer!reader #threadbare #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #romance #steve rogers angst #action/adventure #captain america angst

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percervall · 1 year

Text

give me love and compassion

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Words: 986 Warnings: Fluff, mentions of Danny's mental health struggles (minor and no details) Request: FaceTime A/N: been calling this the hoodie fic of dreams because I literally dreamt this scenario lol

title from First Aid Kit's Angel

---

She was trying her hardest to stay awake. It had been a long week in a row of long weeks dealing with rich people's problems and she was exhausted. Her phone buzzed on the couch, and she looked away from the cooking show to look at the notification.

Watcha doin?

She smiled at the message from her boyfriend and typed a quick reply. He was currently in Austin for work and she missed him terribly. She lowered the phone but it immediately started buzzing again with an incoming facetime call.

“Hey baby,” Daniel said with a smile.

“Hey you,” she replied, snuggling into the pillows on the couch and pulling the blanket even further up.

“How was work?” he asked and she saw him moving to a quiet area of the garden he was in. She pulled the hood of her hoodie over her eyes and groaned.

“Rich people are just the absolute worst sometimes,” she muttered. Daniel laughed at that. He allowed her to rant about how it had been non-stop dealing with entitlement today and how her colleagues were sometimes just as bad as her clients because they had grown up in similar circles. When she brought up the almost daily urge to quit her job, he was quick to reassure her he would support her no matter what she decided. It was one of the things she loved about Daniel: he would always offer her support but ultimately left her to make her own decisions.

She watched him interact with some of his friends off camera. Seeing him so free and with a constant smile made her heart so very happy. The last two years had been tough on him and there was a moment where she feared she’d lose him to the darkness of his thoughts for good. But no matter how deep he had sunk, she’d never considered walking away. It wasn’t in either of their natures to give up when things got tough. Instead she’d been there, always just a phone or facetime call away to push the clouds away and let in some sun for him. And she knew that he would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

“You look cosy, babe,” he commented as he redirected his attention to her, smiling this loving smile that always gave her butterflies.

“I am. This hoodie is so soft and warm. My boyfriend designs great merch,” she replied.

“He sounds like a real catch.”

“Eh, he’s alright.” She laughed when she saw him pout. “Just kidding, he really is. I think you’d like him.”

“Would I now?” There was a twinkle in his eye and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Mmhmm, he’s also Australian, has these stunning brown eyes and soft curly hair; perfect to run my fingers through when we watch films together. People always think he’s an extrovert, but he’s just the gentlest soul,” she rambled, feeling her lips tug up in a smile. “I love him a lot.”

“I think he loves you just as much if not more,” Daniel replied, voice quieter so only she could hear him, a softness in his eyes that conveyed just how true that statement was.

“I miss you,” she all but whispered after they were quiet for a moment.

“Miss you too, baby. But we’ll see each other soon. You’re still coming to the next race, right?” She nodded in reply. Daniel looked away as one of his friends called out to him.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he changed the subject as he walked over to where his friends were sitting.

“No, was too brain dead when I got home. Think I might just prepare Italian tapas and have that for dinner,” she said, groaning as she got up from the couch and made her way over to the kitchen. Daniel laughed at that and sat down at a picnic table. She rested her phone against a vase on the kitchen island and opened the fridge.

“Don’t let Carlos hear you! Hey, wanna have company for dinner? Eddie is just about finished grilling some burgers on the BBQ for lunch,” he suggested.

“That sounds great,” she said and pulled out some of the packets of cured meats and cheeses they always had on hand. Daniel chatted to his friends as she prepared herself a platter of fresh fruits and antipasto, including her in the conversation as much as possible. It had become a kind of ritual when he was away where they’d facetime and have food together, even if the time zone difference made it nearly impossible at times. More often than not it would just be one of them having breakfast or dinner while the other drank coffee or had a snack. At the time it had been to make sure he wouldn’t let the negativity of the press consume him, but today she was the one who needed someone to push clouds away.

She had carried her food out to the balcony and ate while the sun slowly set. From their apartment they had a great view of the Mediterranean Sea and the both of them loved to just sit here and watch the sunset.

“You look much happier, babe,” Daniel commented as he took a drink from his water. His friends had left them alone so Daniel could say goodbye before they’d go do something Texan.

“Mm, I feel much happier too. Thanks Danny,” she replied. It wasn’t a lie, she felt much lighter than when she’d just come home.

“I love you,” Daniel said, blowing her a kiss.

“Love you too, babe. See you soon.” Daniel kept making kissy faces at the camera, making her chuckle, until she disconnected the call. Putting the phone down, she sighed contently and let the last rays of sunshine warm her face in the same way the call with her boyfriend had warmed her soul.

#f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagines #daniel ricciardo x reader #boyfriend material fics

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enigmatist17 · 11 months

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@slenderboo @vivaislenska

"You know, I bet he had a poster or two."

