#red hourglass marking

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Black widow spider

A female black widow spider (Latrodectus) hangs upside-down in her web, showing the red hourglass marking on her abdomen.

(Image credit: Kimberly Hosey/Getty Images)

[findingavoiceif]

Intro post:

Step into the shadows as an Elyn, a creature feared and hunted for your dark, mysterious origins. After narrowly escaping the brutal grasp of your former master, you find yourself in a world that views your kind—Elyndras—as beings of nightmare: demons with unsettling, untapped powers.

But in this land where terror and superstition reign, your journey is just beginning. Thrust into an unpredictable adventure of treachery, harrowing dangers, unexpected sorrows, and moments of tender love, your path twists in ways you never imagined.

Forge bonds with one of four unique companions, each with their own secrets, desires, and hidden wounds.

Tell me, creature of the night... Will you reclaim your power, your voice, your freedom?

Features:

Choose your name,gender and parts of your appearance.(Some of the mc's features are locked to fit their heritage)

Romance one of four companions or maybe...5?

Trigger warnings-

Finding A Voice is rated 16+ for violence,self-harm,hunting of an entire species,assault,language and fade-to black scenes.

Love interests:

Quill Riviera – The Charming Bard

Quill’s got that effortlessly cool vibe—shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with dark highlights, usually tied half up, half down like he didn’t try but somehow nailed the look. His light brown eyes glimmer with mischief, though his right eye is a little clouded from an old injury, and his full lips always seem to be curled into a teasing grin. Freckles dust his nose, and he’s got a small gap between his front teeth, giving his smile a touch of imperfection that just adds to his charm.

Underneath his confident exterior is something darker, though he keeps it hidden well behind sarcastic jokes and playful arrogance. His tan skin, slender hands, and lean frame are decorated with piercings—hoops and studs running up his pointy ears, an eyebrow piercing above his sharp, teasing gaze. You’ll catch a glimpse of a burn mark on his left hip if he ever lets his guard down. Despite the mystery and flirtation, Quill’s a bard at heart, working part-time at the inn, always ready to spin a story or play a song. But don’t let his facade fool you; there’s more beneath the surface.

Pierre Blanchet – The Cold Commander

Pierre cuts an intimidating figure—a tall, athletic knight with flawless bronze skin, dark red eyes that he’s always been self-conscious about, even though they burn with a fire few can match. His curly blonde hair is cut short and shaved at the sides, making him look every bit the battle-hardened warrior he is. A small mole beneath his nose and a permanent shadow of stubble give him a rough, no-nonsense appearance.

Despite his role as Knight Commander, Pierre’s introverted nature and quiet insecurity make him seem distant, even rude at times. He doesn’t let people in easily, but those who get past his defenses see the man beneath the armor—stubborn, loyal, and fighting his own inner battles. His large hands grip a sword with ease, but they fumble when it comes to opening up to others. If you can break through his walls, though, you’ll find a heart worth fighting for.

Celeste Dupont – The Witch of Warmth

Celeste is the type of person who draws people in with her warmth, even though her pale skin and sharp grey eyes might make her seem icy at first glance. She keeps her silky black hair tied up in a messy bun, and no matter how chaotic it looks, it only adds to her effortless elegance. Her lips are always painted a cherry red, and a small scar on her bottom lip hints at the fact that there’s more to her story.

As a baker and healer, she’s as likely to serve you a fresh loaf of bread as she is to patch you up after a tough battle. A rune tattoo graces her palm, a subtle sign of her Valdranna heritage—an immortal witch with powers as ancient as they are mysterious. With her hourglass figure, dark eyeliner, and a nose ring that looks like a simple dot, Celeste balances the mystical with the everyday. She’s your boss, your best friend, and maybe something more if you’re lucky enough to win her heart.

Ash Valdaryn – The Sickly Royal

Ash is the reason this whole adventure started, their deep violet skin standing out against the pale world around them. Their lavender hair, soft and wavy, falls just past their shoulders, and they dress in flowing, feminine clothing that complements their elegant, yet slightly fragile build. White eyes gaze out from beneath small, curling horns on their forehead, giving them an otherworldly look that is as captivating as it is delicate.

Ash’s health is failing, which is why the journey began in the first place—to find a cure for the illness that threatens to take them away. Despite their condition, they insisted on coming along, determined to be part of the adventure. They may look fragile, but there’s a quiet strength beneath the surface—a will to live, to fight, to hold on. And though they may be royalty, with all the expectations that come with it, Ash’s soft voice and gentle demeanor make them someone you’ll want to protect... even though they’d never ask for it.

[jaysfavoritee]

ptolemaea | p.sh

pairing. ❥ vampire!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre. ❥ angst, thriller, psychological

cautions. ❥ death, depictions of blood & gore, profanity

wc. ❥ 2.1k

synopsis. ❥ Park Sunghoon would do anything to protect you, no matter the price.

note! story inspired by Ethel Cain’s Ptolemaea ! thank you for reading, hope you enjoy 🤗

You stood in the room where the deep sunset appears through the singular window. The golden rays hit the quietest corners, providing solace in everything it touches. The sun does not comfort you, though. No. It cannot.

You poor thing.

You blink back the impending sting of hot tears from forming. You wish to not cry. You never cried. You shall not cry now.

“Come in here, I know you're there,” you whisper meekly, letting the vines and thorns planted inside of your throat rattle with each vibration of your vocal box.

No response.

You breathe in. You breathe out. “Sunghoon.”

The doorknob twists and slowly opens. It creaks loudly in this quiet space. Dust accumulating within the ridges and edges of the furniture floats about, the rays of the sun allowing you to see it.

