#golden helmet with wings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mournings-stars · 2 months

Note

i’ve see loads of fics where reader touches adam’s wings and how they are really sensitive but never any with adam touching readers wings so could you write a adam x fem!reader where he touches her wings and they are obvi really sensitive?

well yes ofc!! i made this a little more of a "reader is usually dominant" fic cus i love dom!reader but here u go lovie

You’d had a long day, heavenly duties resulting in social exhaustion to the point where as soon as you got home, you lied on the couch, folded your wings around you, and shut your eyes.

It was only a few minutes of rest before the door opened again, your boyfriend coming in and talking loudly with his bandmates. You groaned, curling up beneath your wings and hiding in the feathers.

“And when she sees you guys are here—!“ The conversation quickly came to a halt, your boyfriend’s voice dying out before he quickly told everyone, “shit, I just remembered she’s not home right now.” he hadn’t let anyone into the living room, but he saw you hidden in your wings on the couch and knew he had to cut any antics short.

And since he was Adam, his bandmates didn’t hold it against him and left with the agreement to come back another day.

As soon as they were out, Adam came into the living room and went to the couch. “What’s up, babe?” Was his way of extending comfort, sitting next to you when you looked up at him. You sighed, making him open his wings so you could lie your head on his chest. Instead, you opted to lie your head on his lap. He cleared his throat. “Okay…” He shifted on the cushions, the sudden touch making him antsy. He placed his hand on your head. “You wanna talk?”

“Long day,” you said.

“Want some ribs?!” He asked, a little too excited as he took off his helmet and tossed it onto an armchair.

“You can have some if you want.“

“You never turn down ribs. What the fuck?” He took a moment to think. “Wanna fuck?” He suggested, half joking, but you took a moment to consider it. Maybe that would wash away your sour mood.

“Let me think about it.”

His golden wings almost fluttered with excitement as he grinned. “Okay,” was his answer. His hands went to your back to begin massaging gently. When you sighed, he felt a soft brush against his side and his eyes drifted to your wings, gently fluttering and stretching with every touch. “Is that uncomfortable?” He asked you, and you seemed to not even notice your wings, but he was very much aware.

“No, that’s nice,” you said in a breath. He hummed in response, swallowing down any thoughts that suddenly popped up.

Unsuccessfully.

Adam brought his hands between your shoulder blades, pressing down with gradual pressure and watching the way your wings flared as you shifted on his thigh.

He swallowed harshly, continuing to massage and watch as he wondered whether or not your wings were sensitive. He’d heard about some angels having hypersensitive wings, but he hadn’t been with you enough times to know whether or not you fell into that category. Especially since he was hardly ever the one in control when you did have sex — that was beside the point, of course.

He’d been thinking about it far too long, accidentally giving you an actual massage that was relaxing enough for you to fall back asleep, wings flat on your back and fluttering ever so slightly.

He let his hand drift, gently brushing the back of your wing and making you wake with a start, looking up at him curiously.

“Sorry, babe. Hand slipped…”

Fuck.

He was never going to stop thinking about this now.

It’d been hours now. Your bad mood had washed away with a nap (he definitely fell asleep too) and his opportunity had gone with it. But his thoughts stayed, making him wake up with a completely non-ignorable problem while you had started making dinner.

He groaned as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, attempting to massage out his thoughts before he got up. He was going to just deal with it, but you were attentive as usual.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, making you scoff. When you said nothing, he quickly muttered, “sorry,” and then, “hi,” as he went over to you. You hummed, continuing to cut vegetables. “Don’t be like that,” he whined childishly, watching you go to wash your hands.

“Like what?” You frowned at him. “Wash your hands and help with dinner, please.”

“Still tired?” You nodded, gaining a kiss on the cheek. “I could’ve made us dinner.”

“That sounds terrifying,” you mumbled, eyes drifting to the flame on the stove. You didn’t want to imagine him alone in the kitchen.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said with a glare before heading to the bathroom to wash up. He didn’t miss the way your mood briefly soured, telling him your bad mood wasn’t totally gone. He could definitely help with that.

He left the bathroom, still with a problem, but also with a pompous grin as he went back to the kitchen, seeing you stirring a pot of soup. He walked up behind you, hands on your hips as his head rested on your shoulder. You hummed, smiling faintly as his hands drifted in toward your stomach. His lips grazed your neck and you sighed.

“Adam…”

“Yeah…” He mocked your tone, hands drifting down your thighs as he kissed the back of your neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Saying hello to my hot as fuck girlfriend?” He questioned as he pulled you back against him, making you understand what was going on.

“Control yourself,” you warned, but still turned off the flame and leaned into him as your hands fell over his.

“Can’t. You’re here.”

He kissed down the center of your back, pulling you further into him before his hands undid the back of your robes so he could kiss your bare skin, stopping right between your wings and sucking open-mouthed kisses there. You gasped, wings flaring before you turned to get his mouth away from you.

“What are you doing?” The scowl you gave him wasn't one of anger. Clearly, he’d just done something to you that you couldn’t process.

“Trying something new,” he said, reaching for you. “Come back.” He grabbed your hands, pulling you back against him and attaching his mouth to yours. He kissed you eagerly, tongue pushing into your mouth as his hands found your back. One pressed you against him and the other traced down your spine. You sighed and he took the opportunity to make his way to the base of your wings. The moment he did, you moaned into his mouth.

