#exterior paint colors and ideas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bookwormjust · 5 months ago

Text

Gifts for a new family (established relationship with Azriel)

As you walk through the lively streets of Velaris, the city sparkles with the magic of the approaching Solstice. Snow gently falls, dusting your dark curls as you move from stall to stall, gathering thoughtful gifts for each person you hold dear. The vibrant energy of the city surrounds you—laughter, chatter, and music drifting through the air—but you’re focused, determined to find the perfect gift for each individual.

The Archeron sisters, your dearest friends, are at the top of your list. For Nesta, something elegant but practical—a sword charm, small yet intricately carved, reminding her of strength and grace. For Elain, a collection of rare seeds wrapped in delicate ribbon, the kind that will bloom into the most beautiful flowers in the gardens she adores.

Then, there’s Lucien. The idea of him being alone during Solstice tugs at your heart, especially with Elain’s rejection lingering in the air. No one seems to have thought of buying him anything, but you do. After a few moments of wandering, your eyes fall on a beautifully bound book on rare herbs and healing remedies—a subtle but kind offering, something that speaks to his knowledge and appreciation of the natural world. You smile softly, hoping it will be a small comfort to him.

And for Azriel—your shadowsinger. Your heart flutters as you think of him, the way his shadows dance around him like they know you. You’ve spent hours pondering the perfect gift, wanting to show him how much you care, how much he means to you. You finally settle on something simple yet deeply personal—a custom-made leather sheath for Truth-Teller, engraved with symbols of protection and strength, paired with a small silver pendant representing hope, something light for him to carry, always close to his heart.

Azriel’s mother, though you’ve never met her, is also on your mind. After all, she’s an important part of him, and you want to honor that. In a small shop tucked away in a quieter corner of the city, you find a delicate silver bracelet adorned with small, shimmering crystals that catch the light just right. It’s a token of kindness and respect, a gesture to show you’re thinking of her even before your paths have crossed.

With your arms full of gifts, you make your way through the bustling streets, feeling the warmth of the season and the love you have for everyone in your heart.

As you continue through the vibrant streets of Velaris, you think about the gifts for Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian, wanting each of them to feel the thought and care you’ve put into their Solstice presents.

For **Feyre**, you know how much she values art and expression, how it centers her and allows her to find peace in times of chaos. You eventually come across a beautiful set of high-quality paints from an artisan's stall. The pigments are vibrant, and there’s an array of colors Feyre could use to bring life to her next masterpiece. Alongside the paints, you pick up a small, hand-crafted sketchbook with a leather cover embossed with Velaris' iconic skyline, a symbol of home and her new beginnings.

For **Rhysand**, the High Lord of the Night Court and someone whose burdens are heavy, you want to offer him something that will remind him to find moments of rest and joy, despite his responsibilities. After wandering a bit longer, you find an elegant silver cuff with an intricate, celestial design that mirrors the night sky—the stars and moons delicately engraved into the metal. It's imbued with a subtle magic that encourages calm and relaxation when worn. A small but meaningful reminder that he, too, deserves peace.

And then, there’s **Cassian**. His boundless energy, laughter, and warrior spirit make you smile as you think of him. You search for something that speaks to his strength but also shows that you understand the heart beneath his brash exterior. After much deliberation, you find the perfect gift—a beautifully crafted pair of leather vambraces, sturdy but detailed with intricate patterns of wings and flame, symbolic of both his Illyrian heritage and the inner fire he carries. There’s also a bottle of rare Illyrian whiskey from one of his favorite distilleries, a little something extra to bring him joy on Solstice night.

With every gift now carefully chosen, you feel a warm sense of satisfaction. Each present carries a piece of you, a reflection of how much these people mean to you, and you can already imagine their reactions as they unwrap their gifts. The Solstice, after all, is about connection, love, and light—something you’re more than happy to share with those you call family.

As you stand on the bustling street, snowflakes dusting your shoulders and your arms full of carefully chosen gifts, the weight of the bags starts to pull at you. You smile softly, thinking how wonderful it would be to have Azriel here to help carry them—and to see him, of course. Through the bond, you can feel his steady, quiet presence, a warm pulse of calm beneath your skin.

You reach out gently, letting your thoughts drift toward him. *Azriel?* you send, a soft, playful nudge through the bond. *I may have gotten a bit carried away with the Solstice shopping...* You glance down at the many bags you're struggling to hold. *If you're not too busy, do you think you could come rescue me?*

For a moment, there's silence, then you feel a ripple of amusement from him, his presence wrapping around your mind like a comforting shadow.

*Rescue, hmm?* he responds, his voice a deep, smooth caress in your mind. *I’ll be there in a moment, love.*

A warmth floods your chest at his words. Within minutes, you catch sight of his familiar form gliding effortlessly through the crowd, his wings tucked close to avoid the bustling shoppers. As he approaches, his shadows swirling gently at his sides, his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Azriel takes in the sight of you, arms full of bags, and chuckles quietly. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, his tone warm as he reaches for the bags, easily lifting them from your hands as if they weigh nothing. His fingers brush yours as he does, sending a shiver of warmth through you.

“Just a bit,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I didn’t realize how much I was carrying until I tried to walk back.”

Azriel shakes his head, his shadows whispering around you both as if they’re pleased to see you together. “Good thing I’m here, then,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they linger on you. “Shall we?”

With his strong arm around you, you feel a sense of lightness, knowing that together you can face the chaotic streets and the busy holiday, each gift chosen with care and love for your new family. You walk side by side through Velaris, the snow falling softly around you, as Azriel quietly and effortlessly carries the weight that had become too much for you—just as he always does.

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x female!reader #acotar reader imagine #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #Spotify

294 notes · View notes

keystonepublishing · 1 month ago

Text

my god, my champion by oh_snapperss

*crawls out of work*

Never do multiple fanbinds at a limited time, folks.

Your grind will never end.

Why yes, I did watch Parkour Civilization. Evbo now shares my brain with so many other characters, and this fic caught my eye after stumbling upon a beautiful fanart of Mavbo that was drawn because of it. With work on other stuff piling up, I thought a short fic would make for an easy bind.

Ironically, I didn't think of making any idea on cover design until very very late. I originally wanted to make a Klimt-patterned cover to match the interior decoration (and the ending fanart), but I recently brought some Japanese mulberry paper that coincidentally have Evbo's colors! So I made the cover using that mulberry paper and fashioned the title and back strips based on Japanese aesthetics.

That, and because the title was too long to make it a beautiful horizontal label.

The end result is an exterior that looks visually different from the interior, but now I feel they complement each other.

The interior, though, was full-out Klimt.

I wanted to make the interior match the fic-fanart I saw that inspired this bind. Golden strips made out of Klimt patterns and paintings frame the text, while I chose an old-ish font (Doves Type) for the text. The drop cap was a product of experimental masking with more Klimt patterns with a font picture, and the entire shebang lies on top of paper that has a subtle Klimt pattern on it.

All in all, it took some brain-crunching to make the design and layout in a limited amount of time, but the end result was so worth it!

Special thanks to @oh-snapperss for writing the fic in the first place, along with @aofikofi for her fanart of it. And a very special thanks to @setacin for his incredible fanart of Mavbo that inspired me to design a Klimt-style bind for the fic! If only I had gold leaf to complete the style!

#Parkour Civilization #Mavbo #Evbo #Evbo's Master Friend #EMF #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #mcyt #my bookbinds #pkciv

97 notes · View notes

ohmyitsfaith · 6 months ago

Text

The sunshine and the grump / Part 3

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Your curiousity for the Umbrella Academy grows and after an argument with the Sparrows and your husband, you decide to seek some answers… alone.

Warnings: some arguments, slight angst, maybe?

Word count: 3.5k

A/n: thank you so much for liking this idea so much that you wanted to see it turn into a series. I can't explain how excited I am for this! Hope you enjoy!

You jogged up the stairs after being thrown out of Sparrows’ little meeting. You needed to figure out who this Jennifer was. You weren’t worried per se, you knew Ben was an asshole, but he wouldn’t cheat on you. The easiest explanation would be that she was Ben’s ex. In that case, it would be a matter of how the Umbrellas knew that. But then why would they call you, of all people, Jennifer?

Things didn’t really make much sense. Yet.

You opened the door to Ben’s old room. If there would be anything about this Jennifer that tied him to Ben, then it would be there. You looked around. Some books, clothes, a simple bed. Not much left there after you moved in. As you closed the door behind you, you saw that on the door was a drawing. It was a side profile of a woman. Looking at it from closer, there was a name written there. “Y/n.”

It honestly didn’t look much like your side profile, but there was some resemblance. You looked around at his desk. There was a notebook, its pages filled with notes about his training. Next to it, a travel guide, presumably from Sloane. A page was marked by a small slip of paper. Opening it, you saw that it was actually your honeymoon destination, with some places circled in red marker. You smiled at the memory, wishing for those happier times to be back.

Putting the book down, you pulled out one of the drawers on it. There were some papers, insignificant to your investigation. You did find a receipt from a bar. On it was the date of the first time you met him. You didn’t think Ben was the sentimental type, but maybe you were wrong.

You closed that drawer and looked at his dresser. Some old pictures of him and his siblings in their sparrow uniforms, back when they were just kids. You hummed, not sure why it was still there instead of in your room. But maybe Ben didn’t really want to remember the trauma that Reginald caused them by training them and sending them to dangerous missions even before they reached puberty.

Understandable.

You opened the first drawer. In it were clothes that Ben outgrew and hidden between his socks and underwear, a pack of condoms. You huffed a laugh and took it out, pocketing it for later. In the second drawer were his paints, brushes and papers.

“Wonder why he doesn’t paint anymore” you hummed, picking up some of his finished paintings.

They were quite good as well. Some about landscapes, some about people. There were abstract ones as well, all seemingly portraying dark feelings. Your heart ached for your husband. He was deeply traumatized, you knew that before you even met him. All the Sparrows were.

That was kind of why you were so thankful to be there. You tried to spend time with them when you weren’t working, trying to work through their traumas. Some of them were better off than others.

Of course, the hardest to work through was Ben. His mean exterior was at first a trauma response, but by now it became almost vital to his being. The only time he could really be who he was once upon a time, was when he was with you. Just you. In the safety of the four walls of your bedroom.

Maybe sometime in the future, he would be able to show his true colors. Maybe.

In the lowest drawer, you found some empty canvases. You flipped through them to see whether there were some paintings hidden there. But not finding anything, you pushed in the drawer. That’s when you heard the clatter. Something else was in the drawer.

You pulled it out again, and even though on the top, there was nothing, you reached into the drawer. Back as far as you could until you touched something. It felt like paper. You pulled your hand out and took every canvas out of the drawer. This time when you reached in, you could grab the paper.

