#hideouts and hinderances

[indouloureux]

Hi! Could I request something like reader and Eddie being in a relationship just a couple of weeks a maybe and reader is a bit shy and they meet readers friend who’s also a guitarist and also a hot rock and roll girl, reader is getting insecure and jealous but Eddie assures her that she’s the one and only ❤️

i love this!! thank you for requesting <3 (fem!reader)

you trust eddie.

you'd only been together for a few weeks, yet trust has been bound tightly the moment you two have met. he had that charm, that ambience—that despite his silver-donned and black outfits, he had a key to every secret told to him and kept it hidden as a promise.

besides that, he made you trust him with your whole heart, secrets and whatnot. he won't cheat, he won't fall out, and he'll love you forever.

he said it and you knew it.

you trust your friend.

she met eddie when you introduced her to him during one of his gigs, thinking harmlessly that they'd be good friends with their similarities: both metalheads, both ozzy osbourne worshippers, both nerds.

you thought they'd make great friends and they do. but doubts and you? eh, not so much.

doubt isn't a great friend. neither is jealousy. neither is insecurity. especially, insecurity. fucking bitch.

you didn't realize then that you'd feel... a heavy pressure on your chest seeing them interact. suddenly you felt jealous, a little left out, because you're thinking—what if eddie wanted a girl like her? a girl like him?

you do not trust yourself.

it's not like you're any different. you like the things he likes, but you like your own things too.

albeit the ache of jealousy never settles and to add salt to the wound, insecurity never hinders. never waves its white flag around. you don't like that they're in their own world talking about something while you're beside them.

"hey, babe?" the sobriquet makes you blush a little, turning away from your desk with a pencil in your hand. eddie tucks his neatly folded handkerchief in his pocket.

"yeah?"

"your friend's asking me to meet up at the hideout."

your blush dies into something pale and soon, a lifeless paint. "what, like, right now?"

eddie nods, shrugging his jacket on. "yeah."

you don't want him to leave yet. it's barely four pm. and you don't like the fact that she's asking him to hang out again for the second time this week. your lips purse and move to the side, diverting from his gaze. and had you not looked away, you might have seen his eyebrows furrow in curiosity; or suspicion.

"can you maybe stay for a little bit longer?" you ask, placing the pencil down.

with a soft look of concern, he approaches you, socked feet on the carpet of your floor. then his index curls around your chin and tilts your head up, his thumb tracing the left corner of your frown.

"why, sweet thing?" he asks quietly, fingers dragging up to tuck your hair behind and pout softly, his ring cold against your heating skin of embarrassment.

"nothing! it's just," you scratch at your temple, looking at his pale wrist, see the way his purple and grey veins twirl around his limb. "i just- want you here, 's all."

he takes his hand from your cheek to card his fingers through your hair, slicking it back before patting it down. eddie hums quietly like he's in thought, like he's settling for a hypothesis to choose in his head.

though it's been a couple weeks of something more, eddie has gotten you memorized in those years of longing.

"do you not want me to hang with her?"

"what?" you push back slightly, though his hand never leaves the top of your head. you laugh nervously. "teddy, why would you say that?"

teddy rings around his head like a guitar riff that lulls him to sleep. pink tinges his cheeks. "i know when you're thinking really deep, baby. i know when something's wrong."

he crouches down, between your legs, his elbows on your knees as he takes your face in both his hands and cradles it like the moon. "tell me what's wrong, baby, come on." eddie adds.

you sigh and look down on your lap, feeling his thumb stroke your cheekbone. there's a whimper that leaves you and your heart aches just a bit.

"i guess maybe i'm a bit jealous," you murmur. "because she's like you and i think that you like it better that she's like you...."

eddie's touch falters a little, but the warmth of his skin lingers on your flesh. you see how his eyes darken a bit in sympathy and disappointment—in himself, you can read. but you don't know why.

"sweets, do you remember when i asked you out on a date?" you nod. "and you asked me why and i said 'well, it's because you're pretty. and you're you, and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you make me cry and you make me do the stupidest shit in existence but it's okay because i do it for you'?"

you find it amusing how he memorized every word. you find it funny how you remembered that moment; between a shared joint and a movie. "yeah?"

"what i say still stands. i like it better when it's you. i like it when it's you. and shit, babe, i like it that you're kinda not like me. 'coz then i get to teach you. what's mine is yours, sweetheart. i'm happy to be the only one who introduces you into things i like," he takes your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips. "and i like it when you teach me what you like. makes me get to fall more."

"what's mine is yours," you quote from him. "okay, you sap."

eddie leans up to kiss you. your friend's in the back of your head now. and all you're thinking is eddie, eddie eddie eddie and you. and how he said that you're pretty.

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things x reader

[owlhousetarot]

Page of Wands: Luz and the Detention Kids Choosing Their Magic Tracks

Upright: Curiosity, finding your passion, adventure, inspiration, possibility, potential, free spirit

Reversed: Indecision, haste, lack of motivation, lack of passion, limited progress

The Pages of each suit represent the beginning of one's journey in relation to the elements the suit represents. The Wands represent the element of fire; they're all about your energy, motivations, creativity, ambitions, and passions. So, the Page of Wands can be understood to represent the first step in pursuing one's passions. The Page is curious, adventurous, ambitious, and energetic, though often inexperienced and naive. The Page is tasked with exploring the limitless possibilities in front of them, finding out what ignites their soul, and taking the first step toward realizing their goals. Reversed, the Page of Wands can indicate a lack of internal drive, stifled ambitions, and being overwhelmed by too many possibilities.

Viney, Jerbo, Barcus, and Luz all share their desire to explore more than just one magic track in school, but are all hindered by the "one-witch-one-coven" rule. In fact, they are punished for their enthusiasm for learning by being relegated to the detention track, unable to study anything at all, let alone multiple types of magic. They don't let this stop them, though; they sate their curiosity by using Eda's old secret hideout to take their desired classes anyway. They are finally allowed to pursue multiple tracks when they prove there's no inherent problem with doing so—that in fact, witches are stronger when they're not limited to just one type of magic. Tying into the Page's themes of beginnings, this episode marks the true beginning of Luz's education at Hexside, and plants the seed for the eventual dissolution of the coven system.

Deck Order:

< Previous: Ten of Wands | Next: Knight of Wands >

Show Chronology:

< Previous: Knight of Wands | Next: _____  >

#the owl house #toh tarot #suit of wands #page of wands #luz noceda #viney toh #jerbo toh #barcus toh #the first day #i love barcus's design. they really gave that dog a gay little earring #(viney too)

[anticomedygarden]

hair

Annabeth had a complicated relationship with her hair.

also on ao3

-

"Ow!" Annabeth whined when Thalia pulled on another messy blonde tangle.

"Sorry," Thalia said, probably for the millionth time. The older girl was kneeling behind Annabeth on the floor of their current hideout and attempting to get the knots out of Annabeth's hair. None of them really knew the last time it had been brushed - probably not since she ran away. "I don't really know what I'm doing here."

"You just gotta unknot it!" Annabeth said. She didn't see why it was so hard; Thalia was 14 and should know how to untangle hair by now. Annabeth did.

Thalia laughed at her, but it sounded strained. "I don't even have a brush, Squirt. Plus, I've never had long hair."

Annabeth's mouth dropped open. "Really?" She thought all girls had long hair at some point.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't really like it. I like yours, though." Annabeth beamed, at least until Thalia tugged again, and she whined.

Suddenly, there was another set of hands in her hair. "Let me help," Luke said.

Thalia put a hand against Annabeth's back, and the younger girl tried not to buck it off. She was independent! "You can try, but I don't know how much better it can get without a wash and a brush."

Luke sighed. "I can at least try."

(Annabeth had never particularly cared about her hair. It wasn't that she didn't like it or anything, she just really didn't have any strong feelings toward it. She liked that it's there, liked the comforting weight and extra warmth in winter, but she'd figured out at a young age that the yellow color did nothing but hinder her in her pursuits, so she didn't bother with it. She could deal with it, but she wouldn't put any extra effort into it.)

When Annabeth left the showers, Percy was waiting on the steps of her cabin, lurking awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" she asked. It was a surprise, to say the least. She would've expected him to be hanging out with Grover or training in the arena. Besides, she had just gotten out of the shower. A blush worked its way into her cheeks.

"I don't know, I thought we could hang out," he said. Then, he caught sight of her fingers tangled in her knotted hair. "What happened?"

