#maximillian nero

[themalhambird]

a[t/r]rest : escape velocity missing scene

RAVEN HITS THE WATER AND THE THAMES rushes, like a kraken that’s half starved, to swallow her whole. The murky brown water engulfs her, and then settles: she is gone, and might never have been there at all. She fell (and all evil above, there are days Max curses how well he can eyeball a distance) 63.7 metres. She was shot before she fell. 

The black choppers are converging on the pod. At the speed they’re going, Max gives it three, maybe four minutes before those soldiers on the ropes are swarming through the escape hatch. That gives him just enough time for—

—what? He’s too far away from any allies for the commlink in his cufflinks to be of use. He isn’t armed. He didn’t come armed to a meeting with a friend who he had known was in some kind of trouble. Because he trusted Gregori, and because he was with Raven; because it was London and he had thought he had An Understanding with the anti-G.L.O.V.E forces that operated in London- an understanding that should have rendered this trap unspringable…

So much for that. His shoulder hurts. Why does his shoulder hurt? Gregori had been running from Number One himself. He would have had the foresight to arm himself. Two minutes and closing. Even if Gregori was carrying a weapon, Max isn’t going to be able to fight his way out of a glass pod suspended above the Thames. 

He kneels by his friend’s body anyway, uncaring that his suit starts lapping up the pool of blood spreading out across the see-through floor. What are they making of this below, all those tourists scurrying about the Southbank, like so many worker ants? Gregori’s grey, blank eyes are fixed looking up at the endless expanse of sky. 

“Proshchay moy drug,” Max says quietly, reaching out and gently closing those eyes. He bends down and kisses, first, his old friend’s forehead- then his lips. There’s an old, familiar anger warming up again in his chest- long dormant, but never fully extinguished and now grown just that little bit hotter- like the flame of a bunsen burner with a vent just cracked open. 

The choppers move to block all four sides of the pod. There’s a loud thud as boots land on the roof. Max removes the signet ring from Gregori’s little finger and slips it on to his own. He takes the gold band from Gregori’s ring finger and slips it on to his own. They’re loose, of course. Gregori Leonov has made many cracks, over the years, about both the slenderness of Max’s fingers and the thickness of his own. But they’ll stay on Max’s hand unless they’re deliberately taken, and whilst Nero has little doubt that they will be taken, Max refuses not to try. When and if he gets out of this mess, he’ll find out what became of Madame Leonov’s corpse and if it’s possible, he’ll return her husband’s wedding ring to her. 

A rush of cold air enters the pod, and the noise from the helicopters’ blades increases exponentially. Max stands slowly, and as he does so he feels, rather than hears, the thud of feet landing behind him. Six men- Max can see their vague, distorted reflections in the glass. They spread out,  then close in riffles all trained on him and- ah, off course. One end of a rope ladder thuds down after them. 

There, Max thinks distantly. Right down there. That’s where Natalya hit the water when she fell. She’d fallen further in her time, surely? And with worse injuries than a bullet-graze. Hell’s sake, why was his shoulder throbbing so—-

His gaze falls on spider-webbed glass. The bullet hole at the centre of it. Drops briefly to the tunnel bored through Gregori Leonov’s heart and…oh. Of course. He’d already been moving when the bullet broke the wall, his shoulder colliding with Gregori’s chest too late to pull him down out of the way, just quickly enough to support the already lifeless corpse and…

He reaches underneath the lapel of his jacket, probing at the shoulder giving him the problem. His fingers graze a wetness and recoil. When he pulls his hand back, his fingertips are stained with red. 

“I SAID, TURN AROUND WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Faint Gascony accent. The too-irritated tone of a soldier who knows he’s not allowed to shoot whatever it is he’s pointing his gun at, and really wants an excuse to do it anyway. Nero half turns, craning his neck round to look at him. “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t paying the smallest bit of attention,” he says, with all the cool, arch-politeness of a gentleman somebody else just barrelled into. He’s just about completed the one-eighty and is halfway through raising his hands when his vision fades to black for a moment. It fades back in just as quickly, but it’s not a promising sign. 

