#mimic god of war

[mishapocalyse]

Description: Leif wakes in the midst of Fimblewinter, after two strangers and a familiar face come across the shrine that had once kept her asleep for as long as she could remember. Now awake, she struggles to put the pieces together in the wake of Ragnarok.

Pairings: Kratos x OC! //Heimdall x OC!//Thor x OC!

Warnings: Language, Mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of sexual content, sexual assault, mental illness, suicide may be within this fanfic. Reader discretion is advised.

You have been warned.

Chapter One: Awaken

There is a light in the distance, shadowing through the trees. The calling of ravens shrieking amidst the dreary winter. The ground that laid before the spartan and his son was frozen, frozen beneath their feet. The head attached to the man's hip spoke, out of turn.

"Brother, daylight is leaving us. We must take shelter before nightfall." The head was silenced by the hoarse grunt that left the spartan.

"Lad, talk some sense into yer' father."

"I don't think that is a good idea, Mimir." The boy had replied, shrugging his bow back onto his shoulder, keeping a steady pace behind his father.

Their journey back to the dwarves home had been fruitful, with a deer slung over Kratos's shoulder the three pushed through the barren lands of Midgard for what had felt likes months. However, they had only been away from the dwarves warehouse a matter of days.

"We go home." Kratos murmured loud enough for the other two to hear. "To the dwarves. The Mystic Gateway is just ahead." He added.

Much to their dismay when they had arrived to their destination, several draugr had been guarding it along with an amount of Hel-walkers to serve a small army.

Kratos threw aside their bounty to unsheathe his axe, Atreus close behind, readying his bow.

"Hold on, this gateway-" Mimir had been too late for he had been cast aside as Kratos lunged to pursue the enemies before him.

Mimir had went barreling through what had felt like stone, as he himself rolled to a halt. He groaned, dizzy from all of the rolling. If he still had a stomach he would have lurched forward and emptied whatever would have been in his stomach at the time.

"Fuckin' hell." He whispered under his breath.

Oh how he wished he would have been left behind on this little hunting trip, yet, the two always had need for him and his wisdom. And now, here he was, thrown into wherever he had been present. Looking up at the stone ceiling of what he could make out as a small internal cavern, his eyes glanced around, hoping to notice anything out of the blue or familiar.

It was then he had landed on the stone sarcophagus before him. His breath hitched; his eyes widened as if he had just found a treasure beyond his wildest dreams. The thought of having a body returned to the front of his head, and he yearned to be able to get up and further explore.

"Mimir!" the boys voice had called out to him, in which had snapped Mimir out of his daydream.

"Uh, in here little brother! I think-I think I found something." Or someone, he thought.

Before long, he could hear the crunch of snow, rock and debris under the boy's feet; heavy footfalls from his father approaching.

"Whoa," began Atreus, snagging up Mimir to hand back to Kratos.

"What is this place, head?" Kratos asked, awaiting Mimir's answer.

"A shrine."

"More like a gravestone." Atreus interrupted, earning a glare from Mimir.

"Whose? Odin's? Another god?" Kratos eagerly questioned.

Atreus had drawn closer, his hands grazing over the carvings that were slashed across it.

"Of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awaken by the light of Alfheim" Atreus spoke aloud.

Mimir, shot a look towards Atreus who waited for approval.

"Brother. If I believe I am correct, I know who lies before us." Mimir concluded.

"Any god is an enemy." Kratos growled.

"Aye, understood, this is a friend of mine. Long ago." Mimir pushed, with a sigh.

Kratos said nothing more, motioning to leave, yet Atreus stayed at the face of the sarcophagus etched and surrounded by vines, budding with large flowers.

Atreus held up his bow, drawing back the string. A bead of sweat running down his temple.

"Boy!"

The arrow had collided with the vines, and faded away, the light merging with the stone. There was nothing that had come about it, leaving the boy with much disdain. Atreus, turned away to face his father, who was angered by the rebelling of his son.

"You see, nothing came of that."

"At least I tried."

"Keep your focus on the task ahead, boy." Kratos told Atreus, a stoic expression lining his features.

Atreus nodded, walking alongside his father. Mimir cleared his throat, earning the attention of the young boy.

"Aye lad, the attempt was well appreciated." he says.

Before the three stepped foot from the abandoned shrine, a faint glow caught their attention from behind. Atreus, Mimir and Kratos turned, unaware of what was about to happen.

"Looks like the lad did something." Mimir spoke, while Kratos unhooked him from his belt, holding him out for the boy to take.

Atreus gently grasped his friend in his hand as he cautiously took a step forward towards the stone slab. He reached for the lid, pushing it back, for it did not budge. Heavy and thick was the stone, Atreus looked back to his father, who leaned against the wall watching the two.

"Mind helping your son, brother?" Mimir called to Kratos.

The boy's father, not knowing what to expect from this, did not assume while he firmly placed his hands against the cool rock slab before him.

With a firm shove, the lid to the sarcophagus fell back, crashing against the floor. Light shimmered much more brightly from within, more vines, budding with those same flowers now sprouting. Kratos stepped back, holding his son and Mimir behind him. He readied his weapon, just in case, and waited with bated breath.

~~~~~~~~

With such a force, her eyes opened as she had been jolted awake. Her vines, her flowers grew wild from her resting place, her hands raising to grasp onto the railing of her tomb. Pulling herself up, a change of the scenery made its way, clouding her sense of judgement.

How long has it been?

While she had leaned up, she used what little power she had acquired to float out and land to the ground, her barefoot lightly touching the ground below her. The long white, embroidered tunic flowing around the woman, spread across the debris littered floor. The flowers adorned her hair, cascading down below her knees, some braided. A gold headpiece glimmered in what little light was around.

For a moment she said nothing, standing there basking in the cold of the small cavern. Her eyes--not to mention her body, adjusting to the brimming, freezing temperature.

"Oh, by the gods..." Said a voice all too familiar to her.

The woman jerked her head towards the three who had stood before her.

