#i gotta make more gifs of riptide

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - RIPTIDE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ JJ Maybank ⋆ Adopted!Thornton!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ In which In JJ sneaks into your families mansion after being beaten by his abusive father, and you help patch him up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language, smut, angst, child abuse, injuries, emotional distress, mention of underage drinking, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (nipple play), dirty talk, and rough sex

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 2,535

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The moon was high in the sky as JJ crept across the perfectly manicured lawn of the Thornton estate, cursing under his breath with each step as his bruised ribs screamed in protest. He knew the route by heart - shimmy up the trellis, slip through the unlocked window into your room, grab the first aid kit stashed under your bed. This definitely wasn't his first late-night house call.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he whisper-shouted, tapping on the glass.

"Jesus, JJ, you scared the shit out of me!" You whispered as JJ tumbled gracelessly through your open window. "What did you do this time?"

"Oh you know, I forgot to take the trash out so naturally he tried to beat me to death with a whiskey bottle," JJ quipped, collapsing onto your bed.

You sighed, grabbing your well-stocked first aid kit. This had become a routine for them. "Shirt off," you ordered.

"Yes ma'am!" JJ winked, slowly removing his shirt to reveal the ugly bruises blossoming across his torso.

You sighed, exasperated but sympathetic as always. You got to work disinfecting and bandaging JJ's injuries, slapping his hands away when he poked at particularly gnarly gashes.

"Ow! Take it easy Nurse Ratched," JJ grumbled.

"Hey, it's either me or an awkward explanation at the ER," You retorted, pressing an ice pack none-too-gently against JJ's swollen eye.

JJ snorted, then immediately regretted it as pain ricocheted through his ribs. You finished patching him up in silence, then sat beside him on the edge of your bed as you tossed JJ a clean shirt and some sweats from his designated drawer.

He changed quickly and flopped back onto your bed with a contented sigh. "My hero! What would I do without you?"

"Bleed out on my window sill probably," You chuckled, settling in next to him.

It was a sad routine, but you was always glad JJ felt safe coming to you, knowing you’d patch up his physical and emotional wounds without question.

"You know you can't keep doing this, right?" You said quietly.

JJ just shrugged, staring at the floor. You guys had this conversation before.

"I mean it this time. We've gotta figure something out." You put a hand on his shoulder. "Just…promise me you won't go back there tonight?"

JJ nodded reluctantly. 

You stared at JJ as he nodded reluctantly, clearly exhausted from yet another violent encounter with his abusive father. You wished more than anything that you could protect him, but JJ was fiercely independent and hated relying on anyone, even you.

"C'mon, let's get you settled in," You said gently, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from your closet. You fluffed up the pillow and handed it to JJ, who sank into it with a groan.

"Damn Y/N, these 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets are straight fire," JJ mumbled into the pillow. "Kook life definitely has its perks."

You chuckled softly as you spread the blanket over him. "I know it's not the hammock at the Chateau, but I hope it's comfy enough."

JJ cracked one eye open and gave you a sleepy grin. "With you here? Anywhere is paradise."

You felt yourself blush, your heart skipping a beat. No matter how many times JJ showed up battered and broken on your doorstep, you could never quite ignore the butterflies his presence awakened.

"Alright Romeo, get some rest," You whispered, clicking off the bedside lamp. You curled up on your side of the bed, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of JJ's chest as he drifted off.

Tomorrow you’d make him talk. He couldn't keep hiding bruises and secrets forever. But for now, JJ was safe. And that was enough.

The next morning, JJ awoke slowly, his wounds from the previous night throbbing dully. He was momentarily disoriented by the soft bed and sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains until he remembered he was in your room. He glanced over and saw you curled up on the window seat, hair mussed and a tiny line of drool dripping down your chin. JJ smiled. Even with dried spit on your face you were still cute as hell.

He considered waking you up but decided to let you sleep. You always mother-henned him; it was kind of nice to see you be the vulnerable one for once. JJ stretched gingerly, wincing as his ribs protested. Well, might as well take advantage of the fancy digs while he could.

JJ quietly snuck out of your room towards the opulent kitchen, grabbing a muffin and some orange juice. Damn, rich people breakfasts hit differently. As he was raiding the fridge for more snacks, he heard light footsteps behind him.