Pulling it out, you saw that it wasn’t just one. It was a bunch. They were rolled up and held together by a rubber band.

“Why was this hidden?” you mumbled, confused.

Taking the rubber band off of it, you put the papers down on the floor, sitting in front of them. The first paper was a painting. A young woman with their back turned. They had your hair color.

The second paper was a side profile, like the one on the door. This one was more than line-art, it had color to it. They had their eyes closed, but once again, the hair color resembled yours.

The third one was of eyes. They were beautifully detailed and the color was almost the same as yours.

The fourth was of a hand. The fifth a painting of the same woman and a black void. The sixth was similar to the fifth, but the void had a form this time and the woman was reaching for it. The seventh was of the woman, but this time with a cat. The eighth was of the woman holding flowers, her face concealed by the flowers. The ninth of two hands holding each other. The tenth of the woman sitting alone in a bar, her back turned to the viewer, but everything else was a blur around her. She stood out. The eleventh was of the woman standing in front of a building.

And the twelfth and last one? That was the one that made you realize just what these paintings were. It depicted a woman lying on the floor, tiled exactly like the one at the store you met Ben. The woman was shadowed by a form standing in the way of the lights. A hand was also painted, reaching for the woman. But what stuck out was that the shadow showed tentacles and two of them holding two forms.

It was the day you met. Exactly like it happened.

In this painting as well, you could finally see your features reflected back to you. Your eyes, your lips, your nose and hair? It was all you. And so, the other pictures were from your relationship up until your getting together (presumably).

You went back to the paintings of you with the void. Was the void Ben? And you were reaching for him? Your heart ached for the man. He was clearly not of good opinion on himself.

“Oh darling…” you sighed, then shaking your head, you rolled up the papers.

You decided to take them with you. Even though you didn’t find anything about this Jennifer, you still feel like your search was somewhat successful. After all, you did find some paintings about you and Ben. Mostly you.

A couple hours later, when the sun had already set, you tried to find your husband. You searched for him in many places, your room, the kitchen, the training grounds, but couldn’t find him anywhere. You were almost ready to give up, when you heard one of Fei’s birds. You looked up at the sky, but couldn’t see where it could’ve come from. You headed inside the house, slightly shivering from being outside in only a T-shirt.

You turned to go up the stairs, when you heard the front door open. You looked back, right at Marcus.

“Hi Marcus” you greeted, but he only nodded in acknowledgment. Rolling your eyes, you turned back and headed up to the roof.

There, you finally found your husband. He was standing, looking down at the busy evening street.

“Hey there” you called out to him.

“Hi, Y/n” he turned to you, a small smile coming to his lips. He reached out, beckoning you. “What you got there?”

“I…” you looked down at the papers under your arm. “I’m sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “What for?”

“I went to your old room” you said, standing next to him, holding the papers. “I wanted to see if you had any information on this Jennifer, who the Umbrellas think…”

“You could’ve asked me” he said and you felt his irritation build.

“You were busy” you looked up at him meaningfully. “But anyway, I didn’t find anything about that. What I did find…” you offered the papers to him. “Were these paintings.”

Ben looked at your hands for a second, before reaching out and taking the paintings from you. He unfolded them.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop” you said quickly, your guilt eating at you. “I just… I found them, though they might be what I was searching for, but turns out they’re just paintings of… me.”

“These…” he said slowly. “You…”

“I’m sorry” you whispered.

“You shouldn’t have snooped around in my room” he sighed and you could tell that he was suppressing his anger.

“I know. I’m sorry. The only reason I took them anyway was because they looked so… full of emotions” you explained. “I know that’s not an excuse, but I just wanted you to know that I like them.”

“Okay” he took a deep breath. “I need to have a meeting with the other Sparrows.”

“Oh.”

“I think you should find Grace and eat dinner until we’re done.”

“Okay” you nodded, looking at your feet. “I’m sorry.”

With that, you left Ben on the roof. You knew you were at fault, so you didn’t blame him for reacting that way. So instead, you just looked for Grace as he advised. You would make it up for him, you were sure about that.

You looked in the kitchen, where Grace usually was. But she wasn’t there. So you looked in the washing area. But no one was there. By then, you were hungry as well, so you just made your own dinner instead.

But you barely took a bite out of it, when Sloane came running into the kitchen.

“Have you seen Marcus?” she asked, looking a bit frantic.

“No” you shook your head. “Not for the past thirty minutes. He has to be somewhere here though. I saw him coming in through the door. Why?”

“We can’t find him anywhere.”

“What?” you stood up immediately. “Nowhere? Even in his room?”

“That’s where we first checked” Sloane shook her head. “We also checked the training grounds, the rooftop, the living room. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“How can that be?” you followed her as she went back to the rest of the Sparrows. “I saw him come in!”

“Maybe the Umbrellas took him” Ben suggested.

“How could they?” you asked, confused. “Nobody has been inside the mansion since you kicked their butt.”

“Maybe they had a way to sneak in” Fei suggested. “They did arrive here without us noticing.”

“I don’t get it though. The alarms would’ve blared if they came in any way.”

“This is clearly their plan” Ben had enough of your guessing. “They took Marcus so they could take the mansion for themselves.”

“What? That’s ridiculous” you scoffed. “They looked pretty beaten, I doubt they would’ve done anything so soon.”

“How would you know, Y/n?” Ben said suddenly. “You’re not a superhero, you don’t know how fast they could heal.”

“Yeah” you agreed, slightly hurt by his tone. “But they didn’t seem the type…”

“The world isn’t so black and white as you see it” he interrupted you, which he never did before. “Now please, leave this discussion to the professionals.”

“I just wanted to help!”

“We don’t need your help, Y/n” he turned away from you and to the rest of the Sparrows.

You looked at him for a second, hurt by his words. Then you puffed your chest, “Fine” you said and then turned around.

You walked out of the room and headed straight for the door. If he didn’t need your help and you couldn’t ask his help, then you would help yourself.

When you reached Hotel Obsidian, the only place you knew would be your refuge, you didn’t even hope to find the Umbrellas there. But you were so thankful to see them. Not because you really trusted them, but at least you would get some answers.

“Hi, could I get a room for one?” you asked at the reception and offered the money to him.

“Here you go. Second floor, 25th” the receptionist gave you the key.

You sighed, then walked up to the three men, who were sitting around a table. You gathered all your strength, all the asshole energy that you learned from the Sparrows and all your rage that filled you when Ben shut you down.

“Hey Umbrellas” you greeted.

“Um…” the big guy, Luther, if you remembered well was looking at you dumbly, his mouth full.

“Oh, hi! Jennifer” the guy who wore a cowboy hat, when he was there at the academy was no longer wearing it.

“Not Jennifer” you pointed out. “I’m Y/n.”

“Oh yeah, you did say that, sorry about that” he laughed airily. “I’m Klaus. And these are Luther and Diego” he said pointing at the big guy first and then at wallmart-batman.

“Oh, hi” you greeted them as well, your strength leaving you for a bit. “Actually I came to ask about that.”

“About what?” Diego asked, his mouth full.

“You keep calling me Jennifer” you looked at them. “Why?”

“Oh…” they looked at each other. “Actually, that’s a long story. Maybe we should talk about that in the morning?” Klaus offered.

“I mean… sure” you nodded, saddened by his offer, but also a little relieved. Your heart was already beating fast in your chest and didn’t know how long you could hold on.

“How did you know we would be here?” Luther asked, when he finished his food.

“Oh, I didn’t” you shook your head. “I just… well kinda ran away from home.”

“Was it horrible there?” Klaus leaned in, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I would understand, Ben here is an asshole.”

“Actually, he’s my husband” you defended him. “He’s not bad, but… yeah, today he was on edge as well.”

“He’s your what now?” Diego blinked, surprised by your revelation.

“My husband.”

“Oh, yeah! Forgot that Ben-er-ino got married, that’s so cute!” Klaus clapped his hands. “Oh, then you’re our sister-in-law!” he gasped.

“Uh…” you blinked. “I’m not though? You guys… I don’t know how you know my husband, but…”

“I’ll explain in the morning” Klaus interrupted, standing up. “But now, my bed is calling me. Excuse me.”

You watched him go, blinking confusedly. “Is he always like this?” you turned to the other two.

“You’ll get used to it” Luther sighed then got up as well. “Hey, uh… is Sloane okay?”

“Y-yeah” you nodded.

“Good…” Luther said slowly. “Well, I’ll be going… good night.”

“I guess” you sighed and then headed to your own room.

In the morning, you headed down for breakfast, only to find Klaus, Diego and the little guy, Five if your memory is correct, already there.

“Good morning, sister-in-law!” Klaus greeted you enthusiastically.

“Again, I’m not- whatever” you sighed, shaking your head. Instead you grabbed a few of the breakfast items and sat down at their table.

“What are you doing here?” Five asked.

“Trouble in paradise” Klaus supplied instead of you. “She had a fight with her husband, Ben. Can you believe? Our Ben! Married!”

“Well, he’s not our Ben” Five corrected. “Our Ben is dead, remember?”

“He’s what?!” you exclaimed, shocked.

“Oh yeah” Klaus nodded, gazing into the void. “He died when he was seventeen.”

“That’s why we were so shocked to see him. And you” Diego explained.

“Me?!”

“Oh yeah” Klaus sighed. “The whole thing started with Ben getting to know Jennifer when we were sneaking out at night. They knew each other for about a year before Jennifer was affected by some… let’s just say unknown substance that turned her into a monster. The umbrella academy was called to help and then… one thing followed the other and Ben died” Klaus rushed to the end, clearly uncomfortable with the memory.

“Ah…” you nodded after a little bit of silence. “So… she was the cause? And I…”

“You look a lot like her” Klaus nodded. “But you aren’t her! You’re Y/n.”

“Yeah” you nodded.

“Where’s Luther?” Vanya suddenly approached the table. “And why is she-”

“Probably out for… a run” Diego looked her up and down. And there was a good reason for his reaction. She got a haircut.

“Ooh! Love the haircut!” Klaus smiled.

Vanya smiled appreciatively, then looked at you. “So, why are you here?”

“Uh… ran away from home” you said simply.

“Good, ‘cause I talked to Marcus last night” she said, mostly looking at the rest of the Umbrellas.

“Oh… so he was with you?”

“Wait, what? You talked to the enemy?” Diego asked, not looking at you.

“Well technically aren’t you doing the same?” Vanya asked. “And anyway, somebody had to do something.”

“Y/n is different though” Klaus waved his hand around, but clearly there was already a lot of tension between Diego and Vanya.

“Who elected you Vanya?” he asked.

“It’s uh… Viktor.”

“Who’s Viktor?” Diego furrowed his brows.

For a moment you watched as they all thought deeply.