A tall figure is seen, dressed in all black. His turtleneck, black. His slacks, black. His shoes, black. His neatly styled hair, also black.

He's utterly gorgeous. His pale skin complimented the silver necklace that adorned around his neck, the first letter of your name engraved on it.

He towers over you. He is not close yet not far away.

“My sweet angel. Why do you call out to me at this time?” His voice is as smooth as the sand that trickles down the hourglass that sits nicely on the table. You find that voice to be as comforting as the warmth of the sunlight that radiates on your skin. His presence alone causes goosebumps to become visible.

The rays kiss the side of his face, purely unaffecting him. He is perfect.

“You know why. I'd like to see him,” you state calmly, as calm as the waves of the sea that you could see from out the window.

Sunghoon's expression only contorts into confusion.

You blink once. You blink twice. “Jaeyun. You know this. I want to see Jaeyun.”

After a few seconds, the name registers. Sunghoon smiles and shakes his head. This action causes you to furrow your eyebrows. It's your turn to be confused.

“You promised me,” you mutter, letting the words become laced and tangled with offense. Your eyes moisten again with the tears threatening to fall.

“I devoted myself to you. I did that. I wanted you to let me see him again for the last time. That was the only thing I asked of you.”

Sunghoon walks against the old floorboard with hands clutched together behind his back, stopping right in front of you.

“I know. Is this what you want? Tell me.”

You nod. “Please.”

A pout tugs at his lips as he turns his head to look at the closet door behind him. “As you wish, my sweet angel,” he whispers before walking toward the door and opening it.

Out of everything you would expect, this was not one of them. The lifeless body of your dearest friend Jaeyun lies before you. His neck and the half of his face were mutilated with teeth marks. The rotting smell and the sound of flies buzzing around his body present itself.

He was bloody. So bloody. Clothes drenched in the colors brown, black, and dark red. You could see the insides of the flesh that had been played around with, making your body automatically gag.

You begin to blink rapidly. You slap your cheek in hopes for you to realize that you were hallucinating the entire image.

“You are not seeing things, my love. This is real,” Sunghoon tells you softly.

The sunlight that shone inside this room took away the familiar warmth and replaced it with an unrecognizable coldness instead.

Once your heart was able to process what you were seeing, you fell to your knees. The wooden ground poked harshly at the skin, but that pain did not suffice to the pain that spread throughout your entire body and soul like a raging forest fire.

The tears that struggled to escape, at last, released. Your eyes blurred 'til you no longer could make out anything. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time.

The fire deep inside of you climbed its way up your chest, to your throat, and finally, it came out as a blood-curdling scream.

Sunghoon flinched at the sudden change of atmosphere. You screamed as much as your body would allow, and you started to crawl on the floor, not caring to pick up your knees and letting it drag against the wood, causing the skin to peel and blood to trickle. It stings.

Everywhere it stings.

You cry out. Your broken sobs echo in this tiny room. The waves outside become dangerous, as if they could feel the grief that swallows you whole.

You see red. You see white. You see colors swirling in your vision as your heart breaks. You swear you can hear it.

You bring out a shaky hand and you place it on the side of Jaeyun's face that was not tampered with. One eye open, the other gone. Nothing emanates from his pupil. No soul. Nothing to be seen.

The same as looking into Sunghoon's.

Sunghoon lets you cry out for minutes, or hours, he isn't sure. Time does not exist for you right now.

You cough nonstop.

Sunghoon kneels in front of you. He tilts your chin up with his slim fingers. “You poor thing, my sweetest angel. Why must you cry?”

You angrily shove his hand away from you. He tilts his head in confusion, genuine hurt flashes through his eyes.

“You. You.”

Breathe in.

“What have you done?” You whisper hoarsely while glancing down at Jaeyun. “Why?”

“I kept your promise. Didn't I?”

You stand up immediately, though your balance nearly gives out from the wobbliness of your legs. “You didn't keep my promise...”

“But, darling, I have. He's right th-”

“He's dead. Look at him,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

Quietness fills the air once more. Your head begins to throb.

Breathe out.

“You wanted to see him for one last time, my love. Have I been mistaken?” Sunghoon asks, his face etched with worry.

“I wanted him to be...” you say quietly.

Sunghoon stares right at you.

“ALIVE!” You shriek. The glass cups that sit on the shelves rattle. Your throat is on fire.

Sunghoon swallows.

“I wanted him to be alive. You tricked me. You fooled me,” you cry, your shoulders slumping. You back yourself against the wall and slid down from exhaustion.

Sunghoon shakes his head profusely as he makes his way over to you. “No, no, no. My angel, I would never lie to you. I've devoted myself to you,” he says sincerely and looks into your bloodshot eyes.

“..I would do anything for you. I would die for you.”

“You knew damn fucking well what I meant when I said I wanted to see him one last time. I didn't want him to DIE!” You yell the last word at his face, making him flinch.

“My angel, you see, it had to be done. I've already told him your farewells before he took his last breath. I wouldn't say he deserved your kindness, though.” His eyes darken.

You feel like crying again and you shake your head resting on the wall. “What does that even mean, Sunghoon? What have I done to deserve this?”

Sunghoon gently wipes the tears that stained your cheeks. “My love,” he says as he stands up, holding his hand out for you to grab. You hesitantly take it and he helps you stand up, balancing yourself.

He looks down at you with something in his eyes that you cannot figure out, but you chalk it up to be something akin to adoration.

“I have told you this since the beginning,” he starts with a low rumble of his voice. “Once they see me in my full glory, I can never let them see daylight again. That's how it works.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from yelling at him.

“Jaeyun is not the man you think he is, my angel. I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't think he deserved it.”

