#the MASK the ARM the BOOTS the STRIPES ON HIS PANTS

[ms-nesbit]

Empire records (jason todd x reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: masturbation, reader is female, reader is bisexual, Jason Todd is not red hood, plus size reader

Summary: Jason is a cam model and is killing it, so he heads to the record store where he sees y/n.

Notes: honestly, i loved the idea of this one. Let me know if you want me to continue with an additional chapter or something.

ao3

“God…” Jason exhaled, a slow flow of cum spurting from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing labored as he came down from his orgasm, Jason revealed the mess he made to the webcam. “Fuck, that’s so much cum.” he spoke half-heartedly, the tone masked by faux sensuality and confidence. “What do you want me to do next, hmm?” he sat up in his computer chair and bit on his bottom lip. “Let me know, Babe. I’ll be here again next week. Till next time.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his tricep exposed to the camera. He flashed his signature winked before ending the livestream, shutting off the comment section and logging off from his administrative account.

Wiping his hand clean on a nearby napkin, he remained silent, his presiding persona crumbling with each minute after the stream ended. Jason hadn’t bothered to glance at the comments - only the tips, which he gratefully appreciated; they accounted for his rent and utilities, above other expenses, including the impromptu trip to Vanity Records he was getting ready to make.

After a quick shower (graphic details spared) and his skincare routine consisting of serum and spf moisturizer, Jason adorned his already-attractive figure with dark washed jeans and a simple black tee, which was layered by his black and red-striped leather biking jacket.

Once he tied his boots, he set out the door to the record store, walking to the parking lot - riding helmet in tow - to his motorcycle.

—

“I’ve told you how many times that we don’t carry that bullshit?” y/n spat into the landline phone, wrapping her cord around her finger. “Seriously, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass that your old town carried Tom Petty. We don’t do campy bullshit. Got it?” Before she gave the voice on the other end to even respond, she abruptly hung up, rolling her eyes and wiggling her finger free from the twisted cord.

She crossed her arms and sat back in her velvet mustard lounger behind the register, pulling an inventory sheet from the cluster of papers scattered on the surface. Clanging of bells attached to the entrance door temporarily distracted her enough to drone, “Vanity Records: if we don’t have it, your music taste sucks.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. Do you have Foo Fighters?”

The voice was sardonic, but it didn’t stop y/n from giving a judgemental look to… a tall man whose black tee matched his (mostly) black hair, the white patch in the front pairing fondly with the low white collar on his leather jacket. He awaited her answer with playful eyes, though they seemed heavy. “If you’re talking about Nirvana, yes.” y/n began, crossing her arms in front of the keyhole cutout on the chest of her long-sleeved black blouse, which was coupled by black and red plaid pants, and a scowl on her face. “If you’re talking about the Louise Post-worshipping Foo Fighters? Also yes.” she stood from her seat and leaned over the clutter of paperwork, ignoring it completely in an attempt to flirt with the handsome stranger. “But if you’re talking about the mock-punk, dads-in-a-cluttered-garage-with-a-pipe-dream Foo Fighters? We don’t carry it.”

The man smiled down at her. “Could you show me?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if he wasn’t a regular customer already.

With a click of her tongue, y/n left her station, showing the man to a collection of vinyl organized alphabetically. She scanned at the waves of albums, distraught by the poor penmanship of the poor schmuck who had a stroke labeling the aisles, but made her way to the ‘dad rock’ section, reaching over and thumbing through different albums behind a poorly-enunciated letter ‘F’. In between all this, she failed to notice the man - who had been walking behind her - ingesting her outfit, and how the blouse accentuated her.

“Ah! Here we go.” She pulled out a plastic-slipped album titled The Colour and the Shape, and handed it over to the man, who grinned at her. “Anything else?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from commenting anything creepy, he chose safer words instead. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m kinda new here, and I don’t really know what to listen to.”

Y/n pondered for a moment, before asking a series of questions: “What do you like to do on a Saturday afternoon? What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you have any siblings? And…fight or flight?”

The man was taken aback by the questions, confused by the randomness of the inquiries. As he thought carefully about his answers, he zoned out, unaware of the chewing of his lip that allowed a dimple to present itself to y/n. If she wasn’t committed to her shrewd demeanor, she would have swooned. “If it’s sunny, I like to watch tv, but if it’s raining, I’ll read and take a walk; I fucking love an unhealthy amount of baklava, but I will settle for eclairs if necessary;” the man began rambling, passion strong in his voice, “I do have adopted siblings, but no blood relatives that are living, and; I suppose fight. I don’t really know when to quit.” the man smiled embarrassingly at his own confession.

Responding with a hum of affirmation, y/n skimmed over the vast selection in the compact shop. She then briskly walked to a middle aisle, dusty tile floor scuffed by her combat boots, before stopping at an unmarked section, fingering through the untouched vinyl. She pulled one out and whipped around, presenting the album cover to the man on the other end of the crates. “Human Bloom. They are fusion jazz from Chicago, but have a nice tone to it. I would give them a try if I were you.” she handed the man the record. “Need anything else…?” her question hung on a cliff, dangling in hope for a name.

“Jason.” he replied, “and no, I think that’ll be all.” he tried to look for a nametag, but found a newfound attraction to chest-placed keyhole cutouts instead.

“Y/n. The checkout is something I’m supposed to take care of with a register, not with you and your eyes.” she admonished, quirking a brow before heading back to her post behind the counter, hips swaying with each step she took.

Jason watched, unable to speak by the way he was called out. He took larger steps to the checkout, head down as he did so. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” he stammered when he finally reached the register, patting his jacket pockets for his wallet before finding it in his pec pocket (or, as he calls it, tit patch). “How much would those be?”

Y/n clacked at the old register buttons, its labels washed out from abuse. “$52.75. Cash, card, or number?”

“Pardon?” Jason opened up his wallet.

“Y’know, you could tender with cash, a credit or debit card, or your phone number.”

Jason smiled widely at y/n, finally acknowledging her forward attempt at flirting. He set his wallet down on the counter and asked quietly, “Can you do that here?”

“For you? Sure.” y/n remarked, her ‘sure’ accompanied by a survey of Jason’s tall figure with her eyes. She tore a piece of paper and opened a drawer by her hip, grabbing a pen and jamming it shut before sliding the pair to Jason.

Pen in hand, Jason jotted down his number and passed it back to y/n, who already removed her phone from one of her pockets and entered the number into it. Jason watched her every move, impressed, albeit flattered, by her determination; until, of course, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked it briefly: new text: you are as tall as you are hot, buddy.

Jason gaped at the text before looking at y/n. “I must be pretty short then.” he snickered, earning a scoff from the woman on the other end of the counter.

“Short on time? Patience?” she dipped her voice an octave. “...Self-control?”

Before Jason could respond, y/n’s coworker, Jade, greeted him. “Hey, Jay! How was work today?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. Y/n dropped her seduction tactics, returning to her guarded expression. “Yes, Jay, how was work today?”

Both employees stared at Jason with terribly different intentions, one with genuine curiosity, and the other with vehemence. “It was okay, I guess. Made some tips, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Good.” Jade chirped. “I would have stopped by on the livestream, but I dunno…camwork really isn’t my thing. Wish you all the best though!” She finished with a beam before walking away from the counter and to the back of the store, away from whatever tension she sensed.

“I can explain-”

“Over breakfast. Tomorrow.” y/n decided Jason’s fate for him, which he was happy was spared. It was rare he was forgiven for white lies, something that he was awfully rung out for. He accepted his dues with a nod and snuck out of the record store with his tail tucked between his legs.

—

Jason and y/n exchanged details on their confirmed date, so it was rather disappointing to Jason when he arrived at the Gotham Diner to…nobody. He checked his phone when the waitress seated him at a booth, and again after she poured him a cup of coffee. Nothing.

“Good morning, Jason.” y/n greeted out of nowhere, bringing Jason’s attention from his desolate thoughts to the woman now scooting herself on the abrasive booth cushion. He must have smiled, because y/n added, “Got your uppers for today?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Good to know your chipper attitude isn’t just your customer service voice.” he critiqued, to which y/n stared at him. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I think I stepped on dog shit on the way over.” she glanced underneath the table at the underside of her boot.

The silence between them was too agonizing for Jason to handle, despite it being short. “So, about yesterday, I didn’t really mean to lie like that, and I just wanted to say I’m-”

“Seriously don’t worry about it, man. I like that you’re not put off by me, y’know? A lot of guys are; usually it’s the chicks I hit on that admire my decisiveness.” y/n tore open a few packets of stevia, shaking its contents into her coffee before stirring it with the wooden stick. “Jade gave me intel on your job though.” Jason frowned, awaiting the imminent rejection he expected with the acknowledgement of his unconventional line of work. “I’m all for sex work, dude, so don’t sweat it, but camwork? Really? Isn’t that, like, outdated now?”

Jason allowed his shoulders to slouch as his nerves settled, pleasantly surprised by y/n’s reaction. “To be honest, I know a lot of people do shit like modeling, but it feels so…forced.”

“And camwork is different? I’m not sure how it is for guys.”

“No, you…you have a point.” y/n saw through him, and saw something he hadn’t quite noticed in himself; it was, to a degree, a facade. He didn’t want to jeopardize his vulnerability to the dark caves of the internet, so he simply hid behind something he wanted to be, rather than completely himself. Perhaps that was why he admired y/n so much, despite knowing so little of her.

The pair was interrupted by a waitress, who took their orders. “An egg-white only omelet, please.” Jason politely asked.

“And could you get me a large stack, please? With extra blueberries on top.” Y/n asked with wide eyes, clearly ecstatic by the antioxidant properties of the garnish.

After the waitress left, they returned to their conversation. “I do pretend to enjoy some of the stuff I’m requested to do, but I dunno.” Jason hid behind his cup of coffee, an absurd sight for y/n seeing a tall, broad figure hunched over. “To be honest, I’m kinda turned on by the idea of someone watching me. Plus it pays the bills.”

Y/n mirrored Jason’s shrug in rapport. “I see what you mean. If I had the body, I think I’d do the same, but there isn’t much of a market for stocky punk chicks.” she stated, a sliver of disappointment in her voice.

“I’d watch.” Jason blurted, before covering his face with his large hand. “Sorry, I-”

“One omelet, egg whites only.” the waitress returned, huge tray balanced in her palm. She distributed the plates and utensils. “And a large stack for y/n, our favorite regular.” the waitress beamed at y/n, who returned the sentiment. “Hope you two enjoy.” she left with a wink.