"Eh?" Rex pauses from the root he's chopping up for dinner, glancing over at Gregor. The former commando has his feet kicked up on the cargo container that serves as a makeshift table for the rebels mess hall, twirling a knife around his hands as he watches the other.

"The new kid! He's been starin' at us, and I peg him as uh, what the natborns call it, teenager before the ol' Order? Were we teenagers, or did we skip that part?" Gregor laughed to himself, and Rex rolled his eyes as he finished the prep work and dumped his work into a simmering stew.

"Skipped it mostly." Wolffe grumbled as he entered the far side of the mess hall, carrying a few crates. "Thanks for the help Gregor."

"Welcome!" The commando laughed, watching Wolffe join Rex with something that made the other hum in delight. "Anything good?"

"Some proper meat for once." Silence descends on the hall for a few minutes, before Gregor clicks his tongue.

"Wolffe, we were talkin' about the new kid! He's a good fit for the rebels eh?" Wolffe raised an eyebrow, and Rex just rolled his eyes.

"Wouldn't call him a kid, but yea. He was watching me grab all this grub, like I was doing something interesting....why?"

"Gregor thinks he had posters, back when they did some of us early on." Rex chuckled, and Wolffe placed his hand on his chin in thought.

"Hm...does strike me as the type. He knew both our designations and names, and who knows those these days? Plus, the Y-Bombers? He knew how to fix one of the bomber release attachments, and again, who learns that these days? I'd say posters and one of those little clone trooper dolls...maybe."

"Really?" Rex glanced over as Gregor cackled. "I don't think teenagers had those things...I think." Wolffe shrugged, knowing about natborns as much as the other two did. "...I'll say the posters for sure."

"Knew you'd agree!" Gregor clapped his hands together, and finally sat upright. "So which is it kid? We on the money?"

There's a faint thud coming from behind one of the doorways, and after a moment of silence, Kallus slowly poked his head into view with a sheepish look.

"I...had posters." He speaks once he edges his way closer to the clones, eyes pointed at an interesting table. "Never did get ones for the 104th, they were hard to get ahold of."

"Aw poor Wolffe." Rex pat his friends shoulder, and the other grumbled as Gregor motioned for Kallus to join him. The former Imperial joins the trio, a faint smirk on his lips as he listens to the teasing.

"So, did you have any favorites? If so, did you meet any?"

"I..." Kallus blinked, feeling very much like he was part of one of the rumor mills he knew gathered in the mess hall at times, Empire or not. "I met Commander Ponds once, my parents brought he and his men homecooked meals as thanks for helping us against a Separatist raiding party. He'd been very kind, and I never saw him again."

"Depending when that was, probably not." Rex sighed, and Kallus can see the grief on the shoulders of each clone for just a moment.

"I am sorry..." The tale of the clones had been only one of tragedy, and Kallus hated how it had been buried to hide how truly rigged the entire Clone Wars had been from the start. "If...Some of what I know, I learned from old archives I saved, or was able to dig up over the years. Tactics, negotiations, medical expertise, I learned whatever I could because you were..."

"Sounds like someone is a nerd!" Gregor laughed, delighted at the blush that's thoroughly colored in the former Imperial's face. "I tease I tease, glad someone was interested in us ol' timers."

"If the Empire had bothered to keep any of what you all were taught, they...well..." He grimaces, and the others shrug. "Incompetent, the lot of them."

"That's the hard plastoid of it eh?" Wolffe grumbled, taking a seat beside the younger man while Rex sat across from him beside Gregor. "We have a good hour until dinner is ready, so what say you ask whatever you'd like?"

"Seriously?" Kallus blinked, and the curiosity he'd had to suppress the entire time he's served the Empire shines through as he looks over at Wolffe. "Anything?"

"Anything." He gives a short nod, and the officer looks around as if suspecting someone of watching them.

"Well..."

The three hadn't expected to almost forget they were on cooking duty due to all the questions Kallus seemed to nearly burst with, but no one had ever seen them so happy to answer. Even Wolffe is smiling at times, regaling him with a tale of a long fought battle as the mess hall slowly begins to fill. Kallus is at the edge of his seat, looking for all the world an eager student as he listens to every word, and for once isn't flinching as people file by in amusement.

It was nice to have someone be in awe again.

#personal #rebels #star wars rebels #aleksandr kallus #rebels gregor #rebels wolffe #rebels rex #100% believe Kallus was a clone fanboy

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vacationship · 4 months

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Why does Carmy draw?

Why is it important to his characterization that he draws?

Is it because his true passion is being a visual artist? I don't discount this theory, but it does prompt me to try to understand why he turns toward drawing, and to consider his subjects.

The impression I get is that he draws to realize or manifest something that he wants. He draws to dream, create, become, and maybe just exist.