You stare into his eyes and for the umpteenth time, you shake your head. “What are you saying?” You ask, voice strained. Hurt. Broken beyond recognition.

Sunghoon holds your hands into his and he glances down at Jaeyun's body. He lets go for a moment before he reaches down to Jaeyun’s side, taking out a tiny journal from his back pocket.

Sunghoon stares at it before handing it to you. In pure confusion and your head still throbbing, you grab the book from him and open it to see Jaeyun's handwriting. All of the pages were filled to the brim.

As you take a closer look at the words, you realize that he was planning something. He was writing down the dates and jotted down a bunch of observations, along with his thoughts.

“Date. 03.25.12 - She tripped over a rock today. She laughed it off, but it was too tempting to pick it up and bash her head in with it.”

“Date. 05.01.14 - Every day the urge keeps getting worse. She disgusts me.”

“Date. 11.22.18 - I've practiced the way I'm going to kill her. I have it all set up.”

You look at the dates and the words in shock, your mouth opening while tears trickle down your face. “He-”

“My dearest. He was planning your murder,” Sunghoon interrupts, his hands finding their way behind his back. He stares at you flipping through the pages.

“No, this isn't right,” you blurt out, your fingertips losing their sense of touch. Everything is going numb.

Sunghoon lets out a long sigh and steps closer to you, embracing your figure and rubbing the small of your back soothingly. “I know. Throughout all those years of pretending, his main goal was to end you.”

You shudder and drop the journal, letting it hit the floor aggressively. You blink away the burning sensation in your eyes as you abruptly shove yourself away from Sunghoon's hold.

“How am I so sure that you were not the one to pull this shit out of your ass? How do I know you didn't do this on purpose?”

Sunghoon kneels down in front of you and places his hands on your waist. He looks up at you with love that you cannot ignore how hard you try.

“Have you ever seen a vampire blush?”

“What? No.”

“There's no blood circulating through my veins,” he continues. “I don't possess the ability to blush. However, my love, you have caused this. You make me alive.”

You sigh and he smiles. “You know what I am. You know my heart does not beat,” he says as he takes one of your hands and puts it right in front of where his heart should be. You feel the sensation of it beating. “This is possible because of the way you make me feel. I love you so tremendously, sweet angel. You are my light and my savior.”

“How do I know if you haven't said the same thing to thousands of women one hundred years ago before me?” Sunghoon can see the doubt written all over your facial features.

In response, he shakes his head. “If that were the case, that would mean I've ended them already. Your blood is the sweetest, and I have been tempted, though I have not acted upon those temptations. I would never lie to you.”

You know that to be true. He's always honest with you.

“I want to protect you the same way that you've given me life. You made me feel things I haven't felt in centuries, my angel. I would do anything you ask of me to. I would never let anyone or anything hurt you under my watch,” he says sternly.

He begins to stand up and he pulls you into another embrace. He protected you from what you didn't know. He saved you from what you couldn't possibly be aware of.

“I love you,” you breathe against the fabric of his turtleneck. “Thank you for protecting me.”

He smiles cheerfully that displays his sharp fangs. “I love you with everything in me. Everything that I do is to protect you, my dearest. Trust me.”

And shall you trust.

He beckons you forward to exit the room, and you wipe away the rest of your tears as he intertwines your fingers with his. Before he leaves, he takes one last look at the journal and Jaeyun's dead body.

The journal that he purely made up. The journal that he manipulated your sweet mind to hallucinate.

Jaeyun was straying too close to what was his.

The devil himself wouldn't let that happen. Not under his watch.

[sarawritestories]

Eris X Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court takes helps you get ready for date night.

Warning: THERE IS SLIGHT NSFW ELEMENTS Dom/ Sub dynamics if you squint hard enough but mostly Eris being happy

Thank you @milswrites for selecting the Eris for this. It was a great choice I'm happy with it.

Divider's created by @tsunami-of-tears

Word Count: 1.1 K

ACOTAR Masterlist

You were a vision. The maroon silk fabric tightly accentuated your full breasts, the bodice hugging your full frame to accentuate your hourglass figure. The material pooling at your feet, a slit reaching your thigh exposing your stretch marks, as you sat at your vanity applying your makeup. You went with a soft look; Kohl lightly lining your eyes the color of your irises popping Thanks to the soft brown powder you applied to your lids.Your hair in soft curls hair pinned back gold leaf clips. You grabbed your brush and the maroon color rouge that matched your dress when the bathroom door creaked open and your mate walked out.

The brush dropped from your hands.

Eris had stepped out and you took in his handsome form. His short copper colored hair slicked back not a single hair out of place, a black tunic sleeves accentuating the muscle in his arms. A corset vest to match you, gold swirls ran up the vest standing out against the dark red hue of the corset. His black trousers hugged him perfectly, allowing his years of riding horses and training to be on full display even wearing his riding boots to finish out the outfit.

Mother spare you.

Eris turned to you, those russet colored eyes twinkled with excitement as your arousal permeated the room, “Is my High Lady ready for her night on the town?”

You nodded your head as he approached you, his own arousal colliding with your own. You arched your neck to maintain eye contact with him. He reached out his hand tenderly grazing your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut, his scent of whiskey, smoke and brown sugar eliciting another wave of arousal to hit you. 

“My Love?” His husky voice whispered, “Were you listening?” You opened your eyes and you were met with a quirked brow and a . Your eyes glazed over to the freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks and you reached your hand out to touch them when the High Lord of Autumn gripped your wrist and brushed his soft pink lips to your knuckles. “I asked you a question, Pet. I expect an answer.”