Her blush deepened. "It hasn't recovered from the quest yet." And she hadn't had the patience to brush it out in the few days since they'd been back, compounding and compounding the knot until she couldn't get it out if she tried. "I might have to cut it."

"Oh." Percy looked at her funny and stood, then made a move like he was gonna touch her hair. She stepped back on instinct, and he raised his hands. "I can try and get it out."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"I can work a brush." He almost sounded offended.

Normally, she would refuse, balking at the prospect of someone touching her hair, but after the quest, she found she didn't mind the thought as much as she thought she would. Plus, the knot was really bad, so he couldn't make it much worse, and it'd save her a lecture from Silena. She shrugged. "Fine."

Then, she went and got her hair brush from her bunk and went back out the door and sat on the step in front of him.

"Holy crap, what did you do to it?" he exclaimed.

She turned to give him a disbelieving look. "I went on a quest! When do you think I had time to untangle it?"

He didn't really look like he believed her, but he didn't say anything else.

"All right," he muttered. The first pull through had her jerking her head back and grabbing his hand behind her.

"Don't try and do it all at once, you'll just make it worse," she scolded. "Start from the bottom."

She felt him gently pull the lower half of her hair and start brushing it. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

After a minute, she relaxed, actually kind of enjoying the feeling. It was nice.

Finally, he finished and handed her back the brush. "I'm done."

"Wait, really?" She reached back to feel her hair and sure enough, it was back to its usual wavy strands, unknotted and flowing. "How'd you do that so fast?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. It probably helped that it's wet. Do you wanna spar?"

Mouth still open, she nodded. She'd have to keep that little affinity of his in mind.

(As she got older, she couldn't help but think that indifference was an asset. Quests certainly didn't provide any time or supplies for hair care. Plus, having Percy around made sure it was wet with dirty water half the time, so why try.)

"Remind me why we're out here, again?" Percy asked as they picked their way through the forest.

"Because Tyson said he smelled something funny," Annabeth answered. "And be quiet, you're gonna scare whatever it is away."

Percy stuck his tongue out at her but stopped talking, and they continued walking through the forest until they heard a sound from a ways away.

They froze. One look and they were heading off toward the noise.

It soon became apparent they were heading for nothing as the ground beneath their feet became squishier and squishier.

Then, there was another noise, and she stopped abruptly.

Too abruptly, apparently, because the next thing she knew, she was face down in muddy swamp water.

Groaning, she didn't stay down long and jumped up, knocking Percy over into the water. (He'd be fine.)

"What the Hades, Seaweed Brain?" she said.

He stood slowly. "Why'd you stop?"

"I heard something," she said, reaching up to get some of the gunk off her face. When she touched her hair, though, she paused. It was soaked through with the brackish water. The only thing that could clean it now was a good shower.

Well. It's not like she really cared all that much.

That was her only consolation as they trudged back to camp.

(She didn't think she'd ever want to chop it off; no, it was a part of her, a part she did kinda love on good days, even if it was a nuisance. And she loved having that connection to Percy, and Silena, in a way.)

"Damn, girl, what did I tell you?" Silena said from her spot behind Annabeth's chair. The older girl was attempting to rescue the blonde mass from its latest adventure, and Annabeth was afraid it wasn't looking too good.

"I was kidnapped by a titan, I couldn't exactly take care of it," Annabeth grumbled, wincing when Silena gave a particularly rough pull. She'd been sitting in this chair for years for the daughter of Aphrodite to cut her hair and just generally take care of it, and she still couldn't stand watching herself in the vanity mirror. She looked away.

"Well, I'm afraid I may have to cut it."

"That's fine," she said. It wouldn't be the first time. She looked at herself one final time to mourn the current length and caught sight of the grey streak. "Wait!"

"What?" Silena said, sounding surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you can't untangle it?" she asked.

Silena sighed and picked up the knot of hair again. "I can try, but it'll take a while."

"That's fine," Annabeth said definitively. Hair grew at approximately half an inch per month, but Annabeth wasn't sure how the stress from holding the sky would affect the growth rate or the return to its normal color. However, she wasn't going to hurry the process along, at least, not as long as Percy still had his.

Not that she would ever tell anyone that.

So she sat as patiently as she ever had while Silena untangled her hair.

(Probably the longest Annabeth ever went without brushing her hair was when Percy was missing. Without his fingers to run through it or Silena to pester her about it, she just didn't think of it. Or want to think of it.)

"Okay, no. Come here."

Annabeth looked up from the map she was staring at on a table in Bunker 9 to see Piper walking towards her. "What?"

Leo glanced over from whatever project he was working on with a similar expression of bewilderment on his face. Clearly, he didn't know what Piper was talking about, either.

"Annabeth, your hair. When was the last time you brushed your hair?" Piper asked exasperatedly, steering Annabeth to sit down in a chair.

"I was in the middle of something," Annabeth protested.

"You can go back to staring at that map after I fix this rat's nest," said Piper. "Seriously, I know you have a brush. When was the last time you used it?"

Accepting her fate, Annabeth just shrugged. Her hair was rarely, if ever, on the front of her mind.

When Piper attempted to drag a brush through it, they both winced. "Oh my gods, there's a ponytail in here? How long has that been there? And how long has it been since you washed it?"

Once again, Annabeth shrugged. She honestly had no idea, though, come to think of it, it had been pretty itchy lately.

"Okay, well, that ends now." With that, Piper went to work on the knot, attacking it with the brush. "I'm gonna have to cut the ponytail out."

Annabeth startled. "Wait - the hair or the rubber band?"

"The rubber band," Piper said, causing Annabeth to breathe a sigh of relief. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't want there to be any risk of Percy not recognizing her when they found Camp Jupiter. "Your hair is completely wrapped around it."

Without waiting for a response, she whipped out Katoptris and sliced the rubber band out. Annabeth's hair didn't move much.

"Good lord," Piper muttered. "Here we go." The daughter of Aphrodite then went at the knot with the same vigor as Annabeth going at a training dummy. It did not feel good.

Piper was far less gentle than her sister. Piper was far less gentle than Percy.

Annabeth didn't like that thought, didn't like thinking of the dead, and she really didn't like thinking of Percy as missing.

But when she squirmed to try and get away, Piper gripped her shoulder, keeping her from standing. "Piper, I-"

"Hold still."

"I can do it-"

"But you won't, will you?" Piper said, raising an eyebrow.

Even Annabeth had to admit that she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. "I promise I'll-"

"No," Piper said with finality. However, it was what she said next that rooted Annabeth in place. "Let me do this for you, please."

She paused. It had never occurred to her that Piper might be trying to help in whatever way she could, that she didn't have the mechanical skills to help build the ship or the memories to help try and pinpoint where exactly Camp Jupiter was. "Fine."

"Thank you."

So, she sat there while Piper untangled her hair and only winced every so often.

Finally, probably an hour later, she was done, and they both stood. "Now, you're going to go eat dinner, then you're gonna shower, and then you're gonna go to bed."

Annabeth blanched. "I still have so much work to do."

Piper put her hands on her hips. "And it will still be there in the morning."

They stared at each other, neither one willing to relent, until Leo giggled from across the bunker. "Someone's in trouble."

Piper snorted. "I don't know why you're laughing, Repair Boy, you're going, too."

Annabeth didn't have to see his face to know his mouth had hit the floor. "I never agreed to that!"

Piper's eyes narrowed, and she went to grab Leo from his work bench. "I don't care." She pointed at the door. "Now, both of you, dinner, shower, bed."

There was no way Annabeth would agree to that, not when there was still so much work to do on the ship, maps to study, star charts to examine - really, she didn't have time. "How about dinner and bed, then shower in the morning?"

Piper's eyes hardened from where she was dragging Leo by the collar over to the door, then she pushed Annabeth's back until the blonde was also standing outside the door. "Dinner, shower, bed." She turned around to lock Bunker 9 behind them. "And for the love of the gods, wash your hair. Yes, Leo, both of you."

(Annabeth needn't have worried about Percy recognizing her. She probably could have shaved her head and painted her face to look like Iron Man, and he would recognize her, even in the depths of Tartarus.)

"What do you think of me cutting my hair?" Annabeth asked.

Her and Percy were limping along the Phlegethon at the approximate rate of a Zamboni in a swamp. Pain and soreness had settled into every corner of her body, but Annabeth was somehow thinking of her hair tangled at the back of her neck and stuck to her face with sweat, and how the hell she would fix it if they made it back to the mortal world. (When. When they made it back to the mortal world.)

