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#they don't even have model sheets
salamander-spark · 13 days
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Cooking something up...
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ottiliere · 2 years
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does dirk wear hand-me-downs that belonged to dave?
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and that's if bro didn't throw them out
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antirepurp · 3 months
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in a perfect world i'd have the patience to figure out a way to make the pupils all ^^ and >< but im gonna be real with you chief i'll have such limited use for that stuff that it's straight up easier to edit that onto renders than create new toggles and fuck with shaders
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cappydoodle · 2 years
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in honor of me adding him to art fight, I’m posting him here. His name is Alistair, he has a sword :)
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softest-sheep · 2 years
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✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰   ☾    ✰  ☾
Btw I’m working on the requests but the first one turned into a six and a half page comic, then I wound up wanting to make a fan animation unrelated to the request, so this led to me making model sheets for some of the characters so I could animate/ draw comics more consistently (Hajime is still just a sketch), then I started editing and mixing audio, and I stg this happens every single time that I work on a project without being given extremely specific parameters and that’s why I post so infrequently ok bye
(comic page on the left was made before I had a consistent model for Nagito, you can really heckin tell)
feel free to use the model sheets for reference for your own animations/ comics/ whatever if you think you can find them useful, just please credit me I guess bc I don’t want to get accused of stealing my own style. Like, you can’t steal styles in the first place, but that’s a conversation for another day, just please credit me if you do use them bc I don’t wanna deal with that crowd.
✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰  ☾    ✰   ☾    ✰  ☾
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colleendoran · 8 months
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Quiet
I got a very kind note asking why I don't respond to asks on Tumblr anymore, yet they see me chatting on other social media.
I closed down my asks here because they became overwhelming. While I do respond to snippets now and then on Twitter, I sometimes really don't say much for days. In fact, my Twitter settings don't even let me see most of the incoming material. Something I posted went viral the other day and I don't think I saw more than 25 comments on it.
I have a lot left to do on Good Omens and am getting past a long illness. I don't have the energy I need, and am still 1000 emails behind as well.
I wish I could be as entertaining as Neil Gaiman is here, and I don't know where he gets the juice.
Magic man.
I do appreciate all the interest and enthusiasm from everyone, and think it's best if I put my focus on the art and less on talking about it. Talking about it too much drains the power I need to get the art out.
Anyway, I don't think I ever posted this early model sheet of Crowley here. He's so much fun to draw.
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Later, I added glasses on the central figure for some promotion art.
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ozzgin · 3 months
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Yandere! Android x Reader (I)
It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.
Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)
Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism
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You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.
"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 
That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 
"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 
"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.
 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.
You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.
 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 
 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 
"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 
He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 
"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 
You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 
"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."
You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 
"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 
"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 
You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 
"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 
"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."
"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.
Nothing.
"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 
He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.
At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 
"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.
"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.
"Oh, you've seen this before?"
"In history books."
You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 
"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 
"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 
"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."
He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.
"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 
You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 
"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."
You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 
"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 
"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"
"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.
Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.
"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."
"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.
As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."
You scoff.
"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"
You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 
"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."
True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.
Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.
"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."
You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.
While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.
"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."
He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.
"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.
"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."
You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.
"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 
The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 
"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.
"Oh?"
"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."
"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 
"Almost."
His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 
"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 
Just you."
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I don't know if you've already been asked this before, but would it be okay to make tintin fanart with your chang design?
Absolutely! I'd love to see what people make with my design! Be sure to tag me so I can see it!
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He's a little tricky to draw so here's a sort of model sheet/style guide for him. Even though this is my own design I struggle getting him right half the time! This is what his design has become after I've spent ages drawing him so you will find plenty of examples of my own art breaking these "rules." I've done one for Tintin some time ago here
You don't have to adhere to this strictly in order to draw him! This is only a guide if you want to emulate my way of drawing him! Have fun with it. Chang would want you to.
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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months
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ani sleeping w his stepdaughter cause her mom wouldn’t put out, but he tells her it’s okay because technically she’s half her mom. so he’s not cheating.
— 18+. Smut. Dead dove do not eat. Stepcest/Fauxcest. Afab!Reader | Fem!Reader. This is sick.
— a/n: I don't know who the fuck you are but I want to kiss you. I am. Speechless. (not proofread, it is 3 am).