“Sorry, Eris, What was the question?” You make the effort to take in his appearance once more, “I was distracted by a very handsome high lord.” 

A low growl emulated from Eris’ throat. “Is that so?” He leaned his face closer, his breath intermingling with yours. “Hm, maybe I should change.” 

You whined and he pulled away from you suddenly. Only for his hand to lay at your shoulders, his head bumping yours as he looked at you in the mirror. His eyes looked as though he had been starved and you were his only salvation. In the time that the two of you had been together there had not been a curve, a bump, a stretch mark not touched, kissed, or loved by the red-headed male. “Are you almost ready to go?” his voice called out to your through your reminiscing. 

“I am, I simply need to put on the rouge for my lips.” You smiled as he kissed your cheek, his reflection moving once more. As you reached for the jar, a large hand grabbed it first, “Eris?”

You faced the male once more as he opened the jar taking the brush and dipping it in the makeup. “Allow me.” He placed the jar down and you found yourself struggling to breathe as he held the brush to your lips. “Part your lips for me, My Love.” You did so giving him easier access. He leaned down and you watched as your High Lord, Mate, Lover, slowly placed the brush against your top lip.

His breath smelling of whiskey and cinnamon you shifted as he slowly and meticulously swiped the brush against your top lip. You shifted again as the brush lightly touched your lip tickling you. The featherlight touch of the tool and the closeness of your mate kept causing you to fidget in your seat, not used to the intimate act Eris was providing you.

Eris finished the top lip, he gave you a stern look, and gripped your face, his fingers clutching your jaw as his palm pressed against the underside of your chin, the lower part grazing your neck. “Stay still will you, Pet. Don’t want to smudge that pretty face.”

Dazed by his rapid movement you nodded your head, “Yes, High Lord.” You parted your lips once more.

Eris smiled and kissed your forehead, “There’s my good girl.” He swiped your bottom lip with ease and your breathing hitches when he finished and gave your face a squeeze. You moaned as he pulled away a soft chuckle grazing your pointed ears. He held out his hand for you to take. Intertwining your fingers with his he yanked you up from your seat, his free arm wrapping around your waist. He began to sway the two of you. “You know we could stay home. Have some fun of our own.”  He said as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

You giggled, “You promised, Love, a night out just the two of us.” 

Eris side spinning you out, “I guess I did,” He spun you back in and you braced your one arm around his shoulders the other on his hand as he dipped you. “As High Lord I have to keep my promises. Especially the ones I make for you.” Eris leans closer.

“You’re going to smudge my lips.” You murmured.

Eris chuckled, “I don’t care.” And he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss.Your hand moved  to his face as both his arms gripped your hips squeezing the soft flesh and before you could deepen the kiss he pulled away, chest heaving. “If you're good, we’ll see how pretty that color looks on you, when your lips are around my cock.”

You smirked, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Vanserra.” You move to wipe the color that transferred to his lips but he places his hand over yours and shakes his head.

“Leave it. Let all of Autumn know who I belong to.” The gold string hummed in your chest as Eris moved you up right and went to grab your shawl wrapping it around you snuggly you leaned up and kissed the base of his neck making sure the deep red color was peaking out of his shirt.

Eris lifted a brow at your action and you merely shrugged, “For good measure.”

Eris tugged on the bond and looped your arm around his, “I love you.” 

“And I you. Now let’s go!” You cried out tugging him out the door to his amusement, making sure you sent love down the bond.

“Anything for you, High Lady.” 

Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @mybestfriendmademe @awkardnerd @lanea-1

[just-aake]

Love in Red

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The color red means something different when it is about Natasha.

a/n: Not exactly a sequel but this short fic is related to Marry Me. 

Warnings: light angst/fluff

Words: 482

The color red is not associated with good things. In society, it can be used to mean caution, alarm, or danger.

The red sirens on police vehicles and ambulances indicate trouble.

The red brake lights on cars warn you to slow down and stop.

The red words on the emergency exit signs tell you to leave.

Red is a warning. 

But with Natasha, it becomes something more.

Red can be beautiful.

Especially on her.

The light crimson tint on her cheeks that is always followed by a roll of her eyes every time you shower her with flirty compliments.

The scarlet lipstick on her lips whenever they curl into her usual confident smirk right before she pulls you close and kiss you breathless.

The bright ruby symbol of the signature hourglass on her belt which your hands quickly remove from her body.

The dark auburn hair flowing through your fingers as she brings you to the highest points of pleasure and bliss.

The deep burgundy marks that she leaves all over your body after spending yet another night together.

Then she slips away without a sound. 

Leaving you alone.

You should know better.

It’s as you said at the beginning.

Red is not associated with good things.

Like the way your faces grow red with frustration when you both argue about the other person’s safety.

Like the red dot that appears on your body during the mission before a burst of pain suddenly shoots through your stomach. 

Like the red of your blood on her hands as she applies pressure while crying out your name.

No, the color red has always been a warning.

A warning that you always ignore.

A warning of the dangers that come with being near a woman like her.

A warning of the way she only allows people to get close up to a certain point. 

A warning of the work and effort it takes to build a relationship with her. 

Any sensible person would give up and leave.

That was the whole purpose of the color.

To warn you away from her.

The next time the color red appears, it is behind your eyelids from the bright medical bay lights shining above you. 

Opening your eyes slowly, you see the lovely color again.

The auburn strands of her hair fall over her sleeping face laying beside you on the medical bed, a light rosy flush on her cheeks from the cold air in the room, and the crimson on her knuckles as her hand holds tightly onto yours.

Red is not supposed to be good.

Yet whenever you look at Natasha, the only thing you can see is how beautiful all of the different shades of red appear on her.