“I am” Vanya- Viktor said finally.

“Oh” you whispered in understanding.

“It’s who I’ve always been” he looked around at everyone. “Uh… is that an issue for anyone?”

“No I’m cool” Diego said.

“Yeah, me too. Cool” Klaus smiled.

“Truly happy for you, Viktor” Five said softly, then raised his eyebrows. “But last time I checked, you don’t speak for the family.

“Okay, well, it’s fine, okay? Marcus totally gets it” Viktor sat down.

“Does he?” you scoffed. Marcus was the only Sparrow you couldn’t see eye-to-eye with.

“Well, he doesn’t want a war any more than we do” he tried to explain.

“Doesn’t he?” you furrowed you eyebrows.

“Even though Y/n doesn’t belong here, I have to agree with her” Diego looked at you for a split second. “He tried to homicide us!”

“Well… so did Lila and you had a kid with her” Klaus added.

“That’s not the point!” Diego put his hand up.

“Listen, we made a deal” Viktor interrupted them. “He’s gonna give back Five’s briefcase, then we’re gonna get out of the timeline!”

“Will he?” you asked, doubtful.

“Yes, we’re gonna meet later today for the, uh, the handover” he confirmed.

“Listen, Marcus tells me nothing, but I know him” you stopped him. “This is a trap. He won’t give nothing to you, maybe a bit of beating.”

“If he tells you nothing, then you clearly have no say in whether or not he will give us the briefcase” Viktor looked at you, glaring.

“Honestly, he doesn’t look like the type to just give it to you” Diego agreed with you. “But I say we turn this on them! We can fight them, wipe them out!”

“Hey! That’s my family you’re talking about!” you glared at Diego.

“Does it look like I care?” Diego scoffed.

“You’re going to do none of that” Viktor stopped him. “You couldn’t anyway.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah, instead, how about you bond with your spawn?” Klaus offered.

“Alleged spawn!” Diego corrected him.

“I will get the briefcase” Viktor spoke a bit louder, so the others would pay attention to him. “And then we’ll go back and fix the timeline.”

“Hey! We’re not going anywhere!” Five denied immediately. “This is a perfectly acceptable timeline!”

“Yeah, why don’t you go tell that to Allison, who’s upstairs, grieving her daughter, who doesn’t even exist here!” Viktor raised his voice.

“Not to mention we’ve been replaced by a bunch of blobs and cubes and birds and shit!” Diego commented.

“Hey! That’s my family!” you glared at him for the second or third time since the discussion started.

“I don’t care!” Diego raised his voice. “You’re all a bunch of assholes!”

“You know nothing about us!” you growled.

“Newsflash, geniuses! This isn’t about us!” Five yelled. “Take a look around. If you hadn’t noticed, there’s no doomsday! There’s no apocalypse. The sun is shining! Birds are doing whatever the hell birds do. That’s all that matters. We’re done messing with time” he took a breath. “And I’m officially retired.”

He got up, leaving your table. You thought only for a second, then got up to follow him.

“Hey, wait!” you yelled after him. “Five, right?”

“Yeah” he nodded. “What do you want?”

“Well…” you blinked. “I just… you seem like the only one who knows about all this time-space thing…”

“Yeah” he nodded, seeming impatient.

“I just… I wanted to ask you…”

“Spit it out!”

“What would happen to us if you did go back?” you rushed out, then took a breath. “If you changed the timeline… Would we all…”

“Die?” he asked and you nodded. “I wouldn’t worry about that. If we changed the timeline, you wouldn’t even exist. Meaning you wouldn’t remember any of this.”

“Oh” you looked down at your shoes.

“Well if that’s all…” he started, when suddenly the power went out.

Though it came back immediately, you saw the way Five looked around. Was this a bad sign?

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Taglist: @snixx2088, @lxkeeeee, @kimm4710, @popstarbarbiee, @inkedeye2345, @sagestack, @koshi-sama

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x you #ben hargreeves x y/n #the umbrella academy ben #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #tua ben #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n #sparrow!ben #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben x you #sparrow!ben x y/n

178 notes · View notes

malleleothreesome · 1 year ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe with Malleus

❤️ summary: Malleus' latest hyperfixation is mistletoe ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW, fluff, romance, Christmas centric but not religious ༶༶༶ ❤️ word count: 4k ༶༶༶ 💚 inspired by: this ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

Malleus listens intently to all the tales you have to tell, all the little pieces of your world, of yourself—all the little snippets that come rushing out from the recesses of your memories, painting a picture of your humanity and the universe you'd once inhabited. All the intricacies and details of how your family would spend Christmas, the foods, the gifts, the songs—he loves hearing all about your unique traditions and experiences. Malleus is endlessly grateful for each of these recollections that you decide to entrust him with—small moments of personal history that hold so much weight in shaping who you are. Your mind runs wild as your thoughts run rampant, a blur of vivid recollections that overwhelm you. Then, he sees the tears brimming on your lash line and the tremble of your lower lip, his heart sinking instantly when the painful weight of homesickness visibly crashes down upon you. His own emotions, his yearning, his gratitude are all clogged up in his throat. When the tears finally drip past your lashes and down your cheeks, you're swaddled in strong, firm arms that cradle you. Malleus doesn't bother with words as he shushes your sobs, only offering his comfort with the secure tuck of your frame against his larger form, and the gentle tracing of his elegant, gloved fingertips along the curve of your back in soothing circles. His soft humming is melodious against the crook of your shoulder, warm and welcoming as he surrounds you completely.

Wanting to make the Christmas season extra special for you, his dearest friend, Malleus spends copious hours poring over the plethora of holiday books he could acquire from the school library—reading and studying each festive tale, tradition, and legend until the pages are wrinkled with the oils from his fingertips. Each chapter carefully absorbed and ingrained into his psyche, his eyes sparkling alight with delight and fascination, relishing in the lightness and warmth of the holidays as he familiarized himself with this magical and jovial festivity. When Christmas rolls around the corner, Malleus ensures the front entrance to Ramshackle dorm is lit up and decked to the nines in brightly glowing lights strung all over the framework—an aura of luminescence and color enveloping the dilapidated architecture with festive spirit. The rest of the exterior of the Dorm was covered with glittering golden tinsel, wreaths, garlands and pinecones—whatever he had deemed as festive in his extensive research.

Malleus was determined to honor this strange holiday—a special and important part of your childhood—but unfortunately, none of the decorations, lights, or Christmas cheer were quite as meaningful and special as what he wanted it all to symbolize. When he heard about the tradition involving a parasitic plant, he was naturally intrigued by the idea that a plant would wilt away and die if not united with a particular organism—it could only flourish and thrive when entwined with its complementary other half. In return, the mistletoe would provide both beautiful flowers and ripe fruit, enhancing the lives of the forest around them and fostering harmony within the ecosystem. However, it was the usage of that plant during a kiss that truly made him delighted by its macabre nature and its value to this sacred human festivity. It seemed befitting somehow that the now dead mistletoe, the melancholy parasite that thrives in connection with others, could bring a measure of life and happiness to all who cross its path through a kiss under its eternal, desiccated embrace. Perhaps, this tradition could serve as his best effort to explain that this gesture was intended as a token of appreciation for the kindness you have extended to him—the pleasure and privilege of having you, such a splendid and bright star, in his dark and dreary world—his reward to you for making him feel alive with such an overwhelming sense of happiness that he didn't even know the sensation could exist until you entered into his life. For Malleus, you were the one to awaken him, to pull him from a long slumber and into your embrace, allowing him the privilege of knowing warmth, love, and joy once more. A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, unbidden, as he imagines the roots of the mistletoe spreading through both your lungs, finding nourishment in each other's energy, a complete symbiosis.

Malleus desired so much that your connection would be reciprocal, as intimate and profound as the magic of this holiday would allow. Though your relationship up until this point has remained platonic, he hopes the magic of this custom might give him permission to love and cherish you as so much more. From the moment he first laid his eyes on you, his heart had already made his decision. That fiery intensity of emotion for you has only been compounded with each meeting the two of you have shared—the yearning that only grows stronger with each moment he spends at your side. His feelings for you have reached a saturation point; the deep well of passion and affection that burns ever stronger within the confines of his chest will not be extinguished unless the source of all his turmoil is revealed and answered in due kind. At long last, he wastes no time in preparing the customary kiss. His heart yearns so dearly for it that even the constant tug of his usual shyness and trepidation could never possibly bring him to halt in his advances. Malleus promised himself that the delicate, thriving thing you and he were developing would not fall prey to the same pitiful demise as the mistletoe if left untouched and unwatered. If you did indeed feel similarly about him, he could only imagine the beauty and majesty that would blossom between your intertwined souls, a union of great and unstoppable potency, a lifetime of adoration and devotion.

Therefore, he procured a large branch of mistletoe, so ripe and abundant with sprigs that its small, white berries shimmered and shone. The hanging plant seemed to call out, in a sing-song tinkle of fairy bell laughs, for his beloved to walk underneath, so he could ensnare you in its clutches and give you an obligatory kiss you couldn’t refuse—or so he hoped. Malleus wrapped the strand with some festive red ribbon, decorated with twirling glittery snowflakes, making it shimmer under the twinkling rays of Christmas light. Then, he carefully balanced the mistletoe at the highest point above the doorsill and stepped back, admiring the way the golden glow of the lights would reflect off the glossy white berries, casting them in an ethereal iridescent glow that made them pop, dancing across its branches as though possessed by some Christmas spirit. They sang for you, just waiting for you to take Malleus up on their unspoken promise of his unrequited, hidden desires for your lips.

With that, Malleus knocked on your door. Though, despite his determination and his willpower—so vast and endless that his ambition was virtually limitless—Malleus couldn't help but be flustered, his hands trembling and sweat forming along his brow, heart rate beginning to rise like a swelling wave until he could hear it beating in his pointed ears. The silence that engulfed him was deafening as his mind replayed the myriad ways you might respond to his advances—sharing his sentiments, returning his affections, giving him the opportunity to finally love and kiss you the way he so desperately, hopelessly yearned. Or—perhaps, his advances could have an unwanted negative reaction, creating friction or even destroying your friendship—if not the very love he sought—completely. Undeterred by the looming anxiety that threatens to drown him like a tempest-wrought sea, his heart manages to remain valiant and brave, the steady rhythm keeping him tethered, ensuring him the courage to risk the possibility of breaking apart and dissipating with the winter wind that sieves through his lithe fingers.