You attempted to pull back, but he followed you, kissing you desperately and holding you close. “Adam—“

“Let me touch them,” he said breathlessly, thoughts of you, a complete mess, beneath him making him lose himself and say, “Please — fuck — I’ll do anything. Let me.”

He was beyond ecstatic when you checked to make sure any flame was off before leading him to the bedroom. He was watching your exposed back the whole way there, antsy enough that as soon as you closed the door he was pulling you to him and getting your robes off.

You got his off too, looking down and seeing the strain against his boxers. As you leaned back in, you moved your hand to the bulge in his underwear, palming gently and making him groan.

He got your undergarments off quickly, hands running over your breasts briefly. He couldn’t even stop to feign interest now that he knew how sensitive your wings might be.

He pulled you onto the bed with him, straddling his thighs with your cunt right where he needed it. He pulled you impossibly closer, continuing his forceful kisses as your hips twitched and hand continued to stroke him through the fabric.

“You’re so—“ You could even get the words out before his hands brushed over your wings. You moaned, hands going to his shoulders to brace yourself as your hips rolled against his.

He could feel how wet that made you, having to hold back his own satisfied moan as his fingers traced the tips of your wings, watching your wings open as he did. Your hips jerked, a harsh breath leaving your lips. His hands found the base of your wings, tracing with deliberate pressure and feeling your hands grip him as you shuddered and moaned.

“You can bruise me, if you need to,” he told you, feeling you try not to grip his shoulders too hard. “Mark me up, baby. Let everyone know I’m the one doing this to you—“

“Don’t get cocky—“ He cut you off with a sharp thrust up against you, making you moan.

“You make such pretty noises…” He sighed, reveling in the sound of you. “Why don’t you stop talking and just let me hear those?”

“Adam,” your warning wasn’t taken when he groaned and said, “You can keep saying that though. As loud as you want—“

“Do you want to keep touching me?” You asked sharply, making him stop his taunts. “That’s what I thought,” you sighed as your hand drifted to the base of his throat. “Be a good little angel and do what you asked for, yes?" He immediately flushed, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but your eyes. "Any more of this, and they’ll be off limits.” Your wings circled around the two of you, shielding you from the outside world and making Adam have to look you in the eyes. “Understood?” He nodded. “Good.” You moved your hand away from his neck and let your wings relax.

He fought off a dumb smile as he said, “You’re so fucking hot,” and pulled you into him, kissing you hard and letting his hands drift back to your wings. How something so powerful, that he was hanging on your every word, could make you so submissive, he had no idea, but he needed to see how far he could go.

He wanted more. This just wasn’t enough. He could always have you on top of him, controlling the situation. He could always touch you if he asked nicely, but he wanted you a shaking, incoherent mess when he was done with you. He didn’t want to have to ask for that.

He moved his hands to the tops of your wings, stroking gently before running his hands across the backs of them. Your kisses slowed, hips grinding against him. “That feel good?” You nodded. “Stop grinding,” he said, “just focus on this,” his nails ran along your wings as he spoke, making you arch into him as you moaned. When you did as he asked, he knew you wouldn’t be able to get back in control.

So he took his chances, touching you with haste and making your wings tremble as you tried not to grind against him. Your head fell to his shoulder, your hips squirming in hopes of getting some kind of relief. He ground his hips up, making you sigh at the relief and making Adam feel your heavy breaths on his neck, turning him on even more.

He took note, but moved his hands to the insides of your wings. He nearly froze at the whine you let slip, feeling himself get harder and having to focus on you. He did it again and you practically crumbled into him, whining as your hips twitched. Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight as your other hand dug into his back, leaving scratches as he continued.

He held you close as he chuckled. “I know,” he cooed, mocking. “You can handle it.” That alone made you whine. “Words, baby, come on… Like you always say,” he reminded you demeaningly as he continued his relentless touches.

You swallowed your pride and said, “More,” in the most pathetic voice he’d ever heard from you.

He couldn’t resist. “Anything you want,” he said, but stopped touching your wings.

“No, no, no, Adam, please—“ He was stunned by your desperate begging, mouth finding his neck to press sweet kisses to, in an effort to get what you needed from him. “Need you.”

“I’ll keep going,” he said, turning you to lie down on the bed as he straddled your thigh. “Control yourself.” He expected some quip from you, but you just nodded, keeping eye contact and making him coo. “Aren’t you so good?” He dragged the back of his hand down the inside of your wing, watching your eyes roll back and mouth fall open. “And so pretty. Fuck.” He had to rid himself of his boxers with how tight they were now, taking the moment to look at your body on the bed, ready for whatever he wanted.

He couldn’t control himself, moaning at the sight of you before he got back on the bed. One of his hands held him up while the other began stroking the inside of your wing.

He kissed you hard, reveling in the way you tried to keep up despite your whining. You couldn’t control it, whimpers and moans slipping with every breath as he had his way with you.

Your legs squeezed, hips grinding against the friction of your thighs for any kind of relief which Adam quickly noticed. He reached his hand down, pushed your legs open, and put his knee back between them before his hand went back to touching your wings.

He added more pressure and you stopped kissing him, hands going to his waist to keep him still as your cunt grinded against his thigh. Your eyes were shut, squeezing as he continued to touch you, applying more and more pressure until even his thigh wasn’t enough for you.