She barely felt Percy turn to look at her. "I think you should do whatever you want with it."

Aw. She probably should have predicted that. "Come on, tell me the truth."

He paused. "You know I love your hair."

When he didn't say anything else, she pressed her fingers against his waist. "But?"

"But," he started. "But it's your hair."

"I know that," she said with more force than she meant to.

If she could see anything in the dark, she would've seen his brows furrow. "Do you really wanna get rid of it?"

She bit her lip. "No." She couldn't bear to let go of everything it meant to her now, the memories it carried beyond just the grey streak: Thalia, Luke, Silena, Piper, Percy. It was hers to care for, hers to maintain, and she hated that it took Tartarus for her to realize that. "I just don't know how it's going to recover from this."

"Hey," he said, stopping them. "It's gonna be fine. It'll get through it." She gave him a disbelieving look, though she wasn't sure he could see it. "Do you know how I know?"

Her hands fiddled with the back of his shirt where they were wrapped around his waist. "How?"

"Because it's so bright that it's one of the only things I can see right now."

She pressed her face into his chest. "All right. If you say so."

He rested a cheek on her head. "I do."

(Then, of course, there were the practical purposes.)

"Okay, I think I'm finally getting this," Percy said above her.

"Thank the gods."

He had been messing with her hair for about two hours now trying to figure out how to do a French braid. Without technology, his only resource was a book he found at the library, and it wasn't like Annabeth knew how to do it.

Though she may want to learn soon for the same reason Percy was. He was gonna have a little sister, one that, for all intents and purposes, would probably grow up with Annabeth as an older sister figure which was absolutely insane for her to think about. She technically had plenty of experience as a counselor and an actual older sister (though that qualification was debatable), but it was a whole other thing when it was Percy's baby sister.

It was very hard not to think of Silena, and even harder not to think of Thalia. If she was half the older sister to the new little girl that Silena and Thalia were to her, she would have succeeded.

But for now, she could help Percy learn to be a big brother.

(So maybe she did love her hair. Just a little bit.)

#percabeth #annabeth chase #percy jackson #annabeth x percy #percy x annabeth #percy and annabeth #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percabeth fic #percabeth fanfic #my writing #my fic #silena beauregard #thalia grace #luke castellan #piper mclean #my fanfic #percabeth fluff #fluff #rick riordan #pjo hoo toa #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #annabeth pjo #percy pjo

[hisokakissmeplz]

✨Random Heacannons✨

Sorry I've been so inactive lately I am working on a one shot for Hisoka but it might be a while because I really haven't found the motivation for it yet but in the mean time here are some head cannons for the adulttrio

Illumi

Sleeps with a fan on no matter what

Cold hands always

Listens to like Paramore and Green Day

Also Hinder

All his laundry is either neatly folded or ironed and hung up

Likes awkward silences and prolonged eye contact

He thinks of it kinda like a competition like whoever stays silent the longest wins

He always wins obviously

Doesn't have a skin care routine

Probably doesn't understand why you need one

Wears rings a lot

He loves any gift you give him no matter what

Your gifts mean the world to him even if he doesn't show it he has a special place for all of them and he really does cherish them

Secretly wants you to play with his hair

Chrollo

Let's you wear his jacket

Loves candles

Specifically like Christmas-y scents

He reads romance and mystery books

He'll read anything but prefers those

He listens to The Cure

He like boys don't cry probably his favorite from them

He always makes his bed in the morning

Huge coffee drinker

He has to have it in the mornings

He has a long ass starbucks order

Probably makes you order it for him though

There's a lot of stray cats at the hideout and he tries to be them all

He likes when you sit in his lap and listen to him talk

Hisoka

I feel like he's a heavy sleeper

Like I know he's gotta be alert all the time and stuff but also idc

Would force you to cuddle with him in the morning until he's ready to get up

Likes to bake with you

He knows a few things but he prefers to be a menace and steal frosting

Sometimes he bungee gums things to the roof and waits for you to have to look for them

You always catch him looking at the roof then giggling though

Let's you paint his nails and do his make up

You guys do skincare together

He loves when you guys can be vulnerable together so it means a lot to him

Would also join you in the shower

Not necessarily for sex just to be close to you

He loves intimacy

I've said it before but big PDA

Doesn't care if people are looking

Likes to show you off to Illumi and Chrollo

#hisoka hunter x hunter #hisoka hxh #hisoka x reader #illumi zoldyck #hunter x hunter #hisoka morrow #hisoka hcs #hisoka #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka morow

[wilcze-kudly]

NOT THE ATLA COOKBOOK GIVING ME JET FEELS

For all his faults, I still miss Jet a lot. He was the first person ever to take care of me, and just like Aang, he wanted to change the world for the better. I think his heart was always in the right place, even if it sometimes took a few detours. When we were able to catch small boars near our treetop hideouts outside of Gaipan, Jet taught me how to roast them over a spit until they were pleasantly crackly outside yet still soft inside. I miss those celebrations a lot, so I keep perfecting my boar-making skills as a small way of remembering him and our whole crew.

-THE DUKE

Like, say what you want about him, but the care he extended towards all these kids that were orphaned in terrible ways, just like him is impressive.

I'm not surprised he was so fixated on hindering the fire nation army. He's carrying not just his own trauma, but also that of the like.. 50+..? (Idk there were a lot of them in those treetops) other children whose stories he undoubtedly was told.

And stopping the Fire Nation, even at the cost of innocent lives, would, in Jet's young eyes, save many children from the fate of those he's had to take under his wing.

#jet #jet atla #atla #avatar: the last airbender #the last airbender #avatar #avatar the last airbender

[taki-yaki]

Is there a race for something like Frankenstein? Not exactly a ghoul, but not exactly human? If that doesn't work how about a cyborg made by an artificer? My prompt is a Tav that has to deal with a new body after being "put back together," and unaging so she can be with Astarion forever🥺

 I think the closest would be either a Warforged with a magic jar spell or a Reborn but I’ll do a bit of both since they both seem to fall into your prompt.

Astarion x Warforged!Tav + Astarion x Reborn!Tav

Minor Cw: Body horror warning for Reborn Section

**Warforged Tav**

During a fierce fight in the remains of a ruined town, severely weakened within the depths without a healer on hand left to die and rot, you hastily cast magic jar upon yourself, falling into a catatonic state as your soul leaves your body, entering the ornamental container.

As soon as your soul enters the container, the sound of falling sand rushes through your soul's senses. All you could do was watch on helplessly as your physical body was touched by a necrotic spell, turning it into dust.

Astarion carries the jar, cradling it within his arms, looking for anything that your flickering soul could possess. Searching through the nearby overgrowth foliage, he finds a worn-down body of a warforge, a small iron hinge door lays open, once where a mechanical heart would lay. Recalling from Gales's lectures of this place these iron constructs could once host a mortal's soul, but have all eroded due to lack of care over the decades.

Pushing his luck, he inserts the jar into the container,  hoping for a miracle as the gears of the automaton start to grind in motion

“Darling? Are you alright, are you still in there? Say something damn it”

Upon waking, your body feels nearly hollow and heavy, you feel a fluid flow through the circulatory system of your new form. As you attempt to open your mouth to speak, his name comes out with a metallic echo in your form. It takes you aback for a second, feeling that your voice isn’t your own.

All Astarion can do is watch in silence as he waits for your response, after a while, he whispers, “I’m sorry….I shouldn’t have acted so hasty and now you’re stuck like this” gesturing at the iron plates surrounding your form. 

You reassure him that it’s not his fault, explaining that you don’t mind having such a strong robotic body, joking about how you could carry him around with ease like this.

Despite your lack of human skin, he does try to care for you, even when your insides are just a set of interweaving wires and cogs, trying to clean any moss on your body and learning how to replace the worn rusted joints with new pieces. 

Regardless, he’s relieved that you still have your soul in this form, unlike mind flayers who only mimic the original host, slowly becoming void of emotion, seeing such emotions as nothing but a manipulation tactic.

**Reborn Tav**

Your body was stolen from its resting place by a mad cleric who wished to use the infamous hero of Baldur’s Gate as their little meat puppet.

Attempting to stitch any loose parts of your battle-worn body back together with other corpses he has stolen. Not perfect but some parts are slightly different from that of your original form.