“Thanks, Wanda!” y/n called from her booth, giddily dancing in her seat when returning her attention to the stack of round, golden pancakes in front of her.

“You come here often?” Jason inquired skeptically, offended that she hadn’t indulged him in the information prior to their scheduling.

Y/n nodded and gave a “mmhmm” that was muffled by pancakes in her mouth. “You know, I used to come here in my college days.” y/n explained once she swallowed her first bite of the delectable breakfast treat. “I’d stop by with my study group - which was usually just me - and I’d sometimes order a few rounds of the stacks. Wanda there joked that my veins are probably pumping syrup more than blood, and I’m afraid I have to agree with her on that one.”

Jason let out a chuckle while cutting his omelet with a knife and fork with minimal scraping. “At least the vampires will get a tasty dessert if they bite you.”

“Maybe you’re right!” y/n stifled her laughter. “Maybe they’ll pour my blood over some waffles or something.”

Hand over his mouth to prevent omelet from flying all over the table and y/n, Jason chortled and mocked Dracula, “Mmm! ‘Vou must try this breakfast! Ze blood is vunderful!”

Y/n gasped jokingly. “How dare you mock vampires? They don’t all sound like that.”

They each took turns smacking the table and giggling, exchanging niche vocal impressions until Wanda returned with a warning. “You two are causing a distraction to some of our other patrons here. Try to keep it under control, okay?” she gave them a lambasted look. “Here is the check, since I know you two will probably want to continue your date.”

Date. Y/n blushed at the word. “Thank you, Wanda. And tell that rigid couple in booth twelve that we’re sorry, and we’re not real vampires.”

“But we will bite if needed.” Jason added with a cheap smile.

Wanda sighed and walked away, murmuring something incoherent.

As Jason was about to snag his wallet, y/n slipped a couple of bills in the receipt card. “I’m holding you hostage, so I’m paying. Don’t worry, pretty boy.”

Though the action was assurring, it was confusing when paired with y/n’s nickname for Jason. He found himself amused at the woman, and had to ask: “What are your answers, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“Your answers. To the question you asked me yesterday. You never gave me yours.”

Y/n grinned innocently, sincerity splayed across her face. Jason wished he could have taken a photo of it - her eyes were just pretty. “Gimme a sec to think,” she sat back in the booth, head hitting the backrest with a thump. “So I usually don’t do anything except listen to music and read, I have two siblings - but three if you count the imaginary turtle I had when I was six, I love a good bowl of soup and some tamales, and I’m not wearing any.”

Jason cocked his head, perplexed by the final answer. “Not wearing any? Any what?”

“Underwear.” y/n blinked innocently, despite being well aware of her suggestion. “You asked if I’m wearing underwear, right? I’m not.” her smile grew bigger with each word, and her eyes dimmed darker with lust.

So did Jason’s. “Oh, uhm.” he was indecisive, unable to choose how to respond. It wasn’t that Jason was inexperienced the art of flirtation, it was that he hadn’t quite been this interested in someone in a long time, and it showed by the way his cheeks reddened (and cock hardened in his pants) at her reveal.

He refused to indulge, his pride in the way. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t the reaction y/n was hoping for, and her tone fell with it.

They stood and exited the diner together, loitering in the parking space where Jason had left his motorcycle. Jason noticed that y/n’s spark died off when he hadn’t taken her bait, and although he felt guilt, he knew he wanted to explore the relationship more prior to sleeping together. He feared that y/n took it personally;

She did. “I’ll text you.” she said, backing away before she gave a brief wave of her hand and disappearing into the crowd of Gothamites.

—

“Jesus, what is wrong with me.” y/n sighed when she re-entered her loft, littered with old clothing on the ground, and walls decorated with mismatched posters. As she untied her boots, she replayed the rejection in her head: Jason’s nose twitching, eyes shifty, and mouth open, pausing to choose whatever denial he believed was appropriate.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, but she neglected to check it; instead, she hovered to her bed on the other end of the studio flat, and tumbled onto it, her sheets making a punched ‘oof’. Deep breaths calmed her worried mind buzzing with defeat, and she wondered if perhaps she was, in a word, bamboozled.

It didn’t make sense: the flirting beforehand, way his eyes wandered too freely on her body like a dog to a treat, yet he rejected her…why? Was it what she wore that day? The borderline offensive vampire impressions? Or was it, in the end, her determination that hammered the final nail into the coffin of the potential of their relationship?

Heels digging in the sand, y/n set off on her research, beginning with Jason’s business venture. She sat up in her bed, fixing the pillows to better suit her needs, and reached over for the laptop on the ground. Y/n opened it and waited for the startup operation sequence, the fan vibrating over y/n’s lap as it whirred.

“Alright, Todd, let’s see what camwork you’re doing.” y/n murmured as she entered the site info, creating an account to access the lewd media. “A $7.99 subscription? I didn’t know these cost money nowadays.” she chortled at the virtual pricetag while entering her card info, reluctant to provide sensitive information on her archaic device.

Upon granted access, y/n’s eyes widened, blurred images revealing themselves to her, and she was, well, intrigued, to say the least. The first uncensored media on the site feed was Jason in a public dressing room, unclothed; his hooded eyelids and smirk enhanced his smitten look; his chest was naked, gleaming from the shop lights, and his shoulders were broad, leaned back into the wall of the dressing room; his torso was chiseled, the contour of his muscles shaping into a v near his pelvis, almost as if they were a sign from god for y/n’s eyes to point to his carefully trimmed pubic hair, which failed to hide the base of his thich, uncut cock.

Y/n hadn’t even looked at the caption, so when she finally managed to strip her eyes away from his holy figure, she grinned at the words, “Imagination - life is your creation, Doll.”

A fucking Barbie reference, and she dropped the ball? Y/n scrolled to drown her distraught, searching for a video she could watch.

A notification popped on the page: Robin Hood started a livestream. Click to join. Y/n scrambled to find her dreaded wired headphones, shoving the plug into the jack on the side of the laptop. She then clicked on the notification, instantly refreshing the screen to bring her to a livestream starring the man she had just joked with about Transylvanian vampire genitalia.

The irony. “This is unreal.” y/n muttered to herself as she stared at the tall man sat back on his bed - different than his usual post in his computer seat - as he flicked open a cap of lube, applying it to his hand before he spread it on his erection. He exhaled as he did so, toned chest rising as his fingers moved along his sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, this feels good.” Jason moaned, hips bucking into his hand as his eyes remained closed. Y/n rubbed her thighs together at the sight. “I’m already so close. I wanna come so bad.”

Y/n let out a low moan deep in her throat, mouth watering at the filth transmitted through her earbuds. She watched as Jason’s hand moved from the base of his cock to its head, his wrist twisting. He searched for a speed, but was indecisive with the way his hips shot up sharply, thrusting into his hand. The wet skin sound filling y/n’s earbuds was fucking dirty, and she knew she had to shower right after finishing the livestream - she wanted to see him come, hear the euphoric, obscene noises leaving his mouth.

“Fuck” Jason grunted, holding his cock with one hand, and the other roaming his torso and thighs. “Oh, shit, you feel amazing.” his words were so intent, sincere, as if he imagined someone actually riding his cock - or it was y/n who was projecting her desires onto him, wishing she could straddle his lap and be the source of his pleasure, bouncing on his dick until she milked him dry.

“Oh,” Jason barely pushed through gritted teeth, “Keep going, y/n” he whispered, brows furrowing. Y/n stopped and blinked at the screen, doubting what her senses told her she heard. “Please, please, y/n…” he said it again, this time in a plea that sent y/n’s mind reeling into another dimension as she wanted to touch herself, but wanted, more than anything, to drive Jason over the edge.

His breaths fell staggered, jerking at his cock hard as his bottom lip trembled. “God, I wanna come. Your pussy is so good,” he admitted, eyes screwed shut, “so fucking good.” his speed became erratic, frantically searching for God in a moment’s release, and y/n was right there with him, her panties soaked from the heavenly torturous sight in front of her. She wanted to tell him to come, tell him how good he feels driving his cock into her, continuously, and how badly she wanted to sit on his pretty face until she screamed.

“Shit! Oh, fuck, god.” Jason exclaimed, profanities slipping him like a ghost leaving his vessel as spurts of cum erupted from his cock, body stilling. He thrusted into his hand once more before finally relaxing, catching his breath in a laugh. 

He looked down at the mess of cum he made on his pelvic bone and torso, a splash landing all the way to his neck, and he shook his head. “Wow. Hadn’t had that much in a long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you later.” Jason smirked, propping himself on his elbows and biting his lip before the livestream ended.

Y/n sat in front of the computer screen with glossy eyes. She was his spank bank. She was. The reality set in, and it finally clicked.

But before she could allow herself to feel relief, free from the shackles of rejection in which she imprisoned herself, y/n quickly moved to her feet and grabbed her phone from the other side of the room to check the notification she dismissed earlier:

Jason. Hey, I hope I wasn’t too rude, but I don’t want to pursue any- (½) Y/n opened the message, careless of the read receipt that would be sent to him. -anything sexual, since that’s my job, and I’ve been used before. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, because I do think you’re special, but I understand if it does. I’m here if you want a second date.

Y/n skimmed over the text, and reread it to check if her senses failed her once more. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, she repeated. I do think you’re special. Y/n smiled widely as she opened up the keyboard to reply:

I thought I was too much. Usually am.

She rested her back against the wall, waiting for a response. Already, it shown as read, and the bubbles appeared at the bottom of their chat.

It’s not your fault, I should have clarified from the start. Are you free this weekend?

Y/n felt the melting of the glacier in her chest, and the cooling of the heat between her legs. She gathered her thoughts for a response:

I think I am on Sunday. 

Jason’s reply was instantaneous, and y/n was thankful games were off the table for them.

Meet me at the Gotham library?

Y/n smiled. Fuck yeah.

It’s a date. Jason replied, the three words launching y/n into orbit.

So much of an orbit that she hadn’t proofread her response. Btw, saw your livestream.

Y/n regretted it instantly, eyes blown wide and apprehension rising in her.

The bubbles came up on the phone screen before disappearing, then reappearing again. Y/n cursed to herself as she waited. Finally: Good. You looked absolutely stunning at breakfast. Wanted to eat you instead of the omelet.

Maybe y/n could get used to this, after all.