You whined, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. He paused, trying to give you a break, but you quickly told him, “Need you inside,” and “Need more,” your hands traveling down as he shook his head. That made your hands stop, but your pleas continued as you looked up at him with big, glassy eyes. He wanted to give you everything you asked for, but under any other circumstance this would be too soon. He softened his touches on your wings, trying to coax you and only making it worse. “Want you now, Adam, please—“

“You can’t take that yet—“

“I can, I can, promise, just — fuck — Adam —“ He shuddered at the way you whined his name. “— you keep touching me—“ He stopped, but that immediately made the shine in your eyes turn to hot tears that dripped down your cheeks. He tried not to be turned on by this, wiping away your needy tears and trying not to think of how pretty you looked like this; crying for him. He knew how pissed you’d be with him once this finally settled, but this was exactly what he was hoping for. “Don’t stop. It feels so good, just, please,” you looked between the two of you, how close he was to giving you what you wanted — how much he needed it too, “I need it.”

How could he deny you?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel heaven #adam smut #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut

859 notes · View notes

heraxic · 12 days

Note

I’m sorry if you already answered this (I didn’t find it mentioned) but why was Kyril/Karl mutated, imprisoned and hunted in the Greek Myth AU? This definitely feels like Miranda/Athena was punishing him. What happened?

Thanks for asking!

Here’s pre-curse Kyril (story under cut, body horror/gore warning)

Yes, it was meant as punishment (unlike Alina and Daphne), and to no one’s surprise his crime was hubris.

Kyril worked at his father’s forge, far surpassing his skills in both metalworking and stone masonry. As such he was blessed by Hephaestus himself.

He got commissioned to make a statue of Athena in honor of her craftsmanship. He rolled his eyes and set to work, complaining that it’d be more fitting to make one of Hephaestus, who picked up the slack, since Athena abandoned her craft and stopped making beautiful things for the sake of her sick game (Athena’s Gauntlet of Monsters, so far containing a living whirlpool and a sphinx, was widely known and many daydreamed of or even sought the glory of defeating the beasts). In spite of his grumbling the statue came out stunning with clean cut stone and gilded detailing.

The next day, a weaver came to Kyril’s forge saying she’d heard his complaints about her goddess, which confused her cause with a statue that beautiful a blessing would naturally be in order, yet he burned that bridge. ‘What if she could give you the power to make the most life-like statues in the world?’ Kyril laughed and said it wasn’t her domain, and besides he didn’t need it.

Refusing a blessing from a god is one thing, but to mock them and be telling the truth at the same time is unforgivable.

The weaver lifted her shawl from her head and revealed a brilliant blue plume and with it a golden helmet. Athena arose to her full dreadful height, one hand holding her winged spear, the other pointed towards the terrified sinner in front of her. ‘You will know what power is when you see it. You shall have my blessing whether you wish or not.’

In a second, Kyril fell to the floor screaming with blinding agony, feeling horrible squelching and crunching as bone and muscle grew where it shouldn’t. His nails fell out and out of the raw empty spots grew thorny black claws; his spine extended to accommodate a tufted lion tail; the skin of his back ripped to tatters to unfurl two sets of bloody grey wings; his black curls turned to angry, writhing snakes, each more venomous than the last; his teeth grew sharp and pointed, cutting rifts on his tongue so blood filled his mouth; and lastly his eyes grew heavy in their sockets as they were imbued with the last of the goddess’s curse.

Hearing the commotion, Kyril’s father rushed in and cradled the strange figure he knew was his son, turning his head towards him. He instantly froze in place, a perfect image of paternal worry, and the monster felt the arms holding it turn hard and grating like stone.

Athena took him away to her islands somewhere in the Cyclades to become the next glorious creature on her roster, the Gorgon. There he lied writhing in pain for 12 days without sleep or food (besides the right leg of Pallas, which further changed his body and gained him far more muscle and size). When the pain subsided enough to let him speak he prayed for his patron Hephaestus to help him, but alas gods can’t break each other's curses. Instead he carved out a spacious cave for him in which to seek shelter as well as several unbreakable stonemason and smithing tools to keep up his spirits.

700 yrs later Elias comes to the islands.

#ask #re8 #greek mythology #re8 karl heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #re8 mother miranda #re8 miranda #fanart #my art #sketch

371 notes · View notes

mysicklove-main · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐋𝐘

Pairing: Father! Hawks x Mother! Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Fluff! Little bits of threatening, anxiety, Protective! Reader

Summary: Keigo has the bright idea to convince his son to jump off a balcony. You dont react too well.

“Alright, kid, on the count to three, jump. Are you ready?” The trainee looks down and gulps. He nods his head hesitantly. “One…Two..”

“KEIGO!” You scream as you burst open the door to see your four-year-old standing atop the balcony rail, hundreds of feet from the concrete ground.

The child, startled by the interaction, stumbles forward, and your heart drops. Time seems to slow down as you watch his still chubby face contort from shock to fear. Your eyes widen, and you try to race forward and grab him, but nevertheless, you are too late.

The horrific moment was over in less than three seconds because the young boy is being pulled back immediately with ten red feathers. Keigo gently places the boy in your arms (knowing if he grabbed his son, you would immediately take the small boy from him), and the smaller carbon copy of Keigo begins to sob into your chest.

Your heart thumps as you clutch the child closer to you. Keigo uses one of his feathers to brush a tear away from your face that you didn’t know had formed. When the red feather leaves your skin, your panic turns to anger as you glare at your husband. He lets out a sheepish smile. “I was teaching him how to fly?”

