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dtfpeta · 9 months

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Domesticity with Price...

(a/n: yes I want to make my lover a home cooked meal. yes I want him to wrap his arms around me while I cook. also I was this close to putting nsfw but I may just make a part two)

tags: husband!price, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k __________

Price who comes home to his doting wife standing in front of the stove. A roaring pot of boiling water being salted by your delicate hands which form a harsh pinch on the granules before releasing them into the porcelain dish.

He watches from the door as you slowly canter your hips, humming along to the soft melody of Al Green from your distant record player. His cheeks contort with a smile when he hears your abysmal attempt to recall the lyrics. Startling you out of your unaware serenade when his hands catch in the fabric of your dress to wrap around your waist.

"Smells good." He comments regarding the dish. His face is buried in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other spices that coat the house in its aroma. Your own fragrance of vanilla overwhelms his senses as he sighs into the crook of your neck.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that..." You chastise, knowing the irony that lies in your statement being as stealth is not something your husband is unaccustomed to. "Could've burned myself." You add, half-heartedly scolding and rolling your eyes as his arms tighten their purchase on your hips.

On the stove lies a pot boiling with its now added component of rigatoni. To its side is a sizzling pan that has been providing the house with its encapsulating smell. John eyes the skillet. The melted butter works to caramelize the now translucent onions coated in sparse flakes of red pepper and rosemary. A wooden spatula wielded in your hand stirs the minced garlic cloves, doing your best to prevent their quick to burn nature.

Price loves your cooking and you love to cook for him. Seeing as his face melts into bliss when he tastes what magic you have cast on something as simple as a chicken pot pie. Or the way his eyes bulge when you reveal that a dish he has been scarfing down like a starved dog over the past several months contains mushrooms.

Ever since that day, he has not once argued about an ingredient in your cooking. Even as he eyes the tomato sauce being added to the pan, knowing he is going to suffer a severe case of heartburn but almost welcoming it, as he knows it will accompany an array of flavors he will be holding up his plate for more of.

"M'sorry love." He relishes. "Been looking forward to this all day. N' watching you from the door just made me miss ya' even more."

You scoff at his cheesy comment, placing your left hand to rest on his forearm that is draped around you as your right stirs at the still hard noodles.

You lay your utensil down and lean back into his embrace. Closing your eyes as you feel your bodies link together like a puzzle. One piece being a head taller than the other, but fitting together nonetheless. You sway with your husband to the tempo of the song playing in the background. His body is warm against your back, being stripped of his tactical gear and left in a black cotton shirt tucked into the waist of his same toned cargo pants, the legs of which are folded above his combat boots.

"How was work?" You ask, eyes still closed and body entangled in him. He regards your question with a low hum, feet lightly stepping side to side.

"Hm, the usual. Told some of the boys we could treat em' to dinner sometime. Be nice to get together, maybe show you off a lil'?"

He lightly pinches at your sides while pulling you closer to him. The scruff of his beard dances against your skin as he attacks your neck in quickly scattered kisses.

"John!" You laugh while attempting to distance yourself from his assault. Only to be swiftly turned around where you find his blue eyes smiling fondly at you. The warm tinted light from a nearby lamp casts soft shadows on the crows feet that crinkle near his eyes. The edges of his smile lines sharpening the more he beams at you.

There's not a place on Earth he would rather be.

For the longest, he distanced himself from love. Only finding that unachievable compromises would be asked of him, and due to his work, he was never able to fulfill those wishes. It only put a strain on his and his partners' relationship. He learned to deal with the lack of intimate companionship over the years. Just having the bond of his brothers in arms till he would return to his empty flat and scrounge up whatever microwaveable dish hadn't gone freezer burnt or remnants of leftovers left in his barren refrigerator. Until he met someone he could incorporate into the unpredictable schedule of his life.

The first time you cooked for him he was floored. Joking about how he'd have to hire you as his personal chef and saying how he could only dream of coming home to this every week. You had brought the ingredients to his apartment, insisting that you would treat him to a hot meal if he helped you, which he gladly agreed to. He stood slicing carrots and celery while you stirred a pot of chicken stock, placing sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into the broth as the chicken roasted in the oven, soon to be shredded and added to the pot. Said pot being three times bigger than your head.

"You trying to feed the whole squadron?" He'd teased. To which you only responded with a light snicker, knowing that in making such a large portion would provide him with leftovers for the rest of the week-and then some.

Several years later you now stood in your shared home, a simple wedding band adorning the both of you two's hands. Price's socks litter the shared space until you have to reprimand him to pick them up. Him responding with his own accusations of how you frequently leave your bra on the couch as well as your adversity to keep your hair ties in one place. What can you say, it's just more convenient when they're around the house.

The two of you's cleaning habits aren't the only thing that could use work though. The decorations are an obvious clash of one person who enhances the space with homely, comforting pieces, and another who has a hard time letting go of secondhand artifacts. And after Price's constant defense of his 'live laugh love' banner hanging on the wall of the kitchen, you began to give in to the cliché relic.

A more than familiar tune begins to play from the record player.

"Oh my God" Price's teeth shine through his grin as he picks up on the melody as well. It's the song you shared your first dance together to.

His coordinated hands move to your hips, your own responding by wrapping around his neck. You gaze up at him. The quickening of your heart makes its frequent appearance as he looks down at you. The butterflies you feel every time you look at him have yet to diminish their strength over the years. Even as you heard stories of the dreaded period following the honeymoon phase where couples do nothing but bicker, your heart remained the same.

The only thing you can focus on is his hickory-toned voice humming to the lyrics of the track. The vibration rumbles through his chest, making its way to your ear resting upon him. He sways with your body against his until you are replicating the dance from that night. Since that night he has always made it apparent you were his first priority. He protects and serves you, as you have brought a peace to his life he didn't think was possible.

"Y'know on my way home," he began "saw this woman with her kid. Maybe 5 years old. He was sitting on a bench while she was on the ground tying his shoe. He was swinging his leg, reading some comic book to her. Poor lasses feet barely touched the ground!" He lets out a breathy laugh before pausing for a moment. "Just got me thinking."

"About?"

"Bein' a dad." He stated, kissing the temple of your face. "Making you a mum."

You smiled into his chest. John knew you wanted kids, and he did too. The time just never found itself convenient. And even now there are uncertainties, but the knowledge you have that John would be an excellent father left you planting seedlings of the idea in his head when you had the chance. Passing by a pair of cute baby shoes in the store. The ring of adolescent laughter when you'd visit the aquarium. Or even a dress you would buy, waiting for your husband to compliment it before mentioning the garment worked as a maternity piece too.

Something had been pulling at his paternal strings lately, however. He yearned to fill the house with the both of your makings. Leaving your marks in its foundation. Whether that be with the rug you both haggled for at the flea market. The broken spring of your living room couch, product of an intense wrestling match between you two. (In which both parties were considered victorious by the end.) Or the poolhouse-toned blue paint that made its acquaintance on the crown molding of your bedroom wall. (Also caused by some spout of play fighting or whatever attempt Price had to get his hands on you.)

You leaned back to search his face, only finding a look of great fondness pulling at his features. Your palms came to cradle the sides of his face before a smile stretched on your own.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that." You brought his lips to yours, embracing him in a tender touch as you laughed into the kiss. Your hold on one another tightened. Knowing that Price was ready to take such a giant step now made you giddy as you imagined him holding his future child, playing make-believe with them, and cleaning up their bumps and bruises from playing in the yard.

"Can't believe you're saying yes to a baby before a dog, John." You both laughed before you turned your head at the smell of burnt garlic.

"Shit!" You quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir at the red mixture before turning the stove off.

"Don't tell me you lost your touch already, sweetheart?"

"You were distracting me." You declare, pointing your spatula at the towering man. "Just get the bowls from the cabinet and set the table, yeah?"

"Of course, hun." He mocked.

You glared a burning look into the back of his before he did as instructed, your temper cooling as you poured the pot of soft noodles into a strainer.

You and John were able to turn a house into your home. Soon the floor and walls would be sheathed in memories of your family. One of the first being your dinner of a burnt tomato rigatoni pasta.

#call of duty #john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #price mw2

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

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A growing brood.

Summary: Gale has just turned three years old and is adjusting to the idea of becoming a big brother. He and Astarion go out for a walk in the orchard, where the older man gets an opportunity to practice some of his stealth skills.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, Dadstarion, parenthood, babies, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of Astarion’s past and trauma, idk what else

Gale is holding a toy sword he received on his birthday as he and Astarion walk along the back grounds of the manor. The child is swinging the wooden object haphazardly as he sings a babbled song his father can’t identify.

Astarion surveys the small orchard as they meander along the dirt path. He’d been sent here with the little boy at the request of his pregnant wife, tasked with determining whether or not the trees were ready to harvest. She currently stood on the balcony of their home, waiting for her husband’s signal. She wouldn’t make the trek out until then; it had to be worth navigating uneven ground and overgrown brush in her condition.

Picking fruit in the orchard had become Tav and Gale’s yearly autumn tradition. The first year they’d spent quite a bit of time introducing the little one to new fruits he had not yet tried.

Pregnant or not, she refused to miss the orchard harvest.

Astarion is secretly relieved when he determines nothing is quite ripe. He felt Tav was pushing herself too hard, going above and beyond to make their first born feel valued as he adjusted to the idea of siblings. But carrying the twins was starting to exhaust her and she desperately needed rest. She’d already overworked herself for Gale’s third birthday party just a week ago, despite Astarion’s protests.

The elf lifts his hand and shoots a ray of frost up into the sky. He knows his little love will see the signal and retreat back into the house. He hopes she will take a much needed nap now that their son is preoccupied with his father.

“CHARGE!” Gale shouts, running forward on two stubby legs with his toy sword in the air.

“Gale, don’t run in the orchard you’ll—“ Astarion starts, but before he can finish his chastisement the little boy’s foot gets caught on a particularly large tree root. He stumbles and falls onto his knees with a soft thud and a grunt of surprise. The toy sword clatters to the ground as Gale’s small hands extend in front of him to break the fall.

Astarion thinks they really need to dedicate outdoor clothes for the child. Traipsing around the orchard in gold threaded finery simply wouldn’t do. The older man’s eyes flutter toward the back of his head in exasperation as he walks over to the three year old calling, “Are you alright, Gale?”

The toddler stands back up, dusting off his hands. His previously pristine trousers are now caked in dirt and grass. He turns and nods to Astarion before responding, “I okay, Papa!”