“You are being taken into the custody of the Hostile Operative Prosecution Executive-”

“The what?” Nero’s never heard of such a group, which means that nobody in G.L.O.V.E has come across it before either, which means that somehow, an organisation with the authority to run a mission in Central London, in broad daylight, has sprung into being without anybody in Nero’s world noticing. How— no. No, if Number One was behind this, somehow, he wouldn’t need a front- and he wouldn’t be so foolish as to play at secret services in the M.I sandpit, not when it would have been just as convenient if not more so to simply target Nero’s shroud over open waters as he returned to the school. 

If Max is lucky. If he’s very, very lucky. His credit is still good enough with Number One that even if G.L.O.V.E’s esteemed leader learns that Nero was captured whilst meeting a traitor, the man will assume that- had Leonov not been shot and Nero not been captured mid meeting- his longest standing, most faithful vassal would have dealt with Leonov for him. After all, Number One hadn’t alerted the rest of ruling council (why?) to Leonov’s supposed treason (what the hell had he found out?) and when Diabolus—

We don’t think about how it ended with Darkdoom, Nero’s dilapidated and long-atrophied conscience reminds him. That’s right,  Nero’s sanity agrees: the line of thinking is, therefore,  concordantly switched off and Nero re-focuses on the soldier, who is repeating, angrily: “The Hostile Operative Prosecution Executive-” and oh. Oh. It’s childish, but Nero simply can’t resist- he’s been shot through the shoulder and one of his best, last friends is dead on the floor, he’ll blame it on blood loss and shock if he ever has to. He smiles, broadly, and says:

“I suppose you’re hoping I’ll come quietly.”

The soldier growls- raises his rifle like a club and- honestly, Nero can see it coming, but why bother trying to block it? He’s not the one who’ll have to get his unconscious body up a rope ladder after, and with that joke he’s probably earned it—

Captain Denbas slams the butt of his rifle into the side of the prisoner’s skull. The prize malefactor crumples to the ground- felled like a sapling stood before a tsunami, though his head is spared a second blow. The corpse cushions it. This “Doctor Nero” character lands slumped across his dead confederate’s chest, instead of directly slamming into the cubicle's hard floor. 

Pity. 

“Jackson, pick him up,” he orders, glancing at  the private on his far left. Jackson’s not the tallest man of the squad, but he’s got the broadest shoulders. Their prisoner’s easily more than six foot, but he’s thin. Jackson nods, moving to comply. “Alright let’s move it, go,” Denbas says, grasping for the ladder himself. “There’s a team down on the ground waiting to take care of the rest of this mess. 90 minutes,” (pulling himself up towards the eager, waiting maw of the chopper) “90 minutes, and we throw that son of a bitch in a cell, where he belongs…”

(Meanwhile Max is drifting, lost in a spinning world of cold, rational calculation and frantic prayer. Natalya fell. 63.7 metres. Natalya fell. Into water- into the Thames, and all associated muck. She was shot before she fell. An open wound, and such a very long fall, and so very vile a stretch of water. But she’s strong, she’s strong, she’s strong: she knows how to swim, and she’s survived greater falls, and far worse injuries, and dealt with similarly unsanitary conditions and oh! how swiftly flies the raven/ swooping ‘fore the jaws of death:/Thou fears her wings are stop’d from beating/but soars she still on Aura’s breath…)

[sakurajjam]

MASTERLIST DE NOMES MASCULINOS!

Após cut você vai encontrar 102 opções de nomes masculinos, todos foram tirados de textos que já li e alguns de imagens do pinterest, infelizmente, não encontrei créditos em nenhuma delas. As opções não seguem qualquer tipo de aesthetic ou localidade, apenas são nomes que achei bonitos e interessantes, e espero ajudar alguém! 