“By allowing him to jump off the top of our apartment building? Are you out of your mind? He is four!” You scold, and the child in your arms continues to sob. You run your fingers through his blonde hair, hoping to provide some sort of comfort from that traumatic event.

Keigo scratches the back of his neck. “Well, that’s how I learned. And look at me. I turned out alright! C’mon you know this, birds must push their children out of the nest in order to fly!” Your son's sobs turn into quiet whimpers as he calms down.

He began to step closer toward you, the recognizable “forgive me” smile plastered on his face. You glare at your husband. “Yeah, and birds also chew their food up and feed it from their mouth to their children, you wanna do that too?”

The two males make the exact same disgusted face, except, of course, one is way cuter than the other. “Mama, that’s gross!” He whines and begins to squirm in your arms. You sigh and set him down, and the young boy races over to his father, who grins at him.

“I want to fly! Like Dada!” His tiny red wings begin to twitch, a sign that he finally has control over them, and his father nods in agreement. Although being so high up from the ground made the young boy nervous, he only cried because he wasn’t ready to jump. He truly wants to fly!

Keigo scoops the boy up, and the two turn to you and use their favorite puppy dog eyes, and you sigh. Unlike usual, the boys won this battle. “Fine.” Two golden eyes light up. “But.” They cringe. “No jumping off balconies. Let’s go to the park and find a tree or something. And we are gearing you up little bird.” The two make eye contact with one another, before coming to a consensus. They nod.

The poor baby bird looks ridiculous. Under your command, he was forced to wear a helmet, goggles, knee pads, and elbow pads. Keigo was right there, too; if anything happened, he would be able to catch your son without a second thought. But he was trying not to piss you off, so he let his son look a little ridiculous. He did have to hold back his laughs to not embarrass the young boy, though.

The little blonde was on the top of the tree, this time way more confident than on the balcony. His mother and father were there, he can see the ground, and if he falls, it won’t hurt too bad with all the gear. He was determined to fly. He clutches onto the branch as he waits for his father's instructions.

You sway uncomfortably as you stare at your near toddler on top of that 50-foot tree that Keigo carefully placed him on. It didn’t feel right instinctually, but for some reason or another, your husband decided to put your son on the tallest tree he could find. “Relax, Mama Bird. He is going to be fine. I mean, with all the gear you got him in, he could fall 100 feet, and he will still be alright.”

You look over at your son, who is fixing his dinosaur helmet, and sigh. Sure, it may be a little extreme, but if your son is jumping off a tree, you are willing to go the extreme. Besides, he looks adorable. “Your dramatics are going to be the end of me,” You tease but giggle for the first time being out here. Only he knows how to make you feel better.

He smiles at your laugh and wraps his arm around your waist, knowing you are beginning to cool off from your initial anger. He presses a kiss to your temple. “You love it,” He murmurs, and you don’t disagree.

The four-year-old upset that the attention has left him, frowns from above. “Can I fly now, Dada?”

“You ready kid?” He calls in return.

“Yes!” He moves his goggles from his forehead and onto his golden eyes—small red wings flap in excitement.

“Alright, you know the drill. Don’t be nervous. We are down here if anything happens, yeah?" The boy nods. "Good. On the count of three.” You grip onto Keigo and gulp, probably more nervous than your son. He rubs your arm in comfort, but even he is meticulously placing his feathers around the tree, ready to cling to the boy at any moment. It was more than his father did for him. “One…Two…Three!”

The young blonde runs to the side of the branch and jumps, successfully missing the other branches from hitting him on his way down. His wings begin to flap, but not hard enough to keep him up. He is still falling fast.

Your heartbeat picks up, and the two of you tense as you watch your son come closer and closer to the grass. After a second of no progress, you begin to freak out. “G-Grab him!” You push at your husband, who is watching with a stone face.

“Keigo!”

“Wait.” He whispers, and you stare at him in horror. Your son’s eyes widen when he sees the ground getting closer and closer.

As a survival instinct, about 10 feet from the ground, the small bird opens his wings as wide as they can go and beats as hard as he can. He does this twice, and suddenly he isn’t falling anymore. It takes some effort to get used to flapping his wings hard enough to carry his body weight, but after a couple of seconds of staying in place, he is able to fly upward.

You’re still trying to process the situation when Keigo starts laughing. “That's my boy!” He yells as the young bird begins to fly clumsily in circles.

Then, your husband beats his wings and begins to fly up after him. You are stuck staring at the two birds flying like lunatics. The boy, much lower to the ground, looks toward you for your approval. “Look Mama! Look!”

“I see! You’re flying just like Dada!” He smiles that child-like smile that causes your heart to throb and nods at you from above. While focusing on you, the little boy fails to look ahead of him at the large tree he is flying rapidly toward. You gasp and begin to shout, but your husband, quick as ever, quickly cuts in front of the boy and leads him away, back to open air. You sigh in relief, but still, you can tell the next period of your life with the new skill development, your hair is going to gray.

Suddenly, familiar red feathers are scoping you up and are sending you flying toward the older blonde. He stands straight in the air as he monitors his son and plops you into his arms bridal style. He leans forward and nuzzles your cheek. “See, told ya he will be alright.”

“You got lucky, Bird; I swear if anything happened to him, I would–”

“Kill me. Yeah yeah, I know, I know. I wish you were that protective over me. Kids making me jealous,” He fake whines, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t whine. You know I’m just as protective over you too. You have heard me threaten Endeavor about keeping an eye on you.” This time he rolls his eyes and laughs, remembering that event.