To you, red is not a warning.

It is a reminder to have patience.

After all, someone like Natasha is someone worth loving.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading!

[loud-whistling-yes]

Wooooo winners gang (design notes + version without scott's stars + halos under cut)

General

All of them except martyn have scars related to their final death

Also gold accents for all of them :DD

Took 5 minutes of debating with myself back and forth on whether I wanted black eyes, red eyes, purple eyes or whatever goddamn eyes their skins have

Ended up with dark red eyes. Which is not even a colour I was thinking of as shown above

Also this isn't even that related to the design or anything but I like to think the winners only remember as far as the game they won. So like grian only remembers 3l scott remembers 3l and ll so on and stuff. Makes shit funnier. And more dramatic. (looking at you whatever the fuck dl!galaxy duo had going on)

Grian

Poncho and the flowers were inspired by @/cherrifire's design :D

Scars on the head are from the fall. Also not shown in here are bloody marks on his hands from the cactus ring LMAO

Tiny wings don't fly D:

Scott

So

As you can see

I may have went a bit overboard with the headcannoning

Relates to an old post of mine (oh god. It's from 2021. oh god this is VERY old.) Where I hc-ed ll!scott to have becomed a starbrone after dying. Hence... Whatever the fuck this is

Not really happy with how the galaxy thingy came out 😭 might redo it sometime...

But yeah lighting scars :)))

And the crystals around him are kinda half-melted also from the lightning... Also a thing from the old post

Pearl

Frayed soulmate string :)

Explosion scars on face, chest and right hand from the explosion. Basically she threw herself to the explosion or something idk I've been looking at the mirror for 20 minutes now with stupid looking positions

Crystals are shared soulmate trait she got from scott

Martyn

Ehhhh I might redesign him someday he isn't as well thought-out compared to the others cause I've had months to think of the others designs...

No scars for him lol. Like I know irl he just got smited by grian but in his video he actually runs out of time so...

He's got his hourglass tho (top part empty as it should be :))

His head is meant to look like pufferfish :D yellow and blue and all

Yes I think about the banner belt a lot

His halo is based of mars and its moons phobos and deimos :D

[sleepyfan-blog]

Aranea posuere ultricies

Author’s note: this fic has been inspired by @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond ‘s pocket titus sketches! Please check out her art! Thank you for letting me write this

Warnings: spiders, spider-killing, please ask me to tag if something bothers you/I missed it

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Summary: You acquire a small but fierce protector

You were fumbling with the keys to your front door, holding them in hand as you try to unlock your front door. As you attempt to put the key inside the lock, a large black spider slides down a hair-thin spider silk thread, nearly landing in your face.

You let out a startled shriek of surprise, stumbling backwards as fear and panic grip you. Your heart hammering in the back of your throat and adrenaline causing your body to tremble and freeze as you try to figure out what to do.

The black spider twists on the thin string of spider silk, revealing a bright red hourglass marking on it's abdomen.

More anxiety fills you as you clock that this is a venomous spider - one that could make you quite ill, if it bit you.

The best thing to do would be to somehow non-lethally move this Black Widow away from your door and place it somewhere in your garden... But you have no way of doing so without having to get into your home first...

Which would mean dodging the spider still dangling at eye level. You swallow dryly, still struggling to figure out what to do (and a small part of you feeling very silly about your panic) but you didn't want the spider to potentially crawl onto you, if you tried to dodge around it in order to get into your home.

Before you could make a decision, you felt a pair of tiny but heavy pair of feet land on one of your shoulders before the unexpected weight left you just as quickly.

A tiny Astartes yelled out what he clearly thought was a fierce battle cry "COURAGE AND HONOR!" as he swung a teeny-tiny hammer at the abdomen of the black widow that had been menacing you.

The blow struck true and spider guts splattered over several square inches of your front door.

You unfroze in time to carefully catch the little blue and gold colored tiny Astartes before he fell the rest of the way to the ground - or left a dent in your front door. "Thank you, my lord, for rescuing me." You murmur, having heard from co-workers and online posts how to best appease these tiny but fierce warriors.

The Astartes squeaks and wriggles in your hands in surprise "unhand me, mortal! I must continue my duties."

"As you wish. I was concerned about the fall relative to your size. Would you like something to eat in thanks for rescuing me?" You ask, carefully setting the tiny warrior down on the ground.

He stares up at you through his helmet for several seconds before answering "... Food would be most welcome... And I have fallen further than this. Your concern is..." he hesitates for a couple of moments before continuing "Welcome but unnecessary. Food would be gratefully accepted. I have not eaten in some time."

You nod, unlocking and opening your front door "After you." You murmur, not wanting to accidentally step on him "Unless you'd grant me the honor of carrying you to the kitchen?"

The small marine looked at your entryway, tensing as your cat - a loveable and very chatty coal black cat came trotting up to where you and he were standing with his usually creaky "Mreau!"

"I would like to be carried. Ideally on one of your shoulders, or in a hand or a chest pocket." The tiny marine declares, his helmet still pointed in your cat's direction.

Dixie sniffed curiously at the Astartes, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth.

You bend down and place one hand next to the marine so that he could climb up at his own pace. You reach out with your other hand to pet Dixie "Easy there, Dix. No mischief with our guest." And now you realize that you had yet to ask for the Astartes' name... Or give your own. "Would you like to share your name with me?" You give him your name "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier." You add.

"... I am Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines Second Company." Titus answers after a few moments of hesitation. He removes his helmet, revealing a weathered and scarred but kind (and handsome) face with soulful greenish-blue eyes and short brown hair that frame his face. He climbs up onto your hand.