"Well well, if it isn't my favorite charity case."

JJ rolled his eyes before turning around. "Morning Topper," he said through a mouthful of stolen baked goods. Your brother leaned against the doorframe, signature smug grin in place.

"Rough night again at the Maybank estate?" Topper asked, fake sympathy dripping from his voice.

"You know me, just living the dream," JJ deadpanned back.

Topper laughed humorlessly. "Try not to bleed out on the white carpets this time. I had to burn that rug you know, hepatitis risk."

JJ flipped him off good-naturedly and went back to rummaging the fridge, ignoring Topper's bitching. He was used to the verbal jabs by now. And it was a small price to pay for your tender loving care.

You padded quietly to the kitchen and saw JJ. "Morning," you said softly. "How're you feeling?"

JJ attempted his signature cocky grin, though it came out as more of a pained grimace. "Ready for round two, obviously," he joked half-heartedly.

You smiled sadly and sat down beside him. "JJ…" you began tentatively. "We need to talk about what happened. I'm worried about you."

JJ's grin faded, his expression growing shuttered. "You patched me up the same as always, I'll be fine." He avoided your earnest gaze.

"You and I both know this can't continue." Y/N placed a hand on his arm, noting how he flinched almost imperceptibly at your gentle touch.

"Drop it Y/N, I mean it," JJ muttered, a hard edge to his voice as he stared resolutely at the floor.

You acquiesced for the moment, but remained determined. You would get the truth from JJ, one way or another. His safety depended on it.

You sat in silence beside JJ until he finally met your eyes again, his usual carefree demeanor restored.

"So…" he drawled with a mischievous glint in his eye. "How should we spend this lovely truant morning m'lady? I'm thinking of a beach bonfire and beers. Oh, and we gotta stop by the garage and pick up my bike first."

You smiled and shook your head indulgently. "Fine but I'm driving. No operating heavy machinery with a concussion."

JJ grinned and hopped up, wobbling only slightly. "Yes Mom. Now c'mon, the last one to the car is buying snacks!"

You followed JJ into the cavernous garage attached to your family's mansion, filled with luxury cars and boats that cost more than most people's homes. JJ let out an impressed whistle as he strolled past the rows of gleaming vehicles.

"Damn Y/N, I know your family is loaded but this is next level," JJ said, trailing his fingers along the glossy paint job of a candy apple red vintage Corvette. "Your parents must really be raking in the cash to afford all these fancy rides."

You shrugged self-consciously. "I guess when you're constantly trying to one-up the neighbors, you end up with a garage full of absurdly expensive cars you rarely drive." 

You grabbed the keys to your sensible Toyota Camry hybrid. JJ made a face.

"Oh come on, we're not taking the freakin' treehugger mobile to the beach bonfire," he complained. "Let's take the 'Vette! Or the Range Rover. Ooh what about the Jag?" JJ darted around excitedly, peering through tinted windows.

"Yeah, because that wouldn't draw any attention, me rolling up to the beach in a $150,000 sports car," You replied sarcastically. 

JJ pouted dramatically. "You never let me have any fun."

You rolled your eyes and tugged on his arm. "You can pick the music at least. And I'll stop for beer and snacks on the way."

"Deal!" JJ's eyes lit up. He slid into the passenger seat of your Camry, immediately plugging his phone into the stereo. Loud rock music began blasting through the speakers. 

You laughed and shook your head indulgently. You couldn't resist JJ's childlike enthusiasm. And you had to admit, it was nice to see him acting carefree instead of battered and brooding. 

Maybe a relaxing day at the beach was just what they needed. Maybe you could try again to get JJ to open up later. For now, you cranked up the music and sang along loudly as you drove towards paradise by the sea.

As the bonfire dwindled on the beach, you and JJ stumbled your way back to your place, leaning on each other in your drunken haze. Laughter filled the night as JJ tripped over his own shoelaces, causing both of you to collapse onto the sand.

"Y/N, you know I lo-" he slurred, interrupted by a fit of giggles. Rolling your eyes, you grinned and helped him brush off the sand from his jeans.

Back in your room, the drunken haze intensified, illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights that framed JJ's half-lidded blue eyes and tousled blond hair. His gaze roamed over your body, fixating on the neckline of your crop top, his lips moist as he licked them.

