#iron anchor tattoo

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Colorado

< track 2 || track 4 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 I'd choose the devil I know over the heaven I don't

The end starts with you finding the ring.

“Alexia, I swear to your good knee, if you’re not ready I’m gonna sell your Ballon d’Or”, your announcement resonating through the rooms. 

You’ve been ready for an entire hour now, beaming and excited for the opportunity to present with your teammates a special award named after your captain. The only thing missing is your perfectionist girlfriend still hidden in the bathroom.

When you open the door, you cannot believe your eyes.

Alexia’s tattooed back is exposed in the criminally low backless dress she’s in, sure, but her hair is still dripping wet and she’s fighting with a makeup brush. Clearly losing, her frown is a well known hint for you. 

She’s not ready and now you have to find your way on the black market.

“Need help?”

“No”

“Yes, vamos a llegar tarde” (we’re late)

“No voy a llegar tarde si ni quiero ir” (I can’t be late if I don’t wanna go in the first place)

Your chuckle filling the room is enough to make the blonde smirk, but you know her well enough to read the subtle lines on her face. Her worries are clear, the reasons to be discovered and a solution to be found.

Taking place behind her figure, you set your hands on her sides and plant a couple of strategically placed kisses on her back and shoulders. Her fitted form relaxes right away under your lips.

When your eyes meet in the mirror it's like a story is being narrated, an understanding of each other that goes beyond big words and great gestures but holds the deep love shared.

Your fingers move to untangle the blonde’s wet hair, taking the time to dry and straighten each lock just as she likes.

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

Shy Alexia is a version of her few people meet, her stance a lot less intimidating than the one she portrays on the field or in front of hundreds of cameras. 

“No tienes nada de que arrepentirte, mi corazón” (Nothing to be sorry for)

“I lost time in the gym and I lost time in the shower and I guess I just don’t wanna go”, the English sentence giving away how much thought she put into it. 

The catalan turns to look directly into your eyes for the first time all day, you realise. She really doesn’t want to go to this event, but your excitement and anticipation must have helped hide it throughout the week.

“Eres preciosa, mi amor” (You’re beautiful), she simply states, taking in the perfectly ironed black dress you’re wearing and the meticulously braided hair framing your face.

You smile at her, you love her.

“I know you don’t like the idea of this award, I know you don’t want us handing it to you with a carefully drafted speech”

“¡Lo escribiste!” (You wrote it, didn’t you?)

“Jana helped, all the team did”

Alexia’s eyebrow rises and you don't miss the fact she has a little bit more makeup on than usual, a sight she’s putting an effort.

“I supervised, don’t worry”

“No es reconfortante” (It’s no reassuring)

But her shoulders are relaxed, her frown no longer creasing her beautiful face. The blonde is calmer now and you take it as a victory she never actually asked you to ditch the all thing and hide together under a blanket with a mindless dating show in the background.

“Lo leerás?” (Will you read it?)

“Banned me to even come close to a microphone”, to be fair, it was a single accident and they should’ve not let the anchor’s line open when you just won a championship and your girlfriend’s literally glowing.

She bursts out laughing and you know she’s ready.

Almost ready.

“Take me the white heels while I finish esto”, her fingers moving somehow awkwardly around her mouth, “Y estamos listos!” (And we’re ready to go).

You place a soft but firm kiss on her lips, leaving for her shoes rack.

You’re looking for a pair of heels, one she hates to wear but well designed and a perfect fit with her dress. One she doesn’t wear much so it’s probably hidden in a box in the back of the closet.

That’s why you’re looking for a hidden box of shoes.

That’s where you notice a velvet little box.

That’s how you find the ring.

It’s a beautiful ring. Stunning cut, your precise size. A modest but expertly crafted gem complementing the simple band. It’s the perfect ring.

You don’t like shiny thing, Alexia could ask you to marry her with paper or grass from Camp Nou and you’re gonna say yes regardless.

But that’s exactly the problem.

You love her, you really do. You love her so much you gladly do whatever she asks, if she wants it enough to ask. You keep her love above your own and that’s fine, you’re happy with it. What she loves comes before what you love, naturally following immediately after anyway. 

And what she loves the most is usually you, so you never questioned it. 

However, when her love starts coming despite yours, you realise you can’t keep doing it.

The shift is difficult to perceive, coming at such a silent but excruciating pace that’s impossible to predict and devastating to take in.

The bomb dropped on you in the form of a tiny jewellery box that detonated when opened, shining ring inside.

“Està Narnia?” (You found Narnia?)

Closing the box and effectively concealing the ring from your gaze it’s a switch off. The silence that usually preempts a devastating explosion is coming after it, this one time.

“I’m ready!”

When she walks out of the bathroom, stunning as ever, you just stare. You never loved someone as much as you love her, that is obvious for a while now. 

You never loved and you will never love someone as much as you love her. 

Not even yourself.

“Estás bien?” (Are you okay?)

“T’estimo” (I love you)

Shining eyes almost give away all the meaning behind your words, but the captain fondly kisses you and it’s all good again.

Alexia takes the heels from your hands, when you manage to find them is not clear in your head, and sits on the bed. Your fingers intertwine as you bend on your knees and carefully tie the long white laces around her ankles.

“You good?”, she holds one of your hands and her stare is searching straight through your soul.

She has a ring hidden in a box, how long ago did she buy it?

“Let’s get you this award, mi corazón”

She wants to marry you, when will she ask?

Both your holds are firm and kind, she is calmed and ready. Now, somehow, she’s even happy to go to this event if you keep holding her hand like that.

If she asks, you will say yes.

[jovial-thunder]

Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

 We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

[artebris]

Steadfast.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

A thought of what would it be if my mc had a tattoo based on the role play inspiration.

It would be a huge anchor. Long down her back. With the chain.

The anchor is the symbol of steadiness and the chain is the symbol of restrains she knew.

An embodiememt of strength, steadiness and constancy. No matter how furious the storm is, you always pull the chain and dig the iron hooks into the sand, keeping the ship afloat.

It was a year I have my MC Arlene Irving as my main muse and inspiration, and our journey was never easy. But we sail. I never regretted having such a complicated character to explore, I was honored with her coming to me.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Soft: Procreate

[fairygodpiggy]

Basics

Name: Eyri Styrbraena (translated to "Wandering Starbreaker")

It isn't her true name, of course - rather, the name is a curse of sorts that she's embraced.

Her true name, still unknown to anyone (aside from family) canonically, is Maetianka Thosinbharwyn (Mighty Anchor, daughter of Grey Bear).

Nicknames: Starbreaker, Big Lady, Large Mom

Age: 30 as of ARR (maybe around 36-ish by the start of DT? Give us a solid timeline, P L E A S E )

Nameday: In game, she shares my birthday, but canonically it is the 19th Sun of the Second Astral Moon (March 19, one of the three potential dates for the Spring Equinox / first day of Spring).

Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Orientation: Pansexual / Panromantic

Profession: Not counting WoL adventures - former pirate, former bouncer. She currently holds the position of Judge Magister in the Free Company, Knights of the Round. Eyri stands as one of three of the Lord Commander's most trusted knights.

Physical Aspects

Hair: Snowy white, though as it gets longer, the ends begin to darken to a dark grey - a couple of steps above black. She keeps it fairly short so it doesn't get in the way. She has bangs to hide a scar above her right eye.

Eyes: At birth, lavender.

From ages 14-35, her left eye became a dark purple like umbral aether, and her right eye became blinded and pale blue like astral aether. The color change and blindness was due to an aetherial imbalance that came about when Hydaelyn resurrected her from the lifestream after a fatal accident.

(real talk, when I first made Eyri, I had no knowledge or context of Hydaelyn or Zodiark's colorations, nor of the fact that astral aether = stasis, so it really was a happy accident that I was able to fit into lore)

This aetherial imbalance was eventually fixed and her eyecolor returned to lavender once more. The blindness in her right eye remains - it can sense light, but that's about it.

Skin: Deep, slate grey. She also always wears some form of black lip stain.

Tattoos/scars: She has full sleeves on both arms, then one on her right...flank.

She has battle scars all over her body - primarily some claw marks that wrap from her left collarbone to her shoulder blade, earned from fighting a particularly nasty coeurl encounter; 3 jagged gashes across her torso and 3 across her left calf that were all caused by a large, mace-wielding minotaur; a scar that wraps around her right ankle and heel, that very narrowly missed her Achilles, inflicted by her sister's blade.

The primary scar that she's had the longest, and keeps hidden beneath her hair, is the scar above her right eye. This is from a fatal fall that radically shifted her fate. She sometimes views it as a curse and is ashamed of it.

Family

Parents: Father - Thosinbhar Wyzniyrnsyn (Grey Bear, son of White Iron, goes by Thosin for short)

Mother - Wiltrael Berkarenawyn (Wild Doe, daughter of Mountain Harvester, goes by Wilt for short)

Siblings: Sister - Rymmwaen Thosinbharwyn (Frost Wind, daughter of Grey Bear, goes by Rymm for short)

Grandparents: More Roegadyn names LET'S GOOO

Paternal Grandfather - Wyzniyrn Fyrilspaersyn (White Iron, son of Lost Sparrow)

Paternal Grandmother - Fyrfyst Syhrstralwyn (Fire Fist, daughter of Fearless Arrow)

Maternal Grandfather - Berkarena Pfarstyrmsyn (Mountain Harvester, son of Walking Storm)

Maternal Grandmother - Wytageim Hywabfrynwyn (Water Jewel, daughter of Hawk Friend)

In-laws and Other: EVEN MORE NAMES (help)

Brother-in-Law - Ronthnfarr Abylntyrbsyn (Running Bull, son of Raging Cyclone... Literally just goes by Ron for short LMAO)

Nephew - Doennahr Ronthnfarrsyn (Thundering Eagle, son of Running Bull, goes by Doen for short)

Pets: Her chocobo and trusted companion, Fernando.

She didn't keep any other pets until recently. There's a small crab that started following her around, and so she started caring for it. Then she gave it a knife to hold in its claw because she thought it was funny.

Skills

Abilities: For the majority of her life, she had aethersight, and could see the auras of people's souls. It was an ability that she could not turn off or will away, and it came at a heavy cost: severe aether sickness. This manifested as agonizing and debilitating migraines centered at her blind eye. She avoided magic and crowds as best as she could, and she was able to teleport in case of an emergency, but she would be out of commission for several days afterward.

While this ability was seen as useful to her allies, she viewed it as a curse and began advocating for her own well-being.

Hobbies: Eyri enjoys sketching, usually maps of various cities or towns, as well as learning new things in general. Whether it's studying new languages or learning the customs of different cultures.

Traits

Most Positive Trait: Being selflessly protective

Most Negative Trait: Being wrecklessly protective

Likes

Colors: Black, purple, green, red

Smells: Coffee, forests and mountain air, campfires, fresh tobacco, wildflowers

Textures: Thick wool fabrics

Drinks: Coffee, any kind of alcohol, and any drinks that are warm and comforting

Other Details

Smokes: Occasionally tobacco, and rarely pipeweed - she did not start partaking in pipeweed until after her aether became rebalanced because it would exacerbate the effects of her uncontrollable aethersight. She most commonly smoked cigarettes while working at The Wet Whisker (a speakeasy masked as a flower shop) as a bouncer, or when she was highly stressed. Now she does it much less frequently, and usually for fun.

Drinks: If alcoholic, she will always ask for the strongest drink on the menu and she has a very high tolerance - she used to commonly drink this way to dull the effects of her uncontrollable aethersight.

Drugs: She has never used anything stronger than liquor or pipeweed...unless Yorick Lecannon's beverage, The Olympus, counts as hard drugs...a signed waiver is required, and so far it's the only concoction that has knocked Eyri out cold in seconds...

Mount Issuance: She was issued a chocobo liscense after providing several years of work for the Maelstrom and Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn and becoming a trusted individual in her eyes. In recognition for her deeds to Limsa Lominsa and its Grand Company, Merlwyb personally offered Eyri a position within their ranks. She lovingly named her chocobo Fernando.

While working at The Wet Whisker, she found herself in possession of a motorcycle that she uses to traverse the main continent. How she came to be in possession of such magitek is a question that aught not be asked.

Been Arrested: ......There do not appear to be any records detailing any arrest history......

-------------------------------------

That's about it, folks!

Feel free to do one of these if you want, even if you haven't been tagged <3

[the-oaken-muse]

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Dannymay Day 24: NASA

Read it on AO3, if you dare.

Of all the places in the Infinite Realms Juno could have sent him for community service, it had to be the fucking Ghost Zone. He never thought he’d miss the Netherworld, but at least there he didn’t have to deal with Warden Pasty Face and the stick up his entire ass.

He banked a hard left, bobbing and weaving through the zero gravity obstacle course provided by the ectoplasmic landscape. Behind him, the thud of armor against rock let him know he was down a pursuer, as one of the guards collided with an island of floating debris.

God, this place was a dump.

He dove through a thick patch of green fog before ducking behind one of the many floating doors littering the not-air; grateful that he didn’t have breath to catch. Walker’s goons zoomed past his hiding place, following his previous trajectory on a trail that didn’t exist.

Ha! Suckers!

He may have evaded them for now, but he would have to keep moving. When they realized that he’d lost them, they would fan out and search, leaving no stone unturned until they eventually found him and dragged him squirming back to that hell hole of a prison to be crushed under Walker’s boot once more. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this part of the Zone as possible. Or better yet, find a way to the human realm.

He looked to his left, green. He looked to his right, green. He looked down, an endless abyss of green stared back at him.