Astarion discovered the gruesome cleric's hideout, in which he proceeded to slaughter the man mid-ritual, seething with rage, until the sound of heavy gasping pulled him out. Turning around to see you awake, alive, but looking pale, almost ghoul-like. He’s seen this before, when he turned into a spawn decades ago, the fear and confusion of it all. They’ve made you an undead like him.

A reborn, who dances on the line of life and death, not hindered by the curses that normal vampirism would offer.

He attempts to help you get used to your new life, attempting to relearn your usual breathing rhythm, to help you attempt to eat and drink again, to regain some sense of normalcy. Despite your need to not sleep anymore, Astarion insists on you getting some rest by always staying by your side, promising that he’ll be by your side when you wake up.

Although there are times when the stitches on your body come loose, due to the cleric’s shoddy rushed handiwork, in which Astarion attempts to piece these parts back together correctly all whilst comforting you, and complimenting your body.

Despite your unexpected return, you’re new life as a reborn, Astarion was glad to have you by his side once again.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate 3

[lumenflowered]

Now, while I could continue to stake out the Game Corner, that has proven very ineffectual thus far and is unlikely to spontaneously become any more effective.

However. It has occurred to me that Leader Erika is not just known for her battling prowess. It was mentioned to me that she dabbles in the creation of perfumes, on occasion... and if one possesses the knowledge to create pleasant aromas, it would stand to reason that one would also have some understanding of how to do the opposite.

idk where youre going with this but i like it already

I cannot help but think that Erika would also have a vested interest in keeping Team Rocket from re-establishing a presence in her city... and that it would certainly hinder the act of doing so if their entire hideout is pervaded by an incredibly strong stench they are thoroughly unused to.

I could handle it. I rather doubt Rocket could.

#kanto rocket arc #rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #pokemon irl

[wraithsoutlaws]

night, alternate for Dagger 🖤 makeup, canvas for Zephyr 🖤 motion for Cockroach lmao

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

when dagger does he sleep, he's usually very naked. partially because it's just more comfortable to him, and partially because of the heat. (he spends most his time holed up in makeshift/temporary camps and hideouts in the badlands). he'd never bother owning pajamas (waste of space and he's not traveling with that kinda excess), mostly he'll just pass out in the clothes he's been wearing and take them off half asleep after waking up in the middle of the night.

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

i have thought about a fantasy-adjacent au for him, though nothing too extensive or elaborate. he'd definitely still be a sort of outcast, living in nature, hunting his own food, etc. i imagine him with furs draped over his shoulders and accessories/armor made from bone. lots of leather work and scabbards, painting his face with blood and dirt, but he'd have some proper full-bodied protection too. something sleek and light and easy to move in, a bit rogueish but probably still very homemade and tattered.

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

zephyr frequently wears eyeliner, but not too much more. pretty low effort overall, but sometimes he'll use concealer if he's feeling self-conscious about a blemish or trying to downplay the severity of a black eye. he likes to look good, but it's not his top most priority. the eye makeup helps him feel less vulnerable, it's almost part of the mask he wears as he tries to play the Cool, Confident Charming Con Man without a fear in the world.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

he's got alot of tattoos, and most of them are pretty obnoxious but they also play into the ~mask he wears in public, and are a good cover for the scars he tries to downplay and ignore. he has a lot of back-alley surgery scars if you look close, as well as scars from being beat up pretty badly throughout his life, and just existing in the slums of night city. the cyberware seams on his torso are only recent additions when he got the money to pretty much replace all the skin on his abdomen after he had himself cut open to sell his own organs (which left pretty brutal scarring). he's much more comfortable showing off his body after that but he's still grateful that most people's eyes are drawn to the tattoos before anything else.

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

cockroach is a very fast little menace and he can be extremely sneaky and stealthy despite his chonkiness. he often swipes things from people's pockets without them even noticing!! (very talented). he has a very impressive jump and will hop from person to person easily. he's a little more clumsy if he's moving things, it's hard being a lil guy with paws full of popturds but he is always determined. he's also got some internal cyberware that sometimes hinders his balance so you might catch him topping over while climbing (you may pick him up to help).

#oc: dagger #oc: zephyr #cockroach #ty <3 #cockroach lore is very important #dagger is also prone to sleep walking so him being naked makes for quite the scene #also important to note that most of zephyrs tattoos come during like insane coke binges when everything sounds like a better idea

[mazikomo]

Change of Attire

Arno's new outfit will be the death of you.

AO3 Link

Arno Dorian/gn!reader, NSFW 3.8k words PWP, fingering, semi-public sex

Sans-Culottes outfit > Athos Duel Shirt When the husband @straight-into-the-animus says there's not enough true gender neutral reader inserts for Arno, you finish your year old WIP. Anything for you honey 😘

Thanks for my favorite piece of trash and the brain rot crew for betaing!

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the market, you watched the movement of the crowd in front of you. Paris had been tearing itself apart at the seams and this was certainly reflected in its citizens. People were shouting at one another, a desperate look in their eyes as they fought over what little food was available. Thievery was at an all time high due to the shortage and that was just what you were trying to fix when you had agreed to help Arno on this mission. 

You had been surprised at his request, but with tensions so high in the city, even he saw the rationale in working as a pair instead of alone. Initially, you had been hesitant to lend your aid, as you had been developing an attraction toward him for quite some time now. You knew the best way to get over this was to avoid the man, but the people of the city came first over your own personal matters. Besides, you were an adult and full fledged assassin, it shouldn’t be any problem to put a lid on your feelings and work together.

Finally, you saw Arno across the market. Your heart jumped into your throat as he grew nearer. Instead of his usual long, navy coat, he was dressed in an outfit you had never seen before. A soft, lightweight shirt clung to his shoulders and sturdy leather sleeves wrapped around the muscles of his arms. Over that was a very well-fitted vest that accentuated his narrower waist and two thick, leather straps crossing over his broad chest. Arno’s usual red sash and belts were present, but in contrast to the impeccable fit of the top garments, loose, striped pants completed the outfit.

“Wh-where’s your usual clothes?” you asked as you stood from the bench, trying to sound as normal as possible despite your brain beginning to overheat. The lid you had oh so carefully secured lay shattered at your feet. 

So much for getting over that attraction. 

“Snagged my coat yesterday while on a run and tore it. While it’s being mended I thought I would try something a little different.” He spread his arms. “What do you think?”

“Uh, looks good.” You coughed in an attempt to clear the sudden lump in your throat. “Very flattering.” 

“Thanks,” Arno replied with a smile. If he noticed your flustered state, he didn’t let on to it. “So what have you been able to gather so far?”

You explained what you had learned over the past few days. It seemed there were many small groups that were causing the food shortage. Rumor had it the Templars played a major role in organizing them. Luckily, you had an address of where several related meetings seemed to have been taking place. Today’s goal was to search the place and try to find out where all the food was being hoarded.  

The two of you set off. It was only a short distance away, but you kept to the rooftops. It was safer that way, but you also knew Arno liked to show off his free running. 

And show off he did. Scaling building sides like gravity was nothing and smoothly shifting from move to move, over chimney’s and across balcony railings, like water flowing through a stream, motions as second nature as breathing. 

However, that wasn’t what captured your attention. 

Oh no, as you clambored a few yards behind him, your eyes were glued to one thing. 

His ass. 

You were well aware of the effects the man’s backside had on you. This wasn’t the first time you had admired it, but usually it was in passing as he strolled through the hideout. Seeing it in action, the loose pants hindering it in no way as they stretched across the swell when he crouched, had you almost falling to your death on more than one occasion. 

Death from ogling the ass of the most pompous assassin in Paris. There were worse ways to die.  

Thankfully, for the sake of your own physical well-being, you arrived and slipped through a conveniently open window. 

What greeted you, however, almost caused you to keel over on the spot. 

The view of Arno’s ass, single view, already had you floundering, but multiple views… dear Lord, you were surrounded. 

Mirrors. Were. Everywhere. 

“Well, someone likes to show off their status.” Arno remarked all too casually. 

You scrambled to pick your jaw up off the floor and spoke in a cracked voice, “probably all paid for with dirty money no doubt.”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out. You start searching the study, there’s probably nothing of use in the rest of the house, but I’ll do a quick sweep before joining you.” he said as he began to head down the stairs to the main floor, your eyes hungrily watching his retreating form. 