Your son does a circle around a tree and continues to giggle like he is having the time of his life. With him distracted, you lean upward toward your lover, and he, in turn, leans down. Just when he is about to press his lips to yours, you pause. Keigo frowns. “If I ever see my son jumping off a balcony again, I will do much worse than kill you. Do you understand?” You purr venomously into his mouth.

He lets out a sheepish, almost afraid laugh and nods immediately. You smile innocently and press your lips to his.

1K notes · View notes

klaunee · 2 months

Text

Mammon and Adam visit the Carnival of Venice! Design notes below the cut.

Mammon

Mammon is a Harlequin, and the mask he's wearing is a Harlequin mask.

His mask is modified to be more spider-like, with extra eyes and a set of golden chelicerae.

The things atop his mask are modified to look like dollar bills and curved to look like spider legs.

He's carrying a marotte.

His outfit is meant to look like it has a face on the center of it.

His cape is meant to look like spider legs atop a spiderweb.

He's either wearing emerald rings or watermelon ring pops.

Adam

I'm not sure if the thing he's modelled after has a specific name, but if you google "Carnival of Venice man" you'll see lots of men in coats like this! However, I modified it to be long enough to resemble clergyman robes.

Instead of his typical helmet, he's wearing a jester's cap that's been modified to look like it has a golden halo.

Feathers are a staple of Venetian Carnival fashion, so it's no stretch for him to have extra wing accessories made of them. I was inspired by costumes like this one.

His mask is made of paper mache, not LEDs.

He has a pin in the shape of his emblem attached to his jabot.

I only included it as a side option but I thought it'd be cool if he had an optional extra yellow visor on his mask because it makes it look like he has the Eye of Providence on his face.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #i deserve a medal for the number of alternate forms i've given these two

178 notes · View notes

tylermileslockett · 6 months

Text

HEPHAESTUS

“Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of Hephaestus famed for inventions. With bright-eyed Athena he taught men glorious crafts throughout the world, —men who before used to dwell in caves in the mountains like wild beasts. But now that they have learned crafts through Hephaestus the famed worker, easily they live a peaceful life in their own houses the whole year round.” (-Homeric Hymn, translated by H.G. Evelyn white)

HEPHAESTUS, (huh-FAY-stus) is the God of weapon smithing, craftsmanship, and fire. Born with a lame leg, and described as ugly, he presents a much humbler appearance than his more majestic siblings. But he shines in the ingenuity department, crafting marvelous weapons, tools, and traps with his sacred objects; his golden hammer and tongs. I took an artist’s liberty; portraying him with vibrant red hair and beard to reflect his connection with fire, while his skin is pale purple from long hours within his cave forge.

The many golden, forged objects within the image appear in a variety of myths. Let’s begin with the item he hammers; the armor of Achilles. In the Iliad, Achilles pleads with his Nereid mother, Thetis, for new armor. We can see her in the pool in the lower right, waiting for the armor as she sits upon a hippocampusi. Looking to the background, the throne was made for Hera as a trick, trapping her in the seat. The female figure above is Pandora, the first woman, made upon Zeus’ orders. Beside her are the winged helmet and sandals of Hermes. Above is the chariot of apollo. And at the very top is the golden net which trapped Hephaestus’ wife, Aphrodite, in bed with her elicit lover, Ares.

Although Hephaestus doesn’t terrorize mortals like some of his more vengeful siblings, one scandalous myth has him chasing Athena in lust, and ejaculating on her thigh when the rape attempt fails. When Athena wipes the seed onto the earth, a son, Erichthonious, is born and later becomes an early king of Athens.

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024. check my bio LINKTREE

284 notes · View notes

midnightsapphire · 1 year

Text

here’s a small snippet of my Hades x Persephone au with Aemond! I’m having so much fun writing this but I need help coming up with a title :c any help would be appreciated!

-----

Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider of the largest war beast in all of Westeros, Vhagar, Prince Regent, Kinslayer. The list was growing endless as Aemond cast his single eye along the burning castles of Harrenhal, the orange flames that cast a glow against the blue sapphire he no longer felt ashamed of hiding away behind the leather eyepatches. He let out a victorious laugh atop his beast as his arms spread as wide as the wing’s of his dragon, relishing on the victory he had achieved for the crown, for his family, for his king.

He watched as the people screamed, pleading with him to show mercy as they watched their homes, their fields, their livelihoods be swallowed in a gust of orange as Vhagar swept low enough to breath her hellflame along their borders. Aemond made note of their fear-stricken faces, the curses thrown at him, the bodies falling with every moment.

Dare he say he relished in the destruction that followed his shadow.

It had been long after the death of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm’s Delight, the Half-Queen no longer. The entirety of the Black’s reign whipped off the face of Westeros, a shell of an alliance that was never to be spoken in the King’s presence should they wish to keep their tongues, generously speaking on their part. The rule of Aegon the Second was rocky, but wholly accepted as the reign of the “true king” rose with Aemond’s assistance in allying themselves with the most powerful houses, keeping their own close and ridding the world of those that opposed them.

“My brother, you’ve graciously returned!” Aegon slurred, his hefty cups of wine spilling with every word as he waved his hands graciously at the sight of his armor cladded brother, covered with soot and grime from the grueling fires that once again found itself on the ground of the Riverlands. Aemond bent the knee to his brother, casting his winged helmet at his side as he bestowed a sealed paper to his brother, that unceremoniously pushed the whore off his lap as he snatched the paper, lilac eyes skimming over it’s words as he felt a sickly smile grow on his face.