He drew the restaurant that he wanted to start with his brother, because he wanted to be closer to him and carry on the family legacy together. He drew the Bear right on that building: a reimagining of their family legacy of pain and trauma into what in Donna's words is "this good thing": something good and solid enough to become a physical emblem on the restaurant, a mark in the world.

He drew the girl that he wanted to connect with, who he wished talked to him more. Maybe she was a dream, a fantasy to him, because they never really connected. Yet in his hyper-masculine environment, drawing Claire may have been a way to connect with his own smart, nerdy, "feminine," sensitive self: a counterpart or mirror to him. (Isn't this what the MPDG is about?) But drawing her, her face so accurately on paper, was maybe what allowed him to imagine being gazed back at, to be really loved. Really looking at someone is how Carmy expresses love, Molly Gordon said so herself. It's all about the gaze for Carmy, and the way he looks at both Claire and Sydney has been talked about a lot.

He drew the short wool pants that he wanted to fashion, which is kinda odd-ball and could just be a bit of comedy? But the fact that he drew those short pants, which he found out that a designer had already made, may have proved to him that he was capable of greatness even if it had already been done. And that being odd-ball is ok and interesting and marketable. The odd one in the family could actually dream up something that could be made and exist out there in the real world. (Also pants are a symbolic thing for Carmy, the jeans in the oven, too.)

When he met that pants designer in his restaurant, it was such a full circle moment for him, as he tells Syd. The only image we have gotten so far is him on expo and constructing the plates before they go out, with the EC breathing down his neck and abusing him. We know at that point his cooking was perfectionistic and the environment was rigid, but he is still proud of it.

Which brings me to, he drew the menu he wanted to create with and for Syd. Sistine Chapel level drawings! Syd is a crack up but her joke is not random. She references one of if not the most well-known Renaissance masterpiece there is to refer to Carmy's work, not to mention this is where the Creation of Adam is depicted. Renaissance=Rebirth, ReCreation. This may be the stretchiest I'm stretching here. But I like that Syd is the one who makes sure we all pause with Carmy's drawings and consider this aspect of himself.

(He also had to draw their menu since there was no heat and I need to think about that some more. It's probably a whole seperate meta.)

I do think Carmy is interested in visual arts/fine arts. He hates the painting Nat chose because it doesn't represent him. The painting says Mother but Father is crossed out. Every human birth must have a biological male and female for that Creation to happen.

Maybe he needs to paint his own painting to go in that spot, a means for him to accuratey represent himself, to father himself and be the father in his life, to create himself into an existence that will bring him joy. That's art!

There is a function and a means-to-end in showing us Carmy's drawings. They perhaps tells us a story of his innermost dreams and how he is in the process of Rebirth.

This was fun to write, who knows if any of this theme will bear out, but theories theories, eh?

Thank you @thoughtfulchaos773 and @currymanganese for asking to see this in a post!

#sydcarmy #i tag everything sydcarmy

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bearmemesreviews · 1 month

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FotW: SDMI - In Fear of the Phantom

Welcome back to Scooby-Doo Mystery Incorporated, and now we're getting into a problem many reboots and adaptions face - what happens when you try something different. Today's episode isn't really that special, serving as a bridging point between the next stint of episodes focused on the gang's love lives.

Except for featuring the Hex Girls of course.

Not to overshadow the main villain, which would be extra funny considering their backstory, but come on that's what y'all are here for.

Yeah, they got a bit of a redesign since their last few appearances in the two billion direct to DVD films. Fans DID NOT like this, and in a later episode they had to actually address the backlash while also scrapping these outfits for the original ones. They also steal Luna and Dusk's hair dye and gave Thorn's highlights a diminished role.

My personal opinion? Eh, I would've preferred a middle ground between the two, but for reboots I encourage designers to go all out since it's their own thing. So for Mystery Incorporated I would've either kept the redesigns or gave them completely brand new looks a second time. The OGs have a more cohesive aesthetic, but I like how MI experiments by giving each girl their own Alt style. It's probably Dusk who could probably use a new outfit though, since her Tank Girl getup doesn't mesh as well as Thorn's "Pagan School Girl" and Luna's "Lesbian Thespian" outfits do. Actually, maybe one of those Scene Kid reconstructions of School Uniforms would've worked better?

Oh yeah, this nerd.

Backstory: Like most lesbians Velma is a massive fan of The Hex Girls, snagging front row tickets for the Scooby Gang just in time for them to witness a "Phantom" try to murder Thorn on stage. As with every mystery the gang decide to take it upon themselves to do the cop's job to keep the concert going while protecting the band.

This leads to an exploration of the show's two main ships, Fredphe and Shoob - again, yes really.

This show is really good trust me on this.

Scooby outright calls Shaggy a cheater for going to prom with Velma instead of hanging out with him like they always do, and replaces Mathew Lillard with a wooden dummy much to Shaggy's chagrin.