#batfamily #jason todd #red hood #red hoodxreader #red hood x reader #red hood/reader #jason toddxreader #jason todd x reader #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #sex worker!jason todd #smut #robin #ao3 #my post #mine #plus size reader x jason todd #jason todd x plus size reader #red hood x plus size reader

[msfcatlover]

Shadow Damian (Reverse Robins)

Shadow starts with Damian, and I am drawing huge inspiration from his Infinite Frontier design. In particular, this absolutely gorgeous rendition by DuhDude.

(I fucking love this look)

I'm also taking inspiration from @adoptedbybruciewayne's design, which just so happens to have a very similar silhouette.

As I've said before, I'm aiming for "sleek while still somewhat disguising his body outline." The goal is to make him a harder target to pin down.

Black tunic-vest, the part below the (utility) belt shaped mostly like the green design. Keep the puffy sleeves, though they're now also black & ever so slightly translucent; the under-suit is actually very dark grey, so you still can't really see his arms, it just does weird things to the shadows.

The hood is NOT part of the tunic, it's a separate cowl like this (sized similarly to the green design), held on by a single snap so that it never chokes him or holds him back if it gets grabbed.

No bandages, but the bottom half of his forearm does have a metal cuff for protection. Black gloves under dark red fingerless gloves, and the cuffs are the same red.

There is actually a single red stripe running down each arm like a ribbon between the cuffs/gloves & his shoulders, but I feel like if anyone drew it, those would be the first detail to go. In any case, those ribbon-lines sorta pour below the curve of his collarbones to merge into a red bat in front of a gold circle. (Referencing this chart, it's probably a combination of the "Batman: Dead End" & "Batman Beyond" designs.)

(Quickly thrown together in GIMP, though the colors seem to have gotten messed up... it should be redder.)

No domino; he wears a black half-mask/mouth-guard on the lower half of his face (kinda like the "muzzle" mask Jason's been wearing in recent years), and paints the remaining visible skin with grease paint to disguise his features (think Battinson, but it's the entire upper half of his face.)

The effect being Damian's mouth, jaw & nose covered, his face cast in shadow, his skin painted black, so there's no discernible features... just these two piercing green eyes staring at you from under the hood.

The pants are well-padded (same dark grey as the undersuit), and he has extra armor on his thighs, though a lot more in-line with modern sensibilities.

(This, but black.)

I also love Damian's knee-high lace-up boots, especially how they're drawn in "Son of Batman" where they are all the way to the knee, with a very de-emphasized kneepad. Practical? Probably not, but I don't really like how the protective cap they usually put over his knees change the shape of the boots. So he gets those, but black instead of green.

(It is weirdly hard to grab a good reference image for these; they never look as good on the covers, for some reason.)

So that's my... excruciatingly detailed explanation of Damian's Shadow costume. Look forward to future breakdowns of Damian's Nightwing costume, how future Shadows evolved the look, and basically every other costume in the family.

#reverse!robins #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse order robins #reverse order batkids #reverse batkids #reverse batfam #reverse batfamily #damian wayne #damian al ghul #batfam #bat fam #batfamily #bat family #batkids #bat kids #batsiblings #bat siblings #shadow damian #shadow damian wayne #shadow!damian #shadow!damian wayne #mine

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

ooc// hey hey do you have particular designs for these guys' human forms? asking for. reasons (wants to doodle them)

(OOC POST WITH LONG DESCRIPTIONS AHEAD)

HJKOGDK really??? Oh, that's actually really nice thank you!? They don't differ too much from their forms in The Summoning. Wiggly's green tie is gone, he's just in a fully closed varsity jacket (with a green shirt underneath), and his pants are less shiny. He still has his stupid green Converse.

Tinky looks about the same, too, minus the goggles. He is blindingly yellow, and I love that for him. Nibbly's hair isn't fully pink, but blond. It's just dyed (almost fully) pink - a very rich, vibrant color. Blinky's also the same but has striped purple and black leggings and normal purple tennis shoes (none of them are getting platform boots here).

Pokey...is, you guessed it, not that different. His pants are a slightly lighter shade of blue and his jacket is more like a light sweater. All of them are missing the fur on their outfits (Pokey's collar/sleeves, Tinky's vest which is covering the reflective strips, but not Blinky's hoodie pocket since he has swag like that).

None of them have additional accessories yet?! (crown, sunglasses, lollipop, beret, mask, etc.) and Nibbly doesn't have his arm warmers or visor.

Reference image used (if needed):

(Also a certain fwiendy-wend may be getting crutches soon, you can choose if you want to include those)

(I am EXTREMELY sorry if this is too much information! I just have a lot to say about how they look. I would appreciate a sketch immensely and thank you for the offer!!)

#Out of character post #Out of character #VERY ooc #Character description #the lords in black #Hatchetverse

[snailsdraw]

[Start ID: 2 pages of HLVRAI Bubby drawings of back when he was still in his tube.

A drawing of the current Bubby, a bespectacled, thin, elderly scientist with a balding head and a unibrow. He is wearing a labcoat, a scientist uniform topped with the Black Mesa striped tie, and has his pants pulled up high on his torso. His arms are crossed and he is looking elsewhere with a look of feigned disinterest. Next to him is a drawing of a past version of himself suspended in tube liquid, back when he was deemed "Subject 80889" (a headcanon). A scuba mask with a breathing system is fitted over his face, electrode wires extending upwards from where they are attached to his forehead. 3 ECG monitor electrodes are plastered to his chest region, sewn into the skin-tight body suit he is wearing that leaves only his head, fingers, and toes exposed. A feeding tube coils out from the left side of his belly, a urine collection and transfer assembly (UCTA) hose doing the same from high on his right thigh above the compression boots strapped to his calves. He looks slightly younger than current Bubby, the crows feet wrinkles still present by his eyes, but his hair is still in the earlier stages of balding. Beside these two drawings is a drawing of past-Bubby looking frightened and sopping wet from where he is on the floor. He has escaped from his tube for the first time, the ECG monitor wires dangling wimply from his chest where they were ripped in his escape. A patch of body suit on his right chest has been torn out, taking with it the top part of the serial number 80889 printed on his suit and leaving it resembling the word "BUBBY". His eyes are trained on the owner of the hand extended helpfully toward him to help him up, the owner offering a chipper "Hello!". The owner turns out to be a younger Dr Coomer, looking pretty much the same save for his moustache looking less wirey and his curly hair being shoulder-length and partially tied up in a crown-braid. Hand still extended and a face full of soft concern, Dr Coomer asks: "Do you require some help?"

Separate scenario: Bubby is in his tube, his UCTA hose in hand as he looks at it thoughtfully. It reminds him of the UCTA found similarly on an astronaut spacesuit. He reclines and floats in his tube with his arms behind his head, and in his imagination the suspension liquid takes on a sparkly quality, like stars. Surrounded by a dozen more tubes identical to his carrying inactive prototypes in the darkened lab, he thinks to himself: "Perhaps I'll be an astronaut."

End ID.]

Riding out an idea block for the Darnold and Sasha saga by drawing slightly younger Boomer.

>> [Link to Part 2.]

#bubby 🤝astronauts back in the day: UCTA #hlvrai #hlvrai coomer #hlvrai bubby #id #i've still got prompts for the saga. i just need to figure out how to go about them #snail's art

[spacenintendogs]

modern au ask. What are the gangs personal clothing styles ?

ooooo.... i'm not very fashionable nor am i rlly confident abt my knowledge of styles & stuff so i'm sorry if it's not as creative as it could be :')

hiccup i see a lot of layers, similar to how he dresses in the dreamworks franchise. as he gets older there's more leather since he does a lot of motorcycle riding. flannels, graphic tees, baggier cargo pants & shorts & sneakers are his general go-to. has a nice pair of chucks he brings out once in a while. no piercings but he has a tattoo of toothless' strike class silhouette on one of his shoulder blades.

astrid dresses practically. usually in a pair of jeans or leggings. when she dresses more casually it's basketball shorts with a jersey of some kind. she wears jerseys relatively often too. also shirts she can easily move & breathe in. i think she'd like horizontal stripes for shirts but i might be projecting lol. she's got multiple ear piercings on both ears tho. she also loves her headbands!!! gets a specially made one from tuff & snot with stormfly's spines on it!! steel toed boots.

fishlegs dresses like a hipster. have u seen his moustache in httyd 3?? he's a hipster & he fucking rocks it. also rocks a lot of street styles he's one of the most fashionable of the gang & he is proud of it. he looks great always. gets the tattoos on his arms like he has in httyd 3. he also likes wearing rings!! has a wooden bead bracelet he wears from his older sister. uses stuff like beard oil & is super into skincare. u will catch him with a face mask & cucumbers over his eyes.

snotlout prob goes through the biggest style shift. when he's younger he dresses like the usual high school douchebag, backwards cap & everything. once he's a senior & after he graduates he's more biker style (he does become a biker dude after all). super tight t-shirts that show his boobs lmao. he gets his ears pierced & gets a labret piercing. tattoo sleeve on his right arm of monstrous nightmares entangling around each other. old habits die hard tho so sometimes u catch him with his backwards cap. heeled boots bc he likes to be tall.

ruffnut is so fucking cool u guys. she dresses in a variety of styles, sometimes vastly different day to day but she pulls them all off flawlessly. strong fashion is actually how she & fishlegs bond sometimes (or argue lmao). she's got so many ear piercings & switches out what she has by the day. she does her hair the most elaborately out of the gang, when it's long or short. loves long necklaces & layers them. has her nose pierced too. she has a tattoo of barf going down her calf (tuff has the other half so if they stand next to each other it completes the zippleback!!). her fave pair of shoes tho are her sketchers hiking sandals. let the dogs out!!!

tuff is also so fucking cool, though in a more laid back way compared to ruff. more grungy. ripped jeans from falling off his longboard. old sneakers that have been everywhere. shirts he's had since middle school that may be repurposed to have ripped sleeves or become crop tops. that ugly dress u saw at a thrift store? he's wearing it & fucking looks great. he has his septum pierced and multiple ear piercings (like httyd 3). i also think he'd get snake bites. when he's younger he wears beanies a lot but once he's older he puts his hair up in more elaborate "viking" styles with how he braids. also enjoys tank tops & more frayed looks to shirts in general. has belch tattooed down his calf (ruff has the other half, as stated above).

#httyd #httyd headcanons #httyd modern au #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #fishlegs ingerman #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #rose answers #nightcorecarseatheadrest #thank u!!!! i hope these make sense!!!!! #astor tag #dragons off the coast au

[anonymouspuzzler]

big giant freaking post because i simply think the OLD SEMI-REFORMED CRIME MEN should KISS EACH OTHER

(alt text/image IDs under cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white drawing of Raz and Oleander. Raz, gesturing to the side with one thumb, says, "Your co-conspirator is GNC as heck". Oleander, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact, standing with one fist on his hip, replies, "you're insane".]