“The fools had finally bent the knee.”

“They had no knees left to bend when I had stepped foot on their lands.” Aemond confirmed as he stood tall once again at the foot of the throne, his head held high as he glared at the whore that laid at Aegon’s feet, letting out a soft gasp and diverting her gaze away from the glimmering sapphire that ordained his face.

“Perfect, they should remember with fire and blood who is truly meant to rule the seven kingdoms.” Aegon snickered as he stumbled upon the throne again, leaning his cheek along the top of his fist as he swallowed more swigs from his chalice, narrowing them at Aemond’s from above the rim.

“Take it. Harrenhal.” Aegon spoke seriously, his head tilting as he eyed his brother. The ever dutiful son, the golden child, the one their mother clearly favored when he had bestowed the head of Daemon Targaryen after their fitful fight above God’s Eye, effectively ridding the world of the Rogue Prince and his blood worm, Caraxes. “You.. always had a knack for ruling, a taste for duty. Take it as it is, the barren wasteland. A gift from one brother to another.” He said with a brush of his hand.

“It is no longer of any service to me when you have stripped the land bare of its forests and homes. Consider it.. your very own little underworld.”

Thus he had become Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider of the largest war beast in all of Westeros, Vhagar, Prince Regent, Kinslayer, Ruler of the Underworld.

1K notes · View notes

wisteriaiswriting · 1 month

Note

Request: Lute comforting her dying s/o on Earth before they get to heaven?

𝔻𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Words: 321

Fuck.

She doesn’t know what she was thinking back then, the day she met you. Why didn’t she walk away, instead of helping? Likely it was her being an angel, exterminator but still an angel. Now here she was.

Sitting on the blood soaked ground, cradling you close to her chest. Whatever happened down here has been stopped, and when it was revealed what happened she was informed by Sera.

Letting her spend their final moments with her, in her arms. Anything she could think of, was spilling from her lips. Even if she knew where you’d go, you didn’t. You likely thought this was it, spending your final moments in pain and with her.

She knew better, you’d end up in Heaven with her. For now though, she only watches as your eyes shut for the last time as mortal.

***

Fuck.

Opening your eyes just to get blinded. Laying your hands over your eyes as they adjusted, wait… You shouldn’t be moving, much less even thinking right now. You’re dead, at least you beileve so.

Lookin around revealed the sky hanging above seemingly endless clouds. Behind you stood a giant golden gate, with a stand right next to it. After a few seconds someone showed up from behind it, asking for your name to look for it.

When he did, well you weren’t sure what he did. Only able to point at your name before someone else showed up, covered in black and gray armor with similiar coloured wings.

Shooing the first angel away, and when he was gone, pulling off the helmet. To reveal… Lute?

“Lute?” She watched the tears start flowing, slowly steps forwards turned to you running. Holding you tight when you were close enough, wrapping your own arms against her.

The emotional moment was ruined by the sound of someone drinking from an empty cup. Turning around to find-

“Adam.”

“Huh, guess you could get some.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel lute x reader #lute x reader #wisteria♥

112 notes · View notes

vintagerpg · 1 month

Text

These doofs are four out of the six Galactic Demons from the Marty Toy Warriors of the Galaxy line (circa 1983 — the skeleton’s winged helmet and lack of any company marks make me inclined to believe these are Mexican copies from a slightly later date). The two missing guys are a bug-eyed lizard fellow and spikey-headed goblin guy. There are also six Golden Heroes, usually cast is metallic gold plastic, but those guys are pretty boring because they aren’t monsters. The entire line was designed to hold a variety of guns, weapons and shields molded in brightly colored plastic. I don’t have any of those, and that’s fine by me, because without the weapons, it looks like the little guys are dancing, and that cracks me up.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Marty Toy #Warriors Of The Galaxy #Galactic Demons

116 notes · View notes

supercap2319 · 12 days

Text

Y/N sighed in relief. The Ogre and its ghouls were gone. For how long? Y/N couldn't say, but for now, they were gone. He glanced to his right as Stella's brightly colored wings disappeared. "He was getting on my bloody nervous." She said.

The Hunter Troll was taken care of, too. It was in a giant chasm in the ground thanks to four young men wearing armor and weapons at their backs. They appeared to be Y/N's and his sister Bloom's age, but probably a little bit older if he had to guess. He locked eyes with one of them with gorgeous blue eyes as Stella started to introduce said blue eyes and his friends.

"Bloom? Y/N? These are the specialists from Alfea I was talking about." Stella said.

"How's it going?"

"How are you doing?"

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Meet Riven." Stella indicated to a young man with light brown hair and blue-ish green eyes. He had a mischievous smile, and Y/N could tell right away that this guy was a troublemaker.

"Brandon." She indicated to the tallest male of the group. He flashed Stella a smile. "How's it going, Princess?" From his tone and Stella's body language, it was obvious that that they had the hots for each other.

She moved on to the next guy. "Timmy." The young man with reddish brown hair and blue eyes smiled at Y/N and Bloom, giving the twins a friendly wave and shy smile in the process.

The final one was the one who Y/N locked eyes with. The one whose hair was a golden coiffed peak of a helmet. He was cute and definitely had that heroic vibe you see in movies and TV shows. The summer tan and muscular muscles underneath his shirt were a good indication that this cute guy definitely didn't miss a workout in his life.