A brood of their free-range chickens is clustered nearby, bawking as they peck at the ground searching for insects. The noise captures Gale’s attention and he forgets his sword, running towards the small cluster of birds.

“Chickens, guess what! I free years old now!” He shouts, holding his middle three fingers up to show the fowl his new age.

But as he approaches the chickens, they scatter off, deterred by the loud babblings of the boy. Gale huffs in disappointment. And then he shouts, “CHICKENS! Get over here now!”

The chickens bawk and run further away from the little boy, much to his chagrin. His shoulders sag dramatically as he pouts.

“You’d do well to learn that you’ll catch more flys with honey than vinegar, little prince.” Astarion lectures, coming up behind his son after scooping the forgotten wooden sword from the earth.

Gale blinks at his father, eyebrows crinkling in confusion, “But daddy, chickens doesn’t fly does they? My book say they doesn’t.”

The little prince was particularly fascinated by birds. At the child’s party a week ago, Gale of Waterdeep had gifted his namesake a set of twenty six children’s books listed A through Z, each covering the specifics of one bird. Astarion had just been held hostage by the three year old and forced to read “C” for chickens twice a few nights ago.

The elf had rushed through the first reading in an attempt to finish quickly and join Tav for a much needed tryst between mommy and daddy. Gale had refused to let him leave until he read the book properly.

“It’s an expression, Gale, it means— nevermind, it’s not important.” Astarion sighs, flailing his hand in a dismissive gesture. He isn’t about to waste his time explaining idioms to a three year old, “But maybe if you approach the chickens more quietly, they’ll come up to you.”

Gale considers this and then nods, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He begins walking toward the brood, trying desperately to be quiet. He’s just a few feet away when the chickens scatter again, clucking anxiously to one another. The careful movements of a three year old are still too noisy and abrupt for the birds.

The silver-haired boy groans in frustration.

“Watch me, Gale.” Astarion whispers as he hands the toy sword back to his son.

The elf crouches lower to the ground, easily engaging the predatory behavior he hadn’t used since turning mortal roughly four years ago. But the muscle memory alone allows him to silently and efficiently make his way to the group of chickens. Long-fingered hands dart out and quickly retrieve a spotted hen from the periphery of the brood.

Gale cheers before dropping the sword once again as he runs up to his father, wanting to examine the animal more closely. The rest of the flock members instantly run away when the little boy approaches, but he pays them no mind. Tiny fingers come out to gently pet the back of the bird.

“Good job, daddy!” The child exclaims, causing the older man to chuckle.

Astarion finds it entertaining that he is being praised for catching a harmless domesticated chicken. Gale truly had no idea that, only a few years ago, his father easily downed wild boars and a few bears with nothing but his fangs.

They’d purposely bought this estate on the outer edge of Rivington as a way to meet the nutritional needs of the prior vampire. In fact, Astarion had used the wild boar infestation in this very orchard to justify a lower price point from the seller and then quickly turned around and solved the problem with his hunting in a matter of weeks.

One day, Gale will know more about his father’s past.

But not today.

Today, Astarion is just a daddy catching a chicken.

Perhaps that’s who he truly is. Perhaps he doesn’t have to cling so hard to who he thought he was.

A light drizzle abruptly ended the walk in the orchard. Astarion scooped Gale up and hurriedly returned to the manor; the last thing he and Tav needed was the little boy catching a cold.

They were wearing a set of matching drenched curls when Astarion plopped his son on the back porch.

“Papa…” Gale starts, looking down at the toy sword he’s fiddling with in his hand, lost in thought.

“What is it, little prince?” Astarion asks as he removes his mud-caked boots before crouching to help his child do the same.

“When my other babies born,” He continues while lifting a leg, trying to help his dad remove the dirty shoes. The little boy had always referred to the twins as “my babies” and his parents simply shrugged it off as one of those strange things kids do, “You gonna love me, still, right, Papa?”

Astarion pauses.

Shit.

This was the type of sensitive, vulnerable, soft stuff that Tav usually handled so smoothly and Astarion felt sure he always fumbled.

The older man slowly places the child’s shoes down and then peers into his son’s round, emerald eyes. Gale was growing to be a much more sensitive and empathetic boy than Astarion had anticipated. The child might be the spitting image of his father, but his disposition certainly leaned more toward his mother.

It was something Astarion simultaneously feared and wanted to fiercely protect.

“Yes, Gale. I will still love you when your little brothers or sisters are born,” Astarion murmurs, bringing his hand up to gently brush it through his child’s unruly, wet curls, “You’ll still love me, won’t you?”

Gale nods and grins at his father as the worry in his little body fades away, “I love you always, daddy.”

The older man pulls his son into a hug, mostly to avoid Gale catching a glimpse of his father blinking back tears, “I will always love you, too, Gale.”

The elf lifts the little boy back up and heads into the house, planning to get them both into a fresh change of clothes.

The child may now be three years old and have two other siblings on the way, but whether he is three, thirty three, or three hundred… Gale will always be Astarion’s first baby.

And Astarion will always love his little boy.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #soft astarion

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libraryofgage · 7 months

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PJO Steddie Two

One

So, this part was kinda supposed to be attached to part one, but I got tired and the part was getting too long so here we are lmao

Anyway, we get a few parents revealed here, but most are still a mystery

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

---

Eddie is on the other side of the park and wondering if he has enough time to see that fake Parthenon when he hears the unmistakable sound of a harpy's shriek. Those things have nearly eaten him enough times at camp for their bird screams to be seared into his memory. And if he's hearing the overgrown chicken, that means it's found those demigod kids before he could.

Fuck.

He whirls around just in time to see the harpy shoot above the trees, wings flared and feathers bristling, before dive-bombing whichever unlucky kid it's decided to eat first.

"Motherfucking shit bitch," Eddie mutters, taking off across the grass to where the harpy dived.

On the bright side, he managed to find the kids pretty quick; he'd only been in Athens for a few hours. On the fucked up side, he might only be able to sneak one or two kids away from the monster. Which, like, he'd love to save more of them, but he's not exactly the best fighter. He's the best runner and hider. This is why he's sent on these missions: the camp has learned that stealth and hiding usually bring more kids into safety than straight-up attacking monsters.

Eddie skirts around a tree, just barely missing the branch that threatens to whack his head off. He can hear music (something light and jumpy, soft and clear) and kids shouting in what he assumes to be fear. Just based on the sound, he's not going to be able to sneak those kids away. They're probably right in front of the harpy.

He'll have to be a distraction so they can run. "I'm gonna fucking die today," Eddie says, resigned and annoyed all at once. He reaches up and tears off the guitar pic and chain around his neck, the small triangle bursting outwards into a shield with straps that wrap around his arm.

It's ready to withstand some harpy claws by the time Eddie gracefully trips over a tree root and reflexively tucks and rolls over his shoulder. He pops up from the ground, eyes trained to the harpy, and freezes as three very important things become incredibly obvious.

One: the kids are not, in fact, shouting in fear. They're shouting with excitement, cheering at the fight happening before them. Eddie watches as a boy wearing a baseball cap punches the air and shouts, "Get 'em, Steve! Fuck the bird up!" His words are quickly followed by two girls jokingly shouting, "Language!" in return before laughing.

Two: the song playing is coming from a Bluetooth speaker on the blankets. It's a pop song. At least, it sounds like one. It's definitely old, though, and he only knows the name (Dancing in the Moonlight, by Toploader) because one of the muses' kids sang it once at a campfire night when Eddie first arrived at the camp.

Three: the most gorgeous boy Eddie has ever seen is currently beating the ever-loving shit out of the harpy with a nail bat. His mouth is pulled back into a vicious grin, his hair is somehow unaffected by the violent swings, and Eddie can somehow tell he's dragging this fight out with the harpy to blow off some steam.

"Oh! Steve!" one of the kids shouts, a girl with a beanie covering her hair. Her hat seems to be shifting just slightly, but Eddie thinks it might be a trick of the light. "Hit her to the music, like one of those movie fight scenes."

Then Eddie hears the boy, Steve, laugh. The sound is bright and clear and pierces right through Eddie's chest. "Sure thing, kiddo," Steve says, sliding back a step and twirling the bat in his hand. He tilts his head, listening to the song and catching the drums and keyboard, and then jumps right back onto the harpy.

And he does it. He starts swinging and landing hits on the harpy in time with the drums. Steve roundhouse kicks the harpy in the chest right as a guitar solo starts, his foot making contact with the first strum. Feathers are bursting in the air around Steve, brushing by him and creating brief, tiny dappled shadows over his face. The way he fights is like a dance, especially when he has music to follow and an audience to entertain.

Here's the thing: Eddie has never been one to keep his imagination in check. Why would he? Some of his best songs have been inspired by daydreams. So, when he sees the most gorgeous boy in the world beating a harpy's ass with a violent yet graceful dance, Eddie really can't be blamed for daydreaming.

The bright sun is replaced by a full moon, the park has become the shore by the lake at camp, and the audience of kids has disappeared completely. It's just him and Steve at the lake, smiling at each other and dancing, trading off lead between them. Eddie spins Steve and Steve dips Eddie. Somewhere, Dancing in the Moonlight is playing softly, nearly drowned out by their quiet laughter and whispered jokes and the waves of the lake brushing against the shore.

Oh. Oh.

That stupid prophecy. It was talking about this. The oracle predicted this moment and, apparently, considered it important enough to actually tell Eddie about it months ago. And he's spent this entire time trying to fight that obscure prophecy, trying to turn it into something bitter and filled with rage when it's just...just Steve. And Eddie doesn't know Steve yet, sure, but not even the gods could stop him from giving it a shot.

"YES!"

Eddie blinks, dragged harshly from his daydream by the kids shouting with joy as Steve brings the bat down on the harpy's head. The monster bursts into that familiar puff of smoke and mist and dust, and the kids cheer even louder.

Steve grins and stands up straight, rolling his shoulders and cockily resting the bat on his shoulder. He starts to turn toward the kids only to stop when he's facing Eddie, their eyes meeting and catching right as the song finishes playing.

----

The rush of joy and adrenaline at beating the harpy is still surging through Steve when he sees the guy his age standing a few feet away, staring at them with wide eyes. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's a human who just happens to be able to see monsters, too. They've run into a person like that before. Then he notices the shield on the guy's arm and realizes he must be like them to some degree.

Steve blinks, his shoulders tensing slightly as he studies the other boy. Hair that definitely needs a more specialized shampoo, big brown eyes, and a whole grunge kinda vibe that Steve finds inexplicably attractive. He could spend another hour staring at the guy, but then one of the kids leaps onto his back, laughing right in his ear and nearly making him go deaf.