Ace

Adonis

Aidan

Aiolos

Alastair

Alden

Alistar

Ambrose

Anders

Anteros

Archer

Arien

Arlo

Asher

Benedict

Bennet

Bentley

Bjorn

Blaise

Blaze

Cairus

Caius

Calian

Casper

Caspian

Chivalry

Corbin

Damian

Daudi

Davide

Dawson

Declan

Demetrius

Denver

Derek

Dexter

Dorian

Draco

Draven

Elio

Finnian

Flavian

Flavian

Flynn

Gabe

Gareth

Gavin

Greyson

Gunnar

Harvey

Hayes

Herik

Hugo

Icaro

Jarrel

Javier

Jonah

Kai

Karter

Kenneth

Kieran

Koen

Lars

Laurent

Leonidas

Lino

Lynus

Lucian

Luther

Lysandre

Magnus

Marlon

Mattias

Maverick

Maximillian

Narcissus

Nemesio

Nero

Niklaus

Noah

Percival

Peter

Pierre

Raiden

Raymond

Regulus

Rhysand

Robin

Rodrick

Ronan

Rune

Scorpio

Sean

Severus

Silas

Sylas

Tristan

Valentin

Viktor

Yves

Zarachy

Zayan

[jisreal64]

Don’t forget Hideki Tojo, Emperor Hirohito, Nero, Napoleon Bonaparte, Maximillian Robespierre, Francisco Franco, Pope Alexander VI/Rodrigo Borgia, Cesare Borgia, Ivan the Terrible, Vlad the Impaler/Count Dracula, and Kim Il-Sung; he also takes up from those “great” historical leaders as well. 😉

[glare0322]

https://youtu.be/Zr2RZUOrdrM

i’ve drained way too much energy into this at least pretend to like it

[eyes-of-mercy]

and who are you

Send “And Who Are You?” and I will respond with either an under-used, unfamiliar, or otherwise brand new Muse.

"Maximillian Nero, nice to meet you." The man holds out his hand with a pleasant smile. It's hard to see the resemblance of him with Alice Nero, face wise, between the piercings and the glam makeup he's got on.

But fashion wise there's definitely a sense of familiarity. He's dressed completely in black, a mix of leather and denim that matches his sister's alternative goth look.

Well, half sister.

"Excuse me if I don't know who you are, I'm not in the Offices a lot. What's your name?"

[misericorsalvator]

Marv’s.

When the cat's away, the mice will play. So the saying goes, which many a hunter has taken to mean that the moment they let their guard down, the leeches will seize their chance and swarm.

Right now, though, it's the vampires that are away, locked in torpor as daybreak crawls over the horizon, and when the last one -Nero- loses his fight against that hibernatory instinct, the hunter gets up. He tip-toes over and around the sleeping pile of vampires and other assorted supernatural creatures sprawled over the couches and chairs of Mia's living room, creaks open the front door inch by agonizing inch... and steps out into the city.

He walks down the street -sleeves rolled up in the hot weather, ignoring the looks he gets when some passerby notices the scarred skin of his arms- and falls in line on a familiar old path; one he'd walked enough back when he lived here that he could walk it in his sleep. He doesn't stop to turn at the crossing for Santa Monica and the pier, he doesn't stop at the cosy corner coffee shop he'd frequented two years ago, he doesn't stop by the old cenaculum where he'd been locked up those first nights--

But he does stop at Marv's.

A craggy old blink-and-you'll-miss-it hole in the wall bar you wouldn't spot if you didn't already know about it, but in his days of running in the city, he'd gotten well acquainted with the place-- and with its owner, Marv. A roughened-up old man with sharp eyes that could spot a polar bear in a snowstorm, and worn-out calloused hands from decades of handling anything from knives to crossbows to the military-grade firearms he probably didn't have the permits for.

Word on the street is he'd even been the one to ash the previous Tremere Primogen, gave Maximillian Strauss a clean-cut path to the top, and there's still folk from both sides who'd be glad to see him pay for it. But Marv has his regulars, all hunters he'd trained himself or picked up off the street and sent back out with their stomachs full and their wounds patched-- so going after him would have to get through 50-odd hunters before even getting close to the man himself.  