Looks like he was going to have to ask for directions. Great.

The next door he came across was a deep shade of plum with intricate panels of solid mahogany and a crystal knob. He yanked it open.

“Hey! Anybody home? Hello? I’m lookin’ for—”

A sopping wet sponge splashed against his face. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down, down, down and falling into the chasm below, leaving his face dripping suds. “…the ...nearest portal to Earth.”

The door slammed shut.

“Ugh, soap.” He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing it with fresh grime.

He floated over to another door, this one a dark weathered indigo with a heavy iron latch. He pulled it open with a loud creak, “Wazzup!”

A burly, tattooed arm emerged from the dark interior and slapped him across the face with a dead fish before slamming the door shut.

Jesus, the ghosts here were rude. At least it wasn’t soap this time.

Next, he spun the wheel on a silvery lavender hatch until it popped up with a hiss.

“Hullo down there!” his voice echoed back. “I’m lookin’ for a human portal! Can ya help a brother out?”

A thick tentacle, in a green so dark it was almost black, snaked out of the hole. In a blink, the tentacle lashed itself around his neck, crushing his useless windpipe.

“Look, I’m a hugger as much as the next guy, but this is a little forward, don’tcha think?” he wheezed.

In response, it whipped him back and flung him into the infinite green like a pitcher throwing a fastball.

He soared, eyes watering, hair whipping, and jowls flapping, for what felt like an eternity, but the five watches on his arm all agreed was only a few minutes.

His flight ended abruptly when he splatted against a strange metal structure. Its surface hummed with energy, vibrating his entire being. He peeled himself off, smoothing out the dents its rivets left in his skin, and took a look. A swirling vortex brighter than the surrounding ectoplasm filled its patchwork steel frame. Unlike the other doors, it remained fixed in place rather than floating up and down gently in a sea of green; it was anchored to something, to another dimension.

Bingo.

He stood on the edge of the portal, plugged his nose, and dove into the pool of light.

The portal spat him out in a large room made of the same patchwork metal as the doorway. Though the scent of death was strong here, in the glowing green of the machinery and in the air, it was mixed through with the unmistakable vitality of the living.

Perfect. Now he just needed to… find a way to get his powers back again…

He slumped forward and groaned.

Living people with The Sight were one in a million, and of those, the ones that were dumb teenagers were even fewer. There was no way Lydia was going to help him out again after the whole fiasco with their wedding either. He needed a new plan, a new pawn… well, there was no time like the present to start looking.

He floated up, poking his head through the ceiling into a modest kitchen. There was a table for four in the middle of the room, but only one chair was occupied. A pair of faded blue jeans and beat up red sneakers bounced impatiently and he could hear the scratch of pencil on paper. Sounded like homework. Bo-ring!

Like a shark fin cutting through the waves, the top half of his head glided across the floor to the fridge. Maybe they had beer.

A small pile of brown crumbs just under the door caught his attention. He sniffed at them, chocolatey. He floated a little higher so that his mouth breached the tile and licked up the remains of someone else’s fridge raid.

“Mmm, fudge.”

The kid at the table startled and looked over in his direction. He could almost believe they were making eye contact right now.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Who the heck are you?”

Looks like it could. He cracked a rotten grin and rose fully out of the floor.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most, pleasure to meet ya, kid.”

He held out a hand to shake, a centipede skittered down his arm and around his dirt-crusted knuckles before heading back into his sleeve. The boy just stared at the proffered digit in disgust.

“The most what? Grease stains on your shirt?”

“That and so much more! You name it, I’ve got it. Charm, good looks, STDs—”

“Modesty.” The boy deadpanned.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I wear pants at least…” he began counting the fingers on one hand, “thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t soup you right now.” The boy snatched a thermos off the table and waved it threateningly.

Jeez, tough crowd.

He wasn’t sure what kind of soup was in there, but something told him he didn’t want to find out.

“Beeecauuuuse…” His eyes darted around for something he could use to turn the situation to his favor. Math worksheet? No. Half eaten sandwich? Maybe later. NASA t-shirt? Perfect. “I’m a star, kid.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of star?” The boy narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Red supergiant, Orion constellation… I’m sure you’ve heard of me…”

He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please work, please work.

“Betelgeuse?”

“Got it in one, kid.” He swallowed his relief and winked. “You’re even quicker on the uptake than Lydia!”

“Who?”

“Uhh, no one! Hey, what’s that?”

Betelgeuse darted over to a group of photos on a shelf and picked one up.

“Who’s the chick in the tight blue suit?” He whistled, letting the back of the frame fall open and the picture to unfold. “Really doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?”

“Um, ew! That’s my mom!” The kid snatched the photo out of his hands and inspected the back of it. “How did you even do that?”

“I’d let her be my mommy any time.”

“…I will literally do anything for you to never talk about my mom ever again.”

“Anything?”

“Like, within reason. I’m not gonna, you know, kill anybody or anything.”

“Would you… be willing to… maybe… say my name three times in a row?” He bit his lip in anticipation.

The kid considered him suspiciously. “Is this like a kink thing?”

“What? No! Pshhh! No! Well maybe sometimes… Absolutely not, no. Cross my heart! See!” He drew an X on the right side of his chest.

“Yeah, no. Still don’t trust you.”

“C’mon kid!” He skidded to his knees in front of the boy. “Please, please, please! I’ll owe you one! I’m good for it! Promise!”

He clutched at the NASA shirt desperately. He couldn’t let this kid slip through his fingers, it might be another hundred years before he found another living person who could see him. He’d tasted the blood of freedom and he wanted more.

The boy grimaced and tried to pull away, Betelgeuse scrabbled after him. “I’ll get out of your hair, promise! Just three little words! Just three!”

“Okay, jeez, fine. If it’ll get you leave,” the boy groaned.

“YES! I mean!” He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse. Now get out of my house.”

Power surged then fizzled within him.

“Wow. That was anticlimactic.” He deflated. “Ah well, a deal’s a deal! See ya kid!”

He flew up through the ceiling with a sloppy salute.

What a chump! That was almost too easy.

 -later-

 That was definitely too easy.

Betelgeuse scowled as yet another hand reached through his head to grab a jug of milk.

His powers had been on the fritz ever since he got them back. One minute he was turning the floor into a writhing mass of roaches, the next, poof, they were gone! The unsuspecting sap he’d been about to scar for life left… unscarred.

He could tap someone on the shoulder, but when they turned around, they just looked straight through his carefully crafted horror show of a face; he’d hidden in dumpsters to jumpscare people taking out their trash, but they didn’t even see him; and his fruit fly cream pies went right through their targets.

Figures, it was just his luck that the one fucking human in this whole damn city who could see him was fucking defective.

Betelgeuse opened the glass door and stepped out of the grocery store refrigerator, he needed to find that kid.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Can we see your tattoos

Yes!