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It was hard for him to take his eyes away from you to start with. He was supposed to be a good role model— to make up for the father you never had… and yet, he was finding himself down on his knees for you. You wanted money to get your nails done? Stepdad!Anakin is handing you the cash. You want a new skirt you saw online? Send the link to Anakin so he can get it for you. You want to relieve that uncomfortable itch that boys your age simply cannot alleviate? Oh, your stepdad is more than happy to help.
There was always a small doubt at the back of his head; you are… well, his wife’s daughter. It could be described as «logical reasoning», but Anakin is— probably— physically incapable of not thinking about you the way he should be thinking about his wife. Sometimes it brings him pure spite, even disgust… but when you are so close— yet so far, can you really blame him? Despite his years, Anakin is insanely attractive; those silver strands mixing with his blonde curls, the small wrinkles around his tired blue eyes, even those strong, hard-working hands that rest on your waist when you greet him after a long day of work… Yeah, can you really blame a man?
He has to share you with his wife, and despite being something normal, he doesn't like it— but he doesn't know it, or at least hasn't thought about it. Anakin just dislikes how you cling to your mother, it being justified. She raised you alone, she gave you the life you have— he just walked into your life and your mother’s house to make everything more perfect than it already was.
Maybe it is an insult to your mother’s intellect and integrity to… fuck you, but, can you really fucking blame Anakin?
Anakin loves how willing you are. How you are so eager to fulfill the hole your mother is slowly leaving. Late nights at the office and poor daddy is all alone… you sure needed to step up and help him, right? And it is only fair, he gives you everything you want! So you might as well pay him back somehow, right? Right?
A man has certain… urges. Everyone knows that. 
You know that.
And if he is married to your mother, and you are— practically half, is it even cheating?
Because it should make you feel guilty, because his cock has no right nestling inside your tight pussy in a way that has you touching the sky, fisting your sheets and moaning his name while your phone buzzes next to your head with a miserable text that reads: «Honey, I'll work extra hours tonight, tell Anakin to buy some takeout.»
“Ignore her,” Anakin groans, pushing your head against your pillow. He pulls your hair too, yanking your head up enough to hear your moans, but low enough for your tears to be eaten by the pillow. Crying on the bed is something girls do all the time, so if your mother sees it, it would be easy to explain. “Focus on me, princess. Does it feel good?”
You nod dumbly, sometimes it seems like your brain decides to take a break every time his cock slides in. “Uh-uh,” You mumble, drool trickling down your mouth. 
“Good girl. Don’t think about her. It’s her fault anyway,” Your stepdad grins, slapping your ass for good measure. He likes how responsive you are— so different from your mom. She barely makes any sound. “You feel so fucking amazing, way better than she does.”
The backhanded praise makes your stomach swirl with little butterflies. Daddy complimented you! That’s lovely. That sure fills the void inside your heart. All you wanted your whole life was approval… and now, you have the most perfect, most caring, most attentive man in the universe to give it to you. 
So, naturally, you beg for more. “Yeah?” It’s a breathless weak question, but it makes Anakin’s smile grow wider. “Do I… I feel better?”
“A hundred percent, doll,” Anakin purrs, looking down your back, licking his lips already savoring the taste of your sweat, biting them when he sees your ass bouncing and thighs giggling. “I might as well divorce her and marry you instead.”
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luveline · 10 months
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Miguel and Spider-girl not being official yet, but spending a lot of time at his place. He notices another Spider-man being very friendly and flirty with you, but you’re so sweet, you don’t even notice. He gets grumpy and one of the girls points it out, but it makes your heart swell, assuring him later that you’re his, even if he isn’t ready to make that official step yet.
hope this is OK!!
You tend to wake up before Miguel, and you slink out of his bed and his room without saying goodbye for the day if you have things to do. You have a training course hosted by Lady Spider at lunch time, so the chances of Miguel seeing you for hours on either side are slim.
Slim, but not zero. 
It's just after lunch when Miguel's taking the elevator down to Spider-Woman's laboratory when he sees you out on the floor. There are variants of you around, you're nowhere near as common as Peter Parkers or Gwen Staceys, but sometimes he'll see different versions of you hanging about the cafeteria. There are a few who, like you, adore him from the very first moment they see him. There's one who clearly wants to twist him up like a pretzel. But he knows it's you, and it would be shameful if he didn't, having spent so much time around you, having kissed you, felt your naked shoulders under his hands.
He doesn't think, he just clicks the stop button on the elevator and waits for the doors to open. 
