okay I keep hearing people referencing this "lara" younow moment regarding dangender (and I'm assuming lara comes from lara croft) but I've never seen it. do you know which video it was from? or someone in the yomp-sphere who might know? 👀
idk if she said it in a younow, i was referencing reacting to my childhood vids :)
most of you will not understand the agony of this outfit. but hey here's fantasy au Howdy!
rambles:
yes. i know. he looks like a gunslinger. but I think it'd be funny if Howdy shows up and he minorly tweaks the genre simply by Existing! plus, he has to make himself useful beyond being a traveling salesman - he doesn't have a scrap of magic in him! so! alchemist gunslinger!
due to much of this "final" outfit design being Miguel's (@indigopoptart <3 thanks for your help homeslice <3) influence, i have less to say than usual! i'll talk about the things i Kept from the first terrible, terrible draft!
i wanted him to have full-coverage gloves because One, gloves fuck, & Two, shooting gloves! plus, he regularly works with dangerous materials! gotta keep his hands as safe as possible! speaking of his guns, they were a Ton of fun to draw. i wanted to make them ornate... Howdy seems like he'd enjoy nice things? fancy stuff perhaps? anyway the guns have his tavern "logo" on them!
the "second safety" mentioned triggers a magic-oriented mechanism that allows him to piece the guns together! they "unfold" into a big ol clusterfuck of a powerhouse weapon! unfortunately, using this immediately breaks the guns and they have to be repaired, so it's a "break glass in case of emergency" ace up the Neighborhood's sleeve!
i like to imagine that his bandolier, while cool, stresses everyone out a little bit. each bullet is full of pressurized weaponized magic. If they break while on the bandolier, well! Howdy would probably be very much Royally Fucked! i also drew the bullets too large here, so imagine that there's a lot more than shown and they're a lot smaller. I didn't realize this mistake until right now! oopsies!
i want to keep elements of the canon outfits in these fantasy ones. hence why his vest is striped and blue, he's still got the reddish brown pants, and! why his cloak clasp is shaped like a tie! and why the inside of his cloak resembles his apron!
i like to think that Howdy got his magic pack by swindling some poor soul out of it! when the buckles are undone, it unfolds into a vendor stand that looks Much different than the tiny scribble provided! said scribble is there to ah... what's the word. Demonstrate? get the point across? it's actually quite a nice stall! he has space to sell, and a workbench to tinker on! the pockets on the bag actually do function as pockets, though.
Fit: Yeah, that's really weird that he was just watching us -
Ramon: so Pac can adopt me
Fit: Oh yeah– Well, you know– I mean, maybe we can like– Maybe we can have it arranged where if Pac gives you a cookie, it counts for the full amount instead of half. And then maybe the same for me for Richarlyson. Right? 'Cuz I mean, like– We're... basically a family. I mean we have– I mean, let's be real, we have been for a while, but it just a little bit– it's just a little more official now.
Ramon: yeah but Pac wanted to throw a big party
Fit: Oh, a big party?
Ramon: adoption party
[ Transcript Continued ↓ ]
-
Fit: Oh, an adoption party. Ohhhhhhhhh, I see. Yeah, well– I won't interfere with those plans then. Yeah, well I guess– um. It'll be a party for you, and then I guess it'll be a party for Richarlyson as well. Yeah, that'll be cool, that'll be cool Ramon. Are you- are you excited?
Ramon: [Nods]
Fit: [Laughs] I'm glad.
Ramon: Two dads
Fit: Yeah, that's right. Yeah, instead of just one!
Ramon: i appreciate u a lot >:(
Fit: Aww, Ramon, I kn– And I appreciate you too, Ramon.
Ramon: [Ramon bounces around happily, then gets shy / embarrassed and hides in the corner of the room]
Fit: [Laughs] I know, Ramon. It makes me happy, seeing like– You– you seem like you've been in a better mood the past, you know, couple weeks, especially with everything that's been happening. You seem like you're in a better mood. Yeah, I'm glad, I'm glad, Ramon. I'm glad.
the issue with the current fallen london event is that it lets you choose the difficulty (or rather, the quantity of explosives you are willing to pack onto your ship) and that's very hard for me, because even though it would likely be much more profitable overall to go on any difficulty but the hardest (which is comically, punishingly difficult) i am incapable of such WEAKNESS. what am i, a COWARD??? pack every last inch of this zubmarine with explosives, lads!!! we sail into the mouth of hell!! DEATH OR GLORY!!!!!!!
Deep deep deeeeeeep down, buried under layers of "DONE" and existential crisis, I'm sure our lieutenant cares about the teen toddler. I mean tyrant. I mean---
[ID: digital sketch of zuko and jee form avatar the last Airbender. jee is lying on his bed, frowning up at a small child version of zuko that sits on his chest and holds a wet sock in jee's face.End ID.]
I know it's not… something anyone of us expected…
but I want you two anons to know that you set in my head, thoughts and ideas in motion, and now Zuko's a bit too big sock is wet and lt. jee has to fix it because uncle is sleeping!
and… jee never expected to have kids… but here we are…
sorry jee…
(at least you have the bunk bed with the porthole!)
Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV)
Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got.
ao3 link
———
He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.
An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.
All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.
And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.
Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.
fingers grazing along your back
the kiss at the corner of your mouth
his heartbeat under your palm
calm, steady, quiet
You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.
his lines
around his eyes
between his brows
the curve of his lips
the length of his nose
the sweep of his hair
silver-threaded
a hint of divinity among the mundane
just like him
Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.
his self-conscious smile
halfway between arrogance and doubt
arrogance of his knowledge
doubt in your interest
the way he looks off toward the horizon
when his thoughts take him
to planes you can scarcely comprehend
the way his eyes find their way back to you
the instant he hears your voice
or feels your touch
you, like the Dog Star,
guiding him home again
He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet.
But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.
your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment
his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit
He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.
But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.
the steam that curls into the air
over the worn mug that holds his tea
the one missing its handle
the way his hand cradles the cup
and turns it just so
that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim
he's done this a hundred times before
and yet you watch
mesmerized
"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.
Just as he is.
You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.
a man
mortal and aching
but kind and sweet
open-handed
brimming with love
just a man
a good man
whose heart and soul calls to your own
just a man
who doesn't need to do anything
or be anyone
more than who he already is
because he
is enough
You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.
But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.