Okay my first tattoo left ankle

I refuse to sink with an anchor. It was an impulse and now I think it's funny because that is literally an anchor's job.

Second tattoo

My gallavich tattoo! Designed by the amazing @suzy-queued

It has the outline of the petals as the profiles of my favorite gallavich kisses plus my favorite quote

Third tattoo

My eddie munson tattoo also designed by @suzy-queued

It has my favorite eddie quote in joseph Quinn's handwriting, the flowers are iron maidens and snapdragons. The snapdragons represent bravery and strength. The iron maidens because eddie is a metalhead.

My 4th-7th tattoos I got all at the same time on my back. Most painful ones by far.

They are body positive tattoos of flowers that sprout out of the rolls on my back. Taking an area I dont particularlylike and making me love it.

Delphiniums purple and blue, freesias, and lillies of the valley.

[janumun]

You-the King's most favored pet, laying bare upside down on True Form!Sukuna's abs, an occasional deep-earthquaking breath slightly shifts his silken, smooth flesh; lower chest not even half the human size of your whole torso, gargantuan. Curse imbedded steel beneath you, stoic, waiting patient as a saint to combust into all-consuming hellfire and brimstone. Iron lungs, and gluttonous teeth. Anicent marble, deep void-kissed tattoos, glowing a deafening heat that gleefully antagonizes Amaterasu's radiant sun.

Bruised in feather-soft cresent moons from your determinated "assault," kisses touched of dark stars and lively lips, moist lust soaking between the cracks, careful not to childishly drivel all over your lord's flawless body. Your eternal worship of Sukuna's evil form, a physical, selfish devotion he personally allows.

(Only from yourself, an order, directly from his throat. Leaving no room for arguments. His command, swollen deeply into your brittle bones as your own humane pleasures and soul sunk heavy like a sailor's anchor into Sukuna's, not that he will ever let you know that, not while the Devil's pride rules these chard hills.)

A true immortal, pure cruelty bound in a sinister body far too human looking to be anything borne of the natural order. Morality doesn’t exist in The Malevolent Shrine, The King of Curses teads the weaker masses on Earth to fulfill his endless appetite til the day he finally falls then rots neath the spoils. Inspire fear and destruction, shamelessly swat some pitiful insects, devastate mountains, and poor villages regurdless whether human, innocent, or otherwise.

(Humans look upon his sharp spire in frozen shock and fear, ever aware of his immense fighting power and curse knowledge, infectious in Humanity's most heroic of hearts. An ocean of bleeding corpses makes way for his upcoming slaughter over the next town.

Cursed spirits bow their heads in frightful respect of their rightful superior, but alike to humans, are equally afraid of his feet traveling bored by their chosen lands, searching for his newest piece of meat to pick apart piece by delicate piece, to play with then discard like trash.

And his next prey just so happened to be you.)

Sukuna has obviously grown used to a lot of things over the millennia walking olden Japan as the most powerful deity alive; to the ear ripping screams of his unfortunate victims, the Jujutsu elderly's countless pleads for sweet mercy when Sukuna hardly ever knew such a pathetic word, even on a good day, glancing upon the horizon's cruel split of a perfectly good dawn, a clean wound in the sky's penniless paper.

Sukuna is used to the fearful devotion of his followers and merger weaker cursed spirits. Bound to him by soul-striking fear and the promise that he would "spare" their life's if they tended to him as mortals should to their Ascended. They've been around quite a long time in his constant, rampant, rampages through the countryside. Useful as they were enough, it was always pure, unfiltered fear that ravaged the weak souls and hollow minds in his dark kingdom. What Sukuna isn’t used to, which is already very few between-

-Is sincerity.

(Sucking and dutifully stroking his erect cocks, you-furfill your bodily duty to your King to the absolute fullest amongst everyone else he threw to the wastes over the centuries. You do not serve him out of fear for your life, not out of stupid desperation to helplessly convince him to spare you, then perhaps "skip" your beloved home village.

You befell yourself to the ground, bend your knees to him out of your own free will alone, ready to die and be devoured by the hands of the towering God before you. Whose malicious smiling fangs threatened to break his face into thirds from just how surprised Sukuna was to return home from a finished hunt and see a beautiful kitten beyond his claimed wood actually, genuinely offer themselves to him. Not because of some grand sacrifice or moral value, but because you could and just wanted too; uninfluenced by your higher elders or fellow humans, undeterred by the chaotic stories of The King of Curse's ruthless mannerisms, if anything it inspired you to drown yourself further into his domain. Which, where humans and curses were often concerned,

Is a guaranteed death wish.

Sukuna knew exactly what fear and fright tasted like having consumed it literally his entire existence. Fear and jaw-dropping despair were two sides of the same coin. However, while you sang your poetic praises so high to the Heavens, it would render God a jealous mess, Sukuna didn't taste a single lie. Never subtle in the beginning, unpredictably consistent, Sukuna liked that about you.

If anything, you were more fearful of pungent rejection, being denied both life under foot in Sukuna's cursed servtude and/or the unmistakable honor of death forged by a god's beckoning hand-the feeling of never belonging to even the conquistador of death himself, compared to him in the flesh, standing inhumanly tall afront of you.

(He would be offended by your sheer audacity, to wander aimlessly for him in his personal domain of all damned places that even fools know never to trespass and just expect him to entertain whatever empty thoughts exist in that pitiful head of yours.

How did you even possibly walk so far in Ryomen Sukuna's domain without attracting the attention of the lesser dogs lingering like hungry ghosts within his bloodshot mists? They usually jump like party springs at the chance of fresh meat. Did you evade them that quickly? Did you just so happen to catch them on the one singke day they didn't feel like venturing out and about like they always did? Impressive, Sukuna admits.

Likely would've murdered you for it regurdless, if not for the intense, overflowing amount of sincere amusement and intrigue boiling red hot lava in Sukuna's loins.

Why should he-The King of Curses-turn down such an eager subject? You interest him greatly so far, what could go wrong?)

If your King wanted to brutally dehead you while you were busy choking yourself further down his aggressive lengths, tightening throat swallowing him whole, you would be calm and content. Accept the fate your King generously bestowed upon your unworthy self with dignity because how else should you die by your God's will?

Both his cocks exclusively pour pre-cum, erupting like furious volcanos. Drooling at the thought of you, at the promise of pleasure and satisfaction, you seductively caught those fat droplets, each cruel vein and senstive bundle of nerves throbbing at the long wet trail of your submission. Ensuring to deprave neither dick of your lewd caresses and mouth, your God deserves your complete undivided attention any time he commands it. Serving him in every way Sukuna so loves it. Your loyal tongue salivates, while you're quite eager, you know not to rush far too quickly due to the dangerous risk of upsetting your immoveable God.

He hated ending it so quickly, people like you come so rarely, he will drain you for all your worth slowly while personally engraving his cursed name along every pore of flushed skin, especially when he plans so many more rounds in the near future.