As you entered the study, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. If the mirrors lining the hallway had been pretentious, then the amount in the study was downright obscene. Every space on the wall that wasn’t taken up by a bookcase or painting was covered with a mirror. Reflections of yourself filled your vision wherever you walked. 

“There’s probably mirrors on the ceiling in the bedroom,” you murmured to yourself. 

Wouldn’t that be an interesting display? Sweating bodies, being pinned to the mattress by strong arms, looking up to see— 

No. Best not to let your thoughts go there. 

Eyes surveyed the actual contents of the room instead of their impostors. The desk. That’s a good place to start. 

Its surface was covered with newspapers and a few personal letters, but nothing of worth was there or in the drawers, you learned as you rummaged through them. Disheartened, you pulled at the handle of the last drawer only to be met with resistance. Finally, something promising.  

You crouched down and withdrew your lock pick from your belt and set to work as Arno entered the room. 

“Woah,” he paused in the doorway at the sight of all the mirrors before blinking himself back to attention. “I didn’t find anything useful, you?”

“Not yet, but this locked drawer seems promising,” you replied, “I’ve only looked through the desk so far if you want to check out the bookcases.”

Arno nodded and began to poke through the nearest one as you returned your attention to the lock. Normally, lock picking was one of your better talents, but this desk seemed to be an antique and the old pins did not want to cooperate with you. Frustration built as you fought the stiff mechanics. The drawer probably hadn’t even been opened in a while if it was this tough. 

Movement out of the corner of your eyes caught your attention. It was Arno’s reflection in the mirror closest to you. The particular angle gave you the perfect view of his back. Arno was by no means a broad man, but as your eyes raked over his form, you knew without a doubt that there was nothing but lean muscle under those vexing clothes. 

That outfit does cling to him rather nicely, you thought to yourself as you imagined what it would feel like to run your hands across his strong shoulders, down his chest to slim hips, and even lower to—CHINK! The metallic sound of the pin breaking snapped you out of your thoughts and you swore under your breath. 

“Everything alright?” Arno asked from across the room.

“Yes everything’s fine! Just broke a pin.” You replied quickly, hoping the nervous pitch of your voice wasn’t too noticeable. 

“You sure you don’t want to trade—“

“No no!” You cut him off, “I got it really, just a stubborn lock is all.”

“Of course,” he replied, sounding unconvinced but returned to his own searching nonetheless. 

Okay, focus now. You have a job to do. You told yourself as you reached into the pouch on your belt for another pin… only to freeze as your hand felt nothing but empty space. 

This just wasn’t your day. 

“Uh, Arno?” You called out hesitantly.

“Broke your last pin, didn’t you?” The smug tone of his voice only served to deflate you further.

You sighed, “yes.” 

“Here,” he walked to the desk, “You search the bookcases, I’ll pick the lock.” 

Reluctantly, you got up and moved to the door, eyes cast to the floor as you passed Arno. You squared your shoulders and took a deep breath, determined to be productive in any sort of way, but your eyes betrayed you. They couldn’t help but peek a glance backwards via the closest mirror. Once again, the damned things were providing you with a delicious view of Arno. If you thought seeing the back of shoulders had you flustered, then sight of his behind as he squatted down in front of the locked drawer was downright torturous. Quickly, you snapped your eyes away and bit your lip trying to keep your composure. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak glances every few seconds. 

“Got you!” Arno exclaimed. You jumped, fearful that he had caught you shamelessly eyeing him before the click of the lock opening eased your mind. He pilfered through the drawer and, seemingly finding something useful, tucked some papers into his belt. 

“What did you—” the front door banged open downstairs. 

All it took was a single glance at each other before you both darted across the house and back to the open window. Your pursuers reached the top of the stairs just as you leapt out. 

“After them!” someone shouted as you begin to fly across the rooftops right behind Arno. 

This time, you actually focused on the path below your feet and only glanced up at Arno occasionally to make sure you hadn’t lost him. You didn’t care where he was headed, just as long as you were able to keep him in sight. 

The distance between your pursuers and you shrank while the buildings were becoming further and further apart. Arno jumped to the ground in a small courtyard and hopped into the well. As much as you hated being in the city’s sewer tunnels, it was the best option you had. 

Despite their massive size and the maze of their layout, it wasn’t hard to follow Arno down here as every movement echoed and broadcasted your location. Just as you thought you were making headway, splashes from behind told you otherwise. The pace picked up again and you stayed right on Arno’s heels this time. All sounds blended and echoed together in the tunnels and in your head; you didn’t know which were your own footfalls or which belonged to your enemies. You hoped Arno had a plan because you certainly did not.

Just as you were sure they were closing in, Arno grabbed your arm and darted around a corner. He pushed you against the wall and covered your body with his own in an effort to make yourselves disappear. Your heart was in your throat as the running footsteps drew closer and closer until they, finally, ran past your hiding spot. The both of you remained frozen as you listened to them get farther away until they couldn’t be heard at all. 

It was then you fully realized the position you were in. Arno’s body was pressed flush against yours and his panting breath was tickling your neck. Despite your pursuers being gone he made no move to step away.

“You know what I love about mirrors?” he murmured, soft lips just barely ghosting over your ear, “two people could be looking at the same one, and yet be seeing completely different views.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been eyeing me all day.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “Like what you see?” he asked with a hum, nuzzling his nose just below your ear before continuing, “Lucky for you,” he emphasized with a chaste kiss to your neck, “I liked what I saw too.”

Your head was spinning. Not moments ago you had been running for your life and now you were cornered, literally, by an entirely different adversary—one you didn’t want to get away from. You couldn’t believe this was happening. All day you had been worked up by just being around Arno. The way his clothes clung to his lithe body just made things all the more difficult to bear. Your mind had been running wild but the situation you were in now was far beyond anything you could have possibly imagined. 

Arno drew his head back but kept his body still pressed against yours. You knew you were staring at him with wide, dumbstruck eyes while his own bore into you. His hands slid down to your hips as he leaned forward, stopping with his lips fractions away from yours. 

“Do you want this?” he whispered against them so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It took a moment for your mind to process the question. On the one hand, this was a terrible place to be doing this. The men chasing you could turn around at any moment and catch, possibly kill, you. On the other hand, that just made it all the more exciting. 

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard. 

“Yes,” you breathed. No sooner had the word left your mouth and Arno’s lips were on yours in a hungry kiss. 

His mouth ravished yours and you eagerly wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close, his own hands slid from your hips to your backside with a strong grasp to do the same. Everything about your movements was urgent, the adrenaline still pumping through both of you from the chase now fueled your actions. He licked at the seam of your lips and you happily opened your mouth for his tongue to slip in. Neither of you could get enough of the other as your mouths moved desperately together.  

Arno’s thigh moved between your own and pressed up, forcing you to stand on your toes. Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the leather straps as you tried to keep your balance. His mouth moved back to your neck, the teasing movements of before now replaced with heavy kisses as he sucked marks into the skin. Thrills shot down your spine at the action and he worked each part thoroughly. 

His hands squeezed your backside before they began to move. One came up to grip your hair to pull your head back while the other, slowly, slid to the front of your pants and firmly cupped your sex. You couldn’t help the low moan that left your mouth from the contact and the sound echoed down the tunnels. 

“Better be quiet,” Arno teased in your ear, “Wouldn’t want to get caught like this.”

You knew Arno was right but you couldn’t help the small gasps that left your mouth from his actions. You could feel his length hardening from where it was pressed against you and suspected that, despite his warning, those sounds fueled his own arousal. He was purposely trying to draw them out of you, reveling in each echo as he did so. 

“What was that?!” a gruff, but distant voice shouted. Your head snapped in the direction and the unmistakable sound of footsteps began to draw closer and closer. 

“Merde,” Arno cursed against your skin. He grasped your hand and pulled you into a run once more towards the way you had come in. 

Out of the tunnel and into the streets once more, your head swam as your senses were immediately flooded by the bright sunlight and sounds of the crowd. Arno all but dragged you into a side alley, trying to get off the main street as fast as possible and avoid attracting anymore attention to yourselves. You didn’t even try to keep track of where you were going, all your attention focused on not tripping over your own feet. 

Large stones flashed past in your vision as Arno brought you to a small, decrepit looking shed and led you down the stairs and back underground. Out of one tunnel and into another. You were thoroughly lost as he zigzagged through the carved passageways and finally brought you inside a small room. 