[Image 2 ID: A black and white drawing of Oleander and Loboto speaking to a nondescript, silhouetted person in the foreground. Oleander is wearing a low-cut, short-sleeved button-up, dogtags on a necklace, and sunglasses on top of his head, standing with one hand on his hips; Loboto is crouched behind him, wearing a dress over a loose sweater, one hand resting over Oleander's shoulder, with one of Oleander's hands on his knee. Oleander, grinning smugly, says, "Hey, me and my co-conspirator saw you from across the bar and we hate your vibes"; Loboto, grinning manically, ads, "We're gonna take your brain out and see how far it bounces when we throw it".]

[Image 3 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on the floor, Oleander in Loboto's lap. Loboto is wearing knee-length dark brown boots and a bulky green sweater with slim multicolored stripes, over which is a purple dress with a pattern of seaweed and fish along the hem. Oleander is in his usual outfit, minus the helmet. He is looking down at a stack of papers in one hand, reaching up behind him gesturing for a paper which Loboto has taken and lifted up to his face, the other arm around Oleander.]

[Image 4 ID: Oleander, sitting on an implied ledge, wearing a camo-print tank top, blue jeans and knee-length brown boots. Loboto is sitting on the ground to his right, wearing an off-white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and purple overalls unbuttoned on one side, with a hole in the left knee. He has his arms loosely around Oleander and is giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, to which Oleander is looking back with a surprised blush.]

[Image 5 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander. Loboto is leaning back in a dark teal-green wooden chair with his elbow leaning on a round, light-green wooden table. He is wearing a baggy navy blue "All Paul Cruise" t-shirt with an orange neckline, which hangs slightly off his left shoulder and exposes a bit of his stomach, as well as light-green pajama pants patterned with orange and purple fish, and mismatched purple slippers, one plain with an orange patch and the other blue-and-pink striped. He is holding his unbuckled prosthetic limply in his left hand and looking over at Oleander with a raised eyebrow and chastising expression. Oleander is standing by the other side of the table in a white tank top, light-and-dark blue striped boxers, beige socks and bunny slippers. He has a light coat of stubble and looks sleepy and very mildly annoyed. He is holding a coffee cup with the Psychonauts logo in one hand and using the other to hold a pointer finger to his temple, creating an orange telekinetic hand to pour a pitcher of coffee into his mug.]

[Image 6 ID: A greyscale illustration of Loboto and Oleander asleep in bed. Oleander is on the left, lying on his back, wearing a tank top and striped boxers, with one leg propped up on Loboto's side. Loboto is to the right lying on his side, chest facing the mattress, wearing a quilted eye mask, a baggy shirt, and pajama pants patterned with fish. Loboto's prosthetic is off and he is reaching over Oleander to hold his right hand; his legs are also dangling off the edge of the mattress. One of Loboto's boots is on the floor to the right of the bed, while Oleander's bunny slippers are on the left partially under the bed. There are also nightstands to each side of the bed. On Oleander's side is his helmet, an alarm clock, and a three-ring notebook in a compartment underneath; on Oleander's side is his prosthetic, a plush fish, a wind-up chattering teeth toy, and a "TRUE DENTAL TALES" magazine in a compartment underneath.]

[Image 7 ID: A greyscale illustration of Oleander and Loboto. Oleander is sitting on the edge of a mattress, shirtless and wearing striped boxers, rubbing his head with one hand and looking back over his shoulder at Loboto, who is lying in bed behind him. Loboto is missing his shower cap, with his hair in sloppy patches, and looking sleepily at Oleander. His prosthetic is around one side of Oleander while his natural hand is sitting on Oleander's thigh.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Oleander and Loboto from the bust up. Loboto, sitting on the right and wearing a bulky ribbed sweater, twists his head around to give a surprised Oleander a kiss on the lips.]

[Image 9 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Loboto, grinning, scooping up Oleander in his arms, who flails slightly with his arms to the side like a kitten being picked up by a child. His helmet is getting knocked askew and he looks flustered, blushing and sweating.]

[Image 10 ID: A color illustration of Loboto holding Oleander in his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Oleander is flailing in his hold but grinning widely at the affection.]

[Image 11 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander arguing over a map. Loboto is wearing a "TEETH MACHINE" t-shirt with lime green shoulders and collar that cuts off just above his belly button, rolled-up cargo shorts cinched tightly at the waist with a belt, green ribbed socks and greenish-black sandals; he is bent over at the waist with his prosthetic hand on his hip and his other hand pointing at something on the map. Oleander is standing next to him wearing a pink open aloha shirt with a floral pattern, a low-cut Whispering Rock tank, frayed denim shorts, dark socks, white tennis shoes and a magenta baseball cap. He is holding the map in his left hand and gesticulating wildly with the other, shouting as he looks down at the map. In the background are Raz and Lilli, holding hands; Raz is eating a cotton candy while Lilli is smiling and pointing at something offscreen.]

[Image 12 ID: A sketch of a grinning Loboto standing in a corner, pinned by Oleander, who is having to hold himself up with both hands and feet on the walls in a split to keep himself at eye-level.]

[Image 13 ID: Loboto imagining Oleander in his bright-blue mermaid tail, topless and wearing his gloves, one hand holding a microphone and the other making a V-sign. He is grinning widely and singing into the microphone, with hearts and musical notes in the background behind him. Below the imagine-spot is Loboto, grinning wobbly and blushing, one hand scratching his cheek. In the background are two of the fishmen from Rhombus of Ruin, both staring at Loboto in confusion.]

[Image 14 ID: A sketch of Oleander posing on a rock wearing his mermaid tail; Loboto is in the foreground, wearing a beret on top of his shower cap and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he sketches him with his prosthetic hand. The drawing is comically bad.]

[Image 15 ID: Multiple rough sketches of Loboto and Oleander. To the left is a little sketch of Oleander, left, and Loboto, right, holding hands; Loboto is smiling vacantly while Oleander is slightly flustered and pretending not to be, standing with one hand on his hip. In the middle is Oleander and Loboto sitting on the floor in a heap together, Loboto facing sideways and folded over with his arms around Oleander, legs on either side of him, and his head resting sideways on top of Oleander's head. Oleander has one hand on Loboto's knee and the other around his shoulders, resting on his neck. Loboto is topless, wearing jeans and his boots, and has a lovestruck grin; Oleander is in his usual pants and boots and a t-shirt, grinning somewhat smugly up at Loboto. To the right is a little sketch of Loboto holding up Oleander up in his arms, facing him; Loboto is grinning while Oleander, limbs limp, looks slightly embarrassed. On top is a sketch of Oleander sitting on a couch holding a bottle, with Loboto on the floor next to him; Loboto is in a baggy t-shirt and boxers, without his shower cap, and has turned around to cradle a flustered Oleander's head and kiss him on the lips.]

[Image 16 ID: A sketch of Oleander, sitting in Loboto's lap wearing a t-shirt and jeans, leaning against Loboto's knees and looking exasperated. Loboto is wearing a tank top and jeans and has a delighted grin, repeatedly slapping Oleander's bald head with his left hand.]

[Image 17-18 IDs: A two-panel comic split into two images. In the first, Loboto is sitting in a wooden chair at a round table holding a screwdriver in his left hand, wearing a baggy t-shirt and frayed sweatpants, looking back over at his shoulder at Oleander in the foreground. Oleander is standing at the kitchen sink, wearing an open button-up shirt over a tank top, as well as dishwashing gloves, and has his right hand in a fist while his left shoves something into the water. A screencapped caption from a Tumblr post reads "my boyfriend is washing the dishes and I just heard him say "who do you work for? who's your contact???" while repeatedly pushing a glass under water". The second panel cuts so Loboto is in the foreground, looking confused and raising his prosthetic hand to his chin, while in the background Oleander (visibly on a stepstool to reach the sink) holds up a glass with telekinesis and brandishes a knife at it, shouting. A second screencapped caption reads "at least he's having fun???"]

[Image 19 ID: A two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is sitting on a stool at a table, looking down at blueprints he is caressing with his right hand, holding a martini glass in his left, looking contemplative. He says, "*sigh* What an amazing couple we would've been..." In the second panel, Loboto has suddenly appeared and hugs him from behind, grinning and saying "still cooould beeee [heart symbol]"; Oleander, flustered and grimacing, shouts back, "I COULD NOT BE MORE OBVIOUSLY TALKING TO THE MECH".]

[Image 20 ID: A colored two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is in front of a red curtain, with Sheegor seen from behind in the background. He is wide-mouth shouting to Loboto offsceen, "You bozo! Have you no dignity?" In the second panel, Loboto has entered from stage left, grinning with mouth agape, responding, "Of course not! How long have we worked together?!" Oleander glares back with his mouth tight in a grimace, looking like he's barely holding back his rage.]

[Image 21-22 IDs: A two-panel black-and-white comic. In the first, Oleander is standing in front of an Otto-bon hatch surrounded by planters, with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, saying, "This summer I lost my (extremely platonic) co-conspirator". In the second, the camera cuts in slightly closer as Oleander clenches a fist, eyes closed and shedding a single tear, saying, "Sometimes I can still hear his voice..." In the background, Loboto emerges from the Otto-bon hatch, shouting, "QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD".]

[Image 23 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on a wine-purple couch with a golden-yellow throw blanket over the back, watching a rabbit-ear television, with a red rug with gold trim below them. There is also an orange cushion on the floor and two drink cans to the right. Loboto is sitting on the left side, one leg slung over the arm of the sofa on which his prosthetic arm is resting, leaning on the other arm, with a bowl of popcorn nestled in the crook of that arm. He is wearing a baggy green sweater that only reaches midway down his torso, a white button-up under that with the collar popped, and purple pajama pants patterned with teeth, as well as a teal-green sock on only his left foot (with the other visible discarded off the side of the sofa). Oleander is on the other side of the sofa, leaning against the arm on his left side and taking a fistful of popcorn with his right hand. He is wearing a zip-up orange-and-light-yellow sweater, long green pants, purple socks and reddish-brown slippers. A text balloon coming from the TV reads "I wanna be... a dentist!!" Loboto, grinning and pointing with his prosthetic hand, says, "This weird clown has it right." Oleander, lifting an eyebrow, responds, "That's an elf", to which Loboto replies, "No, no. Elves is the tall guys with the shooty bits".]