~~~~~~~

"My lucky stars...it is you!" Mimir croaked out. "Aye, lad! Could you bring me closer?" He asked Atreus, who gave a slight nod, but as he stepped forward Kratos held a firm hand pressed against the boy's shoulder.

"Aye brother, again, this is a friend. There is nothing to worry about." With that, Kratos hesitantly let go of his son, letting him approach the woman.

She waited patiently, as the young teenage boy came to her. She outstretched her arms, as Mimir was placed into her hands. Her hands trembled when she held Mimir's head.

"You look so tired, Mimir. What has happened to you?" she asked, brining him up to her face.

Mimir gave a sad sigh. "Too much and too long of a story lass."

She shook her head, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. All the cheerful sounds of Midgard were replaced by the howling of an empty wind, the shudder of sullen branches and the cry of stollen warmth. Her chest ached, burning with remorse for all the time she had missed.

"I was asleep for so long...tell me, friend. Is it time to ready for spring?" This made Mimir give another heavy sigh. His face hard with regret.

"Quite the opposite, little goddess." There was a a groan from a nearby draugr that alerted the three men, as the goddess shuttered.

"Best to get moving. Come with us, somewhere safe. I assure you. I will tell you everything you need to know on the way, Leif" He promises, as she nods, handing Mimir back to the boy.

She tried walking yet loses her balance and falls forward. Time spent asleep in the stone and she had forgotten how to walk, except she did not hit the ground, for the man with the ghostly appearance had caught her fall.