Either way, he's been a staple of Los Angeles' hunter underground since anyone left alive can remember, and this bar is the closest anyone from his draft of the old guard's come to retirement.

He'd spent years working on it, bit by bit, using what little money he could save up to outfit the place from the drink glasses to the metal chairs with velvet tops, right down to the pine green wallpaper covering the walls. The crossbows, those came out of his personal collection, perched over the drink cabinet, as did the swords, axes, daggers, and stakes put up on caseless displays, all cleaned and sharp and ready to skewer any poor bastard who walks in here looking for trouble.

The last time Henry had seen Marv, the old hunter had slapped him over the head and talked him out of storming a Sabbat warehouse, back when his allegiance had been to a self-sacrificial sense of duty. And as Henry sees him now, sharp grey eyes marking him from behind the counter, he hasn't changed a bit. The bar falls into silence, cut only by some old rock bar playing from the dangling corner speaker on the ceiling, and for a heartbeat, two, nobody makes a move...

...Then, Marv nods to him, and all that tension breaks. He's been accepted, and as he walks down the rusty iron steps into the bar, makes for the counter, a few familiar faces wave in welcome. "What're you having, kid?" Marv asks, his scratchy, rough voice coming out in a familiar low rumble. Henry takes a seat, turns to face the bar, and orders his drink for the day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It's late noon when Henry gets up from the couch he'd moved to, leaves the three hunters he'd been drinking with for the past two-three hours with the giddiness of laughter that's mellowing out and an out-of-breath grin, and heads for the door. At this time of day, everyone and their mother's out on the streets, from Downtown to Hollywood, going from late lunches to early coffees to the rest of their work shifts. It's easier to blend in on his way back, lost in the crowds and noise.

The sun's still out when he reaches Mia's place, and, with the same caution and careful steps as before, it's not hard to slip past the knocked-out vampires and mages in the dark, and settle back into his spot. In a few hours, the sun will set, and folk will start waking up for the night. But, until then, well...he can sleep a bit more.

[skele-ghost]

I've made a quick template thing to help get people started:

Why were you recruited to HIVE?

What stream are you in?

Who are your friends (OCs or Main Characters)?

Who's your favorite teacher?

What's your favorite class?

What would you excell in?

What would you struggle with?

What would you job be after you graduate?

What would you get in trouble for (i.e. pranks, escape attempts)?

Feel free to add more!

I want everybody in the hive fandom to write about what they’d be like or what they’d do at hive

‘but shadow I can’t write-’

yes you can

‘but shadow I really don’t like writing’

then draw it

‘but shadow-’

I want this on my desk by nine tomorrow morning chop chop I don’t care if you make a freaking clay model or a stick figure I wanna see the hive fandom as enthusiastic about putting themselves in the action as the hp fandom is

[tchicovsky]

I also forgot how funny the adults names are

The woman who turned into a cat? Tabitha Leon

Villains? Let’s name them Maximillian Nero and Diabolus Darkdoom

[halcyonmusings]

OCS + BIOGRAPHIES (part two)

The Basics

Full Name: Arden Eilhart

Codename or Nickname: N/A

Birth Date: November 11th 1988

Birth Place: Fortuna

Nationality: British/Saudi Arabian

Organisation/Group: none (retired)

Former Affiliates: worked with Dante at the DMC shop

Family + Friends

Father: Vince Eilhart (deceased)

Mother: Cressida Hawthorne (alive)

Siblings: none

Friends: Dante, Lady, Trish, Lucia

Spouses: Vergil

Children: Nero, Freya (after 5)

Description

Height: 5′10″

Weight: 135 lbs

Hair Colour: black

Eye Colour: dark brown

Skin Colour: light brown

Any Scars: a few on her upper back and neck, which is why she prefers to wear turtle neck blouses

Any Tattoos: none

Any Piercings: her ears

Other Notable Features: her left eye is a little smaller than her right

Random Facts: she thought herself how to write with her left hand because she was bored back when her mother would lock her in her room

The Basics

Full Name: Rosalind Vitalis Winslow

Codename or Nickname: Rosa, by mostly everyone except MICAH she threatened to kill him if he ever called her that.