#anonymous puzzler art #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #long post #tw for bare chest n mildly suggestive content #god help me i draw these two a lot huh #i'm right though they should kiss.

[britt-kageryuu]

Leo is streaming today, he's trying on different outfits while answering questions, he basically decided to copy Donnies stream. With a privacy screen to change behind, and a mirror to see how it looks. River is sitting on top of a hat box next to the mirror wearing a little cyan beanie on her head.

He's walks out in blue leggings with lime yellow crescent stripes on the thighs and calves, a blue cropped tank top with his cartoony red eared slider graphic, white/blue basketball shoes, his mask with long tails, and a variety of bracelets and bands on his arms.

"I kinda like this, but maybe the bracelets are a bit much." He says as he turns around while looking in the mirror, "Let's try something else. Any new questions River?" He walks behind the screen with a slight flash of light.

"How's the book project going? Asks BlueNeonFan#1." River reads off, "Well Uncle Blue how is the book going?" She asks almost innocently.

He leans out with a slightly annoyed look, "It's going well. I just don't know how to write the beginning, or when it should end. Plus I think I need to put a bit more research into some parts." And he leans back behind the screen to continue putting together an outfit.

"Not to mention how disjointed it is! Like none of it lines up no matter how you order the parts you've already written!" River complains while lightly glaring at the screen.

Leo walks out in dark blue hakama style pants with openings showing off his thighs, a open royal blue kimono jacket with glowing neon blue swirl patterns, black boots, his mask is in a fancy knot/bow with metal stick hair ornaments with the Hamato symbol hanging on a little chain.

He struck a couple poses, "Well it's still a work in progress, plus I don't think I'll actually publish it." He has a smug look as he checks himself out. "I like this, definitely going to wear this for an event. Don't ask me what the story is about, as River said I don't really know how it's going!" His tail is visible in the mirror twitching with irritation.

With a bit of flourish he walks back behind the screen. River looks towards the camera, "At least part of it involves the characters Larping, but we know next to nothing about it, so yeah, it's very much a work in progress, and needs a lot of reworking."

Leo pops back out in a Royal Blue Cheongsam Dress with silk slippers. With a folding fan in his hand. "Let's move on, how about I talk about this cute manga I found avoiding my writing project!"

He went through a few more outfits while jumping topics, and questions, while looking fabulous!

---------------

Masterpost

The outfits are really the hardest thing about all of this writing!!

I both want to continue this writing style, and want to go back to the other, but I think this style helps me with details and pacing. Opinions are welcome!

#VTurtles! #vtuber au #rottmnt au #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #rise leonardo #rise leo #tmnt au #tmnt 2018 #rise of the tmnt #tmnt rise #rise tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction

[lamaery]

some enlightened mistspren…

We didn’t yet get a description for how these two look in The Cognitive Realm, so I like to hypothesize. The depictions but rspixart on their coppersmiths page certainly have been some inspiration (like Glys‘ red crystal mask), but I enjoyed creating my own tweak for them. Also Renarin does need a puffy vest... Or at least a warm vest. He does look a bit cold in those listener clothes. Give that man some stormlight!

--------------------------------------------- [Image description: 1) portait of Glys, showing his misty, lanky physique in full colour in front of a green background and wrapped in a quilted vest with strings of large, interlocking hexagons of a darker colour on a lighter ground and a green collar and trimmings. His grey pants are padded but in a pattern of long strips and come down to under his knees. There are several small pouches on his belt. His overly long arms are covered in long gloves that go over his elbows and shift in colour from a muddy green on the hands to a bright red further up. His face is a mask of porcelain with a thick layers of red crystal on top, the original white colour only still visible around his chin an mouth but then smoothly shifting to the deep red. He has big glowing eyes and the misty parts of his body glow where the lights hits them directly. There his a thick hazy line of red in the midst of his torso, neck and limbs. Whisps of mist fan out behind his facemask, like hair strands caught in the wind. His expression is attentive and slightly tense. The right fingers are posed like his is about to snap them. 2) Portrait of Tumi. They are wearing a warm brown tunic and pants of a slightly cooler shade. Their body is broad-sholdered with a small head and small hands in dark red gloves. The orange-red crytals on the white porcelain mask are small and scattered along the rim of his, dappling part of the forehead and the cheeks more akin to freckles. There is an almost rosy glow to the misty body peaking out from where it is hidden beneath the clothes. 3) six versions of Glys standing with his head slightly crooked as if curious about something. His face is a mask with crystals sprouting from his forehead. His misty figure is lean with overly long legs and arms. His attire each time a combination of a short cape or vest leaving his midriff bare and knee length breeches with narrow stripes, a check pattern or one leg another colour. His long arms are covered in gloves that stop short under or go over his elbows. On his feet he wears different kind of sandals 4 and 5) sketches for the Glys' and Tumi's portraits. more simple line drawings. In this first draw Glys wears a short cape instead of the patterned vest.

6) four full body drawings of Renarin in different outfits. One monochrome one on the left shows him with Glys' padded vest with the hexagonal pattern and the high collar. He is wearing his uniform shirt, trousers and boots underneath. His sleeves are rolled up and his hand in his trouser pockets. The other three to the right are in colour and his is wearing differing listener attire. The first includes an open striped vest over a bare chest and a grey, blue wrap with a colourful cord as a belt. The next one is a short cape with a rhythmic pattern, bunched up and bound with a thin cord at one shoulder. It is short enough to show his midrift. underneath he wears grey wrap trousers. The last one has an orange shawl wrapping over one shoulder and his hip held in place by several cords with the same pattern he has earlier. His beige trouser are more an alethi style and close in tight with buttons under his knees. he wears sandal on his feet in this one. (in the other two drawings his feet are bare). also he has the beginnings of a beard in the last one making him look older.]

#rhythm of war #stormlight spoilers #row spoilers #stormlight archive #character illustration #character art #character design #mistspren #brandon sanderson #cosmere #procreate #roshar fashion #tumi #glys #described

[candycandy00]

The Dark Carnival Chapter 1: Shigaraki x Reader

AU fic about the League of Villains as members of a 1920’s traveling circus/carnival, and everywhere they go, people tend to disappear. Each chapter will feature a new Reader getting mixed up with one of the members. This is a dark fanfic so please don’t expect happy endings!

Smut. 18+. Violence. Death. Blood. Whips. Oral sex. Creampie. Rough sex (the sex is consensual though).

It was your sister who convinced you to go to the traveling carnival that had just arrived in town. She’d been watching the progress of the huge colorful tents being erected in the empty field behind the school, and she’d come home to tell you of the exotic animals she’d seen being led from enormous carts to steel cages. To make her happy, you agreed to go with her on the first night it was open. 

You noticed him right away. How could you not? He was the ring master, as well as the lion tamer. He was dressed in a blood red jacket, a black and red vest underneath, with white pants and black shiny boots. A black hat sat atop a mess of white hair that spilled to his shoulders and framed a surprisingly young and pretty face. A few faint scars marred his visage, but to you they only added to his mysterious charm. 

But his eyes entranced you most of all. They were the color of his jacket, the color of blood. So unusual, but so incredibly beautiful. You were mesmerized by him, by the way he moved across the sandy floor of the tent, the way he cracked his whip to get the lions to do his bidding, the way the rest of the performers seemed to move around him as if he were the true star of the circus. 

The other performers were alluring in their own right. A white haired fire dancer covered in burn scars, nude to his waist, piercings on his lips and nipples connected by thin dangling chains. A sharply dressed magician who wore a glittering mask over his eyes and charmed every young lady lucky enough to be selected as his volunteer assistant for the evening, his hands sliding over their bodies as he helped them in and out of various contraptions. A lovely young knife thrower in a striped corset and fishnet stockings, laughing gleefully as she outlined the bodies of her adoring fans in knives. A ruggedly handsome ventriloquist who wore a bow tie and suspenders over his tightly fitting shirt and chain smoked as he made his puppet say outrageous things. And finally, the Lizard Man who was dragged out covered in chains, even his mouth bound shut, as if he were a danger to everyone there, but with long shaggy pink hair and shockingly kind eyes that made everyone in the audience want to free him. 

Even when the others were performing amazing feats, your eyes sought him out. When not in the middle of the biggest ring, he usually stood leaning against the lion cage, arms crossed, watching his fellow performers. At the end of the show, he stood near the tent’s exit, periodically bowing to patrons as they left. As you walked by him, your heart raced. Your eyes met his, and the intensity of his stare made heat rush to your face. 

The second night, your sister didn’t have to convince you at all. You were eager to get to the big tent and take your seat, a bit closer to the ring this time. As the handsome ring master moved around, cracking his whip at the lions, his eyes drifted over the crowd. Was it your imagination, or did they seem to linger on you? 

You shifted in your seat, feeling nervous and excited. You watched his performance with rapt attention, barely even hearing your sister when she asked if you wanted some cotton candy. The only treat you wanted was standing in the middle of the ring, holding the whip taut between his hands as he suddenly ran his tongue along the length of it. Several ladies in the audience gasped, but you could tell from the looks on their faces that they’d enjoyed the spectacle. 

The third night was the last performance, and you sat in the front row, face flushed, eyes shining as you committed his every move to your memory. You didn’t want this to end. The thought of going back to your drab, boring life while the ring master rode out of town made you feel a deep sadness you couldn’t explain. 

So after the last performance was done and everyone had gone home, you decided to sneak back into the carnival to get one last look at the man who had captivated you so strongly. Perhaps, you thought, you could even speak to him or get his autograph. 

It was a crazy impulse, and you’d never been the type to follow such whims, but once the idea was in your head, you couldn’t resist. 

It was pitch dark when you snuck back into the carnival grounds. All the bright swirling lights were turned off, all the rides gone still. As you crept along, you wondered which tent belonged to the ring master. You didn’t have to wonder long. 

He stepped out of a small tent among a row of similar tents, lighting a cigarette then crossing his arms, tilting his head to look up at the cloudless sky. He was so beautiful in the starlight that your breath caught in your throat. You stood there for a moment in the darkness, peeking out from behind a nearby crate, just enjoying the sight of him, thrilled by the thought that you were seeing him in a private moment that the other women in the audience would never get to see. 

Someone in the distance called out a name that sounded foreign to you, and the ring master walked toward the voice, leaving the immediate area of his tent. Had that been his name? You’d never heard one like “Tomura” before. 

Regardless, his tent was now unguarded, just sitting there empty, ripe to be looked through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should really go through with this. You wanted so badly to get a glimpse of his personal space, to perhaps get even a tiny inkling as to who he really was. But what if he came back and caught you? You could just say you were lost, right? 