He isn't anywhere near done with you.

I cannot say anything except suggesting you should try posting your writing/brain-rot officially within the Sukuna tag, for other Curse King lovers, I’m sure many would love it if they could find this later on with the proper tags! :)

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Lucky.

A little thing to try and work out Tabitha and Colm’s relationship, its a bit rough but its something.

The night was bright, the air warm, the sound of music and laughter was carried on the pleasant breeze, A party was happening in the camp, a rare sight indeed, but one which was deserved, a victory, another planet saved, another job well done.

Tabitha Basteel sat a fair distance away from the main party and sipped her tea. She'd been working for almost two days straight in the hospital, and was ordered to take time off, but even now sitting here she couldn’t make herself tired.

The breeze carried the smell of sweetness towards her and she smiled, she knew the smell of a cigar when she smelt it.

“Colm..” 

Colonel Colm Corbec was a prime example of the men of Tanith, he was big and brawny, with frazzled graying hair and a beard you could hide a lasgun in, his arms bore the swirly blue tattoos of his homeworld and he usually had a cigar clenched between his teeth, he looked imposing but underneath it all he was a gentle, caring man.

“Tabby cat.”

He sat next to her with a sigh “How are you?”

“Tired..”

To emphasize her point Tabitha rested her head on Colm’s shoulder, he smiled and stroked her hair, brushing a strand away from her face. 

“You need to look after yourself, you're no use to anyone when you’re dead on your feet.”

Tabitha smiled, “You sound like My Father.”

“Old enough to be..”

“Not this again Colm..”

She sat up straight and put the cup of tea on the floor next to her feet, she then took Colm’s cigar from his mouth.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care about the age difference between us..”

She went to kiss him but he moved away, his bushy eyebrows furrowing 

“It ain’t right for a pretty young thing to be with a deadbeat old man like me.” 

“Colmy..” 

She dropped the cigar, ironically it landed in her tea with a plop.

“Don’t.”

She cupped his face, she always loved the feeling of his beard

“Come on Tabs, What prospects do I have? I’m an old man…in a career where not many men get that luxury.” He placed one of his big hands on top of hers “And you’ve got a family back home who’ll want kids and a husband from you, not some backwater trash like me.”

“I have seven brothers and sisters, That's enough husbands, wives and children for anyone..”

Before he could protest further, she kissed him, soft and loving, she could never in a thousand hours of sitting here describe to him just how much she did love him, he was an anchor in the rocky waters around them, even after hours in the hospital, hours of blood and death, Tabitha knew that Colm would come visit, and offer her a cup of recaf or a cake bar he’d “Found”

“I love you, You great bushy bearded bastard..”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling 

“Such language Nurse Basteel..”

“I spend too much time with this Colonel.”  

“Oh you do, do ya?”

“Yes, he’s so handsome I let it slide..”

“Well, lucky him.”

[ironfoxtypewriters]

🎙️🎙️MIC CHECK, IS THIS THING ON? 🎙️🎙️

It certainly has been a long, cold winter here at the Foxden, but this knocked the frost off of me.

Today's typewriter reveal is so BIG that frankly it's in a league of its own. So don't do that thing you do and castaway this video before watching it in its entirety or the next time you've got mail you might miss out on what to expect...

I hope that you didn't need to use the Davinci Code to crack that cypher. Still in the dark? On Monday I received a package through the mail that is so cool that I STILL can't believe it's real. As it turns out The Iron Fox is the newest recipient of a bonafide #hanx typewriter! Inside the box I was thrilled to find a totally sweet green colored Playtone shammy (That Thing You Do is one of my all time favorites), a signed letter from Tom Hanks outlining the gift I'd recieved and a black travel case containing a STUNNING green 1932 Underwood 4 Bank bearing his distinct signature in gold.

I am an ENORMOUS fan of the Underwood 4 Bank (I have a bunch in different colors) and even designed my next tattoo using the beauty as the anchor point that brings the artwork together, so having been gifted this just seems like kismet. I'll be posting some high quality still photos soon but in the meantime I really hope that you enjoy the video. It was a lot of fun to make and from start to finish it gave me a chance to rope my oldest Fox cub into spending quality time with me to help me make it.

Special thanks of course to #tomhanks for his continued campaign of contributions to the arts and toward keeping the art of the typewriter a relevant means of creative expression. Thank you to Nicole of Playtone for reaching out on his behalf and making the whole thing happen. Many thanks to the incomparable Kathy Kelly of @paranormalmuseum for keeping #asbury weird and buying a Zoltar machine on a whim. And special thanks to Mrs. Fox for always being an amazingly supportive wife through all my crazy ideas, like restoring typewriters.

.

..

#thismachinekillsfascists #ironfoxtypewriters #typewriterjunkies #typewriterrevolution #writeintentionally #writenow #vintagetypewriter #typewritersofinstagram #igwriters #igpoets #igauthors #authorsofig #authorsofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #writers #typewriter #newjersey #literacy #tomhankstypewriter #vintagecool #counterculture #supportsmallbusiness #wow #newjerseyisntboring

[brandwhorestarscream]

I would like to hear about the Arcee and Jack parasite story 👍

Hey anon, sorry this took so long. I'm bad at collecting thoughts and also timely communication lmao 😂

Ok, so. No war AU. Cybertronians suddenly descend to earth and the humans, completely unprepared, are entirely at their mercy. They round up all the organics, and they all undergo medical testing. Many are released back to earth, and no one who stays aboard the ships sees them again. Yada yada etc etc, we've been over this already.

Every human that is kept in captivity is given an id number, tattooed or perhaps branded on their neck. Idk, it doesn't matter. Jack's number is J-101311. Poor kid has no idea what is going on, expects to be dissected or smthn. But no, what they have in store for him is much, much worse 🤭 He and a gaggle of other humans--all young adults like him--are auctioned off and shipped out. The robot that purchased him is blue and pink and a bit smaller than the others. Arcee.

She takes him back to her habsuite aboard the Ark, or perhaps her own personal space cruiser thing. Idk, again, it's not important. Then, basically, we get to a scene similar to Alien--maybe an extendable glossa or a tendril straight from her spark, but she shoves it down his throat and deposits a spark pod in his stomach. Human stomachs are a great place for their little spark pods to mature--the hydrochloric acid is a great deterrent for anything that might try to hurt them, it's toasty warm, and the stomach fuels the entire body. The sparkling anchors itself to the walls, and the incubation officially begins. Humans are particularly small, and as such the sparklings they create are teeny tiny, the most adorable little things! They've been quietly snatching up spare ones for years, but finally the invasion plan is ready. Arcee's been on a waiting list for years for her turn to reproduce, and finally it's time!

The incubation process takes several months--the sparkling harvests the iron from his blood, causing anemia over time. It sucks up all of his body's trace amounts of magnesium, phosphorous, mercury, even the calcium from his bones to make it's body.