Fred meanwhile comes out as nonbinary a teenage boy with emotions as he finally grasps Daphne's romantic interest in him. All thanks to an entire song written by Daphne where she uses Fred's special interest to get through to him.

Behold, one of the best songs made for a television show in history.

youtube

Before this spectacular moment of audio interposed with occasional Zelda CDI-level animation (to be fair are you even looking at the animation in the first place) we got some Phantom shenanigans. Mostly him responding to Scoob and Shag's ability to warp time and space by just setting them on fire, probably the most effective thing one these guys have attempted so far.

Design: Obviously a homage to The Phantom of the Opera, and as we go through the series, you'll start to notice a lot more homages that Wikipedia will kindly point out for you. Though you can also see a bit of Comic Supervillain in his design, so much so that he doesn't seem to fit with the show's own aesthetic. He wears a black full body suit with a gigantic, taller than his own head, Dracula collar and grim reaper-esque hood. He has a fabricated piece of his outfit that goes over his shoulders like Football Pads, but with a sleeker design as it attaches his cape to the main costume. His cape is black but its interior is lined with a sparkling holographic material.

His mask, belt, boots, and glovers are all made of golden mechanical pieces, as they actually allow him to charge up bolts of electricity to fire at the teens in our show. This tech is never explained, and he really only uses it a few times before forgetting he has these weapons at his disposal.

His mask is the best part of the outfit, legitimately cool while evoking a gas mask. It's almost like it was made out of several pieces asymmetrically stuck to each other with large bolts, like if C3PO was mangled in an accident and put back together with recolored bits of R2-D2. There are several short, cylindrical ports on his gauntlets, boots, belt, and mask that occasionally glow green.

Reveal: Shaggy, with an extensive knowledge of obscure musical groups as we'll be shown time and time again, recognized the shiny material of The Phantom's cape as belonging to a One-Hit Wonder named Fantzee Pantz. And once that's discovered it's pretty obvious that the other suspect, The Hex Girl's manager, is not the culprit as he was just as responsible for Fantzee's obscurity as THG.

No, the true culprit is the girl's songwriter, who first attempted to sabotage them through badly written songs but was thwarted by the girl's talent and popularity - So he then turned to just trying to kill them, and Daphne. He ends up taking Scoob's dummy to jail with him, but the original duo patch things up by then - letting us look back at Velma who got sidelined so badly this episode.

2/5 Goofy as hell design for a goofy character, probably the most "Villain of The Week" we've encountered so far. In fact, he'd probably fit in better in Miraculous Ladybug than this show. Not that bad otherwise, just not as impressive.

#bmoreviews #scooby doo mystery incorporated #scooby doo #mystery incorporated #bmoreviewsmysteryinc #the phantom #phantom of the opera #the hex girls #Youtube

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maria-ruta · 8 months

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i miss ronya she was so cool. how's she doing these days

awww thank you!!! <3 <3 <3

I miss her too UvU

the game ended on moment when all the demons were defeated and sent back to hell (except for Nafanya and Gra'azt, who now became leader of big group of drow and continues to get more drow on his side from Lolth(shes not happy about it lol))

Ronya got married to goblin widow Hikt (they threw the bouket in Sarit's face so hehe he's next lol) and now Ronya is mama of Hikt's kids from her last marrige - one allready young adult goblin booy, little girl, and baby boy (I don't remember where I wrote their names rip OTL)

(this hella cool bugbear design is work of my friend @tench-art)

Mao completelly turned into fairy and only had one year and one day left in mortal plane to live, and after that she will be joining the Wild Hunt

And Chiviss ( @tench-art 's character) became small demigod and now he had his own illithyd ship, his paladin friend Valya(they are in love but very slowburn/akward about it) and clone of human monk Lee who now has to help Chiviss by doing good things and help fixing stuff he fucked up - and Chiviss plans to travel across other worlds on his ship

AND WITH ALL THAT Ronya was left the only one to rule Fort Asshole (Sarit gave it that name and it stuck X'D ) the fort, that became shelter for many many people throghout our game - basically it was like big town or small city at this point

The game ended at Ronya being like "wait so whos gonna take care of the Fort now?"

and everyone were like "well now YOU are the queen of Fort Asshole, Ronya! your responsibility now byeeee"

and Ronya was like "WHAT THE FUCK IM NOT GOOD AT POLITICS AND MENAGMENT SHIT!!! IM GOOD AT CRUSHING DEMONS SKULLS WHAT THE FUCK GUYS"

But I think Ronya will found a union with other leaders of the different groups of citizens of Fort Asshole

such as orcs Hector and Azog, who represent the interests of orcs

myconid Lubomab, who represents the interests of myconids

Ronya herself as leader of goblins and bugbears

and half-orc Lidia, who represents the interests of everyone else and all kinds of minorities

and together they will come up with something X'D how to take care of the city and trading and etc. Fort Asshole became very important trading point, since now it has the big portal cirlce to the surface, while the last city(Malonderit, I cant find how the city should be written right, I only remember how it was pronaunced so eh), that had the portal to the surface - doesnt have it anymore. So yeah, Fort Asshole has all the chances of becoming big city eventually