You're not great at making friends. Pretty much every Spider person is a little weirdo, but you perturb the imperturbable with your flirting and your niceness, he assumes. You come off rather suspiciously at moments. He himself didn't trust you as far as he could throw you at first (though admittedly he could throw you quite far). 
Which is why he's pleased to see you in company. You and a couple of other rookies are milling around one of the training gymnasiums. The keychain of your phone hangs out of your pocket, purple translucent beads against your black thigh. You've been having a great time making jewellery lately, and he should know —no matter how well you clean, he finds beads and metal eyelets on the floor and occasionally in the sheets. 
"I can make you one," you're saying, clearly delighted at being asked. 
"You would?" asks a Spider-Man. Miguel doesn't know who he is, only that his suit looks vaguely similar to Peter B.'s, and… he's standing quite close to you, actually. 
Miguel stops walking. 
"Who is that?" Lyla asks. 
"Shouldn't you know?" he asks her. 
"What, like I'm some sort of intelligence model that knows everything about everyone?" 
Miguel doesn't have the cheer to laugh. His presence is like a rippling wave, a mixture of proud smiles and scared glances shot his way. He barely notices, his attention on you and your admirer. 
You and Miguel are sleeping together, but it's more than that. You spend hours together every day. He all but admitted he's infatuated with you, and you've been obviously embroiled in his disastrous personality since the moment you met him. You don't care that he's made pages upon pages of terrible decisions, you still deign to sit in his lap every evening, stroking hair behind his ears while you talk about everything but whatever it is between you.
He's never been scared about the exclusivity of your situation until right now. 
"It's not so hard, it just takes time," you say. 
"Don't put yourself down! You have talented hands, I can tell." 
You preen very sweetly in Miguel's opinion. It's not often he sees you shy. It's a shame the compliment you've perceived and the one Spider-Man is laying down aren't totally equivalent. 
"Thank you so much. You know, my– Miguel, we have matching charms," you say, beaming. 
"Miguel," Spider-Man says worriedly, "as in, Miguel O'Hara." 
"Yes!" you say happily. 
"Yep," Miguel says, with altogether too much satisfaction. 
Spider-Man looks at him with wide eyes. Miguel isn't proud, but he glares, as if to say, If you know what's good for you. 
"I'll see you later," Spider-Man says, shoulders slouched forward as he walks away. 
You give a cheerful goodbye and lean into Miguel as you do, your hand touching his hip. "Did you hear? He said my keychains are awesome." 
"I heard. Are you coming up with me?" he asks. 
Your smile turns playful. "Do you want me to?" 
"I think Miguel definitely wants you where he can see you," Lyla says.
Miguel bats her like a moth, to her annoyance. She whizzes around his head, her white coat fluttering from the simulated force of her movement, before pretending to kick him in the jaw as she disappears. 
"What does that mean?" you ask. 
"It doesn't mean anything. I want you wherever you want to be."  
"Oh. Well, I like being with you," you say, "so we all win. Are we going to the lab?" 
Miguel nods and can't summon any words to say that won't give him away. He leads you to the elevator, and together you stand in the centre of the glass box looking down at the inner workings of the Society scraper. It looks more like an ant hive than a spider's nest, wriggling bodies moving in waves from one place to the other. 
He tries not to be sullen with you. Punishing you for decisions he has or hadn't made isn't his style, but he can't help falling silent. You deserve to be complimented, fawned at, praised for your keychains. They're great. You're great. 
There's no reason for you to choose him over any other person who might want your affections. 
"Is something wrong?" you ask. 
"No." 
"Yes," Lyla says. 
"Nothing is wrong," Miguel says. 
"Well, if I did something–" 
"You didn't do anything," Miguel and Lyla say at the same time, their voices varying in level of joy. "Miguel's just jealous," Lyla finishes.
Miguel would prefer that the elevator crash down a thousand floors than have this conversation. Luckily, the elevator opens, and he spears ahead toward his laboratory and away from your prying questions. 
"Why are you jealous, handsome?" you ask, taking doubly quick footsteps to keep up with his large strides. 
"I'm not jealous." 
"What's wrong, then?" 
"Nothing." 
"That blows. Don't be a coward," you tease. 
"I'm not being a coward," he says, laughing. He loves and hates how you lift his mood. 
"I didn't think so. You're going to tell me what's wrong, I can feel it," you say, grabbing his wrist in your hand. 
He's thankful Lyla read the room and disappeared, but he knows she's listening. He sticks his tongue in his cheek for a moment. 
"We aren't… you have no obligation to me," he says. 