Struggling with the button of his jeans, JJ muttered a string of curses under his breath, his efforts finally paying off with a satisfying click. The denim pooled around his ankles, hitting the floor with a thud.

You approached him, a mischievous giggle escaping your lips as he clumsily kicked off the jeans. His hands fumbled with your jeans, struggling to undo them. Never one to back down from a challenge, you bit your lip and palmed his bulging arousal through his boxers, effectively distracting him.

With a groan, he managed to push his boxers down, his hard cock springing free, droplets of pre-cum glistening on the tip. The sight of his vulnerability, his readiness for you, stirred wetness to pool between your thighs. The tantalizing ache began to grow, a desperate craving for him consuming your thoughts. You wanted him more than you wanted air.

Discarding your jeans and panties, you climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. JJ's eyes widened at the sight of you completely exposed, the raw desire in his gaze making you feel irresistibly sexy.

Running your hands up your stomach, you cupped your own breasts through your top, releasing a moan when his eager hands replaced yours, freeing them completely.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're a damn goddess," he slurred, leaning forward to capture your hardened nipple with his mouth. You murmured appreciatively, your fingers tangling in his messy hair.

His hands grew impatient on the bare skin of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh, fueling your growing arousal. Shifting slightly, you gave him a better view of your drenched core, making him moan around your nipple.

His fingers danced along your slick folds, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the electrifying touch. Waves of pleasure cascaded through your body, radiating from the tightened skin around your nipples. You rocked yourself against his fingers, aching for more.

His eyes burned with lust as he watched you ride his fingers. Parting your folds with a languid stroke, he eased a finger into your tight heat. The sensation of being filled was intoxicating, your wetness coating his fingers as he pumped slowly, each brush against your clit amplifying your need for him.

Breathing heavily, you whispered, "Fuck, JJ... more." You craved his entirety, every inch of him.

Without hesitation, JJ aligned his throbbing cock with your entrance. Both of you gasped as the head of his cock brushed against your clit, mixing his pre-cum with your own arousal. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his length, relishing the exquisite stretch that made you fall forward, bracing your palms against his chest.

Digging your nails into his flesh, you ground against him, the smooth glide of your scorching core over his throbbing cock leaving him breathless. Moaning uncontrollably against his ear, you bucked against him, establishing a torturous rhythm that had both of you teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Damn, Y/N... you feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me," he grunted, his fingers leaving marks on your hips as he matched your movements.

"You fill me so fucking good, JJ," you growled into his neck, each forceful thrust hitting your g-spot and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. The mounting pressure coiled low in your stomach, intensifying with every powerful thrust.

Your moans transformed into desperate curses, the rough and rapid movements pushing you perilously close to the edge of climax. As JJ drove into you, his teeth nibbled at your nipples, his fingers pinched and pulled. The dual sensations sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an explosive release.

The early morning light seeped through the gaps in the heavy, velvet curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The scent of ocean salt, mingling with the lingering notes of last night's bonfire, permeated the air. JJ, with his tousled blonde hair and sleep-filled eyes, groggily awoke on the luxurious king-sized bed, the silk sheets tangling around his legs. He looked down, seeing his clothes scattered haphazardly across the polished oak floor, a smirk forming on his lips as memories of the previous night flooded back.

Suddenly, a soft giggle drew his attention to the other side of the bed where you lay, your hair spread out on the pillow like a halo, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You were wrapped up in a plush, pink robe, looking every bit the princess of  your own castle. Seeing JJ awake, your giggles turned into full-blown laughter.

"What's so funny, Thornton?" JJ asked, his voice rough from sleep and last night's indulgences.

"Your face," You replied, pointing a finger at his forehead. "You've got a mark from my 'Princess of OBX' tiara."

Looking into the tall, gilded mirror in the corner of the room, JJ spotted the small, heart-shaped glittery mark on his forehead. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "Well, isn't that fitting?" he quipped back. "JJ the Princess, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

As laughter filled the room, the tension from your unexpected intimacy dissolved, replaced by your familiar camaraderie. Despite your different worlds you found comfort in your shared sense of humor and friendship. The reality of your actions would eventually need to be addressed, but for that quiet, soft morning, you allowed yourselves to bask in the afterglow of their newfound closeness.