"The blonde one is Prince Sky of Eraklyon."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Wait, he's a prince? Where's his crown?" Y/N blurted out.

Bloom blushed with embarrassment in front of the cute guys, who smirked and laughed at Y/N's question. Sky turned to him with a smirk, showing a row of perfect teeth. God, Y/N hated him already. "I left it at home in my giant castle."

"You have a castle, too?"

"Nah, I'm just fucking with ya, mate." Sky smirked.

"Ass." Y/N smiled. "Who knew you had jokes, Blue eyes."

Sky chuckled. "I have a name, you know."

"Don't care. Blue eyes suits you." Y/N smiled.

Brandon cleared his throat. "I hate to break up the flirting, but we gotta get this guy back to Silva." He pointed towards the Hunter Troll.

"Right. Specialists? Let's move." Sky said in his most commander voice he could.

They cuffed the troll and opened a portal and sent the creature through, as they all said their goodbyes one by one. Sky turns to Y/N and smirks. "I sure hope I'll see you at Alfea."

"You can count on it, Prince Sky." Y/N smiled.

89 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 6 months

Note

Why not just Desmond being an angel.

And it freaks everybody out and everybody thinks he's holy or something and he's just like "all right okay why not"

It had happened by accident.

It had to be an accident, right?

Altaïr had been thrown out of the room and the Templars had unsheathed their weapons. Malik had been focused on protecting his brother, shouting at him to run as he tried to keep all of the Templars busy.

Robert de Sablé didn’t even look back when he walked away after ordering their death.

Malik didn’t know what happened.

He saw Kadar freeze when he neared the scaffolding that would lead to the treasure and Malik swore his eyes glowed gold for the briefest of moments.

Before one of the Templars charged at him.

Kadar snapped out of it and tried to block, his stance unstable enough that he slipped backwards.

Into the scaffolding…

Taking the Templar with him.

The Templar’s sword struck one of the wooden pillars keeping the scaffolding stable and…

Malik didn’t have any explanation for it.

It shouldn’t have happened.

The scaffolding started to crumble, making Kadar and the Templar run away from it as fast as they could.

And then…

The wall next to the scaffolding began to break apart, golden light coming from the cracks before the entire thing fell down.

Together with the treasure and the ark where it had been resting.

The ark broke in half, splitting in the middle to reveal an egg shaped thing made of stone that was around the height of perhaps Malik when he was sitting on the floor.

The treasure fell on top of it, shattering like it was made of glass.

Where the shards fell on the stone, the stone changed and spread.

Until…

What had been stone had changed to seemingly three pairs of wings with white feathers that seemed to shine gold all curled together.

The wings twitched…

Before slowly opening, stretching to its full size.

Revealing a young man seemingly sleeping, the three pairs of wings attached to his back. His head was resting on his propped up knees.

No one could speak.

No one could move.

Until…

“Altaïr?” Kadar whispered hesitantly and Malik could see why he would call out that fool’s name.

The man looked too much like Altaïr for it to be a coincidence.

Almost as if hearing the name, the man…

No.

The divine being in front of them opened his eyes.

Instead of Altaïr’s golden eyes, his eyes were light brown with specks of gold in them.

And Malik wondered how he could see them from where he was standing, a few meters away from the winged being.

The divine being looked around and blinked.

His eyes met Malik and his lips parted.

“It’s an angel!”

Before he could speak, the Templars all knelt and began to pray.

The Templar who had attacked Kadar took off his helmet and…

It was a woman.

A woman who was praying fervently at the divine being who…

… looked at Malik with wide confused eyes.

Unorganized Notes… I mean… sorta notes?:

Desmond is surprised for a few seconds then he goes “Be not afraid” and tried to sound super impressive “Ye are in the presence of…………… the will of God.” and he’s just bullshiting his way to uuhhh. He has no plans.

He glanced at Malik and Kadar and oh yeah, alright.

“Ye shall not harm these… men of justice for they are… under my protection…?”

At that point, Desmond knows he is ffuuuccckkeedd. Malik is obviously onto him. Kadar is super confused and just keeps staring at his face. Then…

Maria, of all people, agree and even goes as pledge her sword to him which is super weird and Desmond’s just “???”

In the end, Desmond accidentally takes the Templars about to kill Malik and Kadar with him as he leaves the temple with Malik and Kadar. It’s a very awkward journey and Desmond has no idea what else to do other than…

Oh wait… there were other Templars stationed nearby and they all saw him leave with his ‘entourage’.

Before he could try to say anything, Maria speaks for him, calling the messenger of God and that he had been sleeping in the Ark of the Covenant which sounded like a super big deal (and he can’t even whisper to Malik to ask what the hell she was talking about because the Farm was never religious and the only time Desmond even heard of the Ark of the Covenant was from Indiana Jones) and…

… why does it feel like Maria was converting people into becoming his personal army???

Oh god… Was this…

Was he going to take his own army to Masyaf???