Due to the human need for companionship, Jack actually finds himself making friends with Arcee despite his best efforts. She takes excellent care of him--he hosts a piece of her future, after all, and a healthy host means a healthy sparkling. She makes sure he recharges regularly, makes sure he refuels, makes sure he never misses the weekly check ups with the medic. She's gentle with him, kind, and it makes him miss his mother. He wonders where she is. Hopes she's not suffering the same fate as him.

They become very close, and even as he gets sicker and sicker, it gets harder and harder for him to hate her. She's genuinely a nice lady. She's never cruel or condescending. To her, this is normal. She was born the same way, as were all of her people.

They talk about names together. She tells him all the things she can't wait to do with her newspark, fantasizing about rocking them and playing with their bitty servos, and even thanking him for his sacrifice. He's not stupid, he knows he's not going to survive the process. He can feel it in his stomach, a constant, concentrated weight that's hard to lug around even without his muscles atrophying.

The day draws near, and the medic reports that emergence could occur any day. Arcee has everything ready for her son or daughter, and is on pins and needles with excitement. Jack is terrified, but... what can he do, really? Does he want to spend his last moments screaming and crying, hysterically begging someone to stop this? Not particularly, no.

Now, the emergence can go one of two ways. It could either be in true chest-burster fashion, with the newspark instinctively tunneling it's way out through his stomach and then abdomen, or the sparkling crawling up the esophageal tubing and out through the mouth. One is guaranteed to kill him, the other gives him a slim chance at staying alive (possibly for another incubation if I really wanted to twist it)

[kaaras-adaar]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

repost, don’t reblog

basics !

FULL NAME. Kaaras Tashaath Adaar

PRONUNCIATION. Kaer-rass, tash-hath, uh-duh

NICKNAME. Adaar, Inquisitor, Captain, Herald of Andraste, Worship.

GENDER. Male

HEIGHT. 6′7

AGE. 29

ZODIAC. Sagittarius 

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. Common/Trade tongue, intermediate Qunlat. 

physical characteristics !

HAIR COLOUR. Butterscotch blonde. .

EYE COLOUR. Red with orange flecks and a black ring around the iris.

SKIN TONE. Pale grey.

BODY TYPE. Thick, stocky, muscular, overweight. 

ACCENT. Fereldan, with a hint of Starkhaven from living there the last few years. 

VOICE. Harry Hadden-Paton. 

DOMINANT HAND. Right (thankfully lol)

POSTURE. Straight back, shoulders back, very formal and military-like. 

SCARS. Multiple. Across his nose/under his eye, down his lip/chin, over his shoulder/back, over his ribs, an appendix removal scar. 

TATTOOS. Nil.

BIRTHMARKS. A tiny little freckle-like dark mark near his belly button and a freckle that looks like a heart on his butt cheek.

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Horns, longer than average ears, height, body mass.

childhood !

PLACE OF BIRTH. Starkhaven (in the back of a Chantry).

HOMETOWN. Ferelden, Southron Hills. 

BIRTH WEIGHT. Smaller than average 

BIRTH HEIGHT. Smaller than average. 

FIRST WORDS. Most likely mumma or papa 

SIBLINGS. Talan-ash (older half brother from his father’s side), Aith (adopted elven younger sister), multiple unnamed siblings from his father under the Qun. 

PARENTS. Aban Adaar (mother--alive and well), Anaan Adaar (father--deceased) 

PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. Loving parents who encouraged Kaaras from a young age. His relationship was extremely close as a young boy. When his father passed away, Kaaras blamed himself and pushed his mother and sister away, becoming distant with them. However, he cares deeply for his family and they mean the world to him. He is still close to his mother, despite still feeling guilt for the loss of his father and his mother’s husband. 

adult life !

OCCUPATION. Farmer, mercenary, mercenary captain, Inquisitor. 

CURRENT RESIDENCE. Skyhold, but Ferelden will always be home. He also has a place in Starkhaven where his mercenary company operate from. 

CLOSE FRIENDS. Dorian Pavus, Iron Bull, Aith, his merc band. 

RELATIONSHIP STATUS.  Verse dependent

FINANCIAL STATUS. Commoner, however, as Inquisitor, his status increased significantly. 

CRIMINAL RECORD. He has been wrongfully arrested twice. 

VICES. Gluttony, pride. 

sex and romance !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Pansexual. 

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Panromantic. 

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. Submissive  |  dominant  |  switch

LIBIDO. High. 

TURN ONS. Lingerie, BDSM, emotional encouragement and support, kind hearted people who help others, butts, the scent of his lover, biting.

TURN OFFS. Blindfolds, lack of true control, people who are selfish and manipulative as well as rude, anything to do with lack of hygiene.

LOVE LANGUAGE. Quality time. 

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. Kaaras is in it for the long haul. He is a slow burn romantic partner, but it is well worth it. He is selfless and caring, and loving. Someone who wishes to give a romantic relationship his all. He wants to help his lover feel their self worth. 

miscellaneous !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Inquisitor by Raney Shockne 

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Reading, poetry, sparring, horse riding, quiet walks.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. OCD (informally diagnosed), PTSD (informally diagnosed). mottephobic. 

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. PGAD, lactose intolerance, heart murmur, the anchor being a parasite... 

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. Left brained 

FEARS. Losing control, failing his loved ones, hurting the people he loves, not being good enough to save Thedas. 

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Kaaras is very aware of his gifts and what he lacks in. I’d say he’s a pretty confident individual, but he’s also extremely humble about it. He’s very well balanced in that regard. 

VULNERABILITIES. His heart. His heart is so fucking big. Both physically and mentally. Kaaras has a heart murmur, although you wouldn’t know unless he’s exceptionally stressed or fatigued. It caused a bit of discomfort at times. The anchor will also make him weak over time and hurt him until it is removed. Mentally, Kaaras is a very giving and self sacrificing person with a martyr complex. He also gives the benefit of the doubt to most people, which can bite him on the arse. His family is his biggest weakness, though. He will do anything to protect them and keep them from harm.  

Tagged by: Stolen

Tagging: Y'all <3

[bruiisedpetals-a]

  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐫𝐚  𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐣𝐨𝐲  +  𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚  𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦

@arzodae​​ liked this starter call !

house drumm’s blood-red sigil flapped stark against the clouded skies of the iron islands , with a favourable wind carrying 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 to anchorage with house goodbroother (of shatterstone old wyk)’s 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 flanking it — captained by her elder cousin wulffryd — and accompanied by house goodbrother (of hammerhorn on great wyk)’s 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 ; who was captained by wulffryd’s cousin.      bringing house drumm and goodbrother to pyke was the raven announcing that lord balon had taken the title of 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭�� —   the taste of war was in the salted air , one would have to be deaf and dumb to be ignorant of that fact.   wulffryd had been commanded to present himself and the wanderer by lord balon as one of the most feared and famed ironborn of old wyk , whilst regnarra sailed as representative of her house and the isle.