As he hears the creaking footsteps along the old staircase inside, the adrenaline kicks in, giving him the fight or flight impulse he has been lacking, his legs stiffening, threatening to buckle from his immense nerves, knees trembling so harshly that he almost loses his balance. He shuts his eyes, trying to brace himself for whatever comes next, not allowing himself to breathe again until the knob finally gives way and the door is thrown open. At last, Malleus gazes upon your dazzling appearance, flooding his vision with an image he's dreamed about for weeks: you stand before him, bathed in the bright, effervescent light, glittering hues of gold and green like a present wrapped up just for him. Before he even allows you a moment to compose yourself and register his presence, Malleus can't help himself, the need to let his words rush out overwhelming him until his syllables practically stumble over each other.

"I wish to partake in the traditional parasite with you," he tells you quickly, trying to sound confident despite the urgent desperation to speak leaking through in his strained vocal chords, struggling to hide the shakiness that attempts to invade and taint the voice he wanted to convey his longing for you with. His words are filled with hope and trepidation, his emerald eyes wide with vulnerability as the mistletoe glistens under the shimmer of lights he personally strung up, bathing the two of you and your surroundings in a magnificent luminance that casts a perfect spellbinding glow upon the scene. Your mouth falls slightly ajar as your eyelids flutter in confusion before registering his intention, noticing the way his expectant eyes dart between your lips and the hanging plant above your door frame, his intense gaze giving you the most telling implication. The sudden realization of his motive renders your whole being paralyzed. Your face heats up from the sheer impossibility of the moment and your brain fizzles into a complete and utter daze, unsure how to comprehend the enormity of the offer he's extending.

An eternity seemed to pass as the seconds ticked on, his dark brows knitting together as the mist and tension seemed to wrap around the both of you. The sting of the cold wind whistled past the space that seemed to shrink between the two of you in unbearable torment. A curtain of lacy snow was falling around, shrouding everything in a dull glow. The night itself seemed to be in a strange sort of serenity and apprehension—watching his eyes lock onto you so intently and feeling his breath, hot and heavy, mingling in the frost between the two of you. The foggy mist of the cool evening air floats through your hair, tiny particles of frozen water suspended around you and shimmering brilliantly as the beams of multicolored lights shine past and illuminate each crystalline droplet in a celestial aura.

Despite it all, your focus was on him alone.

Finally, he was able to collect the breath stolen from his lungs and continue his confession, taking your floundering silence as an invitation for his explanation. "I had wished to spend some time with you under a mistletoe, even though this is something that humans usually do with their partners or loved ones..." he admits sheepishly. You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped your lips when you saw how glassy and emotive his eyes were, the sparkling lights catching the yellow flecks in his viridescent stare.

A shadowy flush washes over his pale complexion as he allows the words he had tried so long to repress to come flowing freely from his lips. "I've noticed how sad you seemed since you were removed from your world, and I wanted to bring you a little of the Christmas cheer you're accustomed to. I wanted to ensure we'd have a pleasant Christmas, especially with how often you've shown me such loving kindness," a sigh escaped his throat, "you've gone to such great lengths, I wanted you to know just how much you mean to me..." His fingers thread together anxiously as he continues his ramblings. "I was so excited to learn the Christmas tales, legends, and histories behind all the traditions... There is so much joy and good-will involved. It seemed a befitting way to honor our time together. As my beloved friend—," his tone holds a subtle note of reluctance to his last statement as he lingers on the term a bit too long. "I wanted to ensure your time in Twisted Wonderland wasn't depressing, and that you experienced Christmas as best you could under your circumstances." The more his sentences seem to elongate, the further he's pulled into himself and begins to overthink every minuscule aspect of his interaction.

The wind picks up slightly, blowing his silky, ebony locks away from his forehead, revealing the shiny scales that cascade up the top half of his head as his horns poke out through the billowing strands. His long, heavy cloak trails behind him, sweeping up the fresh piles of glittery snowfall, shimmering under the auras of the decorative lights he painstakingly strung for you. Malleus was so imposing in the darkness of the night—there's an ineffable beauty to it as his skin seems to emit its own soft glow. Yet, despite his frightening appearance, he appears so docile and timid standing before you with his head bowed, one foot dragging the toe of his boot along the white slush and ice, kicking clumps of snowy wisps, attempting to abate his mounting anxiety.

"...Are you aware, child of man, of the nature and symbolism of the mistletoe?" He pauses and peers into your eyes, emerald pools pleading for mercy as a crack opens within him, revealing his fluttering soul for your scrutiny, allowing you to glimpse his emotional state in a rare display. "Mistletoe requires the partnership and nourishment of another to keep it flourishing—without its partner, it will wither and die a gruesome death, gasping, desperate, starving..." The strain on his tone is audible, words full of unspeakable yearning as he pines so desperately, the loneliness of centuries seeming to distill within a single, all-encompassing desire for your acceptance and love. His Adam's apple bobs with a hard gulp of apprehension as he seeks the approval he longs for deep within your gaze, hoping he has finally found the love of which he has searched for since the first heartbeat he has taken.

"No matter where it falls, or how strong its stem or seed, it will perish without another plant to sustain and nurture it," his explanation was grave and yet somehow poetic, holding you entranced with rapt attention. Each sentence was meant to mimic his struggle—the endless waiting, and the desperate need for companionship that has weighed so heavy on his aching heart for so long. The solemn confession of a hopeless romantic, yearning desperately for the chance to take root, plant his soul and spread until all the ache was gone, replaced by the warmth and fulfillment of life only a partner could give him.

"And yet, if the two plants come into symbiosis with each other, the result is breathtaking—one would not expect something so simple would possess such transcendent beauty and vibrance," his melodic tenor takes on an ethereal quality, as the wondrous facts he learned are once again brought to the surface, replacing the melancholy in the air. "Mistletoe is capable of blossoming to life; producing flowers and bearing fruits when combined with its host, providing an environment for both plants to flourish and thrive," his heart picks up its pace at the subtle meaning and implication behind his words. "Once a healthy mistletoe becomes entangled with its beloved, the pair remain connected and thrive, ultimately strengthened by the bonds forged in interdependency, blooming brightly against the frigid temperatures of winter." Malleus' soul is brimming and bubbling over with the hope and anticipation of a relationship with you and, in an instant, Malleus understands what it truly means to be alive.

"Since you first crossed my path, the mistletoe within my chest grew with such ravenous appetite, longing to reach out to your heart and find harmony, sharing in warmth and nurturing life. You, my lovely starlight, are a plant of the utmost virtue," he gently caresses your cheek as you fall deeper under his enchantment. His words have rendered you completely immobilized, the smooth silk of his voice ensnaring you, unable to escape its sweet whispers and dulcet tone. "For the first time in all of my years, the bud inside me began to bear fruit and opened my eyes to a paradise I never thought possible. Through a simple act of your kindness, you have breathed life into my tired and aching heart and granted me new purpose." Malleus cups your face so delicately, long, tapered fingers stroking the curve of your cheekbones in loving affection. He gazes at you with glowing, adoring eyes, staring deep into the infinite possibilities of your future together. The soft plumes of the falling snowflakes softly embrace you as his feather-light touch communicates all his longing and unspoken passions. You allow yourself to bask in the tender and raw vulnerability of his heart as the glimmering lights and stars in the sky shine with the promise of a brighter tomorrow for you both.

"I had spent many years in unending isolation. Each passing second in your presence was the happiest, most indescribable euphoria. It took a considerable amount of time to discover these feelings and become aware that they are associated with the yearning for intimacy, something which I was denied for a great amount of my lifespan. I've long desired the things I've learned your Christmas legends signify," the words leave him on a wistful sigh, an endless source of elation. "Of family, comfort, love... All that I desire for Christmas is you," he concludes softly. "It was thanks to my research into the mistletoe that I realized how much I needed your lips as though without them I would never draw another breath, so I ask... Do you wish to be mine? Could I have the gift of your lips, of a kiss?" he requests breathlessly as the tip of his tapered thumb ghosts across the flesh of your plush lower lip, sending shivers throughout your whole being.

At last, the confessions of his affections toward you reach their inevitable resolution, allowing the culmination and coalescence of every feeling and emotion within his soul to burst forth like fireworks, shooting off into the midnight air in an explosion of beauty and intensity that would cause any witness to pause and stare in awe of the magic of the night. Like the soft, romantic tones of Christmas music and the enchanted glimmers of holiday lights, Malleus' spell woven in the lyrics of his confession engulfs you in an aurora borealis of ardent devotion. The feeling of his hands against your cheeks radiates warmth and comfort as he cradles your visage close, tender and secure against the soft flurries that flow all around you, surrounding you with an intimate aura of holiday mirth. You find yourself leaning into his touch as your heart and soul yearn to return the depths of his affection, so openly displayed across his handsome, captivating features. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, your knees threatening to buckle from his searing yet unyielding stare, you gather the strength to utter the most wonderful syllables you have ever experienced the pleasure of pronouncing—the sum of every single one of his blessings wrapped up neatly into one succinct phrase.

"I love you, too."

Your voice was shaky, unsteady, cracking under the emotion, but the message was unmistakable. The intensity of the moment rendered Malleus stunned and speechless, tears of delight stinging his emerald eyes, brimming at the waterline with the intensity of his joy. Every single day was spent thinking of the next instance where the two of you might cross paths and now, you'd just given him the most spectacular present in the world. Malleus doesn't think about anything else, he just leans in, lips parted ever so slightly, barely containing the gasping breath that escapes his throat as his nose nudges yours and his entire world collapses upon itself before igniting with an incandescence of pure elation. With all the delicate adoration of his whole, enchanted being, he offers you a sweet brush of his soft, inviting lips against yours. A whimper emanates from his mouth as a trembling sob of disbelief is unleashed, reverberating between the two of you and sending every last vestige of his restrained sentiment into you, engulfing your heart in a fervid embrace that crushes you with all the weight of his desperation—his centuries' worth of desire and craving for an end to his misery.

Despite having never been kissed, his lips moved confident and gentle, as though it were as natural as his very breath, or the thrum of his heart. The sensations were unparalleled—better than his wildest expectations as your flesh entwined with his, mingling the pliant texture and pillowy warmth. A satisfied sigh rolls past his tongue, which teases the seam of your mouth, offering gentle, fleeting sensations as he licks and teases your bottom lip. A series of jolts rock your frame when his fangs accidentally nip at the skin. The sound that leaks from his throat as he swipes his tongue over the wound and laps up the warm, metallic liquid of your blood is guttural and broken with the raw emotion of being deprived of such ecstasy for so long. It was heavenly—to finally be united and experience the taste of love, passion, and the transcendent rapture of the one and only person to ever make him feel such happiness.