It was hardly larger than a kitchen storeroom but you could see the appeal to someone down on their luck as a place to stay—the small chest in the room indicated as such. Besides that, the only things in the room was a frayed blanket and a few discarded wine bottles. 

“There,” Arno stated as he stepped away from securing what looked like a makeshift door. “No one should interrupt us here.”

“Interrupt?” you questioned, and eyebrow raised as Arno sauntered towards you.

“Unless of course you’d rather not continue where we left off and forget the whole thing.” he said, slowly pushing your hood off and cupping your face in his hands. “I, for one, would greatly enjoy hearing more of those delightful sounds you were making,” he rested a thumb on your lip. 

A small spark of indignation flared in your gut. You darted your tongue out to lick at the digit, enjoying the brief flicker of surprise on Arno’s face. “I don’t know how much noise I’ll be able to make with my mouth full,” you drew his thumb into your mouth and sucked on it, feigning an innocent expression and looking at him with large, doeful eyes. 

Arno gasped at the action, but to your dismay quickly regained his composure as his eyes darkened. “I’m afraid we’ll have to save that for another time,” his other hand moved to retrieve something from his pocket, “because I went to the trouble of acquiring this,” he held up a small vial of what appeared to be oil, “and I plan on using it, now.” He withdrew his saliva covered thumb from your mouth and smeared it down your chin. 

“Where did you—?”

“Paperwork wasn’t the only thing I was searching for.” Arno replied with a smirk. The smug bastard had planned this. “Now,” he gave you a wet kiss, “bend over.”

A chill ran down your spine at the command and you quickly complied, turning around and falling to your knees. Arno’s firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed your body down over the chest. You heard him kneel behind you and soon felt him work at your clothes. The end of your coat was pushed up over your back out of the way and your belt and sash quickly discarded before your pants were tugged down to your thighs. The cold air raised goosebumps over your exposed backside immediately. 

A warm hand ran over you appraisingly, lower and lower, working its way between your legs and over your undeniable arousal. You bit your lower lip as it ground against you, once, twice, before disappearing. The protest on your tongue became a gasp as it returned, this time cooler and much wetter, and a finger pressed against you. 

Your body acted on its own as it pressed back, eagerly seeking more contact than a single fingertip. Cheeks burned from the sound of an amused chuckle but you didn’t care. You had wanted this, dreamed about it for so long, that nothing was going to ruin it for you. 

The finger pressed in and you gasped. So little, and yet it felt so good. Hips shifted again until you felt the breach of another digit. 

“So eager,” despite his teasing, Arno sounded a little breathless himself, “go on then.” 

And you did. Not caring how desperate you must look. Not caring that it gave away your hand. Not caring how it gave him full control.

No. All you cared about was the stretch. To work those fingers inside until you were ready for something else. 

You took your time, back and forth, back and forth, grinding onto his hand and taking your pleasure. Back arched and hands pressed onto the surface of the chest for better leverage. It had been too long. Too long since you had felt the touch of another in such intimate places. You wanted to savor it. 

But you also wanted more. 

Soon enough, you were properly fucking yourself against his hand. Head tossed back and breath panting as you reveled in the sensation. Distantly, you heard the clink of metal and shift of clothes, felt the cool metal buckles and scratch of fabric against your backside. 

“P-please,” God, when had your voice become so ruined? “Please, I need more.” 

You whined when instead the fingers were removed and left you grinding against nothing in a desperate search for contact. At any other time you would be ashamed at how easily you had given away control, had let another play you like a puppet on strings. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the blunt intrusion of Arno’s cock as he finally gave you what you wanted. 

“So tight,” Arno groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest. 

You quivered around him as he gripped your hips in an attempt to keep you still for a moment. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was maddening. Delicious. Torturous. Euphoric. 

Your knuckles were white around the chest’s edge, your entire being suspended on the precipice, lungs tight as the air in the room became stifling. Until it snapped. Until Arno snapped. 

Hips shot forward against your own, knocking you flat against the chest as a rough pace was set. You didn’t care. It was exactly what you wanted, what you had been craving for so long, and you were more than happy to let it happen. 

“Is this what you were thinking about while you stared at me all day?” Arno gasped, “Would you have let me take you then? In front of all those mirrors so you could see just how desperate you were from every angle?” 

“Yes! Gods, Arno, yes. Anything you want.”  

He responded with a particularly hard thrust, as lost as you were. Sweat dripped from him and mingled with your own in your suffocating robes. 

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer, and from the gasps above you neither was Arno. You shifted in order to work your hand between your legs but it was swatted away and replaced with Arno’s own hand, his gloved hand, to work over your aching sex. 

That was it. Your heavy breath became sobs as the sparks that had been flitting under your skin finally ignited. You shrieked, body jerking violently against Arno as your orgasm surged within you. His own body ground to a halt with a deep groan as he spilled inside you. 

The pleasure  smoldered in your veins as you lay panting, sandwiched between the hard chest at your front and Arno’s firm body at your back, but you couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be. 

“Now,” Arno, breathed against your shoulder, too out of breath to achieve the teasing tone he had adopted earlier, “about your mouth being full?”

Join the taglist!

@agoutighost @nemo-my-name-forevermore

#Arno Dorian #Assassin's Creed Unity #AC Unity #Assassin's Creed #my writing #the ONLY valid frenchman #minors DNI

[mellodiies]

mello &. clothes . . . etc

i made a post about this on my old blog but i felt the need to redo it because i have more thoughts. im very much insane so here enjoy

wammy era ( is it an era? ) similarities with L aside mello doesn't wear socks or shoes like at all during his time there. i think to think it's because he doesn't go outside as much as people like to think he does. he does love soccer and outdoor activities but while he was young he spent a large amount of his time studying. maybe after he was approached about the successor program his interest in playing outside dwindled slightly. i know the anime makes it look like he's wears pajamas - and i actually prefer and agree with that as opposed to the jeans. he doesn't seem like ghe jean type of kid especially if he's sitting for hours studying. thats uncomfortable.

note: i think the boots he left with were like the only shoes he had anyway. at least when he got older into his young teens so maybe also he just had no want to lace them up or something like that.

onward his fashion changes but also it doesn't. i dont think he was prompted to dress like that because he wanted to be a deviant or cool or anything. i think he just likes dressing like this. because even after the mafia is dead he still dresses the same way. as much damage as the mafia did they were his first sense of freedom to actually come into his personality more as opposed to the personal he assumed he needed to portray to become the successor ( do not be overly emotional, cut back on impulses etc ). not to mention none of the mafia dresses like he does, they wear suits mostly - so it cant be a mirroring thing

note: its hard to notice but he does still wear this outfit he just changes the coat after the explosion. see here and here.

coats mello doesn't choose to wear coats around people he is comfortable around I've noticed. and/or when he's conducting some kind of business. perhaps to make himself seem bigger then he is or more serious ( when he was younger ) considering he was raised around a mafia who in turn always dressed up somehow he probably took that biggest factor into consideration as to why people respect them. since he's not that big or tall he hinders everything on that. though after the explosion he wears coats as a security thing more often then not

in the hideout

business

done mello is a person who enjoys his clothes, i genuinely think he is just being true to himself first and foremost. expression through his clothes and a freedom he now has. the one thing he can control without any hindrance. that's all.

#long ass meta... #. [ ⚘️ ] 𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙾 . anger and fear still comfort the boy. ━━ 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙳𝚈.

[artuswestwood]

Location: elf hideout Year: 2058, present day With: @wren-evenfall​

Despite purposefully pulling away from society, Artus still kept a radio that he often listened to, though he wasn't sure whether it helped or hindered his mental state at any given moment. There was still a part of him that wondered and wished things could have been different, but he mostly wanted to know when to expect worse to come. Now certainly seemed like the time for something worse to happen. However, as Wren entered the room, Artus gave him a soft smile and turned off the radio, turning all of his attention towards the other elf. 

“Hello, darling,” he hummed, his hands reaching out for Wren, pulling him close and onto his lap as his arms wrapped around his waist.  He reached up, kissing Wren’s cheek.  “How are you feeling?” As much as Wren might try to hide it, he couldn’t hide his increasing frail state from the eyes of someone who loved him deeply. Artus always made sure to check in with him.  