"I don't think that's true." 
"Well, you don't." 
"What, because we aren't on paper?" Ah. Lackadaisical you may be, but you're just as smart as anyone. You wrap your arms around your stomach. "So you have no obligation to me?"
"That's not what I'm saying." 
Your sudden spike of insecurity fades. "That's sort of how it works, Miguel." 
"You don't have to be stuck with me," Miguel says. "That's all." 
"Good thing I'm not stuck." You begin walking again and Miguel takes your cue, following behind you in a daze he isn't proud of. "I quite like being with you, unstuck. We don't have to call it anything or anything, but you don't have to feel grumpy about my lack of obligation." 
"Qué maravilla. You have it all figured out, huh?" he asks, though inside he's more than relieved. 
"No!" you say through laughter. "Of course I don't. I know you, though. And you have me." 
Your hand clamps onto his shoulder and you go on toes to kiss his cheek. You need a little help; Miguel dips his face toward his shoulder to give you better access. You kiss his cheek.
"I might tell Peter I can't make him a keychain, after all," you say. "I– I think he might have been flirting with me." 
Miguel nods, his smile painfully tight. "You think so?" 
Your laughter fans out across his cheek as you give him a second kiss. 
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manicrouge · 2 months
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Simon who smiles to himself every time he sees you doing something you love just because he's there to witness it. He'll always be there by your side and while a man of few words, is not above going on and on about how proud he is of you. Even if it's something small, he recognises your efforts and cares enough to take interest in what you like.
More specifically, you've decided you would like to draw, paint- you name it, you just need to get everything out of that head of yours and you find that a blank sheet of paper is the perfect candidate to help keep you occupied.
He'll offer to sit still so you can practice anatomy with him as your glowing model. When you tell him you don't want to be a bother; he's gonna have to sit still for a while, he tells you that he's fine with it because he's went through all the training while in the military which makes him a perfect candidate for your drawings.
So, you relent and let him sit there and he sits for as long as you need him, his head turned in your direction always. His stillness is impressive, and in the end, you find that the only person you're really able to draw is your boyfriend because of how many times he opted to be your model. That doesn't really matter, because, at the end of the day, he's the only one you've had eyes for and he appreciates the pile of paper taking up the corner of your shared office.
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galesdevoteewife · 4 months
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Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?
-My Galeology study note-
Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?
[Act2 spoiler warning]
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2 things caught my eyes:
1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)
His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????
Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?
Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game
Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :
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Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.
At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:
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Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.
...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?
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2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:
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Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days
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Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.
Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:
Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?
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Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...
-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.
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patheticbabie · 1 year
Text
Jason Todd nsfw headcanons
first time posting anything to do with Jay, so here we go ❤️ don't repost without credit please
- Mostly dominant in bed, but if he knows you've had a bad day and just want to gain some control, he'll let you have your way
- Toys!! Lots of toys, he loves using them on you, and testing your stamina
- He gets really horny after going to the gym, so expect him to just fuck you stupid whether it's at the lockers or in the car or at home
- Handsy guy, especially at galas
- Needs to burn off that post patrol energy, so he's going down on you as a soon as he gets home
- The type to send dick pics or audios of him groaning when he knows you're busy. Same goes for you, send something out of nowhere and all you get is a string of texts from him telling you all the ways he'll fuck you
- you're the type to just out of nowhere sit on his thighs especially when he's reading something and you'll just ride his thighs
- will smirk when you ask him to crush your head when you suck his dick
- loves being called daddy, even when you accidentally slip it into convos with Dick. You'll be like "daddy bought me a gift the other day"
- and Dick's looking at Jay and he's just smirking "Jay you like to be called daddy? Kinky"
- yes he does have a daddy kink. It slipped out one passionate night between the sheets, and his mind short circuited for a bit before asking you to call him daddy again
- he's a soft!dom
- praise kink, for both of you. Tell him he's a good boy or that he's pretty when he cums and he goes feral
- king of after care. Will run a bath for you, will have your fave snacks and will play with your hair and massage you till you're feeling sleepy
- if you tell him you bought new lingerie, he'll ask you to model it for him, before trying his best not to rip it to pieces
- to add to that, you in lingerie and wearing his thigh holsters? Or better yet? Not wearing anything but his thigh holsters? This man will be on his knees worshiping you with his tongue, fingers and cock
- has plenty of videos of you and him on his phone, they're for both of you only
- speaking of, if you ask him if you can record him fucking you or eating you out, he won't turn you down. Homemade sex tapes he loves it, especially when he's away on a mission
- into cockwarming when he's going through case files. Will say "come sit on your throne princess, while daddy works"
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natti-ice · 2 months
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Hi lovely!