You set him on one of your shoulders and quickly move through your home to your kitchen. You set the lieutenant down on your kitchen counter before starting to rummage through the fridge, asking "Is there anything in particular you'd like? I have some left-over taco stuff, pasta with spaghetti, sandwich fixings... I also have some Ice cream and cookies, if you prefer something sweeter."

"I am unfamiliar with those food items. Astartes can eat nearly anything..." The little being answered, shifting a little as he answered "But I have been traveling for some time, and a hot meal would be a welcome indulgence."

You nod and grab two bowls as you're hungry too. You make sure that the bowl for the lieutenant is shallower so that he can better reach inside of it. A quick couple of minutes in the microwave and both bowls of food are steaming hot.

Titus ate quickly shoving handfuls of pasta and sauce into his mouth with his armored gauntlets "This is delicious, thank you."

You hum and smile "I'm glad you like it. Would you like some water to wash it down? I'm about to get myself some water, anyways."

"Water would be helpful. I need to clean my armor, as well as drink." Titus answers, before focusing once again on the food.

~

Weeks had passed and Titus, while he regularly wandered off, had become a regular member of your household.

Currently you were holding him in one hand, having helped the Astartes reach one of the insects encroaching on your property.

He looked so adorably pleased with himself you couldn't help it. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring "Thank you, for saving me from these awful bugs, Demetrian. Your swift movements and firm strikes slew the enemy handily."

Demetrian blushed, tucking his chin to his armored chest as he hands came up, flailing a little "I... I am merely doing my duty..."

"And you do it well, my lovely Angel." You earnestly compliment.

The Astartes blushes more and looks away from your face at your words, clearly struggling to regain his composure.

You chuckle softly and kiss the top of his head, murmuring "Too much praise, my knight-savior?"

"Yes... But... I... I crave it as well. I must... I must atone for this sin." Titus mumbled, still not looking up at you.

"... It's not a sin to enjoy the praise you get, Demetrian." You point out gently.

The tiny Ultramarine in your hand huffs a little before settling into your hand, mumbling in a language that you do not know, still blushing.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it. 

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details. 

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost. 

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch. 

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter. 

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow. 

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace. 

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better. 

It had been a long few months. 

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days. 

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth. 

Hell, he really must be tired. 

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough. 

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home. 

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks. 

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before. 

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face. 

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly? 

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful. 

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one. 

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.” 

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow. 

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech. 

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?” 

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office. 

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer. 

All of it is uneventful. 

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three. 

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.  

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.” 

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top. 

‘Save for Simon.’ 

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly. 

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet. 

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine. 

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen. 

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”  

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.” 

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.” 

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home. 

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily. 

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second. 

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.” 

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper. 

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points. 

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened. 

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?” 

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression. 

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…” 

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception. 

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two. 

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it. 

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision. 

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?” 

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?” 

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe? 

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul. 

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away. 

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up. 

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt. 

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life. 

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

[noahsresources]

HOW WOULD YOUR MUSE DESCRIBE MINE ? ( POSITIVE ASSOCIATIONS )

send an emoji (and/or the description of them) to let them know! if it helps, think about finishing the following sentence from the perspective of your muse: "i think you're _____." (terms source)