"That was so awesome!" Dustin shouts, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist as the other kids rush to surround him.

El grabs his free hand, smiling up at him. "Thank you for dance fighting," she says, her words almost drowned out by the other kids shouting their favorite parts and Max insisting she could have helped with the fight.

Steve grins a little wider, feeling his adrenaline drain as the relief of keeping his kids safe takes its place. "She shouldn't have interrupted our day off," he says, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the kids instead of the guy still staring at them. "C'mon, we need to keep moving."

"Where are you going?"

The guy's voice is a little rough, and Steve thinks he'd be able to pick it out from any crowd after hearing it just once. He looks over at the guy, frowning slightly. "I don't think it's your business," he says, trying to ignore the part of him that feels bad.

Thankfully, the guy doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and takes a few steps closer. "Oh, I don't know, big boy. I think your gaggle of demigods is definitely my business," he says.

"Is that a threat?" Steve asks, really hoping it isn't. It would be a shame to punch the guy's face.

The boy blinks, pausing like he's reconsidering how his words sounded. "Shit, yeah, that did sound bad," he says, frowning and tugging on a lock of hair. He pulls it in front of his mouth, a few more seconds passing before he says, "I'm gonna start again."

The guy clears his throat and the retracts his shield. It shrinks down into a guitar pic on a chain that he latches around his neck. "Okay," he says, "Eddie Munson, son of Hermes, future rockstar, and your guide to Camp Half-Blood."

"Future rockstar?" Max asks, her voice low and sardonic.

"Hermes has kids?" Mike asks.

"I've never heard of Camp Half-Blood," Steve says, pushing forward and herding the kids to stand behind him. He stores Eddie's name for later, forcing himself to focus on the whole Potential Threat to His Kids thing.

Eddie nods like this is something he's expected. "That's fine. Lucky for you, pretty boy, I'm here to explain it all."

"Pretty boy," Steve mumbles, doing his absolute best to not think about his face heating up.

From behind him, he hears Lucas groan, "Aww, man, they're gonna be gross."

Thankfully, Eddie doesn't pay them any mind. "Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven for demigods like us. It's got a barrier around it that keeps monsters out, and we make sure everyone is trained to fight monsters and survive as adults," he explains, grinning at Steve.

"Wait, how many more of us are there?" Will asks, poking his head around Steve to look at Eddie with wide eyes.

"Oh, hundreds. The gods aren't exactly known for keeping it in their pants."

"So, we'll be safe at this camp?" Steve asks slowly.

"Safe as can be, big boy."

"Is it demigods only?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods once, flashing a grin. "Of course. We've got one Olympian who helps run the camp as, like, a punishment thing. He doesn't do much, actually. But we've also got some nymphs and Chiron. Uh, there are a few monsters in the forest, but they aren't too dangerous. They're mostly for training. The main thing is that big dangerous monsters can't get to us, and the Mist keeps humans from stumbling on the camp, too."

Honestly? It sounds way too good to be true. Steve has spent years running across this country and back, collecting the kids along the way and struggling to keep them alive. How is he only now learning about some camp that's built just for kids like them?

"The Mist?" Dustin asks, pushing around Steve. He'd be halfway to Eddie if Steve didn't grab his shirt and drag him back. "What's the Mist?"

"It's, like, this camouflage thing that keeps humans from noticing monsters and our powers," Eddie explains, vaguely sweeping his hand in the direction of a few other park-goers. "It's why nobody started screaming when you beat that harpy."

"Oh, that's what it's called," Dustin says, his grin saying he's about to grill Eddie for all his knowledge if Steve doesn't stop him.

Eddie nods and looks over the kids before settling his gaze on Steve again. "You and the kids will be safe there," he says.

"I wouldn't mind settling down," Will says, tugging on Steve's sleeve and looking up at him hopefully.

The other kids nod in agreement, and El squeezes Steve's hand. "It sounds like it'll be safe for me, too," she whispers.

Gods, is it tempting. No more running around, a place they can actually settle down and call home. He could get a full night of sleep for once instead of waking up every other hour to check their surroundings. He wouldn't need to worry about food or clothes or what to do if the kids get sick.

Steve frowns slightly, thinking for a moment before looking back at Eddie. "What happens when we get there?" he asks.

"You'll be given the grand tour by yours truly," Eddie says, playfully bowing to Steve and the kids. "Then, you'll get sorted into cabins and start training."

"How will we be sorted?" Lucas asks. He sounds genuinely curious, so Steve swallows back his retort that they certainly won't be separated if he has anything to say about it.

"By your godly parent. So, pretty boy here will probably go into the Aphrodite cabin," Eddie says, winking playfully at Steve.

"Aphrodite isn't his mother," El says, pushing closer to Steve as the other kids agree.

Eddie blinks. "Uh, who is?"

Steve hesitates, studying Eddie for a few seconds before looking at the kids. This isn't something he should reveal without a general consensus from them. What he gets is a few shrugs, an exasperated sigh from Lucas, and some nods. "My dad is Zeus," Steve says, looking back at Eddie.

"Dude," Eddie breathes, his eyes wide as though his entire world has been shaken, "How the fuck are you alive?"

And Steve can't help it. He laughs, shrugging off the nerves he'd felt earlier because he just can't bring himself to mistrust Eddie. "It's a bit of a long story," he says, "but I could tell it to you on the way to Camp Half-Blood."

The way Eddie lights up is enough to slightly calm the ever-present anxiety that hums through Steve's veins. Maybe this won't be a disaster.

Tag List (there is definitely still room, so just let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #percy jackson au #my writing #please don't expect quick updates like this on the regular btw #weekend me is just too productive actually #so ya know just vibe i guess lmao

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crepes-suzette-373 · 6 months

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Continuation of my previous Niji-Sanji post. It was the last thing the Japanese tweet mentioned (aside from kicks and "trolling the enemy via phone"), but I forgot to include it in that other one.

After transforming, their "superhero pose" are the same:

Stealth Black's belt looks almost identical to Niji's one. Plus, in monochrome art and from a distance Stealth Black's double-breasted suit looks very similar to Niji's outfit, except it's just buttoned-up and doesn't have the stripes (braiding?).

I didn't think it was that big of a deal at first, that's why I completely forgot it, but when I went to get the pictures, the similarity is much funnier than I thought.

Generally, a bunch of fans have pointed that Stealth Black's appearance is a composite of the others, and they all have a lot of fun ragging about it.

The sticking-up chicken head hair in front is Ichiji's hair. The duck butt hair at the back is Yonji's hair. The headphones and the elbow pads are both Yonji and Reiju (the headphone is Niji too, kind of, aside from the antenna and different colours). The belt and the buttons are Niji. The sunglasses is Ichiji and Yonji both.

#vinsmoke family #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke sanji #niji #sanji #op manga #one piece #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke #germa 66 #stealth black #dengeki blue

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takamikeiigos · 1 year

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You and Hawks on a covert stealth mission together, since both your quirks complement each others almost too well. You feel it. He feels it. It's impossible to ignore-

Then things get dicey; some low level grunts making the rounds and walking around the corner. Hawks reacts instantly, as if he's operating on autopilot- grabbing you by the elbow and pushing you into the closest closet he can find

But his wings are so big and the closet is so small... of course he has no choice but to press you up against the wall. For a brief moment, Hawks is shielding you from any form of harm, while caging you in at the same time

Your first instinct is to bristle up in embarrassment; he's just too. Fucking. Close. But the moment you open your mouth to ask him 'What the hell are you doing!?' he's covering your mouth with one of those gloved palms. He brings his free hand up to his own lips and whispers a hushed 'shhh' as the two grunts meander drunkenly past the closet

Even when they're gone, Hawks' shoulders don't loosen up; he's got a new problem now... he kinda likes the feeling of pushing your body up against a wall, even if it was a little cramped in there

imagine: me, poking my head around the corner, foaming at the mouth

THIS. IS. MY. SHIT.

teaming up with hawks works so well for both of you. his speed compliments your strength, something he's admitted lacking. but together you make a strong team, knocking out missions thoroughly and quickly. the hspc had no choice but to teak you two up, nobody works together as wee as you two.

if only they knew about the cloying sexual tension that you and hawks are much too stubborn to act on.

you're both bickering with each other over stupid shit, hawks arguing that chicken is the best food ever, hands down (while you have other preferences), when both stop dead in your tracks.

you've been sent to scope out a building before a raid, lurking in the shadows, undetected to the enemy, when you both hear drunken laughter and a pair of unsteady footsteps approaching.

"are these people for real?" you can't help but whisper, and just as you go to poke your head around the corner, hawks grabs you by the waist and drags you backward.

the fucker drags you into a dark, cramped supply closet to hide when you easily could've taken down whatever drunk idiots that were meandering around outside.

the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and your skin prickles with annoyance. he's so close - chest pressed firmly against yours, and his wings, which occupy at least 80% of the space, are tucked around you like a shield while he tilts his head to listen through the door, oblivious to your discomfort.

and just as you're about to pitch a fit, reaching up and grab him by the shoulder, he throws a gloved hand over your lips and stares at you. there's a gleam of light coming through a crack in the door and it reflects off of his eyes, his amber irises much more terrifying in the dark than they are in daylight.

he brings a finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet.

the two idiots outside linger, hooting and hollering in the hallway, just a few feet away from the door, and with each passing second your irritation boils. not so much with the fact that they're out there, but the fact that hawks has you pressed up against the wall of the closet, the hard line of his chest pressed so firmly to yours, and his thigh pushing into the space between your legs.

he rustles slightly, and the friction between your thighs causes you to hiss. he turns his attention away from the door once more and peers at you in question, annoyed that you keep making noise, only to look down and see the problem for himself.

the cheeky bastard just looks back up at you with a smirk.

a few weeks later, you're teamed up again, this time fighting some assholes who are having a little too much fun setting explosions off in the downtown area.

you've managed to subdue one of the villains while hawks flies overhead, preoccupied with evacuating a damaged apartment building.

you tune into your comms as you slap a set of handcuffs over the villain's wrists, unheeding to the absolute hissy-fit the assailant is throwing below you.

"let me know when you get that building cleared. first guy is about to get shipped off, the other one's hiding out somewhere nearby,"

the comm crackles before hawks' voice comes through, much too chipper for your liking this early in the morning.