❝ haul the lines and get those sails down! — ❞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝’𝐬 pale hair whipped wildly around her tattooed , angular features as she toyed with the driftwood piece strung about her neck — her sharp , booming command hastening the crew even further.   her quartermaster thundered the commands to drop anchor and ready the longboat to head to shore and on the wind she could hear similar commands echoed from the goodbrother vessels.   when her pale eyes alighted on the lettering of a greyjoy ship - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 - she could not help but be pleased to see another vessel sailing under a female captain  ( aside from yara and the sea bitch ).  

once ashore she headed towards the krakens kiss , wet sand and brittle shells crunching under her boots with her bosun following a few steps behind as dutiful guard.  the kraken’s crew seemed to be unloading cargo from a longboat of their own ... perhaps they had recently reached the island as well.

❝ where’s your captain? ❞ regnarra shouted over the wind as she approached ,  ❝ is she aboard or at pyke? ❞

[heartscfvalor]

Tiegan is one of my more active muses right now so here are some AUs I’ve whipped up for him.

Euphoria: Foster kid, new to East Highland. He has several gang tattoos, frequently skips class and is seen hanging around Fez’s corner shop to get drugs. Due to his grunge aesthetic, he’s seen to be a bit scary to some, but in reality he just wants to be left alone. Can be friendly when the situation calls for it, but he’s not afraid to cut a bitch with his switchblade if he has to. Always low key itching to beat someone’s ass.

Hogwarts: Slytherin student. Carries a nine inch cedar wood wand with a dragon heartstrings core, and his familiar is a pure black cat with orange eyes he names Duke. His best classes are Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination and Ancient Runes; his bloodline is a mystery as he does not know who his father is, and his mother was nonmagical, to the best of his knowledge. He learns how to become an Animagus by fourth year, in which he turns into a raven a white chest, and he studies the Dark Arts in his spare time in order to learn how to recognize such magic when out in the real world. Unlike his peers, he’s also willing to use Dark Magic if pushed to the edge to destroy enemies. If attending Ilvermorny, he’s Sorted into Wampus.

PJO/Demigod: Son of Hades. He carries two Stygian Iron daggers, as his fighting style prefers to be as chaotic as possible. Like his half siblings before him, Tiegan has the abilities to shadow travel, sense and see other’s life forces, become invisible to the naked eye, control shadows and darkness, as well as the earth itself with all of it’s minerals and riches, communicate and control the dead, turn people into ghosts, and erase memories in others. His respect for the gods is minimal, but he toes the line and keeps to himself.

Dragon Age: Inquisition: Tiegan is a runaway apostate from a Circle in Ferelden after years of abuse; he and his sister Dorothea were kidnapped from their apostate mother after Catherine was discovered by Templars, and he was forced to watch them execute her for trying to keep her children protected. At the age of fifteen, Tiegan was able to destroy his phylactery before going on the run, and he manages six years living in the wilderness before he comes across more mages being chased down by Templars. After the Templars are killed, he’s told that the Mage-Templar War has already started, and so he is at the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes when it explodes, and he’s saved from the Fade by Justinia, given the Anchor in his hand as compensation. He’s extremely bitter that this responsibility has been thrust upon him, and he despises being called the Herald of Andraste, repeatedly committing blaspheme that Andraste and the Maker aren’t real, and if they are real, then they need to beg his forgiveness for the abuse he suffered in childhood. However, he agrees -- reluctantly -- to become the Inquisitor, if only because he’s promised immunity from the Circle if he helps fix the world.

Stranger Things: Tiegan is an escaped child experiment from Hawkins Lab. With the number “004″ tattooed on his left wrist, he was able to escape when he was just past the age of six, and was consequently discovered by Joyce Byers, who took the boy in without question, raising him as one of her own. As a result, Tiegan regards the Byers as his family, and would do anything for them. Like the other child experiments, Tiegan has supernatural abilities like telekinesis and telepathy; his special power is the ability to cause other’s to hallucinate when looking at him, so he appears as someone else entirely, or to be completely invisible to avoid detection. He helps to hide El when she escapes from the Lab when he’s seventeen, and he’s stunned to hear the other test subjects are all dead.

[crownofconvergencerp]

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐖𝐄𝐈 𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘

fangshi wei ying is a 257 year old cursed human that appears to be in his early 50s.  though he came from humble origins he is now an adoptive member of the Shogun's family as well as the emissary from the emperor's court after a very long lifetime soaked in the blood and viscera of war.  where this leaves him in the futuĺllre is anyone's guess due to the as of yet unknown influence of what he calls his passenger aka his death spirit. 

Wei Ying was a bubbly child with a very ironic name. Hoping to ensure their child had all the luck in the world, his parents named him Ying, meaning clever child. Unfortunately, while Ying was a happy child, he was not very clever, more curious than was ultimately safe for him.

His parents fostered that curiosity, ultimately taking him along with them as they explored various ruins. As a branch family of a branch family from one of the great clans, the Wei family earned their keep as archeologists by exploring ancient ruins looking for magic items and forgotten treasure. It was on one such trip that Ying's life took a dramatic turn.

When Ying was 8, he accompanied his parents on one of their trips. His parents had always told him not to touch things unless they were there with him, but like every curious, precocious child; Ying was always finding ways to escape the watchful eyes of their assistants and get into places he wasn't supposed to be. One day, while exploring the ruins on his own, he could have sworn he heard something or someone whispering his name. Crossing deeper into the ruins, Ying found his attention being drawn to an old crumbling wooden chest. Lifting the lid revealed a deep purple cushion with silver trim laying under what looked to be a pile of jagged metal links with what looked like a kunai and hand sickle laying on top. As soon as his hand touched the chain he was awash with pain as it felt like lightning started to crawl up his arms before he passed out in a cloud of purple tinted smoke.

When Ying came to, his parents were looking down on him with terrified expressions. No one knew what to make of the tattoos that decorated his arms and he seemed to be fine other than having passed out. It wasn't until weeks later that the whispers started again. They started off soft at first, much in the same way they did in the ruins. This continued until the whispers drove him into the woods and to the shore of a lake where he finally saw what was actually whispering to him for the first time. The spirit first appeared as a humanoid shaped cloud of smoke. She explained that they were bound together now that he had touched her anchor and so long as they remained bound she would gift him her abilities and he would work on her behalf. What that truly meant wouldn't become clear for many years, but in the meantime he carried out small tasks while learning to master her abilities.

Though he tried to keep his growing abilities a secret, the whispers started up anyway. You could only look past so many dead animals and the boy who never seemed to age right. Roughly a decade after first being cursed, an unlikely coincidence occurred. Tax collectors from the great clans were common, but having the same tax collector come year after year wasn't. This was how his abilities were brought to the attention of the clan the Wei family owed its vassalage to. The novelty of a regular human with magic was interesting enough but with a rare ability like necromancy, his adoption into the great clan was a given.