"Thank you." She whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

~~~~~~~

Surrounding her, she sat at the dwarves table, by the boy she had come to know as Atreus, and his father, across from her. She had come to know him as, Kratos. Mimir eyed her with a worried look, for he had noticed her anxiousness for the sudden crowd only being pulled from her eternal resting place only hours ago.

"So, who are you really?" asks Brok, one of the Huldra Brother's. "I find it hard to believe you're a fucking goddess come back to help."

"Brok, hold your tongue, ya' wee fuck." Mimir says sternly, "Alas, that ain't a way to speak to a lady."

Brok snorted, rolling his eyes as Atreus began to speak.

"From the runes on your arms...you're a goddess of spring?"

Mimir retorts, "Not just a goddess of spring-she is the goddess of spring."

Leif agrees with Mimir, folding her hands in her lap. She shyly shrunk away from everyone.

"Begs the question of why you were locked away in that tomb?" Brok yells from across the room.

"That's not a-"

"Well, we are all dying to know-"

"That's none of your concern, especially when she's just woken up-" Mimir interjects.

"Ah, who gives a lousy fuck! All we know she could be working with Odin." Brok hollers back at Mimir.

Odin? The All-Father...she hadn't heard from him in ages. What had become of him? Of everyone at home? Her friends, the spirits? Any of the Midgardians? There was so much going on all at once. Amongst the arguing, she shrinks away more inside her mind, trying to put everything together. None of her questions, answered. Abruptly, Leif stands, with the attention of the others on her now, as she stalks towards the door.

She needed air.

She needed a little space from all the attention that had become of her so quickly.

Through the doors of the Huldra Brother's home, Leif stepped out into the warm breeze in between the realms. To clear her mind, she decided for one way to help her overcome her nervousness.

And she did just that.

[bootlegatreus]

ATREUS PAGE ft. friends, family, and mfing Heimdal

[kurticus]

I need one of you art people to make a comic of Kratos from GOW finding a D&D/Dark Souls mimic chest. But instead of opening it he punches in the top, killing the mimic.

Fresh cookies to be made upon delivery

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[loading-excuses]

ok i really love how a lot of the character redesigns in hades 2 are clearly a direct nod to what the gods are experiencing with the war against the titans in the game

like demeter is in full battle armor, her daughter is unreachable in the underworld and she is not messing around. she is ready for battle.

aphrodite wears war paint/makeup that directly mimics that of ares’s war paint/makeup in the first game.

the one i find the most interesting though is chaos. their redesign has them looking much more human. which some may think is odd considering they are essentially an extra planar being of creation. but i think it makes perfect sense. nyx who is their child, is one of the deities who is unreachable in the underworld. and as we know from the events of the first game, there’s a whole quest on the fated list that involves fixing the relationship between nyx and chaos. the fact that nyx is unreachable is most likely taking a toll on chaos, which in turn is making them feel more “human”/mortal thus causing them to present to appear more human. it makes sense if you think about it

i could go on and on about the new character designs and how they’re indicative to the war with the titians but these are the ones that have stuck out the most to me

edit; i am choosing to ignore the fact that chaos’s new design does look a lot like meg bc if it does mean anything i want to see it play out in the game without trying to theorize about it too much

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Elden Ring DLC Bosses Revealed!

From Software has released a guide to all the bosses of the upcoming Elden Ring DLC, Shadow of the Erdtree! Here are the ten great monsters you'll fight in the Shadow Lands:

Messmer The Impaler

Messmer is the third triplet with Malenia and Miquella, banished to the shadow lands because for liking snakes and impaling people. Mostly for impaling people, but the snakes didn't help.

The Burning Colossus

A big heap of flaming bodies used as a weapon of war in the rival kingdom of Nausicuu, this massive beast has to be scaled and slain because that's what you do with colossi in games.

Albinauric Orphan Tear

The missing link between mimics and albinaurics, this monster throws his "husk" at the player like a boomerang. The first boss of the DLC, it guards the cave that leads to the Shadow Tree.

Godskin Brigade

The Gloam-Eyed Queen is guarded by an army of her progeny, the godskins. They bear her most fearsome weapon, the Incantation of Ganqskwa-Darengi, which makes them act unpredictably and never need to stop to let the player get in a single stab or arrow.

Godlion Dancer, Firstborn of the Gods

The murdered soul of Godwyn, son of Godfrey and brother to Godrick, Godrranq's lover. This guy has God written all over him. He also has 30 legs so he's good at dancing.

Birdmaster Tonguay, Slayer of Literally Everyone

Ever wonder who tied all those knives to all the bird feet? Ever wonder why there are so few people in the Lands Between? Meet Tonguay, murderer of all those people at the claws of his bird-knives.

Ribbitus, Priestess of the Frog Cult

Elden Ring's new gimmick boss can only be defeated by jumping from platform to tiny platform to poison the flies she likes to eat. She randomly kills the player without warning or opportunity to recover. She sings to you in French the whole time.

Metalgiir, Armored Gandamu

An occult robot constructed by Robot-Master Iji Jr., Metalgiir demands an entirely different kind of gameplay that doesn't fit or scale to anything else in the game, yet is not optional so you have to learn to beat him or you get nothing.

Ouchlord Vivaldi

Just... Don't fight this guy, he clearly has enough problems going on.

Daniel R. Clarksen

Little is known of Daniel Clarksen or why the Tarnished must fight him. He seems like a decent guy, but he probably like turns into a giant demon thing with boobs. These games have lots of those.

[crystalflygeo]

Heat haze ft Morax + fem!bunny adeptus!reader

cw/tags: heat/mating cycles, marathon sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, sex toy, improper use of geo (lmao), Morax has a dragon penis, pet names, fucked stupid, reader calls Morax "My Lord" and Morax calls her "my child", power play??

notes: Pure self-indulgent filth <3 I love the concept of heats in general and though on applying that to adepti, then I remembered it's bunny year so why not... apparently there is a bunny in chinese mythology called the "Jade Rabbit" who serves the Moon Goddess soooo. Anyway. Breeding kink goes brrrrrr.