He swallows every whimper and moan of your kiss, reveling in the sounds that permeate through your entangled forms and dance on the frosted wind. Your fingers come to thread through his silk-like locks, nails grazing his scalp until a shudder rattles his chest and his tongue can't help but invade the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. There's a subtle pressure placed on the base of your skull, adding a deeper angle, so that he may completely envelope and taste the sweetness of your saliva as you revel in each other. When the chill of the winter winds brings forth the full impact of the cold, and the mistletoe spins aimlessly under its icy breath, swaying above, you are undeterred in the bliss of your newfound love. Your noses smudge as you press yourself further, gaining deeper contact and savoring each brush of his deft, explorative tongue and the tickle of his heated breath fanning against the sensitive surface of your palette. The kiss sparks flames within you that make you forget the bitter chill, warming the deepest crevices of your core, staving off the frigidness of the night and replacing it with the cozy, fluffy heat of your love. You clutch desperately, latching onto the black tailcoat and pressing the muscles and softness of your bodies even closer, desperate for each touch, wanting him as close to your form as you can manage. The fullness of your feelings for each other, and the completeness of his confession, finally come together in a bittersweet, perfect dance of two souls. Forever bound, hearts thudding in unison as you two continue to exchange kisses underneath the mistletoe, filling this merry season with newfound glee and a holiday tradition all your own.

When you two finally make it inside, you sit comfortably with his arms wrapped around you atop a pile of plush blankets, surrounded by mounds of pillows under the twinkling lights of the massive tree he had erected and draped in garland. Next to him, there was nowhere better you'd rather be, snuggling deeper into his warmth, burying yourself in his embrace and cuddled tight under his heavy, weighted cloak as the roaring fire before you burned in a warmth that reflected that of the deep, profound affection the two of you shared for each other. As he held you in his lap, surrounded by the soft music playing in the background and the decorations he'd strung, he looks at you with excitement alight on his beautiful visage, eager to share more fun facts about his latest hyperfixation. With the shimmering lights refracting across the deep emerald pools of his gaze, he starts to ramble, "Did you know, mistletoe is also a sacred symbol of fertility—"

Woah, woah, woah, woah... I just spent all day working on this, its like, 10:30pm and now I'm just now eating mac and cheese for dinner. I really love what I created, I hope you all do too. This was fulfilling a request for my 12 Days of TWSTmas event, so uh, anon, I'm not sure if this is what you expected of me... I think I projected my own newfound mistletoe hyperfixation onto Malleus a bit too hard, but I hope this meets your expectations. I'm desperate to hear all your thoughts on this one, I really want you guys to love this as much as I do! I wish I had more to say here, but my brain is melting. My exhausted brain longs to sign this off like a corporate email. Best, Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #malleyuu #twst imagines #malleus draconia fluff #my writing

526 notes · View notes

firstdivisiongirl · 11 months ago

Note

If I could may I please request a Law x reader? Where reader is really creative and artsy, they love doodling on Law or coloring/decorating his tattoos

Hey there. This was a really cute idea. I can't even begin to explain how much I liked your idea. I'm really happy you brought this request to me. I hope you enjoy it!

Law x Reader: Adding Color to His World

Law didn’t see life in color. He could see colors, but to him, everything was mundane and simple. You, on the other hand, saw the color in everything. Everything to you was bright and complex. That is what made you two such a good team. You balanced each other out.

As an artist and the Heart Pirates’ painter, you were in charge of any repairs to the exterior paint of the Polar Tang, as well as the interior. And let’s just say since you came on the ship, the Polar Tang was a lot more colorful. And Law loved that about you. He loved that you brought color to this mundane world, like Corazon did. You two got close and love blossomed.

That led you to where you were now. The two of you sat on the deck of the Polar Tang. The sun was shining and the sky was a beautiful light blue shade, very few clouds. He was sitting there on a lawn chair, relaxing and reading a medical book. Suddenly, he noticed that you were doing something to his arms and shoulders. He looked down at you. You had all of your markers and you were coloring in his tattoos. You were were very focused.

“Why are you coloring my tattoos? You have canvas and paper,” he asked, looking down at you perplexed. You looked up with a smile.

“Because I think you need a little color in them. It’s boring to just have boring black tattoos,” you replied before going back to focus on your art project.

“Is there a reason for each color?”

“Of course! They represent everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah. All the people who love you.”

You explained to him how each color was for a different member. You colored in one gear yellow and the other orange to represent Ikakku and Penguin who had hats with those colors on them. You colored the one heart on his shoulder blue, which was Bepo’s favorite color. The other heart was pink, which was the color of Corazon’s shirt he always wore. The heart on his chest you colored in red because you loved him and you wore red the day you met him. Since day one, you added color into his world. And he knew, he wanted nothing to do with gray anymore.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

249 notes · View notes

leapingbadger · 5 months ago

Text

Sunrise

@oliviaeatworld had a post about Hunter being able to sense ghosts and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote a short story about it.

Summary: Hunter discovers her can sense ghosts.

Word count: 2151

Read on AO3

Hunter finally got up after he had been awake for over an hour. He padded over to the small kitchen to prepare the cup of caf he needed to start the day. His routine didn’t change much these days. He enjoyed the calm and quiet of the morning while the others slept. He could hear Wrecker’s soft snoring coming from behind his door. Batcher’s collar jingled as she rolled over in her bed.

It had been five months since Tantis, since they had stopped running. They were safe at last. Something Hunter had struggled to believe possible at times.

Living in a home was something Hunter had never known he wanted. The domesticity of stone and wood over Kamino’s sterile white or industrial grey was a dichotomy he’d never imagined he’d experience. Shep had been kind enough to give them a vacant home and they had slowly set to work, making it their own.

The home was like most of the others on Pabu with its white stone exterior and curved doorframes and rooms. It was cozy but spacious enough to fit them all comfortably. They would spend their evenings cooking meals in the modest kitchen with Wrecker taking point as head chef. He had been so enamored with Shep’s food he had asked for lessons on how to prepare it himself.

One of the larger bedrooms was divided into two so they all had their own private space. The rooms all connected to the central common space so they were never too far away from each other if someone needed something, or had a nightmare.

Omega had helped them pick out colors for the walls of their respective bedrooms. She thrived on the idea of them putting down roots, making things their own. Hunter was amazed at her ability to bounce back from her experience on Tantis. She would never be that same small, innocent girl they had taken off Kamino and Hunter had to wrestle with that often. She had to become a soldier out of necessity, but now, seeing her curled up on the couch with a book or laughing with Liana, he hoped she was someone who could settle in the peace of this place. It was all he ever wanted for her.

The left bedroom belonged to Crosshair. He kept his room pretty sparse but did let Omega choose a calming, pale green for the walls. His bed was lofted which gave him the space below for his art. He had taken to painting in the last few months, initially as therapy for his augmented hand but Hunter knew it had helped heal his mind just as much. Canvases were propped against the walls and stacked next to the easel. Batcher’s bed was tucked in the corner. She alternated between his and Omega’s room.

Wrecker was next to Crosshair and had chosen a deep maroon. The color was reminiscent of their old armor. Hunter wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not but it felt like a warm hug whenever you walked inside, if you didn’t trip over something. Posters hung crooked on the walls. They reminded Hunter of the ones they had had on the marauder. Wrecker had chosen those too now that he came to think about it.

Omega’s room was in between Wrecker and Hunters, she had chosen a bright, golden color that seemed to sparkle in the morning sun. Hunter couldn’t help but think how perfect it was for a girl who shined light wherever she went. She had Lula propped up on a pillow on her bed. Tech’s goggles were on her nightstand, silently watching over her.

Hunter’s room was bare like Crosshairs’. The walls were still the original, pale white. Omega asked him weekly if he had decided on a color yet, but he was struggling to commit to anything. It’s almost like there was too much choice. He still felt a little at sea. He loved their life on Pabu but almost felt that it was too good to be true. He was waiting for whatever was around the corner.

The Pabu sunrise was glowing gold and scarlet as Hunter made his way out onto the stone patio. He was still getting used to the feel of cold rock on his feet. He missed the clang of his boots on the floor of the Marauder, but that time had passed.

He let out a sign as he sat on a wooden bench on the patio, his caf cupped in his hands as he gazed out over the harbor. Most of the boats were already out, looking for today’s catch. He closed his eyes to let his senses take over. He heard moon-yos chattering at the weeping maya tree on Pabu’s crest. The air tasted like salt and honey from the fruit trees littered around the island. He could even hear the murmuring of those at the docks and market. But there was something else.

Hunter sat up taller in his seat and opened his eyes. It wasn’t anything alarming, but it was something his senses couldn’t quite touch, something he couldn’t quite explain. He closed his eyes again, brow furrowed on concentration as he tried to decern the feeling. It was almost like it was sending magnetic frequencies, but it wasn’t tangible, he couldn’t feel it, he just sensed it.

His mind quickly went to the Empire. He opened his eyes and searched the sky. Was it a weapon? a ship? A threat? But all he saw was the blue Pabu sky, dotted with high clouds that drifted slowly over the sea.

Hunter shook his head to try and push the feeling away. He was probably just imagining it.

“Do not doubt your intuition” a voice said in his head. It sounded like Tech. It was something his brother had told him often, especially as cadets when he was trying to figure out how his enhancements worked and what good they were.

There was a time when Hunter didn’t know what it meant to smell a droids or taste blood in the air or feel electromagnetic frequencies, when his head felt like it was vibrating on the inside but didn’t know why. Tech had been the one to take an interest, to talk him through it and help him figure out what it meant.

They would often camp on the floor of their bunk room, covers contorted into a sensory deprivation room. Hunter would sit inside, blindfolded while Tech remained outside and would prompt him. “What do you smell now? What can you sense? How close am I?” Hunter sometimes felt like one of Tech’s science experiments, but when it started working, when he was able to focus and recall and tap into his sense on command, it became an obsession. It became impossible not to want to learn more.

He sighed as he shook his head again. There should be a room for Tech here, he thought sadly. No matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t a moment when Hunter didn’t turn around and expect to see his brother’s goggles staring back at him, data pad in hand, alert and ready.

Hunter suddenly jerked his body away, involuntarily from the space next to him on the bench. In an instant it had felt like someone, or something was there. He stood up and looked at the space. He knew someone was there, he just couldn’t see them.

He dropped his caf and let the mug break against the tile while simultaneously grabbing for his virboknife. He stood, hunched in attack position, staring at a vacant space. The birds still chirped; the salt air fell into his lungs as his rapid breathing took it in. There was nothing there.

“Trust your senses,” The voice said again. It was tiney and faint, like it was coming ever so lightly through a speaker on the other side of the planet.

“Tech?” Hunter said aloud, feeling stupid as soon as he did.

“Hunter, I’ve been trying to reach you for a while. Are your senses dulling with age?”

I’m not that old, Hunter thought as he looked across Pabu to make sure he wasn’t losing his grip on reality. Islanders were milling around, chatting as they walked to get groceries or took a pet for a walk along the winding paths.