Wei Ying adapted to life in the great clan, slowly but surely, minus one thing. He wasn't what one would call a smart child. Sure, he could do the martial arts training, that came easy for him, especially with his passenger. With her connection is his physical body, she could help mold both his body and his magic. What she couldn't do was make him apply more than the bare minimum to the more formal education.

Life continued in this way for decades until the start of the Forty Seasons War. Where before his passenger was mostly subdued, a war woke her up to a much different and more direct fashion. With the land soaked in so much death, his grasp on his necromantic magic and abilities skyrocketed which brought him to the attention of the Shogun. Just like when he first caught the eye of his great clan and was adopted into the clan, the Shogun demanded Wei Ying take up a position in their household as Court Necromancer, or Fangshi.

Ying finished the war as a member of the Shogun's forces, pushing over 50 years of age but not looking anywhere close to it. Even after the war ended, Ying continued to serve the Shogun as Fangshi and continued to hold that position for over 100 years, well past what was a normal human lifespan. Even after the new Shogun took over, Ying continued to serve until he was dispatched to the Emperor's court to serve as representative of the Shogun. Soaking up magical and martial arts training, Ying was eventually appointed as Emissary to Destarin, though whether it's on behalf of the Shogun or the Emperor only two people know for certain, Fangshi Wei Ying and his ever present passenger.

WHAT ARE YOU...?

species: cursed human. weaknesses: regular healing spells and life magic will actually hurt ying, can suffer from wounds, disease and poison, if pushed to “death” he will lay in an unconscious state until his passenger is able to feed on enough life force to revive him. strengths: ying is practically invulnerable to necromancy and death magics, can heal by using his cursed object to channel stolen life energy into himself, cannot die as long as his death spirit keeps him bound to his cursed object, all necromancy/death aspected abilities and magic channeled through his object are stronger than otherwise. physical description: the cursed object resides in ying's skin as a tattoo that begins at the base of one wrist and wraps around his arms, across his back and down his other arm and terminates at the opposite wrist. additional info: wei ying's eyes turned the kind of bright green that is associated with poisonous tree frogs and they grow brighter the stronger the spell he casts.  the only difference comes from when he channels his abilities through his cursed object which is instead accompanied by a dark purple laced with silver light/smoke..

fangshi wei ying is played by div and their fc is keanu reeves.

[mumblingviking-blog]

Short: Law of the Sunleaf

The captain of his ship sat in his cabin looking out towards the door. The ship had been sinking for hours and the culprits had taken the rowboats out towards land before anyone had known their doom. It was a different sort of sea sickness that stuck in the captain’s chest as he drank the other half of his bottle of wine, tipping it up and savoring the breath of the empty wine bottle.

His table was neat and all of his maps were sealed in corked bottles, more valuable than the gold and silver in his wooden box, although he wouldn’t set them free to float away. As long as they were preserved they might have use in the captain’s afterlife. The priest of his town spoke of desert religions where the kings could shape their afterlife to be eternal paradise while soldiers on the battlefield fought for all the ages that followed theirs. So too, did sailors drink.

The death of a sailor is duty to the crew, the goal, and the ship. Their duty to the crew was to bring enough of everything, the goal is the horizon that never arrives, and the ship is their stronghold to keep the world far from your treasures. If the bottles break and the maps begin to fade there is no course for a captain to plan and nothing but the sailor’s trinity forever.

Every sailor knows the sad drunk in the port’s bar. Tattoos that detail a history of duty and they always have a fearsome tale about why they left their life behind and bastardized their death. They just couldn’t continue sailing past the ghosts of enemies, the terrors of the sea, or their own loneliness upon the waves. It doesn’t matter but they drown themselves on land all day.

Coming out of his thoughts, the captain stood on shaky feet, tied the strongest knot he knew and began pouring molten pitch from a cooking pot along the entire rope and even around his wrist where he had anchored the rope. The other end led out the doorway and had already been tied down to the ship’s mast. No man should be captain for eternity and although he wasn’t tired yet, Charles knew that he was no king and no arbiter of justice that could rule his friends forever.

The crew all carried bags in their unburnt hands that held the essentials, just in case the stuff in the cargo wasn’t close enough to shape their afterlife they needed the alcohol to ease the grief.

The captain knew better than to doubt and only carried his knives and club, in case anyone decided to cut at their crewmates and spare themselves a burden on the way to our eternal goal in death, since there were always fights at a pirate’s festival. Tonight was their final celebration!

Sing sailor! Time may pass and ages fall as pirates sail along the horizon, to fight the endless depths and mourn for the chill grasp of night! Sing your shanty, sailors! Honor the duty! None come upon your rafts and no shore shelter’s your soul, so sing loud and chase our shared gaol!

A prison as sure as any made from iron and brick, the afterlife is the prison we decorate and spend eternity pacing, clawing, and weeping within. If you never mourned your former life you died upon the summit of success while facing either a proverbial cliff or more likely a real one. Famous thieves, murdered royalty, and berserkers that tower over the battlefields they own. To be happy in the afterlife is to face into the night and know that every step leads up and away.

The pirate’s dream is that not every step leads up, but that the ship carries you across and out of your nightmares. Beyond the ocean is no harbor, the horizon ends and over the edge we shall fall where no priests may call and no gods may command. The end of dreams and death calls for us and oblivion claims all who die upon the ocean, tidal time guiding them away forever.

Joseph woke from his drunken fever, no longer captain of the Sunleaf’s crew and wielder of law, and saw only thunderous skies and the waves that cut apart the mist and grey clouds. The ship was falling in the air and landed down the slopes of a blue mountain that shed ripples of water as the Sunleaf carved a path across the wave’s surface. The ship turned itself away from the wave with uncontrollable speed and endless force, shattering the next wave into a salty breeze.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

hfsjfkagh tell me about your tattoooos! How many?! Where?! What?!

WILLOW! THANK you for asking!!

I have three.

One on my left ankle and one on each forearm.

The ankle tat is the oldest it's an anchor with "I refuse to sink" written with it. Which I see is silly now because that's an anchor's only job. But st the time I was like YES THATS IT.

The forearm tattoos were both designed by the wonderful amazing @suzy-queued and I got them.both this year!

The first is my gallavich tattoo made up of my favorite gallavich kisses and my favorite mickey quote.

The next is my eddie munson tattoo.

It has red/yellow/orange snapdragons because they stand for kindness and bravery and eddie plays dungeons and dragons.

The other flowers are iron maidens and they are perfect because eddie is a metalhead and i love the band.

It also has the sparkly upside down dust from this scene

OH I FORGOT.

Eddie's quote is in joseph Quinn's handwriting!