“M-my lord... I’m sorry I’m ah-” You gulp and try to breathe through your mouth, fingers clenching and unclenching trying to regain some semblance of stability. “I’m not feeling very… well”

Shameful. Lord Morax came to see you, probably talk about important matters regarding this year’s crops and yet-

“Is this your first heat alone?”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn, on instinct you look up panicked as your long ears stiffen in shock but just as quickly you avert your gaze, unable to look at him in the face at the revelation, and to avoid staring at his regal visage, fearful of your own reactions if you were to do so.

Oh he knows. He knows. Of course he knows. As much as you tried to suppress it your scent is probably dripping with want, especially when your thoughts were spiraling out of control mere minutes ago. Being an adeptus in heat is hard enough, but as a Jade Rabbit… it was especially hard on you.

You blink heavily, dumbly, your brain can’t keep up with all the emotions right now. You feel lightheaded but still manage to force out an answer. “N-No… no, I’m… used to it.”

Morax tilts his head and the light catches on his majestic antlers making them glow, and you find it impossible not to look “Of course.��� He nods, still keeping immaculate composure. “But haven’t you found a mate yet?”

A mate. Your rabbit ears droop. Ever since you vowed to serve Lord Morax you never had time for such things, with the on-going war and protecting the humans, even as a non-combatant adeptus your duties were many. Agricultural care and development, medical support, logistics… you never had it in you to find a mate. You were devoted to your contract, and, to Lord Morax himself.

“I’m… I haven’t found the r-right one yet…” You mumble, hugging yourself and rubbing at your arm nervously in an attempt to mimic something.

“Oh my child, I’m sorry.” Morax approaches you and tentatively cups your cheek, fingers barely caressing your jaw, the touch is fleeting yet electric.

His hand is warm.

You unconsciously lean into the touch.

And he smells so good, so good.

“I could assist you, if you would allow it.”

You immediately flinch back at the words.

“W-what?!”

Morax simply blinks at you and crosses his arms, putting some distance between you two again. “I apologize if my advances are unwelcome.”

“No my lord it’s n-not that.” You can’t help but stare at his strong biceps, blackened skin accented by fine gold linings…

You try to control your breathing and think! Rationally!!

But still, you’re curious. What would it be like? To feel your God’s scent, your God’s touch, your God’s co-

You quickly shake your head. No, no! That’s indecent, scandalous! You’re not worthy, that’s…

“It’s okay, my child.”

The warm touch is back, hands placed at your shoulders, grounding you, stabilizing you. A shiver runs down your spine yet it doesn’t freeze you on the spot, rather it feels…

Tender.

You stare up at him and this time hold your gaze. He’s handsome and his eyes are the purest brightest molten gold you've ever seen, the bright diamond pupils mesmerizing.

You whine and rub your thighs together on instinct.

“My Lord… p-please…”

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

“Ha-aahh… f-faster, please my Lord please- Ah-! Faster!”

You’re reduced to a babbling, moaning, drooling mess as you lay on golden silk sheets. Head down ass up, your arms have long since given up supporting you and your thighs tremble as Morax rams into your dripping wet pussy over and over and over again.

He lets out a low chuckle “So tight…” He whispers, voice deep and raspy with sex haze, the scent of your heat spurring him on and causing his own illuminated beast features to manifest, such as his powerful tail undulating behind him. “You’re practically dripping all over the place, and yet you take me so well…” his breath stutters with another snap of his hips and all you can do is moan loudly, mind foggy with need.

“Oh…” You gasp. “Oh.”

Without pause, he’s slamming into you repeatedly, pulling you down on his perfect thick cock and fucking fast methodical thrusts into you wet hole, aiming for a certain spot that has you seeing stars once he finds it.

“Ah! Ah… Ah!” Your voice barely registers through your own lust-hazed mind. Tears prickling at the corner of your eyes from the rapid buildup in your lower abdomen. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already came, your juices coating your inner thighs and soiling the precious silken sheets. Not that he seems to mind. “O-Oh… Ohhhh. My Lord… M-Morax…”

You’re pretty sure your God has ruined you for anyone else. No mortal or immortal would ever be able to compare to his divine cock, deliciously thick and filling, the dragon shaft lined with small ridges that rub just right against your insides and so utterly big you swear you can feel a slight bump on your navel every time he bottoms out.

You keen and whine when his strong clawed hands pull at your hips. Seems like your legs are also giving up on you so he holds you in place instead. And you love it. His musky scent. His smooth deep voice. His unfaltering stamina.

The Prime of the Adepti. A strong and virile dragon.

And he chose to mate you.

Suddenly you feel him drape over your back, his larger frame practically caging you, pressing against you until his chest meets your sweaty back and you feel his ragged breath against your neck, scenting you and your heat pheromones before sharp fangs graze your tender skin.

You moan and your pussy clamps down on him. You are so close….

“You feel amazing.” He growls. “So good... s-so good for me.”

You buck your hips up to him, clumsily meeting his thrusts as your small fluffy tail twitches. “Nnngh!”

You feel him bite at your shoulder and the sharp jolt of pain is enough to send you spiraling into another climax, moaning high-pitched and gripping him tighter inside you even as he fucked into your slick warmth. Despite the orgasm he shows no signs of slowing down, so neither do you, as the unbearable heat continues to burn inside you, an itch you can’t quite scratch. His hands reach out for your skin, caressing your soft breasts and marveling at how beautifully they fit into his hands. He rubs circles into one of your nipples before pinching it lightly and is rewarded with another high keen and a spasm around his cock.

“P-Please… please… I need it. Please-” You pant, voice laced with desperation, your nails digging into the bedsheets.

“What do you want?” Morax asks, nosing at your neck and lapping at the reddened bite mark he branded into your skin. “Tell me what you need, little one.”

“Breed me!” You choke out “F-Fill me up Lord Morax, I need you to… fuck m-me full, pleasepleaseplease-”

And how could he deny such a sweet plea? Morax redoubles his efforts, panting with exertion and pushing harder, faster, deeper. Shrill little gasps escaping you as your mind goes blank from the pleasure.