I know from what our DM said, that at some point other bugbears of the city will become overly proud and will think of themselves more than other species, bc "our leader is so cool! she is the best and the strongest, and everyone else is weak loosers" so Ronya would have to beat some sense into them

she would tell them(more like angrily roar) that she would never get where she is now without help of her friends and comrades (hell she even DIED once and they had to get her ass a new fucking body), that everyone is equal here and that they should stop embarrassing her. And she would also add that its not bugbears who are stronger than everybody but its particularly HER who's stronger than everybody XD and if anyone of those bugbear assholes wants to argue with that - they can challange her to battle in orcs' arena and see if they could win her in wrestling battle. nobody's up for it? theN SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!

ALSO Ronya promissed her wife Hikt that she won't be risking her life as much as she did during demon invasion anymore so I guess her life gets less adventurie now

She would gladly teach kids her knowladge of hunting, tracking, scouting, and nature of underdark in general... when she has time lol, bc being leader is hella busy job (she didn't want it but she was choosen to do it U_U )

(idk what else to add haha you can ask anything specific if you want. but im very pleased you want to know more about Ronya, Thank you)

#Ronya #dnd #underdark #bugbears #bugbear #my oc #my art #my ocs #ask #asks #Hikt #goblins

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copiaslilrat · 26 days

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Riding in the Shadows Behind You: Chapter 1

Sibling Eros has a chance encounter with a certain Cardinal with a secret after working late one night. Both of them are introverted and quite frankly extremely awkward, but they find that they simply just cannot get enough of each other. Could this be a match made in Hell?

Read here or on AO3 :) Feel free to message me a scene request if you have one ♡

Content: Copia/Dracopia x Original NB Character, fluff and smut (18+), vampires, watch two awkward idiots slowly fall in love and fuck about it, literally nothing bad happens /gen, no plot all vibes

Sibling Eros has had enough for one night.

They groan and rub their eyes before gently closing the cover to the ancient tome in front of them. It was dreadfully boring content, which is likely why Papa Terzo had assigned them to do the work for him. Eros enjoys reading, but one can only take so many paragraphs about the various properties of herbs used in rituals before they start to fuel their grip on reality slip away.

They stand and straighten out their cassock, which had be rumpled from hours of sitting. Cassocks are traditionally not designed for bodies like theirs, but upon request to have one instead of needing to don a habit, Terzo had been more than willing to have a set custom-tailored for them. He really is a good Papa, Eros thinks in an attempt to justify having spent their Saturday night in a stuffy library, reading about plants.

They snuff out the candle flame on the reading table they had been using and make their way out of the library. A gentle thunderstorm rumbles outside, the pattering of rain on the stained glass windows providing background noise to an otherwise silent abbey. It had to have been well past midnight at this point—very few others would be awake.

Which is why Eros is startled to see a figure striding up to them in the main corridor. They squint their eyes in the darkness, straining to see who it might be. Whoever they are, he can tell by their clothing that they aren’t a Sibling.

“Hello?” They venture. The Satanic Ministry’s abbey is one of the safest places they can be, on account of the magical wards that get put up every night. They have no reason to be fearful or expect danger, and yet…

As the figure gets closer, they notice one white eye standing out against the darkness. This narrows it down to four people in the entire abbey.

“Sibling Eros,” a low voice with a thick Italian accent greets.

Eros recognizes Cardinal Copia immediately. The Cardinal tends to keep to himself, but no one has ever said a bad word against the man. Eros has always been rather fond of him, but mostly from a distance. Aside from a few of their Siblings, they tend to be just as reclusive as he is.

“Cardinal! What are you doing up this late?” Eros asks. As he continues to approach, they notice that something is…off. He gait is unbalanced and stumbling, as if he were drunk. “Do you need some help?”

“Sí, but, eh…” Copia stammers. “Promise me you will not freak out when I ask you.”

Their curiosity is fully piqued at this point. “I will do my best not to.”

They eye the older man as he comes to a stop before them. He’s dressed sharply in fitted black trousers and a black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to the middles of his forearms. His Cardinal paint of eyes swathed in black with a matching painted upper lip seems unblemished despite the faint sheen of sweat clinging to his face. His chestnut hair, streaked with patches of silver, is normally slicked back from his face, but is presently in disarray. Eros has always found him strikingly handsome, and his wholesome awkwardness only adds to the appeal, in their opinion.

“I am…thirsty,” Copia says. His speech is slurred slightly and he seems as if he’s going to topple over at any moment.

Eros laughs softly at this. “I think you have had more than enough to drink tonight, Cardinal. May I escort you to your chambers?”

Copia looks as if he’s about to reject the offer, but decides against it. “Maybe that is for the best, sorello.”