You crept over to his tent and carefully pulled the fabric of the opening back, glancing inside. It was lit by a few small lamps with clear glass globes, so you stepped on in. 

The space was nothing shocking. There was a bed, a dresser with a large mirror, a huge wooden trunk, and a wrack of colorful clothes that all looked similar to the outfits he’d been wearing during the shows. Still, you felt amazing just being in there. You ran one hand along the dresser, then went over to the clothes and smelled of them. To your surprise, they didn’t smell like animals or any typical circus odors. They smelled fairly fresh. 

Suddenly you heard footsteps outside the tent. He was back! In a panic, you completely forgot the plan to say you were lost and instead dove behind the clothes, easily slipping out of view. 

You heard the flap of the tent’s entrance open and then heavy footsteps walking through the tent. You carefully parted the clothes a tiny bit and peered out. You found the ring master standing in front of his dresser, looking at himself in the mirror. As you watched, he began removing his clothing, piece by piece. You heart rate sped up as more and more of his toned body became visible. Without realizing it, you’d started breathing heavily. 

Suddenly he turned his head toward the clothes and said, “Who’s there?”

You froze, an instinctive fear overtaking all your thoughts. Why were you so frightened? The worst that could happen was that he’d be angry and you’d be embarrassed. But something deep within you told you to flee. You ignored it. 

The ring master grabbed his whip from the dresser and cracked it toward the the clothes you were hiding behind, causing them to slide to the left and reveal you standing there in your pink floral sundress. 

He regarded you with a cold, penetrating stare and asked, “What are you doing in my tent?”

Even half dressed, he was imposing. 

“I’m sorry, I got lost,” you managed to squeak out. 

He stared at you with those red eyes, as if he could see right through you. 

You decided to fess up. “No, that’s a lie,” you admitted. “The truth is… I’ve been so drawn to you. I’ve come to every performance, and I find myself enamored. I just wanted to see you one more time before you leave town. I thought maybe… you could give me your autograph.”

His face broke into a somewhat eerie smile. “If that’s true, I can give you something much better than an autograph.”

Right there in the tent, just a few feet away from you, he pulled his cock out. You gasped and looked away, unable to believe he would do something so brazen. Then you remembered that you’d been hiding in his tent, watching him undress. To him, you were probably the brazen one. You looked back at him, at the long, pale shaft in his hand, growing larger and firmer before your eyes. 

“Come here,” he said, and your body seemed to move on its own. You stepped over to him, your heart hammering in your chest, and he put one hand on your shoulder, gently but firmly pushing you down to a kneeling position before him. You found yourself at mouth level with his now fully erect cock. 

You looked up at at him, uncertain, but he put his hand on the back of your head, threading his thin fingers through your hair, and pulled you closer. By reflex you opened your mouth, and his cock slid inside. You closed your lips around it, licked at it with your tongue, savoring the taste of him. He watched you, his expression unchanged as you pulled back and ran your tongue along the length, wanting to give him pleasure more than anything else in the world.

Finally, your licking and sucking seemed to have an effect, as his grip on your hair tightened. He pulled out of your mouth and said, “Hold out your tongue.”

You obeyed immediately. He grasped the tip of your tongue with his thumb and one finger, pulling it a little further out, then shot his cum directly onto it. The warm sticky fluid drizzled down your bottom lip and chin, but you managed to bring most of it into your mouth, where you swallowed it. 

He grinned down at you. “Good girl.”

You stood up slowly, not wanting to do anything that would displease him. It was as if your whole body existed just for him. You’d never been so entranced by anyone before. 

He reached forward and undid the buttons on the front of your dress, then pulled it down to pool around your feet, leaving you only in bra, panties, garter belt, and sheer stockings. You blushed, lowering your eyes, but he took hold of your hand and pulled you over to the bed. 

After pushing you onto your back, you watched in confusion as he unspooled the whip and held it up. “Put your hands above your head,” he commanded, and you did. 

The next moment, he swung the whip, and it coiled tightly around both your wrists, holding them together. You cried out in pain as the whip stung your flesh, and you noticed that it was covered in tiny sharp briars that pricked your skin and caused little drops of blood to trickle down your arms. 

He stood over you, watching your face, as if waiting to see if you would beg him to release you. But you didn’t. You would let this man do whatever he wanted with you, if it meant getting to spend even one more moment in his presence. 

After a few moments, he climbed onto the bed, and pulled a small knife from his boot. You drew in a sharp breath, wondering what he was going to do with it, but he simply used it to cut off your bra and panties, leaving the garter belt and stockings. 

He moved down and pushed your knees apart, then used two fingers to spread you open. You gasped as he leaned forward and ran his tongue along the inside of your folds, prodding at your clit with the tip. You arched your back and moaned. He alternated using his tongue and his fingers to pleasure you, making obscene sounds with the wet arousal dripping out of you, bringing you to climax faster than you ever thought possible. 

As you shuddered through your orgasm, he got to his knees between your thighs and positioned himself at your entrance. You barely had time to register what he was doing when he thrust inside you. You bucked against the whip restraining you, your whole body lifting off the bed, the briars biting into your wrists. It hurt. All of it did. But he was so beautiful, you would have let him whip you as if you were a misbehaving lion. 

He pulled back and looked down at where your bodies were connected, his expression vaguely displaying surprise. You assumed he saw blood and realized you were a virgin. He grinned at you again and thrust back in, burying himself in you. 

You whimpered but you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you. All those other women and girls in the audience were so obviously smitten with him, and he may have bowed to them as they left or graced them with a smile, but you were the one he was fucking. You were special. 

He reached one hand up to stroke your hair as he continued thrusting in and out. “For a virgin, you can take it deep,” he said, clearly meaning it as a compliment. 

You clenched around him, the praise causing your arousal to spike. You looked up at him with teary, lust-filled eyes. “P-please… wherever you’re going… take me with you!”

He looked you in the eyes, but said nothing, so you went on. 

“I’ll do anything you want! I don’t think I can live without you!”

His eyes shifted away from your face as he muttered, “You won’t have to worry about that.”

“What?”

He suddenly kissed you on the lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth, making you forget what he’d just said as one of his hands groped your breast. The sudden actions, coupled with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting a very sensitive spot inside you, brought you over the edge again, leaving you whimpering against his mouth. 

Moments later, he shot his seed inside you, so much that you felt like it would leak out around his cock. 

He pulled out and stood up, then walked over to retrieve his pants from the floor, leaving you shuddering on the bed, the whip still digging into your skin. 

When he stepped back over to you, he pulled the whip free. It hurt, possibly more than when he originally hit you with it, and blood kept sliding  down your shaking arms. He coiled the whip back up and leaned over you, rubbing the whip against your breast, the briars scratching over the nipple. You hissed and tossed your head back, enjoying the pain. 

He watched you with something like amusement, smiling down at you as he dragged the whip down, then rubbed it against the tender flesh between your legs. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but your body was already so sensitive that the sensations felt much sharper than they were. You moaned and reached for him, wanting to pull him closer, wanting him to kiss you again. But he abruptly stopped and stood back up, looking toward the entrance to his tent. 

You followed his gaze and saw several figures walking into the tent. It was the other performers, all five of them, dressed in casual clothing as they crowded in and stood around, none of them seeming the least bit surprised to find a naked young woman in the ring master’s bed. 

“Oh, you’re not finished yet?” one of them asked. You were too confused to notice which one. You tried to cover your nudity with your arms as you scooted to the back of the bed. 

“I was just about to,” the ring leader said, uncoiling the whip and stretching it tight between his hands. 

“What’s going on?!” you cry, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable. 

The fire dancer laughed. “The boss is about to finish you up. At least he showed you a good time first, from the looks of it.” His eyes very pointedly moved to the wet sticky spot on the sheets. 

You couldn’t take this any more. Things were getting crazy, fast. You jumped off the bed and ran toward the tent’s entrance, but you only got a few feet before you heard a familiar sound, the whip slicing through the air. A split second later, you felt the spike-covered whip wrap around your neck, cutting into the delicate skin of your throat, causing blood to trickle down to your chest as you struggled to get your fingers under the whip. 

You were jerked backwards, toward the end of the bed, and you watched in horror as the ring master slung his end of the whip over a metal hook hanging from the tent’s ceiling and pulled, causing you to be lifted off your feet, hanging you. 

You struggled wildly, kicking and jerking as your oxygen ran out. Just before you were about to black out, you were able to extend one foot to touch the end of the bed, giving yourself a tiny bit of leeway to suck in some air, your fingers clawing at the whip. The motion forced you to spread your legs apart, and you felt the ring master’s cum, tinted red by your blood, pour out of you. 

You heard some of the other performers laugh, and one of them said, “Fuck, you really filled her up, boss!”

You looked down at the ring master, who was holding the end of the whip firmly, using it to squeeze the life out of you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this. When he finally met your eyes, he looked… regretful? “Sorry,” he said in a quiet voice, “I can’t keep a pet. I always end up killing them. Best to do it now before I get attached.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly jerked on the whip, pulling you further into the air and out of reach of the bed. You jerked and kicked, desperate to find some footing, desperate for mercy, but none came. You got one last look at those beautiful red eyes as you lost consciousness, and died. 

The next morning, the dark carnival loaded up and headed for the next town, leaving your body in a shallow grave. 

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #league of villains #Lov x reader #LoV fanfiction

[sibillascribbles08]

I thought about drawing older Casey Jr. for a while but a post in the tag spurred me on

It's full of hcs tho haha

ID under the cut (and then some ramblings if anyone wants)

[ID: A digital drawing featuring three images of Casey Jones Jr. from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He's depicted as older than he is in the show. The leftmost image is a full body drawing. He's wearing a deep green tank top, khaki pants, and black boots that stop just below the knee. He has his signature hockey stick weapon on his shoulder. His arms are covered in mystic tattoos and symbols of varying shapes and colors. There is a small bit of text pointing at them saying "tons of mystic tats"

The upper right drawing is a close up of his face. He's grinning and looking toward the camera. There's text pointing toward his eyes saying, "Red Marking Tats". It's referring to deep red triangles that are above and below his eyes to mimic Leonardo's stripes.

The lower right drawing is a halfbody shot of him in a leather jacket and a motorbike helmet. The helmet has his signature hockey mask attached to it, obscuring his face. There is text pointing to it saying, "Mask attaches to helmet." The jacket features some large spikes with text pointing to them saying, "Spikes like Raph."]