“Hah- I’ll breed you properly… mhh… fill you up.” He pants, his pace getting sloppier, his tail trashing wildly, you feel him twitch inside you. “You’re all mine. Mine to take… to fuck, to own, to breed-”

Morax’s breath hitches and he lets out a choked groan, spilling his load inside you in thick creamy spurts as you keen and squirm under him, too fucked stupid for words. You coo happily as the heat under your skin finally abates and you feel full, so full of his seed.

His grip loosens as his hips gradually slow down, head hung low as he catches his breath, his cock occasionally twitching inside you until it eventually softens. He gently pulls out admiring the way your pussy clenches on him, the way your legs shake, weakly trying to lock him there, keep him inside you. The drag and pull of his thick cockhead over your sensitive insides making you keen and whimper from its abuse until your pliant body falls onto the sheets, whining pitifully when you feel his slick seed dribble out of your swollen pussy. You try to close your legs and weakly paw at your core.

No, no, no… it’s supposed to stay inside. Lord Morax’s precious cum-

You squeak as you feel something smooth and solid press against your pussy lips.

“Shhh my dear, shhh.” He coos at you, deep voice soothing your frazzled nerves. “This is just a little something to keep it in, to keep you full.” He pushes gently, working what you now realize was a cor lapis plug into your body. You made another whimpering noise as your lips parted for the toy he’d created for you. Red, puffy pussy folds spread open as they did for his cock, taking the tip before he worked the rest until it finally sunk in, lewdly resting against your opening, a glittering orange gemstone keeping you full. “There, nice and snug, do you like it?”

Your only answer is a little chirp, your eyes half-lidded as your body relaxes.  

“Such a good little bunny. You were so good to me my child, so good.” You smile drowsily at the praise, cooing at him as his hand pets your hair and scratches your fuzzy ear. He kisses at your shoulder and starts softly massaging your aching limbs “You were beautiful. You did so well, you took me so perfectly…”

You lean into his touch, curling up to his body, both of you still damp with sweat and other fluids. Resting for now until another wave of neediness hits you.

You both knew your heat would last at least other 4 days…

You idly wonder if by the end of the week you would be honored with carrying his offspring.

[dirthenera]

I want to talk about Emmrich’s costume- as a professional costume designer. (GIF by @hawke , thank you! It’s so beautiful 😍)

In preparation for DAV, I’ve been watching Vincent Price movies. In two specific movies, I’ve seen elements of Emmrich’s costume.

The first is The Fall of the House of Usher. In it he wears a long, dramatic, red velvet coat that is just… SO sexy. I mean… I’m normal about clothing

It really reminds me of the ✨ drama ✨ of the intricate red leather details of his coat. The vibes match- though the details don’t quite. The oversized collar, yes, but they traded velvet for leather (which makes sense for a video game)

The next is the emerald green captain’s coat in War Gods of the Deep. The color has been carried over, along with the fold over lapels with the round details and even the lines on Emmrich’s coat that mimic the trim lines.

I even see some Doctor Strange influences- which is very interesting because Vincent Price was the inspiration for the character originally. It may also throw some interesting meta towards the theory that one of his hands is messed up.

But back to those two specific movies- though Vincent Price has been in many movies involving death, those two are the roles where his characters knew they were dying and didn’t try to run from it- the ones where they face and embraced death instead of trying to cheat death or fight it.

Like Nick Boraine, his VA, has stated multiple times as being his favorite aspect of Emmrich. That he doesn’t see death as something negative, that he embraces and sees the beauty in it.

I’m very curious to see if there are any other parallels between these characters and Emmrich once we get to play the game. If you’ve seen any of his movies I haven’t and noticed another parallel, please add to this post!

[lannisterdaddyissues]

DID THEY REALLY BOTH TAKE PLACE IN NEW JERSEY LMFAO

New Jersey reactions to the alien apocalypse

@malewifebillcage @thethistlegirl

[confused-wanderer]

Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

[go-see-a-starwar]

THR: Even if you don’t work with someone on camera, there’s still a good chance of bumping into them at Manhattan Beach Studios. Was there a day where you were loitering near set and had an unexpected encounter?

Eman Esfandi: My most interesting encounter was when I was first getting to my stunt rehearsals. They have a stunt gym, and one day, as I was stretching and warming up, I just heard two people going crazy with some choreography. You could hear their sticks and their steps. (Esfandi mimics the sound effects.) And I was like, “Whoa!” It was an explosion of choreography that was a minute long, and when I turned to look around, there was this massive, statuesque man in a gray shirt. I didn’t recognize him off the top of my head, but he was just pummeling one of the stunt doubles that I know. So I went over to watch these guys spar up close, and then I realized it was Hayden Christensen. He’s huge. He’s a towering presence, and he’s so good at this. I didn’t know how good he was, because I hadn’t watched the prequels yet. And so I watched someone in real time who’s been put down in history and in this story for being one of the best with a lightsaber. So I was just like, “Oh my God, this guy is so good.” And then they were like, “Eman, you ready to start?” And I’m like, “Yes! When do I get to do that stuff? That’s my goal now.” So it was really exciting to meet him, and for a lot of other people, that would’ve been an even more insane experience. I just didn’t totally recognize him at the time.

The Hollywood Reporter - ‘Ahsoka’ Star Eman Esfandi Fulfilled His Own ‘Star Wars’ Prophecy: “I’m Going to Play Ezra”

[satoshy12]

Danny learned from the Ghost Writer that other worlds exist, even his favorite world. The Justice League!

However, Ghost Writer has always been hesitant to use his portals to explore other realms. This is due to the immense power and danger lurking on the other side.

Danny's curiosity gets the better of him, and he can't resist using Ghost Writer's portals to go into the DC universe.

Danny was here to have fun, so he decides to dress up as various DC villains, but with his young age, it has an adorable twist: he appears as a tiny child version of them.

To his surprise, Danny realizes that these costumes give him access to the powers of the villains. He seemed to mimic them, like he did in a few of his fights against his enemies attacks.

Like Ghostly wails with Dan or Cloning with Vlad.