#vcnewworldevent #wren: newworld1 #》A.W. || THREADS #》THREAD || WREN

[adhdemongirl]

I've started a new sci-fi world building project! The Seven Remnants (name is very provisional) are a cluster of solar systems connected through FTL-Rings. A couple of hundred years ago some huge fuck-ups stopped most of the Rings connecting human settlements from working, leaving only these seven in contact. In system travel is a lot faster than today, most systems can be crossed in a week or two. The three major political players are in the Systems 1, 2&3 and 4.

System 1 is run by some of the clusters largest corperations that managed to take it over about a centurie ago (which they did to create a tax haven for themselves). Points of interest are one settled planet which is a Coruscant-style city-world (and an absolute nightmare to live in), and two space stations: The Universal Stock Market and the Clusters largest "Entertainment" Station which houses everything from clubs to casinos, brothels and sport facilities and golf courses. A good number of corps also have archeologies on somesmall moons and asteroids

Systems 2 & 3 are run by a feudal monarchy. System 2 has 3 settled planets (which don't have names yet, so I'll just call them A,B and C). A and C are currently each ruled by 1 one king, B by two. The other poinsts of interest are two gas giant with a ring (which are hotly disputed between the different kingdoms because the mining rights are worth a fortune.) System 3 only has 1 fully settled planet and another one which has a smaller colonie on it and has started to be terraformed about 300 years ago. Both are united under one crown. It is also home to one of the clusters largest ship graveyards. The highest position of the two systems is that of emperor. The emperor is elected by his peers similar to the HRE or the early polish-lithuanian commonwealth. This works about as well for them as it did for my two examples. The two systems are an absolute mess, the empire has been in decline since the FTL-Rings closed. System 3 is also displaying secessionist tendencies, but hasn't made a move yet.

System 4 is a system with two suns that orbit around each other. Both suns are themselves orbited by a couple of planets. Each of these systems within a system is ruled by it's own society. Both of these are currently ruled by more or less liberal democraties (Again, I currently don't have names for these, so I'll call them X and Y). Sub-system X houses one fully settled planet and one which is almost completely terrafomed. It's also home to a world that has been shattered in the past. Sub-system Y contains two fully settled worlds and a gas giant with ring. Of the two, Y is currently more militaristic and conservativ (boardering on reactionary). X is currently a social democracy, but has had multiple periods of facist rule in the past from which it is still recovering. Both sub-systems are currently united through multiple treaties and form probably the biggest powerblock of the cluster, but are hindered by constant infighting and corruption. Of the big three System 4 (or more precisly sub-system X) is probably the best place to live in, but still far from perfect.

System 5 houses a very young colonie (like 150 years or so) that has managed to stay independend so far by playing the big three against each other. It's a democratic socialist project by people from all over the cluster that are fed up with how things currently work. It's still pretty small, largely irrelevant and in a very precarious position. It also houses a gas giant with a ring which is also able to be mined

System 6 is home and/or hideout to many of the clusters more obviously criminal organisations: Pirate clans, terrorist cells, etc. The only gravitational well is a black hole that is orbited a huge station and the wreck of another. There are also a bunch of smaller station, but those do not have transponders because their inhabitants don't wish to be found.

System 7 is more or less completely dead. Once one of the crownjewels of the empire, it's star went supernova only shortly (and pretty unexpectatly) after the FTL Rings closed. It reformed into a pulsar, destroyed three of it's original five planets completely and cooked the other two. The only "living" thing in System 7 is Rossum's Station, which is the only sentient AI in the cluster. No one knows how it came to be or how to build one like it. Rossum's Station generally perfers to be left alone, except in exceptional cases.

I started to build this as a setting for a hypothetical elite-style space-mining game with a way smaller scale that I'll probably never make, so that's why I mostly started with the number of systems I want and which bodies should be in them. My next goals are to flesh out the technology (mostly focused on ships and space, but also some more mundande things), the political systems and economies (and as such what exactly each planet looks like). Feel free to ask me questions about his world, it helps me come up with the answers (it's a very fresh world after all). Feel also free to suggest names for places to me because I'm really bad with names (ecxept for Rossum's station which I am unreasonably (heh) proud about)

#196 #r/196

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Last Superheroes AU: Maddrix The Malicious

20 years ago, Fair City, known back then by a different name that is locked up in the minds of those who lived their back then, was a different place than now. It was much larger, more vibrant, it was filled with the greatest heroes the world has ever known. Fair City was once the city of Heroes. Of course there were villains who caused mischief and chaos from time to time, but the heroes always saved the day and actually treated the villains with kindness and respect, even befriending them and hanging out outside of the mask. That all changed with a villain named Maddrix the Malicious. He despised heroes with his whole black heart. Maddrix was the most dangerous villain out there as he was equally strong and intelligent. Maddrix used his cunning to plan out his crimes and find ways of escape even before the pesky heroes showed up to stop him. That still didn't stop him from terrorizing the population just for laughs. There were always casualties with Maddrix's crimes. He even had a silent partner, a protege of sorts who he raised in his evil ways. Other villains were too terrified to work with him for how dark Maddrix's heart was. That did not bother him for Maddrix liked to work alone and get the job done himself more often than not. Maddrix also appeared to have unlimited powers. No one knew how he got them. There were rumors that ranged to either being born with them or getting them through some dark deal. No matter what the rumor was, people, hereos, and villains knew to be wary and cautious when he unleashed his fearful powers. Despite his appearance, Maddrix had the strength of 500 men that he could control with ease. He could summon black holes and voids with his hands to swallow all of his loot and transport it back to his hideout, or kidnap a person and toss them to the vastness of space. He appeared to bend gravity to his will and levitate from the earth with ease. Maddrix appeared to be unstoppable. One day, he decided to test this theory. Everyone knew his dislike and disgust with the heroes. There were villains who didn't like heroes either, but they did not do anything except vent out their dislike's in their battles. They knew to not mess with the balance of good and evil. But Maddrix didn't care about that, in his twisted mind, he was the master of the earth and those he didn't like, he can do away with them. That is what happened on that fateful day. In one whole day, Maddrix the Malicious slaughtered every hero on the earth, no one, young or old, human, animal, or humanoid, none were spared if they were on the paths of heroes. Maddrix did not go after their families because he did not know the heroes' secret identities. That was the only good to come out of this whole massacre, now remembered today by those who were there as The Great Tragedy, or The Day The Heroes Died. Everyone was horrified with what Maddrix had done, including the villains. Greatly upset at how the balance was demolished, Maddrix's silent partner gathered up the toughest villains he could find and together the silent partner betrayed Maddrix and, hindered his powers, and sent him off to the highest level of maximum security prison in the world. But by then it was too late. There were no heroes left in the world. Some villains tried to maintain the peace where they lived by taking over the jobs of heroes, but it wasn't perfect. There were still some villains, not as evil as Maddrix was, but corrupt enough that they were still practicing their old ways in trying to maintain the balance again, though they often ended up just being bullies to villains who were weaker. An establishment was soon set up, under the guise of a rehabilitation center for villains, as a way to help other villains develop limits in their crimes or at least maintain somewhat peaceful relations with civilians in their daily lives. Despite the attempts to return to normalcy, no one wanted to step up and call themselves a superhero ever again due to the trauma and destruction that Maddrix created in his wake. That is until two new super heroes came from the stars.

@drtwobrainsstuff

@melodythebunny

@liloskull343

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #the last superheroes #becky boxleitner au #tw: death #tw: massacre #tw: murder #maddrix the malicious

[iimexpensiive]

✧ @void-multimuse ✧ — ( ↪  ��  𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 , 𝑰'𝑴 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 - ᶰᵒ ᶠᵃᵐᶤˡʸ ˒ ᵗᵒᵒ . 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖? ) sorry , i've got ... i've got a lot of work to do . [From NG!MK ^^]

"Oh, I won't keep you long."

It would be foolish if he wasn't aware of what went on in the city, didn't matter that he rarely venture into it. Preferring to keep hidden away in his hideout and away from the suffering — it helped ease his mind, if only a little bit. He didn't want to see the horrors that had come to pass. Having witnessed it enough in his opinion, bleeding over and over for a world that kept marching towards destruction. He hated that he ignored it BUT it had destroyed not just him but someone close to him. Turning away from it like that man had to save what little of himself was left now, so what if it was selfish?

He was definitely curious about this young man. Enough to keep a watchful eye on his whereabouts and activities. Smuggling water and other supplies was not something that was uncommon — a few struggling to help those ailing from hardship. You would be stupid not to know about it. Having turned down several who had tried to use him like an enforcer to shutdown such affairs when it effected them. Sure, he was no saint by any means and the jobs he did take were not for the faint of heart BUT even he wasn't about to get involved in such things. Let them fuck with those in charge, he would neither help nor hinder either side.