He turned his attention back to the empty space that somehow wasn’t empty and sat down.

“Tech? is that you? How can I… how can you?... what…”

“I have always been with you, Hunter. All of you” the voice said. Hunter wasn’t ready to believe yet, how could this be? Tech was dead, he’d heard him pull the trigger, Wrecker had seen him fall. He was gone. Maybe Hunter had finally let the stress of the last few years get to him.

“I don’t know what you are but you’re not him,” Hunter said quietly, sorrowfully.

“When we were in the rail car you didn’t speak over the comm when I mentioned Plan 99 because you knew it was the only way. You would never have asked me to do it. Would have done anything to save me, but you knew it was the only way to save you all. And so, you were silent. And that haunts you every second of every day.”

“How can you… How is this possible?”

“My guess is that you can sense things that until now, we couldn’t quite comprehend, Including the dead.”

“if that was the case, why didn’t that happen on every battlefield we every stepped foot on,” he couldn’t believe he was having conversation with a bodiless voice, not even a voice, a sense. He didn’t hear the words out loud; the conversation was happening in his head. He rubbed his hands over his face and eyes, but the conversation did not end.

“It is just a hypothesis, but I imagine it involves a connection, a kinship. We lived together all our lives. You can sense me in death just like you could sense me in life.”

Hunter signed. It sounded like Tech. He’d seen enough to know the galaxy was vast, and he knew very little about most of it. If Jedi could use the force to move objects, who’s to say he can’t sense the dead.

“How are you, Tech?” he said out loud, his voice soft.

“I am fine. You do not have to worry, Hunter. I do not feel any pain and I did not feel anything when I fell...It… It was not your fault; it was my choice. It was a choice I would make again, as I know you would have made it in my place if given the opportunity.

“It should have been me,” Hunter hung his head and brushed as a tear off his tattooed cheek.

“You are exactly where you are needed,” Tech replied

“We miss you. Omega misses you a lot”

“I know.” Tech said and the voice sounded sad for the first time. “I have enjoyed watching her grow up, even if I cannot be there in person. She is quite the pilot.”

Hunter smiled, “yes, she is. She’s a remarkable kid.”

“A great deal of that is down to you, Wrecker and Crosshair,”

“And you,” Hunter added, looking at the vacant space on the bench. If he closed his eyes he could see Tech sitting there, a blurry white outline, but he was there. He sensed Tech smile.

“You used to say Omega deserves to settle down with a family. Did she get the life she deserves?”

“Yeah, I think she did, Tech. I think we all did…except you,” Hunter said

“I am always here, Hunter. I join you for caf most mornings.

Hunter raised his eyebrow in surprise, but a smile spread to his lips. “I’ll be sure to say hello more often, then.”

“I would like that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must catch up with a certain pirate,”

Hunter chuckled as he sensed Tech leave. The air returned to normal next to him, the voice disappeared and the volume of the world around him fell back into its normal rhythm.

Hunter took a deep breath and knelt down to pick up the shattered pieces of his cup.

“Hunter, we’re going down to the beach. Batcher needs a run. Do you want to come?” Omega strode out of the door, her blonde hair falling into her eyes, her blue lurka hound bounding after her and leaning against Hunter’s leg for a scratch.

“Sure kid,” he said. He threw the broken cup away and put his arm around her shoulder as they started on the winding path to lower Pabu.

“Hey, I think I’ve picked a color for my room,” he told her.

“Really? Which one?” her eyes bright with surprise.

“I’m thinking turquoise,”

“That was Tech’s favorite color,” she said fondly.

“Yeah kid. It was”

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #star wars #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #hunter tbb #sw tbb #tbb wrecker #bad batch fanfic #bad batch #bad batch wrecker #star wars the bad batch #star wars tbb

111 notes · View notes

edgeray · 10 months ago

Text

Vixen

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

A/N: Last Arlecchino post before I go back to classes. 😿This is a hybrid au! blurb from my poll, and it's likely I won't make a oneshot out of this idea. It's still a really cute concept, so maybe I'll make another blurb of this concept or another hybrid au! idea. concept. Shoutout to @megistusdiary for this adorable idea of Artic Fox Arlecchino! (Love you CEO of Arlecchino!) For those of you guys that weren't entirely... pleased with my 'Arlecchino is not a person' blurb I offer this piece in favor of having my life spared. Content Warning: Pretty OOC for Arlecchino, mentioned but not graphic injury, 2.2k words

Arlecchino is as beautiful as snow.

It's the first thing you've noticed when your eyes laid upon the hybrid Harbinger. Beneath the silky snow-white fur and graceful, cordial appearance, you recognize that a predator laid underneath her exterior; a feral fox ready to lash at anything that so much as touches what was deemed hers. You don't let her sleek, fluffy coat distract you from her red-crossed eyes or her black claws.

Still, it is futile to deny her beauty.

You recall your first meeting with her in Snezhnaya, trudging through its frosty forests in nearly knee-deep snow. You don't quite remember what your purpose for being there was, though you ventured out to the wilderness behind your home often with no real purpose. Snow crunching underneath your boots, you admire the pristine, white landscape that no other place in Teyvat could display.

Here, your sight is met with a frost-covered plane, a frozen river cutting between you and a forest, the silhouette of a grand mountain behind the conifers. The sun hangs low, just above the peaks of the mountain, painting the sky as a gradient of topaz oranges and honey yellows. The only noise that fills the air is the whispers of the occasional winter breeze, blowing through your hair and making you shiver. Captivated by this picturesque scene, you simply stand and observe what's around you, your stare unbreaking.

That is until your ears pick up on a noise, a soft whine in the distance. You can tell it's not human-like, more like a cry that a puppy would make, but nonetheless, you're curious. There's another similar sound, this one more faint, but you let your ears guide you to the source of the noise until you near the edge of another wooded area of the wilderness.

What your eyes set on shocks you. A relatively large white blob sits amongst red patches of snow around. Is that blood? Approaching closer, you realize it's a rather large animal with white fur, and you assume that it's a Snezhnayan Snow Wolf from its size, though it's hard to tell with its back turned away. It's struggling to stand up fully; one of its hind legs appears to be injured given how it's not putting as much weight on it when it limps through the snow. You watch it struggle a little, wary of approaching a wild animal especially one of that size before you witness it collapse. Not intent on just observing the poor creature, you walks towards it, making your presence known so as to not startle it abruptly.

It whips its head and locks eyes with you. It is then, you chillingly discern, that this is no ordinary Teyvat creature. It's bigger than what wolves can grow up to, and its ears and tails don't match that of a wolf. Its ears are shorter in height and more triangular and its tail is much thicker than the average wolf's. Notably, on its legs, the fur darkens from white to pitch black, the color encompassing its feet entirely. This is something unseen in any snow creature you've come across. But most striking of all is its gaze. Red pupils with ebony eyes matching its feet, it watches you calculatingly.

You expect it to growl or snarl or make any sort of noise a wild, cornered creature would, but you get nothing besides continued staring. It's unsettling, but it should be a good thing that it hasn't perceived you as a threat yet, right. Regardless though, you still try to verbally communicate with it.

"Hey, I'm just here to help okay? I won't hurt you. If I do, you can, I don't know, bite my face off or something?" You awkwardly reassure it as you kneel beside the animal. It simply tilts its head to lock eye contact, and you half-expect it to bite you without warning.

Although it feels pointless to talk to a wild animal, you ask, "Can I touch you?" Expectedly, there's no response, but you take it as permission. You place a tentative hand over its fur, brushing your hand through its fur. It's incredibly soft, almost like how you'd imagine what touching a cloud feels like. It's a light and immaculate coat. But you didn't come here just to pet it.

"You have a really pretty coat," you compliment the fox(? Let's stick with that for now), before your fingers trail down to where the blood originated. It's a clean, deep laceration across the length of its back leg. What could have injured it like this? There's no other marks on the leg, so it can't be a claw from another animal. This was a precise cut, something that only a human can do.

"Did someone do this to you?" You wonder out loud in a sorrowful tone. What kind of human could harm such a beautiful creature? Unbeknownst to you, its ears twitched in response.

You get to work treating the wound with the emergency equipment you always carried when you ventured. There's no resistance or protest from canine, and you question if this is really an animal you're treating. How it hadn't budged one bit as you cleaned its wound, you're not sure, but you're just glad it hasn't shown one sign of aggression towards you. If you clean it and allow the skin to heal, the cut will likely heal independently. Once you've wrapped the final bandage around its leg, you glance at the fox's eyes again.

Not even once did it stop watching you.

You try to comfort yourself from the disturbing fact by observing how cute it is and imagining what it would be like to snuggle with it. It's when you notice the sun was setting, and dusk is approaching quickly. This typically wouldn't be a problem, but as you increasingly grew worried, a distinct problem struck out. You're lost.

"Well, shit."

Guess you have to set up camp. You hate the thought of having to spend the night out here, but you have no choice. You won't be able to make out anything soon from how dark this place gets. It's not your first time doing so, but you hate it still. With the remaining minutes of sun you have left, you gather as many sticks and branches as possible before you light them with a match, creating a campfire. You lay a little close to the fox, which seems to have also decided to make the campfire its resting place for now.

You cocoon yourself with a thick blanket.

"You'll keep me safe, right...?" You ask of the fox. No response. How very assuring.

Despite the bundles of fabric purposed for helping with extreme temperatures, you find yourself still shivering. You're cold, not to the point of frostbite, but your form can't stop trembling, your teeth chattering.

"It's too fucking cold for this shit," you groan, hugging yourself for extra warmth and curling into a fetal position. As you curse yourself for getting lost, you hear a shuffle, and the crunch of snow. Before you can even search for the origins of the sound, you feel a warm, large weight against your back--it's something soft. You look over your shoulder to see white fur and then look back to where the fox was originally: it's no longer there. Instead, it's pressed against you, sharing its body warmth with you.

"Mmm... good kit," you tiredly drawl as you absorb its heat greedily, enjoying the texture of its coat. It makes falling asleep easy.

Before you drift to sleep, you swore you heard a human, feminine voice purr from behind you.

"Annoying little vixen."

When you wake up, you expect to be met with white--white snow and fur. You are only met with one of those. Your eyes adjust to the pricking sunlight that stab into your vision. Surprisingly, you're warm even with the chill that you feel cascade against your cheeks. Memories of the night prior start piecing together. You still feel the fox's presence, though, strangely, the weight behind you doesn't seem nearly as soft or large as you remember. And something is draped around your midsection. You look down, expecting to a fur-covered limb.

Instead, it's a human arm that is wraps around your form, holding flushed against a person and your heart skids to a stop. The forearm is black with gold and ebony markings on its surface, but the dark color fades into pale skin. Is this person even human? A humanoid? A hybrid? With your rising panic, you become increasingly more aware of the presence that has you encaged in their embrace. You can't turn to look who is behind you in fear of waking them up--you don't know what they'll do to you once they're awake.