For peeps who read my fics like most of this won't be surprising. Casey starts learning a lot of mystics and alchemy from Draxum and he gets his tats so that he can quick fire some of the spells. He can portal pretty easily using it, and loves to do so while riding his motorbike so he flies out of it and spins to a stop. It drives Leo insane because, "How are you this cool."

His hairstyle is also based on Draxum's but man it makes him look like human Splinter cannot deal with it.

#rottmnt #sibillasart #vhhb #yeah it can go in that tag #also added a few stretch marks to his shoulders he beefed up fast #spoilers not really Casey does move in with his bf while he's in college #but about a year later they have a mutual break up #and Casey decides to just start traveling #I'm undecided if he picks up Huginn and Munnin at some point #I think it'd be cute but I'm not totally sure why they'd stay with him alsdkfj #also don't at me about his weapon I looked up minimal refs

[thelemonsnek]

Held off on posting this for a while bc I was debating changing some small details in his outfit then I remembered I'm allowed to do what I want and I can just change it later. Woe Jacke be upon ye

Some more info about them! Alloy has mellowed out a lot over the years, having been very energetic as a Jangmo-o, but he's much calmer now. He's exceedingly protective of Jacke and the rest of the team :] Pierce seems very quiet and brooding, but loves to help Jacke create sculptures!! A little renaissance man <3 Skid is VERY opinionated and stubborn, and an absolute beast in battle. He also loves headbutting Jacke, sometimes completely taking him out when Jacke isn't ready for it. Peep is very small and cute and he knows it, and will use that to his advantage to get what he wants. He's quite the little shit!

They were on route to be a decently successful battler, not champion level or anything, but very respectable :) quitting battling was not a decision that Jacke took lightly

Now they have a fun little cart that Alloy helps pull around where they make and sells their creations! He specializes in spinning yarn, crocheting, and jewelry making, though he dabbles in a lot of different stuff!

[Image id: a digitally drawn reference page of Jacke, a pokemon trainer oc. He is a white person with shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, and is wearing a white button down with a red and yellow striped shawl over his shoulders, and a mega stone as a necklace. The matching keystone is embedded into a leather brace on their left arm. Their pants are grey, and they have some Kommo-o scales attached to their hip, almost like armor. Their boots are also styled after Kommo-o, grey with gold and red accents. They stand looking off to the side, holding the strap of their satchel and seeming unimpressed. Off to the side is another drawing of them, with their shirt half off to show off a set of massive scars on their shoulder and chest. They have one hand lifted, almost but not quite touching them, a tired and pained expression on their face. Along the right side of the drawing is their team, a Kommo-o named Alloy, a Bisharp named Pierce, a Wooloo named Skid, and a Cutiefly named Peep.

Finally, is bulletpoint style text talking about Jacke. It reads, "used to be a part of a team researching mega evolution. quit the team + battling when his Kommo-o mega evolved and things went Wrong(TM). independent artist now :) very nice + cheerful around customers, lets the mask fall when he's alone". End id]

#art #my art #digitial art #pokemon #pokemon trainer oc #pokemon oc #my oc #oc: jacke #kommo-o #oc: alloy #bisharp #oc: pierce #wooloo #oc: skid #cutiefly #oc: peep #hes so fun :]

[fleetwood-cheese]

Phantom Thief Outfit Breakdown

Okay so exactly one (1) person asked me abt my opinions on the phantom thief's metaverse costumes (thank you @waywardsalt) bc I mentioned them in the tags of a poll so now you are all locked into my insane rant abt this topic. Originally this was a power point i made to vent but i realized its too long to post in its entirety (its more than 20 slides long) so you get this monstrosity of a post. I'm going to split this into multiple posts discussing each thief's designs bc there's a lot and it'd be too long; will link each post at top.

Ann - Makoto - Sumire - Futaba - Yusuke - Akechi 2

DISCLAIMER: I am not a designer, have relatively poor fashion sense, and these are largely just my opinions on the matter, obviously people are going to disagree. I'd love to discuss this and get feedback on it but if you're an asshole im not going to entertain you.

Starting with the worst (imo), let's begin with Akechi's black mask costume.

This is, from a purely design and visual standpoint, the worst to me because it simply has too much going on, and all of it gets lost in its attempts to be cool or intimidating. This attempt at being menacing, presumably, is lost in translation and mostly just makes it look uncomfortable, edgy, and sort of goofy.

It seems to be pulling on ideas of knight armor, birds of prey, straight jackets, and the general idea of being trapped or isolated, but very few of these things actually come across in the final design. (It also might have some bondage/bdsm inspiration, but I'm not sure how intentional that is.)

Firstly, the bodysuit isn't well executed here, and is complicated by the fact that it appears to also be booty shorts with matching leggings?? but they're all the same thickness?? This is confusing and goofy, and would look much better split into an actual top/pants combo. Additionally, the stripes add further confusion and lack the appeal of Loki's stripes, who I presume they're trying to tie-in/invoke with them; their diagonal direction certainly doesn't help. To fix this, I would keep the stripes on the top, but have them run up and down, and simplify the pants to solid black with blue piping along the sides. I think this separate top with the straight stripes would also do a better job of communicating a straight jacket than the current costume does.

Another major gripe I have with this outfit is the hems, but especially the pant hems. They're what I can only describe as boot cut and its awful; I grew up with the 2000s boot-cut obsession, and they don't look good on anyone except horsegirls who wear actual cowboy boots underneath them. I understand the frayed pant and sleeve hems are supposed to look unkempt and villainous, but it mostly just looks like he's walked on them. To solve this, I would effectively cover them up by adding armor; extend the boots and claws and give him actual grieves and arm guards to make him look more dangerous, sharp, and combat oriented, and invoke the knight aesthetic to clash with the detective prince persona and its white, ornamental style.

Adding additional armor also helps solve the problem of him looking so top heavy. This costume's huge neck guard and mask are super bulky and make you feel like he's about to break his neck; by adding weight to the legs, its no long all concentrated at his head. If you compare it to actual helmets, I think its roughly based off of the frogmouth helmet, which has one, continuous neck piece like the black masks. I would adapt it to look more like a closed helmet or a armet, which have a similar shape but much clearer plating and hinges and thus appear less stiff and might have better mobility.

My last major gripe is the cape, because it is SUCH a wasted opportunity. The torn fabric, while matching his frayed hems, is so boring; a cape made out of feathers would convey the crow idea so much better, and give him a sort of dark knight fantasy vibe that would look wonderful imo. You could even show the iridescence of the feathers, which would tie well into the black-grey-blue palette excellently. Im thinking something like the cape below, or possibly like the crowfeather set from bloodborne if you want some extra drama.

As for the belt, I'm fairly neutral on them; I could take or leave them really. You could remove them if you wanted to simplify the design, or keep them if you wanted an edgier look or to incorporate more bdsm elements, but in that case I would change them to look more like actual bondage belts and not, you know, normal pants belts.

Overall, when ranking these outfits for my powerpoint, I gave this one dead last placement and a solid 2/10 personal ranking.

#goro akechi #persona 5 #black mask #persona outfit critique series #redesign #i don't have the ability to really draw the changes out right now but if that ever changes i'll probably add new designs for visualization #waywardsalt you are getting so much more out of this than you probably expected when you asked me abt this lol #also let me know if you'd like me to specifically tag you in each of these posts or just this first one

[ebenrosetaylor]

(MOTHER 3 SPOILERS) 

I made this a LONG time ago but I found it in my drafts :^) Look!

[ID: The Masked Man from Mother 3 spreading his arms and flying. The red scouter lens on his mask obscures one of his eyes as he looks down on the viewer. The left arm has been altered into a canon with a red mechanism and a tube extending to his back. His bat wings are outstretched and his fluffy cape is flowing in the wind, revealing a blue and yellow striped shirt underneath. He has a golden pig snout belt buckle and orange poofy pants with pockets tucked into black boots. end ID.]

#mother 3 #the masked man #earthbound #mother 3 claus #claus mother 3 #nintendo #sketchbook #traditional art #eben art

[lore-gore]

For @notsosmallbean I have a cringe Ride The Cyclone x Nerdy Prudes Must Die Fic, set in the timeline where Karnak failed, featuring Jane being The Lords in Black blorbo, transgirl Ricky, a bit of perfectdolls, and Constance getting the revenge she deserves. Enjoy and happy holidays!

The choir gathered around the book.

Constance began. "We invoke the names... "

The choir followed. "Pokotho. Bliklotep."

They paused as whispers answered back.

"Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim."

They continued. "T'noy Karaxis."

The book began to glow and change colors.

"Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim..."

"Nibblenephim."

"Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath, Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath."

"Wiggog Wiggog Y'wrath."

"Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath, Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath. Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath, Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath. Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim. Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath, Wiggog, Wiggog Y'wrath."

Savannah spoke up. "Did it work?"

Suddenly a voice boomed out. "Hello friendy-wends."

Giggles surrounded them as several figures appeared. They began to sing.

"Out of the depths of Hell and back,

Us spawn of the black and white,

Cover our souls with robes of black,

And take up the arms of night,

Nibbly wants his sacrifice,

And Wiggly wants his wrath,

We dance around the pentagram,

And take all our kingdoms back"

"Babble the spell that gets it done,

Babble it on command,

Won't stop until all the blood is drawn,

The Lords in Black demand,"

"You summon us once,

You summon us twice,

You gamble it all on the roll of a dice"

"La-la-la-la la

La-la-la-la"

"The devil has won,

It can't be undone,

The book has all but closed on your life"

"The Lords in Black, ah!

The Lords in Black, ah!"

"Ah, Jane Doe, we finally meet." Said the green one. He had green hair and green eyes and wore a green cardigan with some black dots here and there and a big W on the left side and some white stripes on the left sleeve over a shiny green suit with a striped beige tie, chartreuse converses, and a gold plastic crown with fake jewels.

"She looks even cuter in person!" Said the purple one. He had long curled orange and yellow hair and wore a purple hoodie with a pink furry patch on the stomach over shiny purple leggings, shiny purple platform lace-up boots, purple tinted sunglasses with bedazzled lavender frames, and purple lipstick.

"I just want to eat her up!" Said the pink one. He had long curled hot pink hair in pigtails and wore a hot pink skirt with suspenders over a light pink shirt, light pink furry sleeve warmers, hot pink fingerless gloves, sparkly pink knee high socks with white stripes on the top, pink platform boots with pink hearts on the buckles, a light pink bedazzled visor that shadowed his eyes, and hot pink lipstick. He held a giant pink lollipop.