"Just a small word of caution — "

" — you better be prepared for the hardships that come with messing around with those who are in charge, you might be young BUT they will not care nor will it stop them. You AND your friend will not receive any mercy."

Almost disturbingly quick his wrist flicks and the little metal conductor's wand he carried around flies over and past the young man's shoulder. Piercing straight through the forehead of a large hulking monster of a yaoguai behind him — the being falling backwards and into a heap. The metal rod floating back into his hands before the masked monkey stands, stretching out his arms and scratching his neck with it.

"Watch your back or they ripe it out before you know it."

#I Am The Monkey King | Sun Wukong {IC} #void-multimuse #voidmultimuse #voidmultimuse | {MK} #ask #answered #↪ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝑰'𝑴 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 - ᶰᵒ ᶠᵃᵐᶤˡʸ ˒ ᵗᵒᵒ . 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖? Ask Meme #HOPE YOU ENJOY~ #Figured; being a hitman/assassin for hire...he knows more than what others may think #He isn't dumb or ignorant after all...he just prefers not to get involved thanks to what happened to him and such #BUT doesn't mean he want to help; he just doesn't let anyone know when he does...even in small ways #He's still a softie even if he makes others think otherwise

[90s-neon-rat]

Random Megavolt headcannons:

-This might technically be cannon (since he got sent to the electric chair twice yet is still kicking about) but Megavolt can’t physically be killed by electrocution. Getting shocked or shorted out can cause him immense pain (as shown in various episodes) but it won’t kill him.

-His eyes are electric blue and glow when he uses his powers. Also has pretty poor eyesight in general (his goggles are prescription). Like actual rats he’ll sometimes do the head swaying thing to get a better look at his surroundings.

-He loves video games and arcades (don’t tell Quackerjack).

-He’s a fan of Devo (or whatever the duck-verse equivalent is) and modelled his villain outfit after their iconic yellow jumpsuits and energy dome hats.

-Collects VHS tapes.

-There is always some kind of background noise in his hideouts, such as the buzz of electronics, music on the radio, or a tv playing. It helps him concentrate.

-Very often forgets to eat. Quackerjack regularly has to force him to consume something other than six cups of coffee a day.

-He finds lava lamps fascinating.

-Not a fan of rollercoasters or fairground rides, they make him sick.

-He’s demisexual.

-Doesn’t bathe often due to his powers. He CAN get wet, however it has to be when he’s suitably drained (for example, expelling a large amount of electricity or not charging for a few days). Being drained isn’t that pleasant for him (extreme exhaustion and migraines being a side-effect, plus he can pass out if not careful) so he’ll only shower/take a bath if appsolutly nessassary. Between washes he’ll just douse himself in deodorant and scrub down with wet-wipes.

-He’s into body-modification. Starts with normal, harmless stuff such as piercings but eventually starts experimenting on himself to implant plug ports and other electrical components into his body.

-I tend to draw/write him with a rat tail and ears, so going off that, I imagine his ears to be rather tattered. His tail is similar, usually covered in band-aids and the end is missing (after getting it stuck in a door once). Regularly trips over his tail too.

-He was raised by a single mother. She was a scientist and, while doing her best to raise her son, was often busy and kind of an irresponsible parent. Megs was regularly left left home alone, leading him to become very self-sufficient from a young age. This lack of contact hindered his social skills.

-As a kid/teen he’d conduct experiments in his house while unsupervised. There were multiple incidents where he blew up their toaster and had to run out to get a new one before his mom found out.

-This is part of a fanfic I’m currently working on, but his fur/hair colour changed occurred after the first time he got sent to the electric chair. I’ve been doing some research for the fic and found out that it’s common for the person sentenced to be shaved beforehand (to prevent anything catching fire). Megs was shaved completely (hair, fur, everything) and after that initial experience it never grew back the same.

#darkwing duck #megavolt #headcannons

[myths-and-legends-retelling]

The Tragedy of Picolous

Picolous wiped sweat and blood from his eyes. Above him and his brothers, the sky turned dark as lightning flashed from the skies. But there was no rain to wash their dead away. Those bolts were aiming for their own.

With a deep breath, Picolous grabbed his sword and pushed himself behind a boulder. In the field, Apollo was slaying more of his giant brothers. His arrows moved swiftly through the crowd. He turned his head to Picolous’ hideout who jumped away into the field, hiding beneath the body of a fallen brethren. The putrid smell of iron and rotting flesh, mixed with the screams of the fallen pierced Picolous’ ears worse than any blade ever could.

Luck was on his side, for Apollo saw Ephialtes and pulled back his bow. The arrow whistled through the air and landed in Ephialtes’ left eye. The roars from the giant sent shivers down Picolous’ spine.

For three nights, the giant shivered and cowered beneath the body. He didn’t dare look up, for he feared the eye of the Sky Father. It was only when the thunder seized and Nyx drew her veil over the skies, that Picolous took a breath of fresh air. But he could not remain in the field for long, for in the distance he heard the Keres call out in hunger. The smell of rot and the buzz of flies followed the grotesque creatures as they made their way to the battlefield. Picolous eased out from under his dead brother and ran to the mountains. From the top, he watched the Keres tear at the flesh of the fallen and fight over dried bones.

“Savages,” he sneered at the creatures.

For three days, Picolous roamed through the lands, until he reached the place where the sea and the land met. The cold sand stuck to his body and the winds Eurus blew in were cold against his exposed flesh. Before Picolous could rest his weary feet, he heard the sky above rumble. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was being watched by one he wished will never watch him.

Picolous fled to a cave where the Sky Father’s eye couldn’t reach him. Once more he waited for Nyx, watching the stars before he fled from his cave. He dove into the sea and swam away. Picolous’ arms ached as he fought against the rising waves. The dark sky and salty water did nothing but hinder his journey. By the time Picolous was ready to give in to his watery grave, he saw land on the horizon. He pushed on until he could drag his weakened limbs onto the shore.

He kissed the sands of Aeaea, thanking his fathers for his safety. There Picolous spent a month, slaying wild boars and eating fruits to regain his strength. It appeared as though he was fated to live.

On one of his hunting expeditions, Picolous saw a blessed sight. Bathing in the waters of Aeaea was made of fair skin and dark hair. Her features were fine and her eyes were soft as she gazed at the rippling of the pond. A filthy heat rose in Picolous as he watched her caress her bare skin. He wished to be the one who could touch her skin. To kiss it and bite it tills it was covered in red.

A stick broke and the maiden’s eyes turned to where Picolous was hiding. They were the colour of the night sky and as cold as the frozen winds. Picolous ran from the maiden to hide in the woods. There his mind brooded over the beauty he had seen. He would make her his. Through any means.

As Nyx rode over the skies, Picolous came from the woods. He spotter the maiden wandering into a cabin surrounded by animals. Hidden in the bushes, he waited for every being to fall under Hyno’s spell before he crept out. He opened the door to the cabin and spotted the maiden sleeping above a bed of furs. Her pale skin contrasted their dark colours.

He caressed her cheek before forcing his hand over her lips. Dark eyes burst open, filled with horror as Picolous smiled at her. His teeth were rotten and bloodied from the fatty wild. The maiden wanted to scream, but Picolous’ gigantic hands muffled any sound as he pulled her close to him, he lifted her up and dragged her from her cabin. The animals didn’t stir even as she kicked and fought.

Picolous pulled her to his den within the woods – hidden so not even the Sky Father could find them. He threw her to the floor and pushed her arms down. Tears ran from the maiden’s eyes, while Picolous’ foul breath burned against her skin.

But Nyx would not keep this act a secret. For as she descended, Helios rose in the sky. The sight of his daughter under the filthy giant made his blood boil. The Sky Father may not have found them. But Helios would not allow his daughter to disappear that easily.

He pulled back his bow and shot the Giant with one arrow. Picolous fell over the maiden, his eyes still red with lust.

Helios came down and pulled the maiden from the giant. “Circe, you are the mightiest witch on these lands. How can you fall to such a brute.”

Circe didn’t answer, her skin was burned by the giant. Instead, she watched as Gaia took her son back. Leaving nothing of the giant but moly to decorate the spot where he died.

#greek mythology #mythology #writers #zeus #apollo #moly #snowdrops #origins #circe #nerine #richter