"maybe your imposing demeanor scared him off. you aren't exactly a morning person, chickadee," he teases, and you swear you can see the playful smirk he's sporting.

you yank the villain to his feet and push him forward toward the swat team that's on standby, once again ignoring his protests.

"not everyone has the energy to spew sunshine and rainbows out of their assholes at 8 o'clock in the morning, hawks."

he laughs brightly over the comms, "yeah, yeah. almost done, here."

you ditch the first villain with the swat team and turn around, heading back in the direction you came from, when a line of consecutive explosions rapidly go off to your right, heading straight for you. you brace yourself for the worst, but suddenly you're flying through the air before colliding with a wall and landing on the ground.

the impact knocks the wind out of you and you cough, caught in a daze as smoke hazes around you. and when you blink through the confusion you realize there's a weight on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

hawks is crouched above you, leaning in low, with his wings spread out in what you guess is either a protective or predatorial stance. he leans back just enough to get a good look at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"we've gotta stop meeting like this," he muses; entertained.

you shove at his shoulder and he laughs. "you say that, hawks, but i'm beginning to think you like pinning me up against things."

a month later you aren't actually teamed up on a mission, but attending a ceremony for newly recruited heroes. you stick by each other's sides, set to be a prime example of how hero-duos are supposed to work together - basically eye-candy for the commission to gain clout.

you will admit, you've had a few drinks to take the edge off, and hawks had resorted to being your babysitter this time around.

the speeches are over with and it's social hour, the new recruits making their rounds with their agencies; seasoned pro-heros glad to finally have a moment of free time on their hands.

you finish your glass of champagne and sigh, staring off into the crowd.

"don't get me wrong, i like working with you. but why do we have to be bait for the commission's schemes?" you mutter, tugging at the shoulder of your tailored dress.

hawks reaches forward and takes your empty glass, setting it down on the table you're standing next to.

"probably because we look good together," he inclines, brushing your hand from your shoulder and adjusting the strap of your dress for you. he smooths the fabric down beneath his fingers and moves to adjust the other strap, doing the same until it lays even against your skin.

you cast your gaze to the side, avoiding him, as your cheeks flush.

"not our fault we're good looking.." you mumble.

you've definitely piqued his curiosity, and damn you for letting the alcohol talk.

"you think i'm good looking, huh?" he taunts, leaning in to catch your gaze. you roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder.

"i mean, you've pinned me up against so many surfaces that i've gotten a close enough look. i don't think my eyes would deceive me, hawks."

he laughs. "i'm glad it finally paid off, then. shall we show them what two, deliciously good looking people are capable of on the dancefloor?"

"watch it. you're biting off more than you can chew, pretty bird."

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spiralingemptyness · 3 months

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one piece hc (mainly straw hats and red haired)

Shanks and Ace are siblings

Trans Koby :)

Sanji has hetrochromia

Sanji is proficient in knife throwing

Shanks, Zoro and Sanji are by far the best swimmers (dealing with Devil fruit does that (Buggy and Luffy))

The red haired pirates stayed a couple weeks after Shanks lost his arm so he could heal a bit and to reassure Luffy that everything is ok and it wasn’t his fault

During that time period, Luffy was always attached to or with Shanks

if luffys pissed at Shanks, he’ll go to Beckman, and Beckmen won’t even question it

Luffy eating the fruit reminded Shanks of Buggy and absolutely terrified him

Buggy’s crew was formed after he found a circus with the performers being exploited and abused, why they’re loyal to him

Shanks purposely visited Garp’s location and rubbed it in his face on how Luffy likes him better

Luffy is actually good at stealth & military strategy, bc of Garp wanting him to be a marine

Zoro prefers cat napping to actually sleeping, especially after Thriller Bark (less of a chance for nightmares) he also despises sleeping on his back

If Zoro naps out in the open, he’ll wake up to Luffy’s hat on his head (given to protect the dumbass from possible sunburn)

Safe to say, Luffy got more protective after Ace’s death and hit harder on the more corrupt marines

Marco gets called stupid bird like nicknames (ex. Chicken wings, birdbrain, flock head, flying rooster (idfk))

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theplumsoldier · 1 year

Text

aftermath [1]

summary: two intruders enter your home, seeking refuge. you'd think being stabbed was reason to deny them, yet you can't find it in you to turn them down

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 2458

warnings: vulgar language, mentions of blood, minor fight, reader is stabbed

series: aftermath

Ellie could barely feel her legs. It felt like she was balancing her weight on spaghetti, each step as wobbly and unsure as the last. Joel reminded her that snow would have made it much more difficult to hike through the mountain strip and that she ought to be glad that was no longer a problem they were faced with, however, Ellie was having difficulty seeing anything remotely positive in the situation.

It was not long after her latest complaint that they heard a faint, continuous sound. It was music.

"What the fuck?"

"Where is that coming from?" mumbled Joel. His old age had taken a toll on his hearing, so while he was focused on listening for the source of the stereo, the sound of Ellie sprinting off, made him frantically run after her. "Ellie!"

There was no stopping her. The music cured her of exhaustion, her step ending up matching the beat of the song as she got closer. Then she stopped, abruptly. Joel panted her name when he caught up to her, a warning, but he was just as quick to be mesmerized by the towering house and front of them.

It was by no means a fortress. There was no fence keeping infected at bay, there were no traps (at least none that Joel could find). But it did not exactly look abandoned either. The exterior was recently painted, only halfway done. A wood block stood sheltered in what appeared to be a brand-new garage attached to the side of the house. There was no car, however, and on the second floor, several windows were smashed.

Ellie appeared to have run the same analytic thoughts as Joel, only she had decided it was safe to enter. This time he was quick to hold her back, giving her a warning glance before positioning the rifle against his shoulder. He was not yet convinced it was safe, primarily because he could not tell whether someone lived there, or if someone recently had.

With slow but steady steps, they moved in stealth. Ellie moved to turn off the stereo, which, funnily enough, had begun blasting "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go", but Joel stopped her. He motioned toward the kitchen and Ellie went to inspect. A pan, dirty from cooking. Grease coated the sides and Ellie picked up a piece of burnt chicken. It was cold but when she broke it in half, it was clearly fresh.

Her ability to analyze the situation made Joel feel proud.

Joel motioned for Ellie to get behind him and she swiftly did, pulling out her knife, putting on her meanest look, head silently bopping to the Wham! song spelling trouble.

They checked room after room, relieved and concerned they did not find anyone. Then they heard the floorboards creak in the room directly above them.

Ellie looked expectantly at Joel.

"Behind me."

Carefully moving up the stairs. Little did they know, their wariness was a nugatory effort, seeing as you were well aware of the guests.

The second they had opened the door to the house, you had been alerted by the gust of wind silently seeping through the upper floor. The draft pushing open the door to the room you were now standing in gave them away.

Listening to the footsteps, you noted there was more than one intruder, probably not infected seeing as they had no clue as to how to be quiet.

Neither did these fools, thought you. Everybody knows the best way to avoid creaking floorboards is to walk closest to the wall.

You took your stance, readying yourself for anything. The second your eyes caught sight of the tip of a rifle, you took a grip on the barrel. With the element of surprise, you twisted the gunman's arm so that his rifle aligned with the wall, and the tip of your sword poked the chest of the assailant, ensuring a distance between the two of you.

Quickly, you realized the element of surprise had been your best move. The man in front of you, fitting perfectly in place of the door. With your eyebrows furrowed, you peeked behind him, finding a little girl but not before she yanked a small knife into your side. Emitting a small grunt, you easily knocked her over with your foot behind her own and a palm shoving her backward by the face. All in a matter of seconds.

Shoving the rifle which had fallen to the floor in the predicament away, you stepped back to assess the situation. Looking down at the knife piercing your side, not bothering to take it out just yet, you looked back at the two intruders.

"What the fuck?" you yelled, your face twisting into such a contortion one would expect from a bewildered person, certainly not one of a woman with a knife tickling her insides.

Joel was apprehensive but having moved back away from the sword's tip, he spoke, lifting his hands to signal they meant no harm.

"Please, put 'own that thing--"

Then Ellie took over, an unappreciated cackle. "Is that a fucking sword?!"

You ignored the girl who was still on the floor, looking at your weapon of choice with a big grin of disbelief.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?"

The girl got up. "We need a place to stay."

"No we don't," interjected Joel curtly.

You nodded in agreement waving your sword toward the man.

"What daddy said. This ain't a hotel."

You gave the two another look, deciding they were of no threat. At least the little girl wouldn't, the man, however, yeah, he could probably take you out with a single punch. But considering he did not seem to want to fight over a bed in your humble abode, you disregarded the two of them and walked out.

Your focus was now on the knife stabbing through your side. You carefully made your way down the stairs and retrieved a thread and needle, rubbing alcohol, bandages, and a cloth. You steadied yourself against the kitchen counter and inhaled deeply before moving to pull out the knife. You had done this before, the larger scar just a few inches from the wound being a reminder of it. It felt like some cruel joke, the universe having destined for you to only ever be stabbed in that particular place. Through your first time, you had learned there was no risk of internal damage at the wound site, only a nasty infection and an ugly scar would deform your skin as a result of poor treatment. It made you a lot more careful this time when cleaning and stitching yourself up. You felt only the warm sting of the penetration to be hurting and this knife was no barely any larger than a salad fork, so you had no fear it would have punctured anything.

You heard the man and the girl coming down the stairs, but you were focused on yourself for now. Ellie watched you at work, noticing how you pinched the area before poking through the skin as if she was trying to learn from you.

Joel nudged her, mumbling let's go before walking toward the door. She went to turn down the music instead.

"Ellie."

"Look lady, we need a place to stay. I really didn't want to do this, but if need be, Joel here will be forced to show you hell, okay? Ain't it right Joel?"

You turned to look at him, the entertained smirk twisting even more on your lips. Damn, he was fine. You almost wanted to test his patience. You chuckled before turning your attention back to your wound.

"You know, I'd kinda like to see that."

There was a certain quietness to the situation now. Your mind was fixated on cleaning up the wound properly, knowing from the last time an infection really was the dominant danger. Ellie had walked up to you, partly assessing the damage she had done while inspecting your treatment up close. She swiftly snatched her knife from the countertop, noting the wound could not be that deep as the blade looked as if it had been dipped only half its length.

Turning to look at Joel, she mimicked an expression that insisted they made an effort to stay. She was really tired.

At first, he merely gave her a look, no, not nearly tired enough to let his guard down in a stranger's makeshift abode. Now that Ellie had stabbed you, not a single thought managed to put his mind at ease.