The soft snoring behind your ear and the warm breath brushing against your nape makes you shiver. However, what you do notice is how warm their body is; they exude a body heat that's abnormal. Do they produce their own heat from within? You know of very little creatures that can do that, let alone humans. Maybe an external source? Like a vision?

Then a sudden thought comes to you. Has this person been... sleeping with you to keep you warm? Is this person somehow the fox you helped? Deciding to risk it, you twist your head to look over your shoulder.

Red-crossed pupils glare back at you and your entire form freezes. Faced with perhaps the most gorgeous woman ever, a pale, unblemished face framed by ivory hair and some ebony strands appear before you.

"You're awake," her gruff voice comes out and the tips of your ears burn from being caught awake.

"Y-yes," you stammer out, still trying to recover from the shock. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

She hums in response before unfurling her arm from your body and standing up. Immediately, your body misses her warmth and you shudder, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. You sit up with her and it's then that you realize that she is indeed a hybrid. The same ears from the fox last night matches those on her head, and there's a tail that swishes lightly from behind her.

You take the time to admire her clothes, the question of where she got them slipping from your mind. She dons a marble white and slate gray jacket over a corset-type shirt with black and a matching gray and wears black pants. Her outfit reminds you of similar attire to Snezynayan nobles. What is someone of her status out here? Something about her seems vaguely familiar, though you don't quite know why.

"You're the... fox from last night," you dumbly state.

"Correct."

"But you're a human now."

"Astute observation," she huffed with a bit of mockery in her voice and you chuck snow in her direction.

"I've never seen a hybrid before, cut me some slack!" You snap back in faux anger. You let out a sigh, before you flick your attention to her leg. You can't see the wound because of her leggings, but you presume that it's still there.

"Who hurt you before?" You rasp out, corner eminent in your words and expression.

"That's not of your concern," she answers in a curt manner, making you wince.

You bite your bottom lip, a bit frustrated from the quick shut refusal, but you know she shouldn't pry. For as beautiful as she is, both in her human and fox form, you know just from the unsettling... sensation she emitted that she was dangerous, not to be disturbed or poked to much. You figure you should probing her on what led to this situation.

"Can I know who you are?" You question instead.

The fox hybrid steeps in silence for a few moments. Her facial muscles softening just the bit, the red flare in her eyes glowing. Then, a crack in her hardened expression, a small smile graces her lips.

"Arlecchino."

Bonus (Content Warning: VERY Suggestive. Like the closest thing to a smut I'll get.)

"Arlecchino."

"Mmh?"

"I need to get up."

"Just a little longer, kit."

"Arle, I love you, but I will kick you."

"With what functioning legs?"

"Is this why you wanted to dick me down? So you can harass me with no consequences?"

"Exactly."

You grit your teeth, trying to peel her arms off of your bare form, but the fox hybrid persists, keeping you glued to her as she nibbles gently on the skin of your nape. To emphasize her hold, her tail curls around one of your legs, its grasp tight and ensuring you can't go anywhere.

"Annoying little vixen," you groan, pulling the covers off of the two of you.

Arlecchino purrs into your shoulder, and her hands trail from your midsection down to your hips. Her tail caresses your inner thigh and you shudder.

"Again?" You gasp in dulled surprise as you feel her rise and she flips your body over to be beneath her. One blackened claw hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with hers and pressing your hand into the mattress behind you. The other hooks underneath one of your legs, raising the leg over her shoulder.

"Of course. After all, I need to ensure you take my kits."

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fic #arlecchino smut #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

254 notes · View notes

wallpaintsforyourhome · 4 months ago

Text

Get expert advice on interior paint with Dulux India's FAQ. Learn how to choose colours, sheens, and the best paints for every room to achieve a perfect finish.

#wall paint #paint ideas #color scheme #homedesign #exterior wall paint

0 notes

knoepfl · 2 months ago

Text

A Crazy Christmas Surprise

8/24

Characters

• Jinx: An unpredictable, chaotic individual battling the voices in her head and her own unhinged thoughts. Beneath her manic exterior, she craves connection and understanding.

• Reader (You): Jinx’s steadfast partner, determined to bring her joy and comfort despite the challenges of her mental state. Creative, caring, and deeply empathetic.

Trigger Warnings

• Mental health struggles: References to hallucinations, loneliness, and erratic behavior due to Jinx’s mental state.

• Chaotic themes: Jinx’s love for destruction and her manic energy are present throughout the story.

Masterlist

Words: 799

It had been weeks since you’d noticed Jinx’s hallucinations growing worse. She was more erratic than usual, talking to the voices in her head louder, losing herself in conversations with ghosts only she could see. The chaos in her mind seemed to be winning, and it broke your heart.

---

The streets of Zaun never really celebrated Christmas in the way Piltover did, with its grand displays and extravagant lights. Down here, the holiday was just another day for most people, filled with the same struggles to survive. But for you, this Christmas felt like it had to be different.

You loved her, every messy, brilliant, and unhinged part of her. And tonight, you were going to remind her she wasn’t alone, no matter how loud the voices in her head got.

The warehouse you both called home was unusually quiet when Jinx returned. She swung the heavy doors open, her trusty minigun strapped to her back, her eyes darting around suspiciously.

“Helloooo?!” she called out, her voice echoing in the dimly lit space.

The lights flickered on, and she froze. The usually dingy room was transformed. String lights were draped across the walls, casting a warm glow, and brightly colored streamers dangled from the ceiling. In the center of it all stood a massive pile of boxes, haphazardly wrapped in mismatched paper, topped with a glittery bow.

You stepped out from behind the pile, grinning nervously. “Surprise!”

Jinx blinked, her mismatched eyes wide with disbelief. “What… what is all this?”

“It’s Christmas!” you said, throwing your arms out. “I figured you’ve never really had one before, so… I wanted to make it special.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her fingers twitching as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You… did all this? For me?”

“Of course, I did,” you replied, stepping closer. “You deserve something good, Jinx. Something fun. Something just for you.”

Her lips twitched, and she let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s kinda cheesy, don’t you think? All the lights and the… bow?”

“Very cheesy,” you agreed, grinning. “But you love cheesy.”

She snorted, finally letting her guard down a little. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Come on,” you said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the pile of gifts. “Open them!”

Jinx hesitated for a moment before dropping to her knees in front of the pile, tearing into the first box with her usual reckless enthusiasm. Inside was a small music box, painted in her favorite chaotic colors. When she wound it up, it played a hauntingly beautiful melody, the tiny ballerina inside spinning wildly as if dancing to her chaos.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. “This is amazing!”

“Keep going!” you urged, your heart swelling at the sight of her happiness.

One by one, she opened the gifts. There was a new set of tools for her tinkering, a stash of her favorite candies, a sketchbook filled with blank pages for her wild ideas, and even a custom-made stuffed bunny with stitched-up eyes that matched her aesthetic.

But the last box was the one you were most nervous about.

She tore into it with the same energy, gasping when she saw what was inside: a handmade blanket, patchworked from scraps of fabric you’d collected from around Zaun. Each piece told a story—bits of old banners, fabric from her favorite clothes, and even a scrap from the scarf she’d worn the night you first met her.

“You made this?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, suddenly shy. “I thought… maybe it could be like a hug, for when you’re feeling alone. Or when the voices get too loud.”

Jinx clutched the blanket to her chest, her lip quivering slightly. For a moment, you thought she might cry, but instead, she lunged at you, tackling you into a tight hug.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she murmured, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

“I try,” you replied, laughing softly as you hugged her back.

She pulled back, her grin wide and a little manic, but her eyes were softer than you’d seen them in weeks. “This is the best Christmas ever. Seriously. I mean, I didn’t even know I needed this, but… you just get me, you know?”

“I try,” you said again, smiling.

Jinx wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and plopped down on the floor, motioning for you to join her. “Come on! Let’s eat candy and blow stuff up or something. Christmas isn’t over yet!”

Laughing, you sat beside her, knowing that tonight, for once, the voices in her head might be drowned out by the sound of her laughter. And that was all the Christmas gift you needed.

---

#fanfic #fanfiction #oc #fluff #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfiction #Arcane Jinx #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #Jinx #Powder #Hallucinations #Christmas Surprise #Surprise #Christmas #Presents #Christmas Presents

46 notes · View notes

wheelsgoroundincircles · 10 months ago

Text

1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst

One of the great unknowns about the 1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst is exactly how many cars were built. Estimates put the total as low as 485, and as high as 502 cars. Regardless of what the figure actually is, the car itself is a pretty special piece of machinery.

The 300 Hurst is a giant of a car at 19′ in length. All of the Hursts rolled off the production line finished in Spinnaker White. The cars were then shipped to the Hurst factory in Warminster, Pennsylvania, where a substantial transformation was performed. The first change to be made was the removal of the standard Chrysler steel hood skin, which was replaced with a fiberglass unit. This featured a decorative hood scoop and the obligatory set of recessed hood locks. The deck lid was also removed, and once again, a fiberglass replacement, complete with a spoiler integrated with the rear quarter panels, was also installed. The White paintwork was complimented by the addition of Satin Tan highlights and contrasting pinstripes, and the wheels were adorned with the same Satin Tan color in the centers. This Hurst is a clean car, with a small area of rust visible in the lower section of the driver’s side front fender, and surface corrosion present on the car’s underside. The Spinnaker White paint appears to be in good condition, but there has been some deterioration of the Satin Tan paint on both the hood and the deck lid. The exterior trim and chrome all look good, while the tinted glass is close to perfect.

The 300 Hurst was a premium car at a premium price, so naturally, it required a premium interior. In this case, seat upholstery was available in a single type and color. Continuing the exterior theme, the color is Saddle Tan, and the material is leather. The plush front seats are not standard 300 items but have been pilfered from the Imperial parts bin. While the original intention was for a Hurst shifter to be part of the interior features, this is something that never eventuated. The interior of this Hurst is close to perfect, with a single discolored spot on the dash pad being the most obvious fault. The rest of it presents in virtually as-new condition, and as befits a luxury car, it is loaded with luxury touches. These include air conditioning, power windows, six-way power seats, cruise control, a remote trunk release, and I think that there also might be an 8-track player hanging under the dash.