Could I ask for a Benedict fic where him and reader get pretty messy with the his paints? 💕🥹
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ mdni, nudity, sensual touching, kissing, implied sex (1k words)
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3
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You had met Benedict at a social event this past season and the two of you got on very well, any time you saw each other in passing you had to stop and make conversation. You felt at ease with him, he was so down to Earth unlike most of the uptight socialites of the city. You were very fond of him in general and it seemed he felt the same about you. Not to mention the fact you were also very attracted to him. He often spoke to you about his art and his passion for finding the beauty in life, he showed you his work book of sketches, all of random things he found beautiful even if most people don't.
Today on a casual stroll in the park, Benedict casually asked you if you would like to be the subject of one of his paintings, you had never thought of modeling before but it intrigued you. You were always curious on how people viewed you and this would show you his perspective of you, so you agreed. He brought you back to his studio and showed you some of paintings he had hanging around by artists that inspired him, then he lead you over to the center of the room where he had a large sheet of white paper spread across the floor. You assumed it was to protect his floors from any paint drippings but you were quite wrong.
"This is our canvas for today, my lady" Benedict smiles
You chuckle and furrow your brows a bit "I'm sorry what? Are you going to draw a life size version of me?"
"No, dear" he laughs softly "I'm going to paint with you. I want to use your body as a brush, if that's okay with you of course" he adds that last part in quickly to reassure you can pull out at any time. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. "So, what do you say?" His voice is filled with hope, he desperately wants you to say yes.
You think about his offer for a moment, the thought of being naked with him excites you but also makes you very nervous. You have only known him a short amount of time but you trust him a lot, you nod with a soft smile "okay, I'm in."
"Excellent" he grins and claps his hands together once "you can get undressed while I prepare the paints." he gives you a comforting smile then turns around and walks to the back of his studio where he keeps his paint. You slowly start to undress, you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as you shed each piece of clothing. Finally naked, you fold your clothes neatly and set them on a small sofa nearby. The window of the studio is cracked out letting in a soft breeze, you feel goosebumps grow on your bare skin and your nipples become erect.
A few moments later, Benedict came back carrying a tray with small cans full of paint "alright here we are-" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his eyes wide in surprise as he takes all of you in "wow... you're absolutely breathtaking" his voice is so soft it's almost a whisper
You chuckle nervously, you feel your whole body start to heat up "um, thank you, sir" you wrap your arms around your body, very aware of how exposed you are. He steps closer to you and sets the tray on a small table, he picks up a can filled with red paint and holds it up to you.
"May I?" He asks for permission, you nod slightly giving him full access to your body. He dips two fingers into the paint and slowly runs them along your collar bone, it slowly starts to drip down your front as your body temperature melts the paint. He works his way down your body, streaking the red all over you, his fingertips ever so slightly graze your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. "Beautiful" he whispers softly before setting the paint canister down and began to strip his clothes off.
You watched him closely as each article of clothing flew from his body leaving him bare in front of you. He gripped your arm softly and turned you around, he slowly poured some of the paint down your back letting it cascade down your back. He presses himself against your back slightly, you can feel his breath tickling your neck as he began to place soft hot kisses along the side. He used one hand to rub the red all over your back, a gasp caught in your throat as his larges hands rubbed soft circles on your ass.
When he finished he turned you around to face him, he picked up a can of blue paint and handed it to you "now you do me" his voice soft but laced with something more sensual. You take the can and start to smear blue all over his body, trying desperately to avoid his intimate areas as best as possible even if it was staring right at you. Once he was blue from the neck down he gently took your hand and brought you down to the paper on the floor. "Lay back, darling," he instructed playfully "we're gonna roll around a bit" he chuckles before rolling on top of you, his arms wrapped around your body as he goes in for a kiss.
Things escalated quickly from there, paint began to adorn the paper as you two made love. Shades of blue and red mixed together leaving streaks of purple behind, hand prints of different colors could be seen throughout the paper. Moans filled the studio, there was also the occasional sound of paper ripping when things became too intense. When it was all said and done, Benedict framed the work and even put it up in a gallery. People always asked how he created such an abstract piece of art, he came up with a story of how he just started throwing paint at the canvas. Only you and him ever knew the truth.