🐹 [HAMSTER FACE] — adorable

🪵 [WOOD] — adventurous

😄 [GRINNING FACE WITH SMILING EYES] — agreeable

🤩 [FACE WITH STARRY EYES] — ambitious

🎨 [ARTIST PALETTE] — artistic

📓 [COMPOSITION NOTEBOOK] — attentive

☠️ [SKULL AND CROSSBONES] — bold

💪 [FLEXED BICEP] — brave

⭐️ [STAR] — bright

🫧 [BUBBLES] — bubbly

😶‍🌫️ [FACE IN CLOUDS] — calm

😶 [FACE WITHOUT MOUTH] — careful

☀️ [SUN] — charismatic

🧹 [BROOM] — clean

🖊️ [BALLPOINT PEN] — clever

❤️ [RED HEART] — compassionate

🧡 [ORANGE HEART] — confident

💛 [YELLOW HEART] — considerate

💚 [GREEN HEART] — cool

💙 [BLUE HEART] — cooperative

💜 [PURPLE HEART] — courageous

🖌️ [PAINTBRUSH] — crafty

🤔 [THINKING FACE] — curious

🐱 [CAT FACE] — cute

🏠 [HOUSE] — dedicated

⚓️ [ANCHOR] — dependable

🥇 [GOLD MEDAL] — determined

🌊 [WAVE] — eager

🐚 [SEASHELL] — easygoing

🎬 [CLAPPER BOARD] — encouraging

🌪️ [TORNADO] — energetic

🚗 [CAR] — experienced

🎟️ [ADMISSION TICKET] — fair

👗 [DRESS] — fashionable

🔥 [FIRE] — fiery

💋 [KISS MARK] — flirtatious

☺️ [SMILING FACE] — friendly

😎 [SMILING FACE WITH SUNGLASSES] — fun

💩 [PILE OF POOP] — funny

🎁 [PRESENT] — generous

💐 [BOUQUET] — gifted

👔 [SHIRT AND TIE] — handsome

😀 [GRINNING FACE] — happy

📞 [TELEPHONE RECEIVER] — hardworking

💞 [REVOLVING HEARTS] — helpful

💓 [BEATING HEART] — honest

☁️ [CLOUD] — imaginative

🏹 [BOW AND ARROW] — independent

🍼 [BABY BOTTLE] — innocent

🤓 [SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES] — inquisitive

🧐 [FACE WITH MONOCLE] — intelligent

🤪 [GOOFY FACE] — jovial

💝 [HEART WITH RIBBON] — kind

❓ [RED QUESTION MARK] — logical

💕 [TWO HEARTS] — loving

💍 [RING] — loyal

👞 [DRESS SHOE] — mature

🥼 [LAB COAT] — modest

🔮 [CRYSTAL BALL] — mysterious

🧼 [SOAP] — neat

🧑‍🏫 [TEACHER] — obedient

👀 [EYES] — observant

📖 [OPEN BOOK] — open

👍 [THUMBS UP] — optimistic

🎻 [VIOLIN] — passionate

⌛️ [HOURGLASS] — patient

🎱 [BILLIARDS] — perceptive

🐶 [DOG FACE] — playful

🙇 [PERSON BOWING] — polite

🏃 [RUNNER] — quick

🤫 [SHUSHING FACE] — quiet

📚 [BOOKS] — resourceful

💟 [HEART DECORATION] — respectful

🔖 [BOOKMARK] — responsible

🔬 [MICROSCOPE] — serious

🥰 [SMILING FACE WITH HEARTS] — sincere

👓 [GLASSES] — smart

👯 [DANCING PEOPLE] — sociable

🫶 [HEART HANDS] — supportive

🧁 [CUPCAKE] — sweet

🌈 [RAINBOW] — tactful

💃 [WOMAN DANCING] — talented

💬 [SPEECH BALLOON] — talkative

💭 [THOUGHT BALLOON] — thoughtful

🙏 [HANDS PRESSED TOGETHER] — tolerant

🎤 [MICROPHONE] — trusting

🐵 [MONKEY FACE] — unique

💰 [MONEY BAG] — unselfish

🎶 [MUSICAL NOTES] — upbeat

⛑️ [HELMET WITH WHITE CROSS] — vigilant

🌼 [FLOWER] — warm

🧓 [OLDER ADULT] — wise

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Brown widow spider

Both the black widow and brown widow spider have the tell-tale red hourglass-shaped marking on the underneath of their abdomen.

(Image credit: Vinícius Souza via Alamy Stock Photo)

[crappy-writings]

Keeper of Shadows

Wanda MaximoffxReader // Series

Series Summary: An odd series of fatal attacks in Upstate New York piques your interest, especially when they seem to be related to the strange powers you received when you were 10 years old. By some stroke of luck or misfortune, the Avengers too are investigating the case, and you are their number one suspect. In a temporary alliance, you work together to discover why people are dying, unraveling a line of love, secrets, and betrayal.

*Image is not mine, credit to the creator

Chapter 1: The Agent, The Witch, and The Sword

(Chapter) Summary: With a strange rise of murders in the outskirts of New York, Natasha and Wanda are sent to investigate. While scouting the scene, they meet a rather curious figure, one they have not determined if they are friend or foe.

Trigger Warnings: descriptive murder details, crime scene details, guns, blood, injuries, cannon typical violence, I think that's it

Word Count: 3,714

A/N: This has been on the backburner for about 2 years, I think, and only now got around to writing it. Like, there’s a whole 10 page doc about this idea. I don't know if its any good but hopefully it makes sense.

Also, there’s a line here that feels topical and I wanna say Free Palestine.

Chapter 2 →

KoS Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Reblogged Fics

Wanda’s room at the Avengers Compound still felt rather… uncomfortable. She had spent months trying to find authentic Sokovian trinkets, crafts and cultural items to remind her of home, but they were hard to come by out here in the states. She filled it with other things, generic room decor like blue candles, and blue shaded lamps, a small hourglass with red sand, and a globe that she had added red push pins to, marking the places she had been to. A guitar with a stand and sheet music laid beside her bed.

She has a pin board that hangs over her desk, salvaged photographs of her family reminding her of a life short lived. One was a family photo, her mother carrying a four-year-old Pietro while her father carried a four-year-old Wanda, bright goofy smiles over the children’s face. Another, an image of her mother holding a baby Wanda and baby Pietro,  as well as a photograph of a young Pietro, a mess of toys and household objects scattered about.

She hoped that keeping mementos of home would bring her comfort. Instead, it brought waves of bittersweetness and nostalgia. Although there was comfort in home, she was also reminded that she would never return there. There was nowhere to return to. Where once stood a war-torn yet proud country remained a pile of ash, and rubble, and death.

She sighs deeply, dropping her clothes in her hamper, having had swapped it out for a somewhat loose fitting, black, repurposed S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. She finished adjusting the standard issue gauntlets and belt, before sitting down on her bed to put on her boots. A soft knocking came from the door.

“Come in,” Wanda’s accented voice calls out as she laces up her boots. “You ready?” Natasha asks as she poked her head through the door. 

“Yeah,” she replies as she stands from her bed.

“Alright then, let’s go, Hill’s contact is waiting for us,” the red-headed assassin says as Wanda approaches her. Natasha also wore a similarly fitting S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, except she wore her own customized gauntlets and belt, along with her usual weapons. 

“Why exactly did we get called in by the FBI?” the brunette asked as both women walked through the corridors of the Compound. 

“Well, one of Hill’s old contacts called in a favor. They’re working a case that seems to be… more aligned with our type of work,” Natasha says cryptically. “You mean aliens, godly beings, Hydra experiments and genocidal robots?” Wanda asks at an attempt at humor.

“Yep, just about sums it up,” Natasha gives her a small smirk as they walk towards the garage. 

“Is there anything we know about the case?” Wanda asks as both Avengers approach Natasha’s Black-colored Corvette.

“There’s been a series of murders at one of the national forests. Fourth body was found about three hours ago. Here’s the file,” Natasha opened the driver’s side door, and handed Wanda a yellow file folder as she sat in the passenger’s seat.