Birth Date: June 16th, 1872

Birth Place: Tumbleweed, New Austin

Nationality: Greek/American

Organisation/Group: Van Der Linde gang

Former Affiliates: none

Family + Friends

Father: Tomas Vitalis  (deceased)

Mother: Julie Vitalis (deceased)

Siblings: Alena Vitalis

Friends: Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews (more like a father figure but yeah), Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, @honeybite ‘s oc Lua and @mooonbride‘s oc Violet, Kieran Duffy, Sadie Adler, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Tilly Jackson

Spouses: John Marston.... (Arthur Morgan in another world :\)

Children: Noah Marston

Description

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 130 lbs

Hair Colour: dark brown

Eye Colour: brown

Skin Colour: tan

Any Scars: one on her right eyebrow and another across her nose. she’s got a few gunshot wounds on her torso and a large scar on her right thigh

Any Tattoos: none

Any Piercings: none

Other Notable Features: her nose is a little crooked from not healing right after she got in a fight with some bounty hunter

Random Facts: she doesn’t know how to put on makeup, so she relied a lot on mary-beth and karen. after the group disbanded, she never tried to do it herself.

The Basics

Full Name: Luna

Codename or Nickname: Courier lmao, Boss - by Raul which Luna tells him he doesn’t need to call her that but he’s like “okay boss” 

Birth Date: May 23rd, 2253

Birth Place: Mesa, AZ

Nationality: American

Organisation/Group: Mojave Express

Former Affiliates: NCR... very briefly

Family + Friends

Father: Charlie Luna (alive)

Mother: Anya Luna (alive)

Siblings: none

Friends: Arcade Gannon, my oc Leon Miller :p, Craig Boone (reluctant friend), Raul Tejada, Veronica Santangelo, Daniel

Spouses: J Money

Children: Gideon and Elias [redacted]

Description

Height: 5′5″

Weight: 122 lbs

Hair Colour: light brown

Eye Colour: green

Skin Colour: medium tan with honey undertones

Any Scars: on her the side where she got shot in the head, a few on her knees

Any Tattoos: none

Any Piercings: her ears, belly button

Other Notable Features: she likes to wear a baseball cap or a tie a piece of cloth around her head to cover the bald spot she got from the gunshots on her head :(

Random Facts: hates sunsparilla and almost dehydrated because she refused to drink it until Arcade made her drink it so she wouldn’t die hjfkljhkf

The Basics

Full Name: Drew Argento

Codename or Nickname: Fledgling :\

Birth Date: April 7th, 1980

Birth Place: Huntington Beach, CA

Nationality: American

Organisation/Group: Anarch

Former Affiliates: none

Family + Friends

Father: Sebastián Argento (alive)

Mother: Angela Argento (alive)

Siblings: none

Friends: Velvet Velour, Nines Rodriguez, Damsel, Smiling Jack, Mercurio

Spouses: he’s not her spouse, but Maximillian Strauss

Children: none

Description

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 127 lbs

Hair Colour: black

Eye Colour: dark brown

Skin Colour: medium beige

Any Scars: none

Any Tattoos: none

Any Piercings: her nipples, ears, belly button

Other Notable Features: always has to wear pink even if it doesn’t match her outfit for the night

Random Facts: she’ll play britney’s greatest hits in the bar nines/damsel/jack hang out in and even in strauss’s chantry

[thegrimdarkoffice]

I think I will make Adam Lambert the face (and possibly voice) claim of Maximillian Nero — just because I think it’s funny to imagine poor Stanley being the only one normal while Alice is full on goth and Max in his short visits always looks like this

[glare0322]

THAT RAVEN OUTFIT WAS THE VIBES OF THE CENTURY, OH MY GOODNESS YOU KILLED THIS!!!

these were sooooo amazing 🥺🥺 I LOVED ALL OF THEM!! SPECTACULAR JOB!!