They went back and forth like that until Joel finally gave in, dragging his hand through his patchy beard and he walked towards them.

"Look, ma'am--"

Promptly interrupting, you stated your name, not sparing him a glance but immediately wondering why you said that. Perhaps it was his honey-dipped voice that made you tremble or maybe it was the authority in his tone.

"I'm Joel, this is Ellie. And... yeah, she's right, it really would be nice if we could rest 'ere--just for the night, o' course."

Oh yeah. It was the gruff accent that did it for you.

"O' course," you mimicked, putting the needle back in a little pincushion, finally, and regrettably giving him a look--damn, even finer up close. "--It would have been another conversation if this lil' Ellie here hadn't stabbed me, wouldn't it?"

Ellie looked up, having already begun inspecting your home, and like someone blind, she apparently needed to touch everything in order to see it.

"Sorry," she shrugged and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"That's a terrible apology, from content to tone." Cleaning up after yourself, you threw the bloodied scissors into the sink. You took a deep breath, focusing on the pain in your side, ensuring that your stitching skills had not failed you.

Joel jumped in now. "To be fair, she was just tryna protect me. Can you blame a girl--"

"Yes, I can," said you and lifted your index pointedly at him, face stern though a hint of mockery glistened in your eye. "Could've at least given a shout or something."

"Hey, we didn't know anybody lived 'ere, 'kay?" Joel gestured like one would when attempting to de-escalate a situation. It only made you more annoyed with him, though. It was in your best interest, you figured, seeing as he looked like someone you would have a difficult time staying mad at.

You threw your hands in the air. "Oh, well, sorry my house isn't quite homely enough for you!"

Ellie quipped, "yeah, well, it's cold as shit."

"Ya think?" grumbled you, shutting the front door only to realize you had already decided on letting them stay. "The whole upstairs is even colder, so y'all will have to make do with this room. Also, I got just one house rule for you two. My bathroom, off limits. Finally fixed it. I don't care what you gotta do, it ain't gonna be in there. You gotta go, you go outside. Understood?"

Joel offered a curt nod as his answer and although Ellie had been quick to slump down on your couch, she was even quicker hanging over the backrest of it, gaping at you.

"You got running water?"

"What? No, shut up--now, stabber," you scowled at Ellie, "run up and close that door, and uh--Joel, get the fire going, yeah? Would hate to move around two frozen corpses in the morning."

You sighed, watching as they did as they had been told. Going for your jacket, you tucked in to venture out in the cold. In the colder.

"Where you goin'?"

Although Joel's voice was really just a coarse grumble, you couldn't help but melt into the depth of it. Chills.

"To kill some fucking babies--I don't know, chop wood or something."

With that, you quickly went out to blow off some steam. This whole situation was sending your mind into overload.

An unfairly hot man. A knife-wielding little girl. All up in your business now. Great.

Pulling on your gloves, you breathed out before you swung the axe above your head. Already working. You quickly felt a pain in your side, wincing. Too soon to be chopping wood. Got it, you thought even though you continued the second the pinch subsided. Another block, another pinch, less steam clouding your mind.

It had been long since you had even thought of human company. In your head, making up scenarios it had gone smoothly, sometimes you had even found yourself some happiness. But that's what daydreaming is, right? A cozy little state of make-believe. You had never been good with social situations. It took preparations and a structured day. No day-to-day planning. No spontaneous happenings. So you can imagine the turn it took when the Cordyceps suddenly meddled with your everyday life.

You could never again count on knowing what would happen next, and that was the worst thing.

Joel came out. You recognized his heavy steps as he got down from the porch, but you didn't dare look. One-to-one interactions were just as bad as group socialization.

Joel stepped up in front of you, though he left a few feet separating the two of you, lest you had no clue as to how to wield an axe. He quickly caught on, thinking medieval weapons might be your thing.

"That looks painful," he commented. Whether it was his low voice or the fierce cold making you shiver, you did not know. Your pride imputed the temperature.

"Got the fire going?"

"Yeah," hummed he, watching you closely. "Didn't wanna bother ya--jus' say thanks."

"Yeah, sure--whatever," you babbled, hoping the "sure" didn't give him any ideas. Didn't want them staying longer than necessary, right?

Stubborn as you were, you continued stacking blocks of wood, chopping one after the other. You would definitely have to look at the stitches when you had finished your passive-aggressive rage job.

When Joel finally decided to go back inside, you stopped for a second, peeking through your lashes. Even looking fine as fuck walking away. This next day would be challenging, you just knew it.

"Joel!" You had called out for him the second the thought entered your mind, desperate at the thought of spending as little time with him as possible, and yet, conflicted as you found yourself adjusting your stance over the wood chunk. Send him away. "You go catch me a rabbit. If you bring me two I might even cook something up for you guys, too."

A smirk tugged on the corner of his lip and Joel made a quick salute, accepting the challenge.

Great. Now you would be free of his alluring charm for a little while.

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou series #tlou hbo #tlou #pedro pascal #theplumsoldier #aftermath

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soylent-crocodile · 8 months

Text

Mamuta (Monster)

(Mamuta Download by SAB64 on Deviantart)

(I love the mamuta, and I love how evil the captains are to them. They aren't aggressive at all, and even when you piss them off they don't even hurt pikmin! Just plant them! I interpreted them as benevolent fey- although they canonically lay eggs in the game- and kept them at their original size. I also incorporated the fact that these sweethearts have a tendency to get killed!)

CR2 NG Tiny Fey (Earth)

Mamuta are simple, kindhearted fey who tend to the undergrowth of forests, counting clovers, planting flowers, and choosing seedlings to care for until they become great trees. They treat all plant life with love and care, and even when incensed, choose only to quell plant enemies rather than kill them. A mamuta typically chooses a field or clearing about 60ft in diameter as its territory- such a clearing flourishes under its care.

Mamuta have an odd quirk- they are fascinated by rare magical and technological items, and often keep them somewhere on their person or buried in the soil. This, unfortunately, has led amateur treasure hunters to target them for their goods. Mamuta will fight with surprising strength for a creature so small, but still rarely win these conflicts against armed humanoids, leaving their small, delicate plants without a protector.

Mamuta are said to taste like chicken-of-the-woods, and it is believed by scholars of the natural world that they represent the symbiotic relationship between plants and fungi, as well as natural processes growing over and burying items left in the woods.

A NG spellcaster level 7 or higher with the Improved Familiar feat may take a mamuta as a familiar.

This small brown creature has a pair of long arms extending from its torso, and no head- only a pair of soulful eyes buried in its chest.

Misc- CR2 NG Tiny Fey (Earth) HD3 Init:+0 Senses: Perception:+9 Stats- Str:16(+2) Dex:11(+0) Con:18(+4) Int:6(-3) Wis:19(+4) Cha:14(+2) BAB:+1 Space:2.5ft Reach:0ft Defense- HP:22(3d6+9) AC:14 (+2 Size, +2 Natural) Fort:+5 Ref:+3 Will:+7 CMD:11 Immunity: Force, Sonic Weakness: Vulnerable to Fire Offense- 2 Slam +3 (1d6+2) CMB:+1 Speed:15ft Special Attacks: Planter (DC12) Feats- Skill Focus (Knowledge [Nature]), Power Attack Skills- Knowledge (Nature) +6, Perception +9, Stealth +12 Spell-like Abilities- (Caster Level 4, Concentration +6) Status (Plants only) /constant Cure Light Wounds (Plants only), Goodberry 3/day Plant Growth 1/day Ecology- Environment- Forests, Plains Urban (Any) Languages- Sylvan Organization- Solitary Treasure- Double (Medicinal herbs, 1 Lesser Wondrous Item) Special Abilities- Planter (Su)- A mamuta’s slam attack is incapable of harming plants. Instead, a plant creature hit by the attack heals 1d6 damage and must make a DC12 Will save or become sedate, unable to act for 1d6 rounds as though they were dazed.

#soylent original #monsters and races #pikmin #mamuta #nature spirits #fey #fairycore

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rosiethedragongeek · 2 years

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Out of curiosity which rider do you think has the least common sense? Cause all of them have a pretty good case let’s be real, cause we’re not saying intelligence or smarts we’re talkin common sense

This is literally the hardest question I've ever been asked. Like ever. How do I even begin to quantify this???

Okay, let's look at them one by one.

Hiccup -

Despite the fact that he has a dragon, he attempts to make a flight suit and throws himself off of a cliff several times

When his suit fails or breaks several times, he just builds a new one

Has a price on his head and more enemies than any other teenager like,,,, ever who are more than willing to bring him in and tells nobody

Tries to block the arrows being shot at the skrill with his body

To prove that lightning is attracted to metal (especially at high altitudes) he climbs the mast of a boat with a metal spear in his hand

Saw a Night Fury and decided to let it go and befriend it

DECIDED TO RIDE SAID NIGHT FURY AFTER IT DRAGGED HIM INTO THE AIR AND THEY FLAILED AROUND UNTIL IT KNOCKED HIM OFF

Knows to be wary of blue oleander but did NO RESEARCH on any other kind of oleander??? So Viggo was able to trick him????