"Can we keep her?!? Can we?!?" Said the yellow one. He had wild yellow hair with orange goggles on top and wore an orange shirt, a yellow jacket with yellow fur around the collar, yellow cargo pants, and yellow boots with orange laces. He held a strange box.

"She's quite... Entertaining." Said the blue one. He had blue goo dripping down his face and wore a blue beret, an aqua shirt, a sparkly indigo jacket with blue fur on the collar and cuffs, blue pants, and blue shoes. He held a dirty and cracked white mask with big eyes and a mouth set in a permanent 'o'.

Ocean put her arm protectively in front of Jane.

"Are you- The Lords in Black?" Asked Constance.

They began to chant again.

"Out of the depths of hell and back,

We've traveled very far,

Cover our souls in robes of black,

The Lords in Black we are"

The green one, who seemed to be "Wiggly", spoke again. "Don't be so formal Connie. We're all pally-wals here. I mean look at us. We even hold court in your own tongue and form! Go Uranium!"

The rest of the Lords laughed at this.

"Our true forms would melt your minds." The blue one added.

"Don't frighten them, Pokey, you nasty boy!" Wiggly responded.

"We need the carnie brought to us. We heard- You could help us."

"The Lords in Black will help you yes,

You stupid silly girl,

Why help you with the Carnieman,

When we could help the world"

"Hmm we could. We could lure him here. But why?" Said Wiggly.

"We want... To kill him." Said Constance. She clenched her fist, rage bubbling.

"I want to see that!" Said the purple one.

"We'll give you whatever you want!" Said Constance.

"Whatever we want?" Said Wiggly.

"Whatever we want we want,

Whatever we want we get,

Whatever you want you want you want,

Forever in our debt"

"So. What do you want from us?"

"Nothing you aren't already giving us, Constance." Said Wiggly, smiling.

"What does that mean-" Said Constance, but by then they were already exiting.

"The Lords in Black,

The Lords in Black call us"

"Out of the depths of Hell and back,

Us spawn of the black and white,

Cover our souls with robes of black,

And take up the arms of night,

You summon us once,

You summon us twice,

You gamble it all on the roll of a dice!"

"La-la-la-la la,

La-la-la-la"

"The devil has won,

It can't be undone,

The book has all but closed on your life"

"The Lords in Black, ah!

The Lords in Black, ah!"

They laughed, disappearing, leaving them alone once again in the abandoned fair.

@rtc-secret-santa-event

#rtc secret santa

[roosterbruiser]

[ PAINT ] while painting a room, sender starts a paint fight with receiver

Bradley and Faye??

Even with a record spinning, I know when Bradley comes home. If not because of the speed at which Buttercup darts down the stairs to greet him or the whining Marmalade starts up at her spot by the bedroom door, then because the bubble of excitement that expands my chest.

There's a record playing downstairs, volume maxed out so I can hear it from up here. So I can't hear his lug-sole boots or the ridiculous way he baby-talks Buttercup above the sound of Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners. But I know him well enough to call out up here! before he probably even has the chance to ask.

"Oh, Faye-baby, y'wearing all that just for me?"

Without even turning around, I know Bradley is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and his cheeks flushed from his trek inside from the car. He's probably still in his flight suit, probably still hasn't even thought about showering, maybe even has his heavy tramp keychain in his clutches.

A grin eats my face; one accompanied by pink cheeks and little fluttering movements from my belly as olive stirs and settles. I think she already knows Bradley's voice and--just like me--gets excited by it alone.

"Ha-ha," I mock, not dignifying him by turning around to show him my flushed cheeks in the early evening sunlight peeking in through the window. "Wouldn't have to wear all of this if my husband would just take an evening to paint the nursery."

His footsteps echo in the nursery, the one I've almost finished painting a satiny juniper shade. He grazes his fingers carefully along the smooth dark wood of the crib, the one I watched him put together for the better part of a Saturday night.

"But if I did that, then how would I get to see you painting with no pants on?"

"I don't have paint pants that fit me right now," I explain, biting my lip and shaking my head. "Y'know, the magic of pregnancy and all that good stuff."

What a sight I really must be to him right now: severely pregnant in a pair of old striped underwear, the Steely Dan t-shirt paint-speckled and snot nearly long enough to cover the my bump or bum, hair thrown into a truly careless braid, golden retriever puppy curled up at the base of my stepladder, face naked and gleaming with a sea-kelp mask Bob sent when I told him how dry my t-zone had been since getting pregnant.

"Get down from there," Bradley says softly, hands suddenly anchoring to my hips. "Let me finish up, baby."

Finally, I turn and look at him. His eyes are soft, swimming with the sort of affection that makes my toes curl. And he's positively glowing in the sunlight streaming in from olive's still-naked windows. He's grinning something fierce, pulling me against his solid body, pressing his lips against my neck and nibbling gently.

"Almost done," I sigh, glancing all around the room, ignoring the paint drying on my fingers and forearms. But even as I'm saying this, I'm stepping off the ladder and leaning against Bradley, resting my head on his shoulder. "D'you like the color?"

Bradley's peppering kisses all along my neck and shoulders, hands resting firmly on my belly, nudging the skin there softly to encourage more movement from olive. She complies almost instantaneously, jerking and nestling.

"Uh huh," Bradley mumbles, pulling my hips against his. "Missed you today," he sighs.

I turn around and face him finally, softly petting Marmie and Buttercup's heads when they nuzzle themselves against my legs. Bradley holds me tight, smoothing his hand over my hair before pressing his lips to mine again and again.

"Just today?" I sigh into the kiss, softly nipping his bottom lip. He stiffens but then groans lowly, pulling me closer to him. "I'm offended."

He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against me. I'm warm all over just being this close to him. I never realize how cold I am during the day until he comes home and practically sets me on fire.

"Missed you extra today," he breathes, kissing me a few more times sloppily before lowering to his knees to kiss the exposed skin of my belly. "Missed you today, too, olive."

When he presses his cheek against my belly, I reach down to run my hands through his curls--screeching to a halt whenever I remember that my fingers are dipped in wet paint. But it is a moment too late--I have left a trail of juniper-colored paint through his sandy curls. He gasps instantly, the cold probably prickling his scalp.

"Oh," I whisper, shaking my head as Bradley freezes, lips stilling. "Oh, shit, I didn't mean to do that! Oh, baby, I'm sorry!" I really do mean it--I am sorry. But I can't help the giggles bursting through my lips.

Bradley looks up at me with his jaw squared, his hair mussed to his head now with paint.

"You did that on purpose," he accuses lowly, narrowing his eyes.

I shake my head, but I can't stop laughing. He's starting to grin now, a mischievous look brewing in his pretty eyes as he leans over and dips his hand into the partially-dried paint tray beside us.

"No, please, I didn't!" I defend, taking a few steps back, shaking my head wildly.

But I already know what is about to happen. He's nearing me with a grin, the girls starting to whine excitedly at his boots as I back myself up with my hands help up in surrender.

"You're gonna pay for it," Bradley says, gesturing to the ridiculous streak in his hair--God, I know the paint is going to be hard to wash out in the shower; it is thick and sticky. "C'mon, baby, take it."

"I'm carrying your child," I say helplessly, hips colliding with the crib as Bradley rapidly closes the distance between us. "Think of all the things I'm sacrificing to have your baby!"

But it isn't a moment after that when he finally meets me nose-to-nose, leaning forward and pressing his paint-soaked hand against the dome of my belly. He smears it all over my warm skin there and still has the audacity to press his lips to mine through my gasps. The paint is cold--and sticky.

"S'better," he mumbles into my parted lips with a grin. "We're even now, baby."

And then he just grins down at me--grins like there's really something to be grinning about when he's just dirtied my freshly-bathed skin and disturbed the expensive mask on my face and accosted me while I'm disadvantaged by my very pregnant state.

"You're right," I say, pouting. "Let's fix that."

Before he can even respond, before he can blink or breathe or wipe that smirk off his lips, I cup his face and effectively press a green handprint there. I even swipe my thumb along his mustache until it is thoroughly doused in juniper.

"Oh, green is your color," I whisper to him, nodding. "Suits your skin tone."

He doesn't even thin before he does it--he just reaches up and smooths his hand over my braid, coating it.

"What do you know?" He murmurs in amusement, wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. "S'your color, too, baby."

#m answers #landslide #rumours universe #bradley x faye #faye clover ledger #faye x bradley #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x oc #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #rooster fluff #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun cast #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction

[kideternity]

[Image ID: Two drawings of the spider-sona Oliver Octavius, owned by @oliveroctavius. Both are a redraw of a panel from “Spider-man: Funeral for an Octopus” issue two, where Spider-man is heroically standing on top of a pile of rubble, with one leg perched in front and one arm outstretched whilst the other has its fist raised- he's wearing the arm rig that belongs to Doc Ock, and has its four tentacles swirling around him- two stretched out in front, and two behind him. The first drawing is just the inks, and is purposely done in the style of how 90s comic books did shading/shadows. The second drawing is the fully coloured version- the rubble is light orange, the arm rig is dark grey with light grey highlights, and Oliver's costume is mostly dark red, with grey gloves and boots, with light teal eye lenses, a dusty blue diamond on his chest and on his pants where it meets the boots and a half circle on his hips, and then a dark purple stripe around that circle, a smaller diamond in the middle of the blue diamond, and a stripe pattern covering his arms and chest that are meant to represent spider legs. The same dark purple stripes are also on his mask, with two going down the middle with a space between, and then four more stripes- two respectively on each side underneath the eye lenses, and two respectively on each side above. The background is a simple yellow colour, with orange rays coming from behind Oliver, with a lime stripe on one side and a darker orange on the other. /End Image ID]

A fun illustration of @oliveroctavius’ spider-sona for him! I remembered about that time Peter very temporarily got the Doc Ock tentacles in ‘Funeral for an Octopus’, and Thought it would be fun to do a redraw with Oliver, especially in that same over the top 90s style. The original panel below, for anyone interested-

#spider man #spiderman #marvel #marvel comics #oliver octavius #oliveroctavius #dinu yells into the void #dinu's sketchy art #other people's cool ocs #okay well tumblr doesnt want to give me my tags anymore. so i hope these are right #also how does one tag another's original character. ive no idea. anyways #funfact the lead up to this was because Oliver and I were trying to buy a book on old comic art history #and every bank system in the fucking universe were against us on that one so it took forever (We got it eventually) #etc etc I hope you like this oliver <3 #it’s a pretty straight and true redraw because I really wanted to try my hand at replicating the intense 90s style #it was fun!