They offer him a warm smile and let him sling his arm around their shoulder for support. “Please, just call me Eros.”

Copia nods his acknowledgment. They are about the same height, and he can mostly walk on his own, so they make it to Copia’s chambers without much incident or struggle.

“What is it that you wanted to ask of me, Cardinal?”

He smiles, but avoids eye contact. “Would you like to come inside for a moment?”

Eros’ eyebrows raise. It would not do well to get ahead of themself, but they certainly weren’t expecting Copia to be so forward. They didn’t even know he was interested in them in any capacity, but Eros feels personally obligated to see this odd side-quest to its end, and so they shrug and agree to his request.

Copia unlocks the door to his chambers and holds the door open for Eros, motioning for them to enter. They step inside, unsurprised that his living space is cozily decorated. Understanding this from their own habits, people who spend so much time by themselves tend to like having a comfortable safe space to retreat to at the end of the day.

The walls are painted the same dark forest green as every other bedroom, but the furnishings are all matching dark brown wood, and white candles cover almost every available surface. He has numerous bookshelves packed full of what appear to be mostly history texts, but Eros recognizes some works of fiction in there as well. Copia turns on a small lamp beside the black leather couch in the living room and turns to face them.

“Well,” he says. “I suppose I should just come out and say it.”

Eris swallows nervously and fidgets with the fringe on their cincture, which has already started to unravel from past and frequent bouts of fidgeting. A flash of lightning illuminates the visage of a stained-glass Baphoment in the nearby window, followed by a long roll of thunder.

Copia steps close enough to Eros that their bodies are almost touching. Their breath hitches in their chest at the proximity.

“Cardinal, I didn’t realize…”

Copia notes their flushed cheeks and verous demeanor. “Oh! Sathanas, no, it is not like that. Not to say that I am not, eh…never mind.” He finishes quickly.

Eros feels a regrettable pang of disappointment, but is moreso just further confused by his strange behavior. “Then what is it?”

This close together, they can see the concern etched into his face. Copia smiles at him, this time flashing his teeth. Eros’ confusion only grows; sure, they’re nice teeth, but—

Their eyes widen in surprise. “Unholy fuck, are those fangs?”

Copia’s expression is unreadable. “Sí.”

“So, you’re a vampire?” Eros feels that they are taking this revelation remarkably well. Weirder things have come to light since they were initiated into the abbey’s congregation.

He blinks at their nonchalance before nodding once.

“And…you’re thirsty.”

“For blood, sí. As it happens.”

Eros has approximately a million questions about this, but asking any of them right now feels like an impossible feat. “How many people know about this?”

“Only my fratelli. And you, now, too, I suppose.”

“Why trust me?” Eros fears that they already know the answer to this question.

“Because I am in desperate need of assistance with this, and you were the only one who happened to be around. I was pacing the abbey’s halls to try and distract myself from the thirst, but then you…you…” Copia’s eyes unfocus, his pupils dilating to a discomforting size as his gaze falls to Eros’ neck.

This was absolutely not how they were expecting tonight—or any night, for that matter—to play out.

But Eros is very tired and fond of the strange little man who is also apparently a vampire, and they really just want this chapter pf their night to be concluded. “Okay, sure. You can have some of my blood, I guess.”

Copia looks absolutely delighted at this. “Really? Oh, grazie, Eros, truly.” He takes a step closer to them, and they resist the urge to take a step back. “I did not want to have to go out in this storm and find someone who would very likely be an unwilling participant in this whole affair. It is really the worst part of being what I am.” Copia pauses, noticing their apparent discomfort. “I am sorry. I tend to ramble when I am nervous. Are you sure you are okay with this?”

Eros’ face scrunches slightly. “Does it hurt?”

Copia offers a reassuring smile. “Just a pinch at the beginning, and then I promise that I will be very gentle with you. It will only take me a few moments and then you can be on your way.” He casts a nervous glance towards the door. “You can also just leave now, if you wish. I will not force you into doing this; all I ask is that you keep this a secret between us.”

“It’s alright, Cardinal. I want to help,” Eros says. They unbutton their cassock slightly to allow him easier access to their neck. “I’m also morbidly curious. Just don’t kill me, okay?”

They had meant that as a joke, but Copia’s expression indicates that he took that very seriously. “Of course. I would never harm you, or anyone, for that matter.”

Eros nods, touched by his sincerity. Copia places a hand on their upper back and guides them over to the couch. He sits down first, and then playfully pats his lap. Sensing Eros’s hesitation, Copia explains. “For your first time, I highly suggest sitting down, and it is much easier and much less awkward for me to reach your neck if you straddle me. I promise that I will not treat you with indecency.”

Eros gets the feeling that Copia has had this conversation many times before. They have no reason to be distrustful of him, and the whole situation is just fucking weird anyway, so once again, they shrug and comply. Spreading one’s legs is difficult in a cassock, so they disrobe entirely, leaving them in just their trousers and a black tank top.