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore vi

the avengers learn more about johan collins.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ mentions of experimentation, therapy, & brainwashing

⚝༄ paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

"I gotta say, I didn’t expect her to be afraid of needles." Clint Barton shared the most peculiar observation he gathered from the last two hours.

Within the last two hours, the Avengers were informed of who the kid assassin actually was. Particularly, how she was found by S.H.I.E.L.D. in an abandoned HYDRA base and how she had been recruited to serve S.H.I.E.L.D.’s cause as they wait for all her memories to come back. The Avengers also witnessed how close she was to James Barnes. Specifically, how comfortable she was around him and how she’d rather take her own life than hurt those that were important to him.

"Yeah," Bruce Banner agreed with Clint’s observation. "At the same time, it makes perfect sense since she was experimented on as a kid."

At the present, they were all gathered in a guest room they transferred Agent Collins in after she passed out. Apparently, a side effect of her medicine included extreme drowsiness and no one wanted her to continue sleeping inside her temporary prison.

They intended to chat with P.I. Jessica Jones some more, but she refused to leave her side. She claimed that her ward dislike falling asleep alone. Since she was triggered, and was essentially forced to remember how she used to be, the detective thought it’d be best if she didn’t wake up alone, either.

Having their curiosity get to the best of them, the Avengers chose to stay in the room as well.

"Does Agent Collins go to therapy?" It wasn’t covered in the meeting they had with Jessica earlier, as the detective only covered the basics of who she was to S.H.I.E.L.D..

"She does," Jessica found no harm in indulging any of their questions about the young agent. "She hates every second of it, but she goes." As long as their questions weren’t about anything she knew S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t want them to know, then she figured it was fine.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes nodded solemnly, presumably because he understood why she felt that way about therapy. "How is she adjusting?"

"She’s . . . getting better," she replied slowly, needing to think about her response first. "It’s definitely a slow process, but at least she doesn’t get as much nightmares as she used to." She then added as an afterthought, "Johan has a strong desire to be normal, so she’s really trying her best."

"And how are you supporting that endeavor? How is S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Luke and I let her experience the childhood she was robbed of in ways we can," her response came quicker this time, having no need to ponder it beforehand. "S.H.I.E.L.D. started a homeschool program for her, partly to keep her occupied during her off-duty days."

Bucky’s next question was loose a follow up. "Has Tide— Johan asked about her father?"

All of sudden, they were treading closely to unauthorized information. "She has, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is still strategizing how to make it happen."

When Johan came about, her first instinct was to cry. It was, frankly, strange — especially for a kid assassin who had forgotten how to.

The last time she cried was around a year after she was kidnapped, shortly after she crossed paths with Win. She figured out that her crying only served as a motivation for them to worsen her punishments, so she did her best to hold back her tears. No matter how brutal the punishments and the experiments became, she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Soon after, she mastered concealing and ignoring her feelings all together. And eventually, after undergoing multiple brainwashing, she simply forgot she could even feel in the first place.

Phantom Riptide was five and a half when HYDRA saw her capability to succeed as the Winter Soldier’s apprentice.

Phantom Riptide was merely six when HYDRA succeeded in turning her obedient and mindless.

Now, at almost thirteen, Johan was barely re-learning how to acknowledge and deal her feelings.

"Johan?" The voice of her guardian was unsure and careful, yet still held some concern in it. She didn’t rush to her side when she saw the tears streaming down her face; rather, she just opted to stand by the foot of the bed.

"Ma— my cu— cube," was all she managed to reply between her tears. Being newly awakened, her voice was quite raspy as well, making her words a tad more difficult to understand.

"I’ll get it for you." Almost miraculously, Jessica still understood. Perhaps it was because she had been her primary guardian for three years now and, as such, her mannerisms had become a matter of common sense. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"

Johan remembered the memory she just woke up from. She also remembered the intense feeling that followed after it all too well. It was dark. And sad. And lonely. She didn’t like it.