@glare0322​ made that amazing post about outfits with the vibes of various H.I.V.E. characters, so I gave it a little try of my own! 

Keep reading

[themalhambird]

also (oh god, the H.I.V.Efixation is really settling back in) Raven initially being super mad at Darkdoom for faking his death not because he faked his death, exactly (they've all done that) or for not inviting her to help him fake his death (RUDE, she loves faking deaths and he KNOWS that) but because, like.

She took his wife flowers.

She took his wife FLOWERS and then STAYED and made her CUPS OF TEA for a few hours because Nero vanished into his lair study getting all pure-cold-wrath-incarnate trying to find someone responsible for the whole mess that he could kill, first of all, and then second of all going on an absolute bender and breaking bones in both hands smashing his study up needed to manage his own grief in private. Which meant Raven had to do the extended family sorry-for-your-loss-schtick . Which was awkward and uncomfortable and APPARENTLY NOT NECESSARY, DARKDOOM,

(Nero's grief and fury is 75% "my protege was named a traitor and subsequently died" and 25% my protege was named a traitor and decided to possibly FAKE HIS DEATH rather than come to me for help with whatever mess he got himself into and let me try and mediate/bargain with Number One on his behalf thereby avoiding a situation where he FAKES HIS DEATH)

[weneedmoreroepresentation]

Introducing Myself

Hi, my name is Cubby.  I’m 29/F and I’ve been playing FFXIV since 2015.  I’m Annmarie Daring on Excalibur.  I main bard and play monk, ninja and dragoon on the side.�� I don’t really rp but I sure as shit love talking about my ocs all the time.

MY OCS

Mariann Daring (married Manderville)

Age: 23 (ARR) - 27 (SHB)

Race: Roegadyn (Female) Tribe: Hellsguard

Job: Bard/WOL (ARR - SHB)

Mariann is my main and my oldest of these ocs.  Her age is assumed as she doesn’t know her actual nameday or pretty much anything before the Calamity.  The only memories she has from the time before are hazy and mostly surrounding the childhood accident when she lost her left eye.  She usually wears an eye patch but has a glass one in the socket.  

Mari works hard and parties even harder.  She loves fighting, eating her best friend Brynhildr’s cooking, drinking at the bar and having as many scandalous affairs as possible.

Eventually, she gives up her string of lovers for her one and only love Hildibrand Helidor Maximillian Manderville and they have a son, Halbert, and a daughter, Hilda Maria.  

She doesn’t remember anything from the past really, but she actually prefers it that way.  The life she’s built for herself is nothing short of incredible and she doesn’t want the past to change the way she feels about the family that she’s found and the one she’s made herself.

Himeko Fallingsnow (married Garlond-Scaeva)

Age: 28 (ARR) - 32 (SHB)

Race: Au Ra (Female) Tribe: Half Xaela (Mother) Half Raen (Father)

Job: Ninja/Garlond Ironworks (ARR - SHB)

Himeko is my second oldest of my ocs.  She fled Doma with the refugees and Yugiri after the failed rebellion, mourning the loss of her parents and fiance, Koji.  She planned to leave Eorzea and return to field missions in the Far East once she healed from her injuries and regained her strength but plans change.

She became fast friends with Mariann, Brynhildr and their fellow Scions as she settled in Mor Dhona, much to her reluctance.  Her mother was a renowned weaponsmith and armorer of the Bayaqud tribe and passed her trade down to her only daughter.  Given the task of repairing armor for the refugee fighters, she crossed paths with the Garlond Ironworks employees and Cid.  Himeko could feel herself being drawn to him, also to her reluctance.