The 300 Hurst was the biggest of the muscle cars, and as such, it needed a big motor to get it moving. In this case, it is the TNT 440 engine, pumping out 375hp. The Hurst also features a 727 TorqueFlite transmission, a 3.23 rear end, power steering, power brakes, heavy-duty rear springs and front torsion bars, and sway bars. The exhaust was a full dual system, ending in quad tips. This Hurst hasn’t seen a lot of recent use, and documentation confirms that between 1986 and 2019, it managed to accumulate a grand total of 20 miles! Since being removed from its climate-controlled storage, it has undergone a meticulous mechanical check and recommissioning, and it is now said to run and drive perfectly. The owner does suggest that while the tires look good, they are pretty olds, and replacing them might be a good idea. He also says that the Hurst may need mufflers fairly soon. The car does come with a fair collection of documentation, including the original Build Sheet and Window Sticker, a pristine Certi-Card, Owner’s Manual, as well as dealer paperwork and other assorted items.

While there has always been some question surrounding the build totals for the 1970 300 Hurst, one thing is certain, and that is that there are less than 300 cars in existence today. Pristine examples can fetch sums in excess of $30,000, and even a rough example in need of restoration can still sell for anywhere around $13,000. This one doesn’t need a major restoration, but it does require some cosmetic work. I’m not sure where bidding is eventually going to go with this one, but I would suspect that it will be somewhere around the low to mid $20,000 mark. Even at that price, it probably wouldn’t be a bad buy.

#Chrysler 300 Hurst #chrysler 300 #chrysler #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld

165 notes · View notes

luvzshy · 5 months ago

Text

Canvas of Emotions

Pairing: Billie Eilish x Reader

Word Count: 2k

summary: As Billie Eilish’s partner and an artist, you’re tasked with creating the cover for her next album. In the cozy sanctuary of your shared space, surrounded by paintbrushes and soft music, you delve into the emotions that inspire your art. Together, you share late-night talks, laughter, and intimate moments that reveal the depth of your connection. Through the process of creation, you both confront your fears and dreams, finding solace in each other. Your relationship flourishes as the artwork evolves into a heartfelt representation of your love—a safe haven where both your souls can express their true colors.

Billie Eilish lounged on the couch, her brown hair cascading over the pillows in soft waves. The warm light filtering through the windows made the room feel like a safe haven, filled with the gentle chaos of art supplies scattered around. You sat on the floor, surrounded by paint tubes and brushes, staring at a blank canvas that seemed to reflect the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Hey,” Billie said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You good?”

You nodded, but the truth was, your mind was racing. “I just want this to be perfect.”

Billie chuckled softly. “You know it doesn’t have to be perfect, right? It just needs to be real.” She picked up her guitar, strumming a few casual chords that filled the room with familiar warmth.

“I know, I know,” you replied, trying to shake off the pressure. “But this cover represents you, and I want it to capture everything about you.”

She set the guitar aside and scooted closer, her presence grounding you. “Why don’t we brainstorm together? What do you want it to say?”

You paused, feeling her energy wrap around you like a cozy blanket. “I want it to express the chaos of emotions in your music—hope, heartbreak, and everything in between.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, leaning her head on your shoulder. “But don’t forget to add us—how we fit into that chaos.”

Your heart fluttered at her words. “Us,” you repeated, feeling the weight of what that meant. Your relationship wasn’t just about love; it was about partnership and navigating the messiness of life together.

As you dipped your brush into the paint, vibrant swirls began to take shape on the canvas, mirroring your feelings. Billie watched you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm. “I love seeing you in your element,” she said, her voice sincere. “You get lost in it.”

“I guess it’s my escape,” you replied, glancing at her. “Just like music is for you.”

With each stroke, you found your rhythm, and the tension started to melt away. The music in the background inspired you, sparking new ideas.

“Remember the first time we went to that open mic night?” Billie asked, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“How could I forget? You were so nervous!” You laughed, recalling how she fidgeted with her hair, her anxiety palpable.

“I know! And then you yelled ‘You’ve got this!’ from the crowd,” she said, chuckling at the memory. “It gave me the push I needed.”

“And you killed it!” You nudged her playfully. “That was the moment I fell even more in love with you.”

Billie blushed, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. “Stop it! You’re making me feel all mushy.”

But you loved that. You loved seeing her break her cool exterior, revealing the warmth and softness underneath.

As the hours passed, the canvas slowly transformed into a visual representation of your shared experiences—abstract shapes representing chaotic emotions layered with moments of tenderness. You’d take a step back occasionally, and Billie would give her feedback, her encouragement making you push your creativity further.

Then, suddenly, the laughter faded, replaced by a wave of anxiety that washed over you. You paused, your breath quickening. The pressure of getting everything right flooded your mind, and the world around you began to feel overwhelming.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Billie said, her tone shifting to concern as she noticed the change in your demeanor. She moved closer, taking your hands in hers. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me.”

You squeezed her hands, trying to ground yourself in the moment. “I don’t know why I’m feeling this way,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“It’s okay to feel anxious,” she replied gently. “You’re not alone. Just take a deep breath in… and out.”

With her guidance, you focused on your breathing. The steady rhythm of her voice calmed the storm inside you. “In… and out,” she continued, matching your breath. “You’ve got this. I’m right here.”

Slowly, you felt the panic subside, replaced by the comfort of her presence. “Thanks, Billie,” you whispered, relief flooding through you.

“Always,” she said, a soft smile breaking through the worry on her face. “Remember, this is our safe space. We’re in this together.”

Feeling stronger, you returned your focus to the canvas. As you painted, you could feel the love and support radiating from Billie. It was a reminder that your relationship was built on understanding and resilience.

As the night wore on, the finished piece stood before you, a colorful expression of your emotions and experiences together. You admired it, feeling a sense of pride.

“I love it,” Billie said, standing beside you. “It feels so… us.”

You turned to her, your heart swelling. “Just like our life—chaotic, but beautiful.”

Billie wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Exactly. And that’s what makes it home.”

In that moment, you knew that no matter how anxious life got, you’d always have each other to lean on. Together, you’d navigate the messiness of emotions, finding comfort and love in every stroke of the brush.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader

54 notes · View notes

steelsartcorner · 9 months ago

Note

If you wouldn’t mind sharing your secrets, can you drop a quick tutorial for the hades art style? You seem to capture it very well!

Hey anon! Thanks so much, I’m flattered you think so!

To be honest there's really no secret, just a lot of trial and error. I am an amateur, but I’ll point out a few of my observations of the amazing Hades team’s work that I attempted to incorporate into this Astarion drawing, especially SuperGiant Games art director Jen Zee. Everything below is just my layman’s observation of her much, MUCH better work. You should check her out yourself!

First off, here’s a simple split out of the whole process (this will be long, more below the cut:)

POSE & PERSONALITY

Hades art is full of personality so the first challenge was to pick a pose that illustrates just one or two aspects of the character. For example, Dionysus from Hades 1 below has a languid, draping pose that reflects his chill-guy party vibes. Just looking at him you get an immediate idea of his personality.

And as much as I love the later wet-cat version of Astarion as he matures as a person, for the purposes of illustration in this style I chose a pose and expression that leaned into his early, less complex, more wily self. The dagger, wink, jaunty hips and head tilt are meant to communicate, without additional context, that he’s both trying to be appealing and is not trustworthy.

LINEWORK & SHADING

Next is the linework and blocking! The Hades art team tends to use a combination of near-mono-thickness black lines, where exterior lines are thicker and interior lines are thinner or have no lines at all. They will often forgo an interior line to communicate form via color blocking instead. The style also makes heavy use of absolute black for the deepest shades, especially on more sinister characters or spooky aspects of a characters design. (See: Zagreus’ three dog head skulls and his red eye perpetually cast in deep shadow.)

It took some back and forth to find the right balance of black shading for Astarion. Too much and he looked too sinister and not approachable enough. Too little and he looked too innocent.

Picking a strong light source helped with determining the direction and placement of the shadows so that just enough was obscured/revealed. It also helps in differentiating forms from each other so that, for example, the arm doesn’t disappear into the chest and become unreadable.

Using heavy black shading was a particularly useful trick in Astarion’s case, because his camp clothes color palette is fairly monochromatic between his light hair, pale skin, and white/cream shirt. That much light color can easily blend in too much and become boring: the flats I used were slight variations of white, from a warm reddish-peach to a yellowy cream to a cool light gray for the dagger.

COLOR & LIGHTING

Last is color! In Hades 1 and even more so in Hades 2, the lighting schemes are deceptively complex. There are often multiple light sources and use of bounce lighting to add a lot of visual interest. For example, check out this lighting on Polyphemus from Hades 2:

Not only does he have a cool moonlight hitting him from above, he also has a warm orange rimlight lighting him from the left, AND cool lavender bounce light bouncing off the ground and hitting him from below. All these combine and layer on top of one another to help emphasize the forms of the cyclop’s musculature and the textures of his sheep wool coat.

I don’t think I was as successful in my own lighting scheme, because I’m an amateur, but I determined that the scene in which I was placing Astarion has a high sun and was outdoors. This means that the light hitting him from above would be a light, warm yellow and the bounce light hitting him from the left would reflect the nearby water and blue sky of the environment.

To achieve this, I made use of different layer modes in my art program (Clip Studio Paint) to apply purple shadows (via the Multiply layer mode) and highlights (via the Soft Light layer mode) in a light sky blue and a light yellow for the primary and secondary light sources.

I ran into trouble with the blade, because it was also a light metal in an already light-color-heavy color scheme. At first, it was blending in too much and hard to read. So I decided to give it a bit of a magic teal glow to help it stand out, which meant adding a few specks of magic light reflecting back onto the face and clothes as well.

INTEREST & DETAILS

Speaking of, Hades style art makes extensive use of adding little speckles of high-saturation color to add visual interest and cohesion. See this Zagreus portrait which is primarily made of grays, a tan bone-color, and reds:

But sprinkled in are neon teal and magenta that don’t relate to the lighting at all. It’s just there to break up the blocks of color, bring unique colors like his green eye into the rest of the portrait, and direct the viewer’s eye. These highlights are slightly less bright in Hades 2, but still there, such as in this depiction of Apollo, who mostly glows with a warm sunlight but also has random pops of sky blue and green flecking his armor and hair.

The pops of color are often placed more centrally on the figure to keep your eye on the important parts of the portrait, like near Apollo’s face and on his armor. The color pops aren’t as frequent at the extremities; too much on the arm and your eye would be drawn away from his face.

I took a similar approach where I grabbed some of the brighter colors (like Astarion’s red eye, and the teal glow of the dagger), to add dabs of color that normally would not “make sense” from a lighting perspective, but add a little visual interest:

Also I totally studied their approach to Apollo’s curly hair to create the impression of Astarion’s curls!

Anyway, I think that's all I got for now, I hope this helps! There's more but this is already REALLY long so I'll stop here. In the end, it's really just a process of observation and replication of things you love in artwork you admire. Give it a try, it's a lot of fun :)

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #process tutorial #hades supergiant #my art #asked and answered

132 notes · View notes