Uncannily enough, that was her life until four years ago. She might’ve been used to it, but there was nothing she could despise more than.

next shore >

[kthynes]

LUMBER & RAILED

summary: Ari was meant to fix up your deck but decides to lay you down first. (fem!reader)

authors note: everyone on my feed have been horny lil hoes and I wanted to consummate "thirsty thursday" in some way. This was a quick thot, a fantasy of mine so to say, that I had lying around in my drafts. It came to me one night while randomly watching the Property Brothers (gotta love ‘em right?). It’s basically PWP, no context, no nothing, so read at your own risk or don't, idc.

Also this treacherous work of sin has not been beta’d — all grammatical fuck ups are my own.

Smut below the cut.

18+ nsfw. MINORS DNI !!!

“Is this OK sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You surly punctuate each thrust that Ari meets with a soft sigh. "Y-Yes, this is perfect."

Ari Levinson was your rueful neighbor, a mercenary turned apprentice who meant hard work and mystery. But you, you knew exact things about him. You knew he'd watch you hop step across your terrace every morning to feel your plants and water them when they needed nourishment. He knew how much you loved to hum and harmonize to all the 70s top hits. You'd smile at him from your porch steps while he'd tip his head in passing, pointing to the fact that you were strangers. But you obviously repined for more in the absence of him.

To have and to yonder.

With the newness and being the only two souls around you’d bite and shamelessly flirt with him. Ari wouldn’t take much note. He’d be stoic and patiently kind with you. He’d let the days gander by, not bothering to entertain your philander. Ari foremost knew his insipid place. Every opportunity to have you wasn’t meant for him and that had your interests piqued.

What little could he want?

But then on the hottest day marked on the calendar, there was a breakthrough. He precipitously came around when you asked him to and soon enough that egged on the unspoken invitation to fuck. It was primal.

He seized the opportunity like a true comrade. The time was dark and right again when he eyed your bare silhouette from underneath the sheer white sundress you had on the minute he appeared at your doorstep.

“Good, good because I want to be deep inside you every, single, day. Do you think you can give me that sweet girl?” He actualizes with determination and now this was your state of affairs.

Ari continues to grunt as his Titan hands tightly grip onto your fleshy waist for added support. Each bruising drive consumed him. You were sprawled out on the creaky deck floor while he took on a kneeling position, effortlessly buried deep to the hilt. It’s almost close to missionary but your hips are held up perpendicular to the line of penetration. Your legs, after awhile, are pulsing to stay open, cramping up first before his thighs act as spreaders and stubbornly pry you apart, bringing out some feverish range of motion. You were reaping what you had sown and that’s when you felt him bloom in your gut.

“Ari.” Your head snaps up as you mewl at the delectable sight of his thickness covered in your arousal, worming in and out. His furry balls smack your underside, stiffening for a coital release.

Your brows immediately beetle together, eyes shut just as he anchors your upper body close, his one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other is steadying your thigh. Your bum is still planted as your toes point down like a trained dancer. He felt so good that you were near close to taking a piss. No condom just his shaft, gently rolling and pummeling into you like a calm riptide rocking a boat.

“God damn, you feel so amazing on m’cock. Imagining you like this has been no different. You're an absolute dream baby. S’tight and warm and so so wet. Fuuuuck you're my woman and I'm never letting you out of my sight.” You loudly exert a breathless pant. He’s grazing the right spot but wasn’t picking up traction, making you helplessly frustrated.

“Please Ari.”

“Take what you need princess, I’m all yours.” He putters, fiercely increasing momentum and laying his rampant claim on you. Your mouths are agape, taking in each others breaths as the balmy Arabian air swirls around your sweaty bodies that thump, hum and moan.

“Mmm.” You whimper far from pain, desperately clawing onto his back. Ari has you stretched out so beautifully, his leaking cum mixed with yours was a visual treat. There was a symphony of slaps and squelches that tuned in with the surrounding wildlife. A delicious burn fuelled your throbbing need for him; a man who was salaciously unrelenting to much of your surprise. “No one has ever fucked me like the way you do Ari.”

“What was that?” His lips curl into a snarky half smile as he continues to viciously gyrate.

“Fuck me.” You gasp when the angle hits right and after one orgasmic aura you both punt up another.

“That’s it my sweet angel. I want you to come undone for me, with me.” He growls right in your ear. Feral and wanton, Ari spurts his seed in your heat once again while continuing his slicked propulsion with some triumphal reign. “Let’s see how much your pretty little pussy can take.”