The entire scene in ‘Family on the Edge’ where he tries to get Heather’s opinion on Dagur/get Heather to leave

Astrid -

Blocks an arrow headed for Stormfly with HER LEG

And then she tries to lie about it

Forces them to take Garf everywhere bc she likes him

Punches a Slitherwing to get it's venom DESPITE being shown to have the stealth skills to get the venom without needing to PUNCH A DRAGON THAT KILLS YOU INSTANTLY

Gets scratched by one of the living corpses on an abandoned ship and doesn't think it's relevant to mention

Intentionally puts herself in the direct path of a hostile triple stryke while blind

Snotlout -

Transforms Fishlegs back into Thor Bonecrusher just because he has a crush

Anti heroic

Sells all of his non-essential clothes and spends all of the money he has on chicken feed for a chicken that isn't even his

Uses all of the Nightmare gel they have to defend the Edge (in a time where it very much needs defending) to make a big explosion just bc he can

Loses the super important Jorgenson family axe because he’s playing around with it

Grabs an entire speedstinger to lure away a pack of speedstingers

Fishlegs -

Sleeps with a pack of wild (hostile) dragons

Closes himself in the dome with a wounded singetail

Every scene (I think there are two) where a quaken is rolling at him full speed and he just stands there trying to train it

Goes off looking for an island of dangerous dragons alone (dramillions)

Announces himself in front of a huge gathering of bloodthirsty dragon hunters as someone who is going to try and free the dragons they are going to hunt

Despite Hiccup telling him that Thor Bonecrusher was dangerous last time and it’s better to find a better work around to their problem (and that the other side of the argument is SNOTLOUT) he still lets SNOTLOUT turn him back into Thor Bonecrusher

Ruffnut -

Uses all of the Nightmare gel they have to defend the Edge (in a time where it very much needs defending) to make a big explosion just bc she can

Paints Tuff onto a WILD changewing (presumably the one that ATE HIM) and spends all her time with it (again, wild, dangerous dragon who may or may not have EATEN HER BROTHER)

Instead of putting the dangerous speed stinger in a cage before they fly around with it, she ties it up with ropes like??? ALSO DOESN’T SECURE ITS TAIL IN ANY WAY

Takes Snotlout around letting him get bit by wild, giant dragons and poisonous animals to try and prove a point and figure out what bit Tuff (she basically would’ve killed him if someone hadn’t stepped in

Tuffnut -

Instead of flying the extra distance to Berk to safely fix Macey, he flies to the dangerous Northern Markets to do it a little faster

Fakes his death to allow Ruffnut to pursue a romantic relationship when they could easily just have a conversation

Convinces himself that he is turning into a dangerous dragon after getting BIT BY A WOLF (seriously how did he not see it when it bit him like)

Clings onto the bottom of Toothless when Hiccup takes off and hangs on upside down for a significant amount of time

When threatened by a feral night fury, his response is to throw less than an ounce of salt at him

Uses all of the Nightmare gel they have to defend the Edge (in a time where it very much needs defending) to make a big explosion just bc he can

I’m sure there’s stuff that I’m missing for each of them, and while some of the gang may have more/less bullets than each other, not all of them are equally bad lol. I think that overall, given this list, Ruffnut generally has the most common sense so long as Tuff isn’t in danger/dead.

I’d say it’s between Hiccup, Snotlout and maybe Fishlegs for biggest fucking idiot though lol (the amount that Hiccup had surprised me)

(This took literally forever to answer, I’m sorry. I actually started answering this pretty much right when I received it and then I saved it as a draft and forgot about it lol)

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Desmond is sent back in time after the flare, but is turned into a griffin. How does this change history with his ancestor's?

Okay, so the main problem is a griffin would have the stealth stat of a steam train in Ancient Greece. If they even try to hide the eagle head, people would look because “Why is that dog all wrapped up OH MY GOD IT HAS CHICKEN LEGS!” “Fuck you, man, they’re eagle legs!”

But I like the idea of Altaïr finding Desmond as a baby griffin just a few days after his tragic fallout with Abbas. Desmond would be little enough that Altaïr could smuggle him inside Masyaf and maybe he’ll take him to the very depths of Masyaf where, later in life, his library would have been constructed. From there, Altaïr would keep visiting him and giving him food while Desmond would be trying to get used to his new body and slowly growing up. Al Mualim wouldn’t know about it because he would be too busy with his mentor duties (and, later on, too busy with the whole ‘being a Templar but planning to betray them anyway’ thing he had going for him). The one who would actually find out about Desmond would be Kadar because he has the best Altaïr radar in Masyaf (much to his brother’s annoyance) so he would be able to find Altaïr with Desmond. From there, Kadar will be his fellow secret-keeper and they’ll get close. Malik gets roped in because he’s had enough of Kadar being sneaky and followed him. His reaction was “Oh, thank Allah. They’re not having a secret affair. They’re just hiding a dangerous mythical creature underneath the fortress. That is a BETTER alternative.” From there, AC1’s plot will stay the same-ish with the addition of Kadar living because his closeness with Altaïr and all the sneaking they keep doing makes him less ‘hero-worship’ type and more of ‘I like you, Altaïr, but that’s dumb’ type towards Altaïr. Desmond would probably have his big hero moment by suddenly rushing out of his hiding place and flying around Masyaf once Malik and the Assassins he brought with him joins Altaïr in taking down Al Mualim. During that time, he’ll divebomb Al Mualim and pretty much crack the old man’s back so he would let go of the Apple. And that’s how the Levantine Brotherhood would find out there’s a freaking griffin living underneath Masyaf.

By the 15th century, the griffin would be considered a legend in the veins of “Some say the great Altaïr had a griffin by his side” or “It’s not an actual griffin. The griffin is a symbol of how Altaïr had the knowledge and drive to evolve the Brotherhood”. And then there’s the whole “The griffin is the name given to Altaïr’s Apple of Eden”. It’s the whole ‘the truth is distorted by time’ inevitability in play.

For Ezio, I have a very sad idea that I like: Ezio finds Desmond sleeping in Altaïr’s library. The entire plotline of Ezio’s Trilogy stays the same although Altaïr’s statue in Villa Auditore would be larger to accommodate the large griffin curled around his legs while the memory seals does include an actual griffin which made Ezio go “………… Yeah, okay. Why not? I already met a goddess anyway.” So, in this idea, Desmond stayed with Altaïr to the very end. Even when Altaïr tells him to go with Darim, he refuses and lies down on the ground next to Altaïr’s legs. Altaïr dies in the library after patting Desmond's head and saying “Thank you, my dear friend” to Desmond and Desmond just… sleeps. Maybe he expected to die in the library as well. Maybe he just wants to stay with Altaïr. Maybe… he just had enough of being powerless to change anything. He’s a griffin, sure, but everyone in Masyaf knows of him and they managed to chain him to stop him from saving Sef and Malik. In the end, Desmodn couldn’t save anyone. All he was able to do was help Altaïr and Darim escape after Darim found him and unlocked the chains. He shared Altaïr’s grief and, in the end, he was just as tired as Altaïr was.

When he next opened his eyes, he sees Ezio kneeling next to Altaïr’s skeletons and he let out a sorrowful sound. Ezio patted his head and said softly, “You’ve been here all this time, haven’t you? I’m terribly sorry for your loss. If you’d like… would you like to come with me?”

And Desmond says his final farewell to Altaïr and joins Ezio in his peaceful life back in Italy. Time still took Ezio away from him but, this time, he’s cared for and loved by Ezio’s wife and children. He stays more as a pet and a companion and he becomes a family secret of the Auditores.

In this scenario, I think that Desmond would leave the Auditore bloodline maybe a century or so after Ezio’s death. From there, he travels to the forest near Ratonhnhaké:ton’s village, waiting for him to be born. He regrets not spending enough time with Ezio so, this time, he plans to be there for Ratonhnhaké:ton. Perhaps a part of him wished he could find a way to help Haytham but the Haytham of his memories, of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s memories, was dedicated into the Templar cause too much for Desmond’s liking so Desmond gives up on Haytham and focuses on preparing for Ratonhnhaké:ton.

In those intervening years, Desmond becomes known as the forest spirit and his fondness for Kaniehtí:io is noted as a sign that Kaniehtí:io would do great things.

Desmond doesn’t intervene for a while to make sure Kaniehtí:io and Haytham meets and he waits until they had sex (which was awkward for Desmond) before he approached Haytham. Haytham is too surprised by his appearance that Desmond is able to nick the key from him and then leaves without saying anything. Kaniehtí:io believes that Haytham was meant to give the key to Desmond. Haytham believes that Desmond may be the ‘key’ that is needed to find what he wants.

And that is how Desmond accidentally got Haytham to keep showing up in the forest and in the village, making him realize that Kaniehtí:io is pregnant with his child.

Desmond watches as Haytham grows closer to his family and they even got married but Ratonhnhaké:ton still grows up in the village because his mother refuses to leave the tribe. Because of this, Haytham and the Templars ally themselves with the tribes and Desmond has no idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Ratonhnhaké:ton grows up knowing Haytham and being cared for by Desmond.

……… that’s as far as I got. This would probably have Haytham leading the Templars to not being such dicks during the Revolutions but, in this scenario, Desmond fucked up so badly that the tribes would actually join forces with the British and Ratonhnhaké:ton would become a Templar… with Shay Cormac as his main instructor.

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

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Hiii. So I've decided to write some stuff in the lead-up to Valentine's Day. Nothing elaborate, just some Steddie-centric Valentine's ficlets/nonsense/shenanigans. I might not write every day (bc lately my brain has been barely working) but here's hoping this little project gets me out of my funk.

I'll Steal You Some Flowers

“Remind me, again, why it’s easier for us to commit theft than just buy some flowers?” Dustin groans from behind Steve as he takes one last look at his neighbour old Mrs Collins’s, empty driveway.

“Yeah, I don’t really like the idea of this anymore,” Lucas adds, standing upright and stepping away from the property's side fence they are all crouched behind. “I don’t even think Max will like flowers.”

“Every girl likes flowers!” Steve stage-whispers as he whips around to look at the complaining duo.

At least Will Byers still seems interested in the scheme, seeing as he wastes no time in lightly slapping Dustin on the shoulder and making a face.

“Then why did you come?” he asks with an annoyed hand gesture.

“Wait, did you steal those roses you were going to give Nance?” Dustin shrieks, standing upright and folding his arms.

Jesus Christ. These kids really do make things difficult.

Steve stands and mirrors Henderson’s defiant posture.

“Actually I bought those from the completely overpriced gas station,” he retorts and places his hands on his hips. “Now, old lady Collins is gone, so who’s with me?”

“This really feels like something Eddie would suggest,” Lucas says, jumping up and dangling from the fence, scoping out the backyard with a sceptical eye.

“Nope, all my idea,” Steve retorts. “And I want to surprise him so today’s the day, assholes. Now, if you’re going to chicken out, Henderson, you can stay here and be the lookout.”

“I’m staying too,” Lucas chimes, snatching the radio off Dustin.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Will relents and reaches a hand out for the other radio. “Which flowers do you want for Max again?”

Lucas shrugs.

Will sighs and lolls his head back as he rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible.

“So helpful, Sinclair,” Steve says. “I’ll get you some roses. Can’t go wrong with those.”

He removes his backpack and sets it down to retrieve two pairs of gardening gloves and clippers.

“So you own several pairs of gardening gloves but can’t grow your own flowers!” Dustin wonders aloud with a furrowed brow in that tone he gets when he thinks Steve is the dumbest person alive.

“Shut up,” he says, throwing the floral pair to Will and putting the larger ones on. “My mum likes gardening but has a total black thumb so we’ve got all the equipment and the sparsest garden in Hawkins.”

“If we get caught, you’re taking the fall,” Dustin insists.

“Why did you come anyway?” Lucas asks, turning with a hand on his hip towards Dustin. “It's not like you can send Suzie flowers through the mail!”