Eros finds it impossible to make eye contact with Copia they sidle onto his lap. They don’t know what to do with their hands in this situation, so they settle for placing them on his shoulders. They clear their throat nervously and spare a glance at Copia, who’s practically buzzing with excitement at the prospect of drinking someone’s blood. His pupils are so dilated that they almost encompass his entire irises.

“Because I feel that I should ask one more time, are you sure that you are okay with this? I promise that I will not be upset at you if you choose to leave.”

Eros forces themself to look into his eyes, both for his reassurance and for their own. They have the subtle urge to reach over and brush their hand against his cheek, but they repress it for the sake of preventing things from being even more awkward. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Being this close to him, Eros notices that Copia smells of amber and vanilla, but there’s also a faint hint of incense that seems to be embedded in his hair and clothes from time constantly spent in the chapel for one reason or another. They had heard rumors that he has “666” tattooed on his chest, just underneath his collarbone, and it would be so easy to undo a couple of his shirt’s buttons and check…

Before their train of thought continues to go somewhere that it really should not right now, they smile at him. “Ready when you are.”

“Bene. I will do my best to make this as painless as possible for you.”

Copia leans his head forward slightly and dips his mouth below Eros’s jaw, right by the pulse point on their neck. They tense, expecting some sort of grand pain despite Copia’s reassurances, but he delivers on his promise of being gentle and Eros doesn’t feel anything more than a quick jab as his fangs pierce their neck.

They feel Copia’s tongue experimentally flick against the wounds in their neck and shiver at the sensation, but manage to maintain their composure. At least until Copia groans softly against their neck as he tastes their blood. That sets off something fiery in their core, and it really all seemed to be down- or uphill from there depending on how Eros viewed the situation. If they weren’t already sold on the fantasy of being fed on by a vampire, they certainly were now.

Eros presses their body closer to Copia’s as he drinks, both allowing and consenting him to push his fangs in deeper. This actively hurts, but whatever vampire fuckery happens when they feed on someone already firmly has them in its clutches, and their head rolls back slightly in ecstasy, further baring their neck to him.

Copia lets out a low growl and his grip on their thighs tightens. Eros gasps softly as they feel his arousal press up against their own, momentarily stunned by the sheer, apparent size and length of him, and as he continues to feed, Eros finds themself slightly grinding against him. This only seems to further spur Copia’s blood lust, but as promised, he stops after just a few moments. His breath comes out in short pants as he gazes into Eros’ eyes.

“You taste incredible,” he murmurs as he reaches up and brushes back a lock of hair from their face. He gazes at them with reverence, as if witnessing a god in the flesh, and Eros can’t help but whimper softly at his praise.

Their own breathing is ragged, the space between their thighs already damp from just those few moments. “Cardinal, I think I would very much like for you to continue doing that.”

His eyes widen at the request. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. It felt incredible.” They look down at where their sexes are touching through their clothes, one soaked and one rock hard. Their hands snake around his neck, their mind foggy with lust and exhaustion. “Cardinal, please…”

“Oh, caro,” his voice is a breathy sigh as he presses his mouth to the pre-existing puncture marks. “As sweet as it sounds coming from you, there is no need for you to beg. It would be my pleasure.”

And then his fangs are buried in their neck again, and the acknowledgement of pleasure from both parties only makes it feel better the second time. Copia drinks for several moments before guiding Eros to lay down on the couch. He lays on top of them, allowing for more friction between them as they eagerly grind against each other through their clothes. Eros’ hands claw into his shirt, wanting more of him, wanting him closer, while Copia’s hands thread through their hair, tugging slightly on the strands as he supports the back of their head.

This continues for a much longer length of time until Eros notices that they suddenly feel very tired, and perhaps just a touch dizzy. Copia had been restraining himself with how much he was actually drinking, but the human body only has so much blood to spare before it needs to rest so that it create more.

Eros’ vision starts to go fuzzy around the edges, and by the time Copia realizes that he might have taken a little too much, they’ve already slipped into blissed-out unconsciousness.

#copia x oc #dracopia x oc #ghost band fic #ghost band #the ghost band #the band ghost fic #cardinal copia x oc #ghost the band #ghost the band fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fandom #cardinal copia #sibling of sin #dracopia #copia #i am not normal about this man

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zombiecicada · 26 days

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Headcannons for nonsurant?

Nonsurat, I’m sure he’s perfectly sane, the that his head canons are the tamest of the three.

-Nonsurat identifies as male and uses he/him pronouns, but doesn’t mind being called they/them or even she/her. It’s honestly whatever. Sexuality wise, he isn’t huge on any labels, but has a preference for masculine presenting people. He’s never made this clear to anyone and doesn’t feel the need to explain this to other people. It’s frankly none of their business anyways.