“K-Keep going.” Your quivering vaginal walls clenches onto him, encouraging the rhythm of each inclined shove.

“Like that?” He gruffly inquires, baring all his teeth with aggressiveness.

“Oh yes!” You let out a girlish scream. It calls to the unholy heavens above and exonerates your calm existence.

“Aren’t you a noisy one.” He chuckles under his breath while you're pliantly taking his cock, your eyes begin to dim and water at the raw sensation growing in between your thighs. Ari feels it too with harping rigor. It’s absolutely indefinite that he is carnal for you, a wakeful obsession of it’s own. “And all this time I didn’t think you had it in you. Now look at you, so needy and fucked. Good girl.”

You pitch another strangled, breathy moan that startles a flock of bird nested in your well gardened camphor tree. Ari ducks down and suckles on your neck, leaving an identifiable mark for later. It was his payback assertion for all the times you had pranced around for show, testing his feral nature and now heeding your bestowed obedience. He’d have you like this in every way. Cock stuffed until you cried and that would be the proclaimed exposition from hereinafter.

“Just so you know, I don’t only do flooring sweetheart.” He whispers right under your ear as his manhood firmly pounds into you. You were laid flat on your sweaty back again, his weight heavy on yours as the rattled floorboards let out a faint crack in response. “But I’m sure you know that by now.”

[remakethestars]

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞ 

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny. 

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers. 

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred. 

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research! 

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels. 

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[slade-neko]

Dead Island Appreciation Post?

Hmm, weird writing that. After the Back 4 Blood Beta ended, I was left wanting more zombie games. Left 4 Dead is the obvious choice, but I wanted to revisit the Dead Island games. I played them years ago on Xbox 360. They were fun, but I always remember them being very "headache inducing" for some reason. Remembered why now, it's from the forced heavy motion blur, very narrow FOV, and odd character movement that feels like I'm constantly sliding. Great thing is I'm playing PC this time around, so all my problems were tweaked and fixed, easy-peasy lemon squeezy! I was able to enjoy Dead Island without a migraine and the game was actually pretty fun!

Why do Remasters make bad changes?!

Played through all of Dead Island Riptide nearly 4 times now... twice on the Definitive "Remaster" and 1 and ½ on the original Riptide enough to 100% both versions with all achievements. Gotta say the Remaster is weird. From what I saw the new high-res textures are great, new lighting and shader effects are lovely, and gameplay is buttery smooth, BUT why on Earth did they alter some of the NPC's designs like eye color and clothing colors?! Then there's the fact the "Remaster" COMPLETELY lacks the dynamic weather system! A big part of the original Riptide was it could have rain and storms, a feature that was new to Riptide and not present in the first Dead Island game, but for some odd reason it’s absent in the Riptide Remaster. My guess is the devs couldn't get it to work with the new graphic shaders, so they simply cut it out instead of fixing it. And randomly a few fast travel locations are missing in the Remaster. Last big thing I wanted to touch on is the Remaster overhauled the whole Weapon Force system (or maybe the physics engine) which now sucks. I don't know if this change was deliberate or not, but Zombies don't go flying anymore when hit with high force weapons and attacks like Charge and John Morgan's uppercut and powered kick attacks. Where in the original game those attacks would send zombies hurling through the air, in the Remaster it almost looks like they tripped and gently fell over. The force changes also affects thrown weapon damage. Original Riptide I got a lot of 1-hit kills with throwing weapons, Remaster it takes 2-3 throws to kill a normal walker. R.I.P. Logan who's whole character is based on THROWING weapons. That little physics update they just had to make inadvertently changed a lot of the gameplay.

Here’s some quick comparison gifs of force physics between the two games. First is the original game John Morgan's Uppercut attack, which sends 'em flying.

Then Remaster's Uppercut which just falls flat. BORING!

Then there's John Morgan's powered sprint kicks in the classic. Bye, bye zombie!

Compared to Remaster where they just fall backwards... "yay."

TL:DR Yeah, so basically I hate it when video game remasters change things that didn't need to be changed... when a game is fine, just give it new graphics and leave it at that, dang, it ain't hard.

Oh, and the original point of this post was to say that Dead Island games are actually kinda fun once you patch out the headaches! And while they're impossible to buy through Steam now, I recommend the classics over the remasters.