And just seeing this would be much more fun! He started his playful journey to meet iconic heroes and villains.

The first one Danny met was the Flash family while dressed as Reverse Flash. He stumbles upon a face-off between Flash, Kid Flash, and the real Reverse Flash. With his childlike innocence, Danny manages to confuse all three speedsters, much to Kid Flash's chagrin. Danny began to tease Kid Flash about a prank he played on him. "It was me, Wally; I shoved the coffee table ever so slightly so that you would stub your toe right before you were sent off to school." "It was me who made your mother and father see your adult magazine!" Thawne laughed as he heard what the boy did. Leaving after Eobard was defeated, leaving very confused Speedsters behind.

Next, Danny decides to become Ares, the God of War. This leads to a comical confrontation with Wonder Woman. Ares is perplexed by how this young boy possesses his godly powers, and Diana is equally confused by the mysterious demigod child.

The one he had most fun was the Ra's al Ghul cosplay, complete with a sword. Danny found himself entangled in a battle between the League of Assassins and Green Arrow with his sidekick Speedy. Ra's was puzzled by this unexpected child version of himself, and Green Arrow can't help but be amused and confused by the whole situation. After the battle, Danny poured the ectoplasm from his bottle on the ground and jumped into it. Which made it look like Green Arrow and Ra's that Danny just jumped into Lazarus water and was swallowed by it.

Sinestro and Hal Jordan were bewildered by the appearance of a child wearing a Yellow Lantern ring. The notion of such a young Yellow Lantern throws them off balance during their battle. Sinestro and Hal Jordan are utterly baffled as to why a child could even wield the power of fear.

Dressed up as the Ocean Master, Danny intervenes in a conflict between Aquaman and Aqualad against the vengeful Ocean Master. Initially mistaking him for Orm's son, Arthur planned to talk with the boy, only for him to leave after the fight.

When Danny dons the Lex Luthor Warsuit, he finds himself in a confrontation with Superman, catching the attention of Lex Luthor. Lex is intrigued by the young boy's capabilities and is somehow proud of him, even though they aren't fighting on the same side. If Lex sees potential in him and contemplates offering some guidance, the boy would go far. The Suit was like his own.

At Last, The Mr. Freeze Costume, Danny intervenes in a showdown between Batman, Robin, and Mr. Freeze in Gotham City. The Caped Crusader is intrigued by this young "villain" and contemplates whether the boy can be taught to use his abilities responsibly. As Danny was just talking about Dr. Victor Fries inventions and theories, Victor saw that the boy had good ideas and theories.

Danny had his fun, and he tried to return home, only for the portal not to work.

He used it many times and had to wait a short time. Well, what are a few days here?

[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[anonymous-dentist]

Cellbit has officially been forced back to the island by the Watcher and he’s going to force himself to kill all his friends because the Watcher says he has to (and the Watcher is never wrong.) And then he meets a lonely little child sitting in Cellbit’s husband’s garden.

He raises his machete, but he falters when he sees the too-big gas mask slung around the kid’s neck. Cellbit recognizes that mask, it’s Roier’s. From Purgatory. He and Cellbit decorated theirs, and this mask has his goofy little smile drawn on the back strap in permanent marker.

The kid doesn’t flinch as Cellbit approaches.

In high-pitched Spanish, the kid remarks, wide-eyed, “You’re a REALLY big Pepito!”

The kid has to crane their head back to look at Cellbit. They smile, gap-toothed, and they wave.

“Wanna sit with Pepito?” they ask.

The Watcher’s presence tickles at the back of Cellbit’s mind, as does the bloodlust.

He sits, anyway, and he places his machete (bloody already, sorry Tina) on the grass next to him. He criss-crosses his legs, and the kid mimics him.

“Where are your parents?” Cellbit asks, definitely not so he can kill said parents.

The kid shrugs. “Apa has been gone for a really long time, but Abuela says that he’s super pendejo, so he’s fine. So Pepito is waiting.”

Something rotten curls in Cellbit’s gut.

“Is your apa Roier?” he asks.

At the kid’s nod and succeeding rant about how cool their Apa Roier is and how he’s probably doing cool superhero things right now, Cellbit feels the rage inside of him spark into something other than self-hatred for the first time in over a month.

“How long has he been missing?” Cellbit asks.

The kid ponders for a moment before holding up both hands with fingers splayed. They close their hands into fists, and then they open them again. 20.

“This many!” they declare. “Probably. Pepito isn’t good at math yet.”

Twenty days. At least. And…

Cellbit sucks in a shuddery breath. “Has anyone been looking for him?”

The kid shakes his head with a shrug. “Pepito looked, but now Pepito is taking a Pepito Break.”

Assuming the kid is Pepito, that means. God.

The Watcher’s claws scratch at Cellbit’s brain, but he ignores Him for the moment. There’s something he needs to take care of before he can continue His war.

“Well, I’ll help you look,” Cellbit says. “Your apa is a good friend of mine.”

Pepito nods sagely. “You’re Pepito’s other dad, uh-huh.”

Cellbit would wonder how Pepito knows who he is considering the fact that Roier has probably already moved on from him, but, well, they’ve probably been hanging around Richarlyson.

(Richarlyson…)

“So you know that I’m going to find him,” Cellbit tells Pepito.

Pepito nods. “Dad Cellbit is a very strong Pepito.”

“And so are you,” Cellbit says.

He reaches out and pulls Pepito’s gas mask up so that he’s holding it over Pepito’s face; it’s too big for them, but if Cellbit adjusts the straps like so…

“There!” he announces, dropping his hands. “Fits perfectly!”

Pepito’s mask is still way too big, but at least it’s on their face now.

Through one of the eye holes, Cellbit can see Pepito’s smile. It makes his heart twist into a sad little knot.

But he won’t get attached, he knows that for sure. He’s going to help find Roier, and then he’ll slip out during the reunion.

He won’t be missed at all once Roier’s family is back together.

[steviewashere]

Kisses to Make it Better

Rating: General CW: Vomiting (It's Kind of Gross, Sorry) Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Sick Fic, Sick Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Forehead Kisses, Lots of Kisses, Star Wars Reference, Steve Harrington is a Dork, Eddie Munson is a Dork, Teacher Steve Harrington (Briefly Mentioned), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is the kiss on my forehead."

💕—————💕

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sharp, piercing sensation of a migraine attack. He immediately closes his eyes and groans. His senses are heightened miserably.