#yeah that’s right #i’m back to my maria would totally worship desmond as her god bs #for some reason i’m imagining the battle in masyaf at the start of ac1 to be #assassins versus templars versus desmond’s ‘army’#which is really more or less zealots who believe his word is god’s word #he is not having a good time #oh god #altaïr is going to be seen as the ‘son of an angel’#asjdjfhjakdsfjkfbasjkdf #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #kadar al sayf #maria thorpe #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #ask and answer

242 notes · View notes

hellsite-testing-ground · 8 months

Text

TL;DR: the bee movie

251 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 30 days

Note

Hello, may I please request fem reader x Elrond? With reader that is quite avoidant when it comes to touch, but accepts hugs and kisses from Elrond? I hope it is okay 👉👈 thank you so much in advance, have a wonderful day 💕💕💕💕

Yes, sorry this took so long but here we are! Hope you enjoy how this came to me, a one-shot featuring a third party POV as well as ‘yours’ 😊

The Steel Lady of Imladris- Elrond x F!Elf!Reader

It was known to the surrounding lands that in the Last Homely House one might be surprised by whom they meet; the lord of the land, after all, had a lady by his side, one whose presence was said to carry the chill of a harsh wind with her presence. Resolute as her home's walls, she cut quite the contrast to the hearths always said to be awaiting visitors of the fair valley. Perhaps she was even a witch like the one dwelling in the woods of Lórien.

Such were the rumors swirling in the mind of Rivendell's dwarven visitor, called there as he was to offer his people's wise council. Ha! What was it that had those pointy-ears finally asking for their help Gimli did not know, but happy was he to attend with his father at his side.

Riding in with his kin, he took in sailing white arches and a very well-constructed bridge, hearing his father mutter all the while about how nothing had changed. He had stopped there once before some sixty years ago, after all, during the dragon incident.

A whole gaggle of elves awaited there, some armored but most just decked out in their pretty finery, one clad in white emerging from the center with a deep blue-clad figure upon his arm. Long, elaborately twisted strands of dark hair hung onto his raiment and a circlet of silver crossed his forehead. Likewise, the woman at his side had what hair she could done with equal finesse, a matching headpiece, and a dress more closely tailored than the lord's robes. Elrond and his consort, the so-called Steel Lady of Imladris.

Sure enough, fair as you were your face was resolute as you stepped forward, practical even as you curtsied, surrendering the smallest of smiles. Ready for a fight as he was, Gimli wasn’t sure he’d want to take you on. At least, not without the proper head start and all.

You flinched as Gloin clapped a hand to your back, stepping forward in utter avoidance of his touch. Disrespectful though it may have seemed, you equally avoided one of your elven fellows’ advances. Gimli shook his head. Cold as they came.

Alright, fine, maybe this wing of the place was a little confusing. He still could figure it out for himself. One more corridor and it would be golden-

“Trouble yourself not, My Lady.”

Tilting his head, Gimli took a few steps forward, was availed the sight of Lord Elrond…holding you at the elbows, pulling you closer? The sound of… you giggling?

He’d turned away, but that sound along had Gimli swiveling around the corner again. Your head tilted and leaned onto the dark-haired elf’s shoulder. A smile cut further across your face as his lips fell to the crown of your head.

“You needn’t spend any more time in the crowds than you must. It was simply right to have you at my side for greetings.”

“I like being at your side, though,” you whispered, peeling your head from Elrond’s chest to kiss him once, twice, and far more lingering.

All right, that was enough. Off to bed. Gimli turned, trying the other fork in the hall with a faint smile playing upon his lips. Steel Lady indeed.

“Greetings, Madam.”

Frowning slightly, you turned to see if your eyes had deceived you; they had not- one of the visiting dwarves removed his helmet in your presence, giving you a jolly little bow.

Generally you were…unsuccessful, shall you say… with guests. Aversion to touch had bloomed from the harsh experiences of your past life, making trust a challenge. No bearing upon their race or character, but outsiders posed a threat. Disrupting routines, bringing louder, brasher customs. Viewing you as either held in thrall to their impositions or else some myth beyond their metaphorical touch.

Elrond was the anchor in your vast sea of anxiety, the only one who saw through story, perceived emotion seemingly unexpressed. Displayed hope and kindness abundant as the cleanest of springs.

But now stood a dwarf of all people fixing you with earnest hazel eyes. Understanding. What should you do?

A smile shook its way to your lips. “Good morning,” you chose a customary greeting. Standard, safe.

“Aye,” the dwarf nodded, “it is, isn’t it? Well, I know you elves like to keep time, so I'll be off to breakfast before there is none. Tell me your favorite and I will save you some if I can."

Stranger or not, you were sure anyone could have read the shock upon your face. Shaking it quickly aside, you kept your face neutral as you named it and gave a thanks. As the dwarf went on his way, he bid you his final farewell by your title, yes, but also your name. They didn't usually use your name.

Light footsteps rang out behind you, barely perceptible even by your sensitive ears. "And what was that about, hm?" Elrond.

Tension melted from your shoulders as the curious little quirk of your lips burst into a wide smile. Turning on your heels, you slid your arms about your husband's waist, relaxing when his hand caressed the top of your head.

"The dwarf," you answered, "he was so kind. Not in that rough way so often seen, but...genuine. Caring. Like he wanted to see me smile. Could someone have challenged him?"

You feel your husband's head shake. "How many times must I remind you," he teased, "of the light that lies in your eyes? That which reaches deepest into the heart. Surely he felt no challenge than that. Indeed, I would say he simply sees you as I do."

Heart thumping, you loosened your grip on Elrond to meet his lips in a loving kiss, safe in the warmth of his words and his hold upon you. Bit by bit he encouraged you to be brave, never leaving you adrift for long, you reflected as he took your hand, bidding you lead the way to the greater halls at your ready.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #elrond #elrond x reader #elrond x female reader #female reader #elf reader #one shot #ask #anon #requested

86 notes · View notes