“I'll have you know,” Dustin starts, snatching the radio back. “I sent Suzie a poetic letter and we are going on a long-distance date over Cerbero for Valentine's Day, thank you very much.”

He places his hand on his heart and practically bops on the spot, beaming at the idea of the lamest, nerdiest date on the planet. Steve rolls his eyes even though with the pair now turning on each other (and thus, distracted), it is probably time to go over the plan. He places a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“You take the radio and the binoculars and stay facing the house. Collins has this annoying yapping little dog named Archie, but he stays inside. I’ll get the flowers and hand them to you.”

“Okay,” Will nods and blushes, likely remembering his rose that he plans on anonymously sending to Mike. A plan that no one knew about except for Steve.

“Remember,” he begins, nodding. “Stealth.”

He ignores the scoffs coming from the pair behind them and waits for a nod of understanding from young Byers who only gestures for him to get the hell on with their plan.

Steve throws his backpack to Dustin, who just allows it to fall and spill onto the grass. He waves it away and silently beckons Will to follow as he books it for Collins’ side gate between the side hedge and garage. He unlocks it and, with Will right behind him, they cross the backyard to Mrs Collins’s prize-winning flower garden, the envy of every housewife in Hawkins. Archie isn’t anywhere to be heard although, now that Steve thinks about it, he won’t hear the little critter for shit anyway.

“What did I tell you,” he says, outstretching a welcoming arm as he ducks his head to miss the white trellis arch covered in wisteria.

“Holy shit,” Will says, following along and heading straight for the corner patch of rose bushes.

“Exactly,” he says.

He makes quick work of cutting some roses, working from the back of the bush before heading over to the next one as he carefully takes from each bush so as not to draw suspicion. Will begins counting them out on a bare patch of grass when the radio kicks in with incoherent noise as if Dustin and Lucas are fighting over who gets control.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin screeches. “Mr Collins has returned home. I repeat. Mr Collins is parked in the driveway and headed for the side gate. Steeeeeeve! Over.”

“Shit!” Steve yells.

He starts gathering up the roses and immediately scratches his forearm as he attempts to hastily tuck them under his arm. And, not wanting to leave without his share of the spoils, Steve quickly yanks a handful of tulips square out of the ground and looks up to find Will sprinting to the back fence, a bunch of roses in hand.

“We’re leaving, over,” Dustin says through the crackling radio.

Cowards. All of them, traitorous cowards.

“Steve?” Mr Collins calls across the lawn, breaking his focus.

He looks over to find Mr Collins staring at him with slack-jawed confusion before he looks down to discover the flowers in his hands.

“Fuck.”

Steve drops the cutters and runs for it, vaulting over the small fence that separates the garden from the lawn and follows Will, who’s struggling to escape over the back fence.

“What on earth!” Mr Collins exclaims, obviously spotting Byers.

Steve throws his flowers over the fence and Will follows suit before he kneels down to boost the boy up.

“Just run for it,” Steve relents as Mr Collins continues yelling at both them and the dog that must be barking.

“I thought you said no one was home!” Will yells as he disappears over the fence with a thump.

“He's supposed to be at work!” Steve calls back as he does a small run-up and jumps as high as he can so he’s half-hanging over the fence.

The planks are sticking into his stomach, which these days aches like hell. And as he feels a sharp tinge in his back, Steve rolls forward and over the fence, landing directly on his right shoulder. Feeling it dislodge, he wails in pain and clutches at his dislocated joint.

“Steve!” Will says, crouching down beside him.

“Just leave the flowers,” he groans.

Before he knows it, Steve finds himself on a bed in the emergency department of Hawkins General with his arm in a sling and Will sitting at his bedside. And just like that Eddie appears, pulling back the dividing curtain with a hard tug.

“Oh no,” he groans, sinking his head further back into the pillow.

“Oh no, indeed,” Eddie says, stern despite the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Why did you call him?” he whines at his co-conspirator. “I’m fine.”

“Who else was I supposed to call!” Will argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Byers,” Eddie begins, reaching in his pocket for loose change that he tosses to Will. “Go get a snack. I’ll drive you home later.”

“You aren’t going to tell Hop, are you?” the boy asks, worried.

“Oh, god no, man,” Eddie insists without a second thought.

Steve knows he's in for a lecture. And will have to fess up about what the hell he was doing that led to him being admitted to emergency with a dislocated shoulder. But Eddie will stop short of tattling to anyone, let alone Chief of Police Hopper.

At that guarantee, Will scurries off into the waiting room. Eddie sits on the edge of Steve's hospital bed and purses his lips.

“So…” he begins and Steve can't tell if he's pissed off or just mildly inconvenienced. “Getting the boys ready for Valentine’s Day actually meant stealing flowers from your neighbour like a regular Dennis the Menace?”

“Like you haven’t stolen anything,” Steve huffs and if he could, he’d fold his arms.

“We literally committed Grand Theft Auto together, sweets,” Eddie smiles before going all coy and running his hand along Steve’s thigh, his jeans covered in grass stains. “Did you steal me anything?”

“Tried to,” he says, low and disappointed at his botched heist. “But we left them when I fell.”

“You’re so naughty, Steve Harrington,” Eddie coos, leaning in close.

He winks.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says.

“I’m sorry that your arm is in a sling!” Eddie shoots back and tsks’. “Just in time for Valentine's Day! And to think, all the things you could be doing with your right hand. Deary me...”

He theatrically slumps forward, clutching at Steve's right thigh and gradually creeps his arm dangerously further up his leg.

“Don’t,” Steve warns, shifting on the spot.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he offers, leaping up and extending a hand. “I’m sure we can think of a workaround.”

Steve’s more than a little wobbly on his feet and honestly, it's a goddamn miracle he hasn’t gotten a migraine yet. Shit. This really wasn't a good idea. Likely sensing his sudden panic, Eddie loops an arm around his middle and adds a teasing squeeze to his hip before holding him tight.

“I’m taking you home to kiss you better,” Eddie continues, chancing a quick kiss on his cheek before they walk into the waiting room to find Will nervously downing a packet of crisps.

#when i say nonsense i mean it #not a braincell in sight #steddie: valentine's day edition #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #TWIST i actually dislike valentine's day lmao

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theomeganerd · 5 months

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Metal Gear Chuckle: The Stealthy Quest for Laughter

Once upon a time in a world where cardboard boxes were the pinnacle of stealth technology, our hero, Solid Snicker, embarked on a mission to save the world from the looming threat of awkward silences and deadly dad jokes. In "Metal Gear Chuckle," the fate of humor hangs in the balance as Snicker, a grizzled and perpetually sneaky soldier, is tasked with infiltrating the lair of the nefarious Liquid Giggle and his army of laugh-track-enabled guards.

As the story unfolds, we find Solid Snicker navigating through a maze of convoluted plot twists and codec conversations that would make any spy movie director jealous. Armed with a tranquilizer gun and a penchant for exclamation marks over his head, Snicker must stealthily take down guards who have developed a sixth sense for detecting bad punchlines.

The enigmatic Colonel Chortle, Snicker's quirky superior, provides guidance through a series of increasingly bizarre radio calls. From discussing the nutritional value of rations to sharing the Colonel's latest stand-up routine, the conversations are more mind-boggling than the game's intricate plot.

The cardboard box, Snicker's go-to stealth accessory, becomes his secret weapon in the battle against Liquid Giggle. He uses it to blend seamlessly into the environment, baffling guards who seem unable to comprehend the concept of a grown man hiding in plain sight inside a moving box.

As Snicker progresses, he encounters eccentric characters like Revolver Chuck, a villain with a revolver that shoots out party streamers instead of bullets, and Psycho Giggle, a psychic with the power to predict punchlines before they're delivered.

The climax of the story occurs in a showdown with Metal Gear Chuckle, a giant robot armed not with missiles but with an arsenal of comedic props. Snicker must outwit the mechanical monstrosity by dodging pies and deflecting rubber chickens while delivering witty comebacks.

In the end, Solid Snicker emerges victorious, saving the world from the threat of humorless villains. The game concludes with a heartwarming scene of Snicker sharing a laugh with his allies, proving that in the chaotic world of "Metal Gear Chuckle," laughter truly is the best medicine – and stealth tactic.

Written by ChatGPT

#metal gear solid #konami #hideo kojima #video games #gaming #comedy #humor #chatgpt

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starlitangels · 1 year

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Excerpt of a Fic I’ll Probably Never Finish

@zozo-01 remember the conversation we had a long time ago about Alexis meeting and later getting together with a Really Old demon? Have a vague idea on that

—

Alexis sighed. “I know you’re there. Come out, Stealth!”

After a moment, a figure appeared from thin air. “I’m not a Stealth,” she said. “But I was cloaked.”

Alexis eyed the wicked horns twisting up from her head. “You’re a demon.”

The newcomer nodded. “I am.”

Alexis ran old lessons through her head. “You’re a Sadism Demon.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your horn shape. The color of your eyes when you decloaked.”

The Sadism Demon smiled. “You’re smart.”

Alexis scoffed. “Try telling that to my clan.” She folded her arms, digging sharp nails into the skin of her arms. “Let me guess. You’re following me to get a decent meal for once?”

The Sadism Demon tilted her head to one side. She was tall—definitely over six feet—but willowy. Almost unhealthily thin. “No,” she said. “I can’t feed on your feelings.”

“The hell you can’t. I’m the Solaire Clan Hellion. The one they all call a monster.”

“You have nothing for me to feed on right now. I was following you because I’ve never felt that much deep sadness on a human before. Especially one as young as you are.”

Alexis barked a laugh. “I’m pushing eighty-five, demon.”

“My name is Ursa.”

“Hello, Ursa. I’m Alexis.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m over two-thousand years old.”

Alexis blinked, her mind slamming to a halt with a record scratch. “Really?”

Ursa nodded. “Yes. That’s why you are young. To me, even the oldest of your kind tend to feel young.”

“My Maker is a fourth your age.”

“Mm. Yes. A young spring chicken.”

“Alright,” Alexis grumbled. “So. Sadism Demon Ursa. What do you want with me? If you can’t feed on me—which I still have a hard time believing—you must want something.” She waved vaguely, lifting one hand before tucking it back into her folded arms.

Ursa shrugged. “There’s nothing I want. I’ve never felt sadness like yours on a human so young. I was curious.”

“I’m not human.”