Soft bird song is like screeching. The gentle rustle of tree leaves like the scrapes of fingernails on a chalkboard. (And god does he know that from working with a bunch of butthead eighth graders.) Any sunlight is like a laser aiming to obliterate him onsite. He’s warm and boiling and the blanket sears where it touches. But when the removes it, he’s frozen to his core and shivering. The dull sounds of Eddie’s snores—Steve almost wants to suffocate him; he may not usually be a motorboat, but wow does he mimic one amazingly right now.

He can’t take it. The space in their bedroom is too much for his everything. So, he grabs his pillow from under his head, stands on unsteady legs, and ventures out into the hallway. Snatches a spare quilt—one made by Joyce Byers some short years ago for his and Eddie’s makeshift backyard wedding—a wash rag to put under cold water, and a towel. Just in case he has to lay on the bathroom floor. It’s humiliating knowing that the migraine could reach that point, what he wouldn’t give for his uninjured pre-1983 brain.

The couch is lumpy and distinctly firm and uncomfortable under his mutilated back. He’s sweaty, cold, too hot, nauseous, and dizzy. Really, he should’ve stopped by the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for his Imitrex. But the mere idea of standing longer than he needs to, the floor like ocean waves crashing at his feet, his entire body an uneasy cargo ship ready to crash into lighthouse rocks—it makes him shiver. Though, whether that be from his body’s inability to regulate his temperature, he isn’t sure.

But he manages to find a comfortable enough spot. Left arm squished and folded awkwardly by his head, the other tight at his side. Legs crossed at his ankles. The rest of him completely supine to the cushions. Head nestled and drowning in his practically flat, definitely overused bedroom pillow. He sighs, agitated.

This is his life.

Probably should’ve woken up Eddie. Probably should go to the landline and call in sick to work. Probably should get a puke bucket, too. But…nope, he’s somewhere between comfortable and dying on the couch. The perfect in-between. He closes his eyes against the next wave of dizzying nausea that overrides him. Breathing through his nose in sharp, hot exhales. Willing it, or at least attempting to, away. This is one of the worst attacks he’s had in a very long while. Beats out the infamous migraine attack of 1990, a story that ends in a bed at urgent care, accompanied by heaving puke, with Robin’s and Nancy’s cold hands to his sweaty forehead, and Eddie nervously chomping away at his fingertips. Should he go to urgent care? He grinds his teeth together at the thought.

Distantly, there’s some shuffling around the bedroom. Steve grimaces at the noise. Then, some light footfalls in the hallway. And all at once, God’s heavenly light is cast around him, though now it’s like the swallowing pits of Hell. He groans, tight and muffled in the back of his throat.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Sorry, baby, sorry,” he whispers. Eddie’s not that great at whispering. Or, maybe he is. Maybe Steve is Dumbo level sensitive to every sound in the world. The light is flicked back off and Eddie comes closer to the couch.

Though, the aromatic scents of Eddie’s Axe musk body spray overpower every sensation Steve’s experienced in the short span he’s been awake. Did he fucking spray it before going to bed, Steve wonders, gagging. He puts out a weak hand, palm towards Eddie. “Don’t,” he strains. Even his voice is grating. “You—“ He gags again, throat clenching, stomach turning, bile rising. The palm draws back, flapping in the air, landing harsh around his mouth, squeezing his skin and lips. Steve rolls up onto his right elbow, pointing his face down at the floor, puking—into the kitchen garbage can that Eddie has, somehow, brought in super human speeds.

Eddie hushes above him. He must be crying if that’s how Eddie’s reacting. But he can’t care to notice. His head trapped in the kitchen bag. Coffee grounds and an empty container of baked beans, combining in a hideous concoction that could be compared to that of fresh, steaming dog shit. The sour stench of himself, his insides, the rest of the putrid garbage around his spewing mouth and snotty nose—it all makes him puke harder. A hand traces up and down his spine, the heavy touch barely noticeable unless he’s gasping for air.

When he’s done, he collapses back onto the couch with a resound thud. His breath exhausted and the blood vessels in his face probably bursted. Closes his eyes to block out everything, to try and ground himself again. Eddie shuffles as quietly as he can out of the room. The front door is open, cold morning breeze tickling Steve’s skin, the trash can placed on the porch for now. It’ll get changed out, Steve knows Eddie will do it. He’s getting the Imitrex, some Zofran. Water and a straw. Steve can only hope that Eddie will take a quick shower with some unscented soap, the cologne musk too infuriating to his nose.

He’s carefully sat up. Body loose-limbed and aching all over. Propped up into sitting on the middle cushion. Hair swiped away from his forehead, clipped back by a couple alligator clips. Eddie gently taps the underside of his chin. The nonverbal request, Please open your mouth for your medicine. Steve drops his jaw without hesitation. Pills set on his tongue and a straw placed between his lips. Eddie’s hand goes to his left arm, running up and down in slow stripes. Please take slow slurps, is what that hand motion means. And Steve does what he’s told. Careful to not upset his already agitated stomach.

“Eddie,” he croaks. A hum lightly vibrates from above him. Hands nestled on his skin, laying him back down on the couch. He doesn’t open his eyes, squeezes them tighter in fact. Sighing into the horizontal position of his body. “Eds, please take a shower.”

A light snort. “Saying I stink?” Eddie whispers, though there’s no offense drawn tight in his voice. Just amusement. Maybe some concern if Steve could only focus on the sound.

He shakes his head, but grimaces at the light-headed sensation it causes. Settles and whispers, “No, I can smell your cologne. Too strong.”

“Oh,” Eddie mutters. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take care of that.” He sets something clunky on the floor. Another bucket, most likely. And stands, his shadow blocking the sunlight streaming in through their living room windows. He must take notice to the light because then, the curtains are all shut at once. Or, something quick like that. Steve isn’t really aware of reality right now. Floating somewhere between comfortable and dying, laying in that still, too.

In the blink of an eye, Eddie is back by his side. Though, when his right hand tangles with Steve’s, he’s noticeably damp. Either he took the quickest shower in existence. Or Steve’s time blindness is on another level today.