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moonstruckme · 7 months
Note
This celebration is so cute ahhhh
Two Ghosts - send autumn/Halloween-specific prompts!
anyway, imagine picking out your halloween costume with the marauders
Remus is so supportive of whatever (as long as you don't make him do anything too weird), James wants to do something that matches, and Sirius is all like "this one would make your tits look great, ah babe this one would show off your lovely thighs, I've always wanted to fuck a nurse :)"
I hope I'm doing this right, this is my first time having the pleasure of participating in a celebration!
-🔮
You're good, lovely! Thanks for participating :)
join the party
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 474 words
“No,” Remus says as Sirius comes pulls up yet another picture of a group costume. “Pads, my one condition is that I get to be fully clothed. I’m not going to change my mind.” 
“But we’d look so hot as the sexy Scooby Doo gang,” Sirius whines, but when Remus’ expression doesn’t change, he switches tactics. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see me in a collar, Moony.” 
Remus rolls his eyes, seemingly unaffected. “I could have you in a collar anytime I wanted to. Next.” 
“Ooh, I like this one!” James says, swiveling his laptop around for you all to see. “We could be smurfs!”
Sirius sighs heavily, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. “None of you sees the vision,” he laments. 
While you can’t say you’re totally on board with Sirius’ plan of walking around in essentially underwear on what’s bound to be a chilly night, you agree with him about this one. 
“I don’t love the idea of painting my face and everything blue,” you tell James gently. “Haven’t you seen the videos where it won’t come off?”
“What if we just all went as ghosts,” Remus suggests, patting James’ head consolingly when he pouts. “It’s simple, it’s easy, we all already have sheets.” 
“Ghosts,” Sirius says severely, “are not hot.” 
“You know what else isn’t going to be hot?” Remus counters. “The weather, on October thirty first.” 
“I’m sure we can find a compromise,” you say, moving further onto Sirius’ lap before he can get too amped up. You lean your head against his chest placatingly, looking at the screen of his laptop. “Merlin, these are skimpy.” 
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius murmurs, kissing the crown of your head absentmindedly. He scrolls a bit further, and then you feel him perk up in excitement even before he speaks. “Okay, okay, compromise: nurses and doctor. Rem, you can be a doctor if you want to wear, like, pants or whatever—” he shakes his head as if such a desire is unbelievable “—but the rest of us can be sexy nurses. Look, sweetheart, this neckline will make your tits look great.” 
You gaze at the tiny bits of white fabric covering the model in the picture, dread settling like a weight in your gut. “It’s…a lot of skin.”
“Yup.” Sirius nods, pleased with himself. “Gotta show it off, sweet thing. And I get to show you off in the process.” 
James gets up, peering over your shoulders to see. “Merlin,” he breathes. “Alright, I’m willing to freeze my ass off if you guys are. So long as we’re doing it together, yeah?” 
“We’re gonna be so cold,” you agree.
“Aw, don’t worry sweetheart.” Sirius rubs your shoulder eagerly. “I’m sure Moony will lend you his doctor’s coat if you need it, won’t you handsome?”
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thydungeongal · 4 months
Text
That's actually weird, cause I've seen the fact that PbtA games are "fiction-first" sometimes used as shorthand for how they differ from traditional games (what would they be then? Mechanics first?) which is really weird to me because the way I've understood "fiction-first" is that you describe what your character does and the mechanics only jump in if your character attempts something worth using the mechanics for, which is... actually most RPGs?
Like, even D&D 5e presents this as the default mode of play! The GM describes the situation. You narrate what your character does. The GM may ask for a check if the outcome of your action is uncertain. Rinse and repeat.
I think the confusion arises from the fact that in spite of the text itself saying that that's how you're supposed to play the game for a lot of people it does end up as "I push the buttons on my character sheet." Leading with the mechanics and following with the fiction, instead of the other way around, which is what the game tells you to do. So, like, this is why you have "Can I roll a Charisma check?" instead of describing what your character says or does and then being prompted to roll a Charisma check.
(truth be told, D&D's fiction-first model does break down somewhat when you get to combat where there are so many discrete mechanical units to interact with those get used as shorthand. You don't want to describe your character's every attack to be followed with a "So you want to make the Attack action?" when you can just say "I would like to make the Attack action, if I may." But that is a very specific use case of D&D's mechanics where the game wants very granular results, so while everything is still grounded in the fiction the mechanics can take the lead for a moment.)
So all of this is to say... everyone has fiction-first play dip shit, it came with your fucking RPG.
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