“You are. Vampires often forget they are still, simply, human. With a more complex magical Core than perhaps any other. But human, nonetheless. Kept alive by the blood of others. And great amounts of magic.” Ursa hummed. “Your empowered society looks at me much more fearfully than you. You feed on their blood. I feed on their worst emotions. Ones none of the ones trying to be good like to admit to feeling.” She wiggled her fingers gracefully. “So I take them away. I take the emotions they hate most about themselves away. So that they never feel hateful or malicious again.

“But you have nothing for me to feed on. Not right now. I see great pain in your mind and your heart, but I don’t see lasting, deep malice. Most humans feel hateful and sadistic sometimes. I’m not hand-waving that away and saying you never have. But it doesn’t linger. With you. It’s not a core part of who you are. You called yourself a Hellion and said others call you a monster, but that’s not what I see in front of me.”

Alexis scoffed. “And just what do you see in front of you?”

“A lost, lonely young girl looking for fulfillment and struggling to find it.” Ursa tilted her fine eyebrows. “You want to seek happiness. But you don’t think you’ll find it. So you choose to settle for indifference.”

Alexis’ fangs poked out of her mouth. “It’s better than pain,” she spat bitterly.

Ursa hummed again. “Perhaps it’s not as different as you’d prefer. Indifference is a wall between you and what hurts you. It’s not erased. Just can’t be seen. Happiness won’t erase the pain either. But happiness can… diminish the size of the pain long enough to learn to live around it.”

“Bullsh—”

“It’s true. I’m a lot older than you, Ms. Getty. I’ve seen it happen. Plenty of times. I call it a human experience, but demons experience such things too.”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “So… what? Gonna teach me enlightenment?”

“I don’t believe I can. But, if you’d like, I can point you in the direction that leads to learning to heal yourself.”

Alexis’ silver eyes flashed in the moonlight. “I dare you to give it a shot.”

Ursa smiled. “Don’t dare a demon as old as I. You’ll always lose.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #ficlet #Redacted Alexis #Alexis Getty

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 1 year

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A/N: The movie isn‘t even out yet in my country and my Aramis feels return already with a force. I wrote a self-indulgent little sister drabble. No plot, just fluff. Imagine the Aramis you like best. ☺️ (an ordure is a sort of nuisance in human form ^^)

The level of stealth you were currently demonstrating made you wish to congratulate yourself. Up here, on the small balcony none of the musketeers ever seemed to use, you had found a hiding place of uncompared genius. Here, you could point the harmless old musket of your brother at all the heads of the guards who had sent you funny looks throughout the week. It was a very meditative passe-temps. It also saved you from the tasks random musketeers‘ wives tended to give you, simply because you were a woman passing by, a woman who didn‘t seem like she was occupied enough. But no, thank you, you were not entirely interested in stuffing any stinky socks. No no, you had weapons to clean and secret letters to carry around and a brother to tease. Why didn‘t these men stuff their socks themselves?

You were about to fake head-shot a man named Gerard who was telling nasty jokes by the fountain of the corps, when someone suddenly dropped down on the small space remaining next to you, like a lazy cat who‘d happened to find its way over to you. You hit your nose hard on the cold metal of the heavy weapon in your hand and let out a pain struck groan.

„Whatever did Gerard do to you?“ Your brother asked in his most nonchalant of ways, his left elbow meeting your right one as he settled down, mimicking your position. He was holding an apple in his hand.

You spent a moment grieving the peace and quiet and the integrity of your nose, before you retook your aim, glaring at Gerard over the tip of the musket.

„He‘s an ordure.“

Aramis chuckled, taking a noisy bite from the apple, before offering it to you. You wanted to ignore him to keep from messing up your aim, but the rumbling in your stomach betrayed you. You took the apple from Aramis and peeked a glance in his direction. He was already looking at you with that bemused quizzical look in his eyes, the one that was so individually him that it tended to make you emotional. Therefore, you quickly put on an unbothered expression and avoided his eyes.

„Are you enjoying or hiding yourself up here?“ He asked, putting his chin up on his hand.

„Why are these mutually exclusive choices?“ Your sour mood fit perfectly to the taste of the apple he had handed you. „Maybe I’m brooding… Did you give this apple to me because it tastes like it‘s poisoned?“

„Obviously.“ Aramis responded, smirking when you moved to hit his shoulder with your fist. „I‘m afraid I might be doing you a favor with it.“

The slight concern mixing into his voice made your eyes wander back to his face. His eyes were always gentle and bright when they looked upon you. They made you wish to curl up again his chest to be held and rocked and protected for a while. He was probably here to find out if you were in need of any of that.

You simply extended the apple with a raised brow, a daring look on your face, before looking back at the group of musketeers around Gerard. The aim wasn‘t perfect but you did manage to hit the leadspeaker of the nutbrains against the arm.

Aramis quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the snort that threatened to break out when Gerard started turning around himself in an infuriated attempt to find his offenser. You had to chuckle at your brother‘s reaction and soon your conjoined mirth got increasingly harder to suppress. Tears were showing in your brother‘s eyes, from the laughter he tried to silence with his palms and you could feel your own cheeks starting to hurt from smiling widely along to his shaking shoulders. All the while a wild Gerard was running in circles like a little chicken, pulling his rapier and wielding it around.

Aramis bent over and hid his smily face at your shoulder, bursting with quiet laughter when Gerard fell over a chair.

Your fingers held him close by his arm and you realized that you were sad and that you missed him and your feelings crashed inside your chest like a wave against a rock. He was the best brother any young woman could wish for. But he was getting more and more involved in politics and it started to feel like the two of you were drifting apart a little. Missed were the nights you‘d spent drinking and laughing with the three of them - your brother and the chosen brothers. You missed making fun of Aramis with Porthos‘ help, missed the way your brother always managed to get Athos to smile when he wanted it the least, missed seeing him scribble poems on napkins by the light of a candle while Porthos advanced as quietly as possible to steal it from him. You missed the easiness of the less politically active days.

After he‘d managed to calm down, Aramis took a deep breath and put his head against yours. It was the weight of hin that made you feel comforted in a way. You listened to him breathe for a while before wrapping your arms around his neck. As if he was surprised but moved by your sudden affectionate impluse, he cooed gently and put his arm over your back to pull you close. But due to your position being slightly inconvenient, he wasn‘t quite able to physically deal with your need for cuddles, which led to him falling on his back and you tumbling right on top of him.

The mixed emotions in your chest made you break out laughing instantly. Grinning, he looked at you, your fists on his stomach and your chin coming down to his chest. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his hat making his eyes look like little sparkly lights in the shadow it threw over his face. You couldn‘t stop laughing - he wouldn‘t allow it anyway, riling you on with his cheeky smirk - so you threateningly held up your finger in his face. He raised a brow and made you laugh even more with the funny faces he pulled.

„Stop it!!“ You wheezed.

He gasped. „I‘m not even doing anything!“

With a yelp he jolted when you dug your fingers in his sides, but he quickly got a hold of your wrists. Chuckling softly he managed to prevent any further tickle attacks from your part, wrestling with your weak attempts of breaking out of his hold. Your laughter was making you weak - under any other circumstances, you would have obviously won against him.

Eventually you got too weak for wrestling and for laughing and you merely lay down, your cheek on his chest. He was a lovely person so he started rubbing your back which was so calming you could have easily fallen asleep. Instead, you started moving, inching up higher until your head was on his shoulder, his arm holding you close.

„Bonjour,“ he welcomed you, making you smile slightly, „how about you tell your big brother how you‘re doing now?“

You shook your head gently and closed your eyes, feeling the slight breeze of the summer wind on your face and the warm arm of your brother around you.

„Right now, I am perfectly fine.“

You could feel the muscles under your ear tense hesitantly, but he seemed to accept your silence nontheless, for now, indulging you with the quiet of the afternoon, merely broken by a few musketeers‘ voices from the courtyard.

For a few minutes, the politics of France didn‘t play any part in your life. And you could sense that your brother was just as pleased with that as you were.

#les trois mousquetaires #the three musketeers #aramis #y/n #little sister imagine #sister imagine #(y/n)#aramis little sister #the musketeers #fluff #also i still need more smol ticklish aramis moments in my life #i bet he‘s hard to catch #but he must be the sweetest giggly person #alexandre dumas

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amiharana · 1 year

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doing a replay of botw and I'm at the part where I need to sneak through the yiga hideout, and my sibling starts walking around the house announcing "whump hurt comfort revalink oneshot where link tries to infiltrate the yiga but he really goes through it, so revali comes to rescue him and then they hug" AJDBAJDB but honestly they're so real for that and I would be so down to read that 😭

i left this ask in my inbox for a while because i was turning it over in my head like a rotisserie chicken and even tho ur sibling is on to something i cannot for the life of me figure out what sort of context this would make sense in i'm sawry ✋😭 i was really that meme with the confused blond woman and a bunch of math equations around her head bc like.......

i just have so many questions like is this taking place pre- or post-calamity? that's going to be the huge determiner for the reason why i'd write link infiltrating the yiga clan. for me it would make sense pre-calamity if the yiga stole the thunder helm or were just being shitheads, but then we'd have to figure out why revali got dragged along for the stealth mission (the other champions were already there or were they called? is he scouting? backup? recon?). post-calamity is more difficult to figure a logical reason why because the natural assumption would be the in-game yiga infiltration where link needs to get the thunder helm back OR post-botw champions revived au where maybe the yiga are acting up so the champions gotta go in and beat their asses. the first would be difficult to write because revali is dead at the moment LOL and is also a ghost who can't remain outside his divine beast for longer than a few seconds, and the latter idea i feel requires carefully thought-out pacing, build-up, and plot to execute well 😭 idk like do y'all really expect daruk to be good at a stealth mission in that environment u know his ass is gonna get pushed and he'll be rolling all the way down karusa valley back down into gerudo desert.

idk i'm also interested to see how this idea would play out but i'm picking it apart with my brain rn and my brain is gonna continue doing that for a while i think. we're going to dissect this a little more and let it sit outside in the sun to marinate for a bit before come back to it, unless you'd like to have ur sibling hit my line and tell me more about their fic idea bc i wanna dissect ur sibling's brain on this too

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #ask #cryiling #for later #i promise u i'll return to this someday but for now i feel like the nintendogs when u try to teach them their names by calling them #but if they don't understand you they just be like ???#everyone else should also sound off their thoughts on this one that way i can see where everything connects #dissecting ur idea rn #They Did Surgery on a Revalink Idea #i'm genuinely so interested in reading and even writing this but the image in my head is not clear enough to be written #i need more context and info to work off of idk

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