Eventually, she stops being stubborn and embraces her feelings for him, they marry and have 3 triplet daughters named Akimi, Fuyumi and Harumi.  As the game progresses, she meets Nero, learns about Cid’s past with him and the three of them begin a romance.  After Omega, they all marry and live the Bayaqud way.  She also has one son by Nero, named Koji, in memory of her fiance.

Brismayda Mujuuk (married Beake)

Age: 25 (ARR) - 29 (SHB)

Race: Miqo’te Tribe: Keeper of the Moon

Job: Merchant (ARR - SB)/Dancer (SHB)

Brismayda is my third OC.  Originally from Thavnair, she’s a smart, thrifty merchant who frequently travels back and forth between her island home and Eorzea.  Ul’dah in particular is her favorite place to visit as everyone there loves haggling as much as she does.  She and her chocobo-drawn caravan travel the desert roads in search of her next customer.  

She met Mariann and her eventual husband, the monk Widargelt, during her travels when a band of Amalj’aa attacked her caravan near Little Ala Mhigo to steal a load of crystals she was carrying.  She wasn’t a fighter and didn’t want to pay a body guard to travel with her on this trip so she figured this was the end.  Mari and Widargelt came to her rescue and she was absolutely smitten.

Brismayda offered them anything from her caravan in exchange for saving her skin.  Mariann refused as her marriage made her richer than sin and Widargelt had no use for the ornate goods in her caravan.  She followed them back to Little Ala Mhigo, insisting there must be something she can do.  The refugees turned her away, saying that she was just like the Ul’dahns and pretending she cared.  

Eventually she came back with useful things, like medicine, plain but well made clothes and foodstuffs.  She slowly earned the trust of the Ala Mhigan refugees and Widargelt as well.  They marry and journey to Ala Mhigo during the events of Stormblood and she gives birth to their twin son and daughter, Bakir and Yasmin shortly afterwards.

[glare0322]

it’s american independence day!! and i have been hanging out with my family all day hearing some...interesting quotes. here are which of the ones i’ve heard today i think fit certain h.i.v.e. characters

otto: now if you’re done bickering, can you please let me throw explosives into the fire?

wing: i’m half a foot taller than you. you really wanna try to push me off this raft?

laura: i kinda think this isn’t the smartest idea, but sure let’s do it.

shelby: fourth of july isn’t fourth of july until i take basic pictures of me waving around a magnesium stick on fire.

nigel: guys i really just wanna take nice pictures of the lake and us, not reevaluate my life choices

franz: listen if i’m not fed within the next half hour, i will find a way to capsize the boat.

penny: damn man put the fire out, i said let it burn!

lucy: i’m a new level of tired, so my decisions will be even worse then usual

nero: ah independence day- another excuse for americans to get wasted and blow shit up. as if we already weren’t doing that before.

raven: i can’t tell if it’s malicious or simple minded of me to find exploding colors one of the most captivating things to exist.

diablous darkdoom: listen...i’m old and bald, so life isn’t the same.

[andrastesfemalepresentingnipples]

I started out in the H.I.V.E. fandom with Naven as my OTP. And they still are my top ship, even though they are in rough waters. However, I have also begun to ship Diabolus/Nero (Diablo?). And in my latest reread of Escape Velocity I began to consider the possibility of Diabolus/Raven. At that point I was like, why not combine them all into an OT3? My roommate has suggested the ship name Radian (Raven/Diabolus/Nero).

During my considerations of this potential OT3 I have several times pondered a diner AU in which Nero has to talk Raven out of murdering chauvinistic customers in the restaurant, because that would be bad for business (of both the diner and the crime ring they run from it). And while they’re distracted Diabolus would be donning a spare uniform and running the creep off with his blatant defiance of norms.

And now I have provided you with the back story to the true purpose of this post.

I present to you, Diabolus Darkdoom dressed up as a 40s/50s waitress.

[eyes-of-mercy]

Update

Unnamed Leader is now Obstinate Leader. The tag unnamed leader will stay though.

Added Mili Von Sales to the muse page

Added Maximillian Nero to the muse page