“Pain level?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve sighs through his nose. “Started as a nine,” he mutters, “down to a seven.”

“Poor baby,” Eddie sweetly coos. He gently squeezes Steve’s palm. I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe, he says. His other palm settles softly on Steve’s forehead, over the cold wash cloth he placed there. Thumb pressing between Steve’s eyebrows. “Want me to massage?”

“Yes, please,” Steve murmurs.

Another squeeze to his palm. Then, Eddie carefully maps his fingers over Steve’s scalp, pressing down minutely into the tendered areas. He sweeps his thumb down the bridge of his nose, under his eyes, pushing gently at the surrounding bone and sinus pockets.

But then, he does something he normally wouldn’t do. He peels the washcloth off. Which is fine with Steve, it’s already gone warm. He’ll need the ice pack in the freezer in a few. Eddie puts his hand back on the crest of Steve’s head. And leans down.

A warm, barely damp, sweet peck to the center of Steve’s forehead.

He opens his eyes. Steve—already sensitive, strung up beyond belief—tears up. Whimpering lowly, attempting to not be heard. Though, of course Eddie heard. He’s extra perceptive when Steve has migraine days. He immediately draws back, eyes wide and frowning. “Fuck,” he spits, muted. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Through his weeping, however quiet it is, Steve stutters, “It’s fine—it—You didn’t hurt me. Just—Sweet.” He preens up into the hand still on the back of his head. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh,” Eddie whispers. He settles back down, having risen up on his knees from where he’s situated on the floor. Another little kiss to Steve’s nearest temple. Then between his eyebrows. Under his eyes. Tip of his nose. Back to the center of his forehead. “Just kissing the hurt away,” Eddie murmurs on Steve’s skin. Smacking one more on the crinkle Steve didn’t even know he was doing. “Is it working?” He lowly whispers.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t know,” he says. “Do it again?”

“Of course,” Eddie promises. A kiss here and there. But, the most prominent spot being his forehead. Eddie’s hand slides away from Steve’s, instead splaying over his heart. Pressing firm to his chest. Steve briefly wonders if Eddie can feel how his heart speeds up with each press of his lips.

Another to his forehead, drifting down his nose, one on his chin, and the last on his lips. “Ew, Eds,” Steve murmurs, “I got barf breath.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie mutters. Back at Steve’s forehead. “You aren’t contagious,” he says as if that immediately overrides how disgusting it is. “In fact, the only thing I’m catching from you is feelings,” he flirts, or at least Steve thinks he’s attempting to do that. If the stupidly endearing little wiggle to his eyebrows means anything.

Steve fondly rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dork,” he states.

“Your dork,” Eddie whispers. “And I love you.”

“I know,” Steve whispers in turn.

Eddie draws back from kissing again. To lock eyes with Steve, who is glowing with mirth. Probably paler than he’s ever been and tinted green. Yet, with fake annoyance in Eddie’s eyes, all that’s directed at Steve is unashamed love. “Did you just Han Solo me? Who’s the dork now?”

“Me,” Steve proudly murmurs. “Kiss?”

And Eddie obliges.

With the kisses as distraction, a hand over his heart, the nausea receding for now—Steve is filled with warm love. He believes that Eddie may truly heal him.

Migraines are always the worst days. But it’s a good day, if Eddie is there beside him.

💕—————💕

[violaextract]

NOT ONLY CLASS SWAPPED SCYTHEBELTS, BUT ALL CLASS SWAPPED FATED??

you try to give a flower to your crush and your powers go haywire smh

hi so if you saw the og class swaps i did for the fated in like,, 2020 maybe,, uhhhhhhh no you didnt ( you can see the og ones behind them in the line up )

this time i chose sub classes for them!! and they are very silly, BELOW THE CUT IS MY THOUGHTS AND WHY I CHOSE THE SUBCLASSES I DID, IF YOU WANNA HEAR MY RANTING VVVV

sylnan is circle of shepherd, i felt that it suited him, especially with the idea that he could steal from people with the help of animals, also because he lived with the rats, so,, ykyk,, also the vines can be used to climb stuff because thats cool, i love the guardian spell too, basically you get downed and you can summon a spirit that will attack anything that gets near you, ( even if the spell doesnt attack teammates or non threats its a nice idea for braad to be the only one who can get near him when this happens, and possibly as the party grows together the others can also approach him ) also the vest design is meant to mimic a ribcage, i think i had an idea of why i did this but forgot,, it just looks cool. maybe something to do with his death or his emotions, whos to say

braad, arcane trickster, SURPRISING NO ONE, hes silly thief guy who maybe became a rouge to help their situation, but he was kinda just hiding it from his brother, until the pact thing happened and then after the pact is severed, hes a trickster instead of a bard. he needs to be able to do his silly illusions, also i like to think he just happens to doge stuff, like by sheer coincidence

velrisa, college of lore, i thought because she wouldnt be a cleric for weejas, she could be a sort of, storyteller if you will, spreading the word and fighting for her god with music, she still does stuff with undead and whatnot being raised by clerics, but she simply found another way to show that,( maybe she struggled with normal cleric magic also maybe she relates to mountain )

taxi, battle master fighter, it was this or champion, but i feel like it fit what with what we know about his parents, in this he was trained and whatnot, it was probs a gillion tidestrider thing where it was fucked and he throughout the fated travels learns to fight for himself and protect the people he cares about instead of listening to what people told him he should be fighting for. also maybe he could become some sort of champion because its taxi, i love him.

mountain, war domain, like with taxi i was inbetween war domain and death domain, i felt death domain because the death of his wife maybe threw him into that, but i felt that what with mountain being in a fighting ring and meeting his wife there, that war fit better, he is a crazy good fighter and healing also possibly learnt from Hilda and heightened after her death. hes still mountain though so alcholic cleric punch healing and shenanigans, dont think that just because hes a healer now hes devoid of everything that makes mountain, mountain. plus with taxi, maybe hes very involved with helping taxi find his fight, and with vel, she knows about cleric stuff despite not being one so ykyk

okay rant over, the read more thing didnt work so IM SORRY, i put too much thought into this BYEEE