-His current full legal name is Sir Nonsurat Lancelot Ceren. He also often goes by the name Lance for simplicity’s sake. Current he’s equivalent to being forty or so years old.

-He is the older brother of Dragato and Falspar. He’s also the brother of Meta, Arthur, Bedivere and Galacta. After Bedivere’s death and Meta and Galacta’s disappearances, he considers Falspar and Dragato to be pretty much all he has left, and is very protective of them. Arthur’s withdrawal from everyone alongside severe mistreatment on Arthur’s behalf has lead Nonsurat to be extremely weary of him, but deep down he knows he would protect and save Arthur if needed. He is the only one of his siblings to ever marry, and was married to his partner Javil. After Javil was corrupted by Nightmare, he prefers not to speak about Javil and is endlessly trying to find ways to cure their corruption.

-Nonsurat is one of the Blitzar Soldier Rebellion’s top generals, alongside the main blacksmith and weapon’s expert. He is always repairing everyone’s armour and weapons, upgrading them and working hard to find new and creative ways to improve the gear the rebellion has. While he’s a decent mechanic (fighting in an intergalactic war you learn how to make quick repairs on ships and fix problems) he leaves the hardcore stuff to Dragato, focusing on welding and patching hulls rather than the super technical things. He was the one that crafted his, Dragato’s and Falspar’s new sets of armour.

-Nonsurat’s favourite pastimes include drawing and sketching, he’s incredibly artistic and loves to design unusual and highly complex armour designs. While he’s not as good at painting as Dragato is, he greatly enjoys it all the same. He’s also good at wood carving, on night watch he usually just finds himself a good stick and spends his moments of peace carving away. He’s also fond of reading, as well as studying magic. But his all time favourite hobby is crafting weapons and armour, he would have a huge collection of weapons if he had the time to appreciate them and room to keep them all. He also greatly enjoys sparring, and fighting, and even enjoys killing demonbeasts as he is very good at it.

-Out of all the brothers Nonsurat is perhaps the least picky when it comes to any kind of food, and claims to not have favourites. He’d eat legit anything, and is usually the first to try something new no matter how unusual it may be. Dragato and Falspar see him as a terrible indicator for if food is actually good or not, as when he is asked about what it tastes like, he’ll always reply with ‘eh. It’s fine’ which can either mean he really likes it or he wishes he never put this in his mouth.

-Nonsurat has the ice and something akin to the magic copy ability. Using his axe or some other weapon he can channel forth large sheets of ice, or he can channel magic to accomplish various things. For example he’s used his magic to make the enchantment that allows Dragato’s and Falspar’s wings to switch between cape mode and wing mode after studying Meta’s dimensional cape and trying to copy the magic spell. He also used his magic to make the rings he and his siblings wear along with Dragato’s help. Finally, he has the ability to preform some completely random magic attack similar to Magic Roulette, where some completely random in the nearby vicinity will happen. This ability has a massive cooldown time, and he can only use it every so often.

-Nonsurat is well skilled in using all kinds of weapons, but his favourite is his trademark axe that was given to him by his mentor. He’s had it for a long time, and alongside using it to channel his magic he uses it as a walking aid and for balance.

-During his time in the GSA, Arthur had Nonsurat at the frontlines most of the war, as he was incredibly skilled in combat and very physically strong. During his breaks from the frontlines, he wasn’t allowed to rest, instead being pushed to help in the weapons department. Constantly teetering on the edge of complete burnout, he often went months without getting to see his brothers. It was during this time he met his partner Javil, and the two kept each other sane throughout the war.

-Nonsurat is an amputee, at the age of eight he got caught in an assassinate attempt that was meant for his mentor. While his mentor was able to save them both, Nonsurat was severely burnt and had to have his wings removed, also simultaneously sustaining severe nerve damage that leaves him with a terrifyingly high pain tolerance. Dragato and Falspar are constantly worried for him when he comes back from fights, as there’s a good possibility he’s broken bones or torn muscles and he cannot tell. He’s a severe workaholic due to Arthur rarely allowing him to genuinely rest, Falspar often has to remind him to take a break and that he’s worth more than the work and accomplishments he can provide. Nonsurat struggles to talk about his feelings and care about what happens to him, perhaps one of the few things keeping him moving at all is his burning desire to protect Dragato and Falspar with everything he has. He talked more before the fire, and denies having pyrophobia.

-He is ambidextrous, and has very, very big strong paws for a puffball.

-Currently he helps Falspar and Dragato run the rebellion, serving as one of Falspar’s strongest warriors and a fierce combatant. He spends a good deal of his time making sure the frontlines are okay, as well as repairing armour and weapons, but Falspar forces him to take breaks more often, during such he’s trying to find a way to undo Javil’s corruption.

-His theme song is Marketland by Lemon Demon.

#hoshi no kirby #kirby right back at ya #kirby #art #Kirby wolfbell au #sir nonsurat #character asks

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