“Since when do we investigate murders?” Wanda asks curiously as she takes the file from Natasha’s hand.

“You’ll understand once you read the file,” she sighs as she begins to drive out of the Compound. 

The file details a series of gruesome attacks, most of them having taken place just a few miles away from the Finger Lakes National Forest, the investigation being led by Special Agent Gregory Miller. All of them had happened in the span of the last four months, each body was found approximately 25 miles away from each other. The file included the postmortem reports of three victims, detailing blackened scratches and long cuts throughout the victim’s entire body, as well as odd, swirl-patterned burn marks along the upper body. Bruises circled the victims’ necks and one of the victims had a sprained ankle, believed to have occurred as they attempted to run from their attacker. The file included forensic photographs of the victims, much to Wanda’s discomfort.

Interviews with the victims’ kin all described them to be acting angry and erratic, before leaving without notification. No victim was known to take any illegal substances, nor were they diagnosed with any ailments that could potentially cause their sudden change in behavior. 

Forensics reports that the attacks seem to be almost animalistic. The blackened nature of the wounds was not due to decay and were not consistent with regular burns. They did not exactly understand what it was. The official determined cause of death for all the victims was strangulation.

Lastly, the report included newspaper clippings describing the attacks to the general public:

Bear attacks or murder? Odd series of fatal attacks in Upstate New York confound authorities

Concerns among citizens of the Upstate area rise as another body is found near the Finger Lakes National Forest. 

The body of Elijah Brown, a 46-year-old accountant from the Upstate area, was found 10 miles away from the outskirts of the National Forest. This is the third victim to be found in the area.

Local law enforcement informed investigators that the injuries and cause of death for the three victims are consistent with bear attacks. Citizens voiced their concerns over the wild creatures making their way to residences and potentially hurting them, their loved ones or neighbors.

Despite this, private sources indicate that authorities are considering it may be due to a new potential serial killer, despite the allegations of the deaths being caused by bear attacks. All three bodies have been found within approximately 25 miles away of each other, all within a four-month time period. 

When confronted with the allegation that it may instead be a serial killer, officer Davis stated, “We are currently waiting on the coroner's report of the victim to determine whether this was a tragic accident or a potential murder. Our investigation team is waiting on these results before determining what is going on.”

Investigators learned from the victim’s son that Mr. Brown was not known for hiking or hunting, putting into question why he had been out in the forest in the first place.

As the community waits for answers, Park officials and The U.S. Fish and Wildlife department advises hikers to remain on clearly marked paths when out and to wear bright or reflective clothing, and hunters are urged to take every necessary safety precaution, including staying in designated hunting areas, avoid refuge areas, and to make sure your certifications are up to date.

“This is…” Wanda interrupts the comfortable silence they had been riding in the last 30 minutes.

“Yeah,” Natasha says, her lips pressed tightly.

“I can see why he called in the favor,” Wanda comments as she closes the file, “do they have any leads?”

“Don’t think so, they would’ve included it in the file,” Natasha answers with a slight shake of her head. Wanda watched as they zipped through a winding road, a lush, autumn-colored forest stretching both in front and behind them. Up ahead, she notices a large “Finger Lakes National Forest” sign, along with other road signs nearby.

“Do you have any idea what it could be?” Wanda presses tentatively.

“Honestly? No. I’ve never seen anything like this,” the Widow replies.

Wanda hummed in acknowledgement. Both women carried on a pleasant conversation, talking about Wanda’s training progress before settling into a comfortable silence as they approached their destination. 

Natasha begins to drive off the main road, following a marked-out path into the forest. The car hit a few bumps as they drove through the beaten path. “I should've taken one of Tony’s cars,” Natasha muttered, earning a silent laugh from Wanda.

After about five more minutes, both Avengers saw the FBI trucks, agents spread throughout the forest in front of them. Natasha pulled up behind one of the trucks, leaving a generous amount of space between them.

“Here, put this on,” Natasha tosses Wanda a navy-blue jacket with yellow letters spelling “FBI” in the back as they get out of the car. “Hill’s contact wants us to blend in as best we can when we get here. Doesn’t want the public finding out that they had to call in the Avengers.” “And the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform?” Wanda questions as she puts on the jacket. 

“Won’t stand out as much among the other uniforms, and Tony isn’t really funding clothes for missions. We make due with what we’ve got,” explained Natasha as they leave the car and head towards the crime scene.

Bright yellow police tape was wrapped around the trees surrounding the victim. Evidence markers were scarce, whatever evidence of who or what did this was near non-existent. People in white hazard suits investigated the body, taking samples and photographic evidence of the area and victim. Outside the police tape, some agents checked the perimeter, others were working away on laptops. Other forensic investigators seemed to be preparing to transport the body.

Natasha spotted Hill’s contact, a tall, brown-haired man with pale skin and a lean build. His hair was combed back, he wore black framed glasses, and he wore a large jacket, similar to the ones Natasha and Wanda had on. “Perfect timing. Special Agent Gregory Miller, thank you for offering your help,” the man introduced himself with a pressed smile, extending a warm hand to both women, “forensics is finishing up their investigation and sending the data to base as we speak.”

The man subtly cocks his head to the side and lets out a short chuckle. “What’s so funny?” Natasha asks, cocking an eyebrow at Gregory.

“No, no, it’s just,” he gestured to the Avengers’ uniforms, “if S.H.I.E.L.D. was still around, this case would’ve been taken off our hands a while ago.”

“Based on the information you sent us, definitely,” Natasha agrees.

“Yeah, well, anyways, this is James Gutierrez, age 34. A group of hunters went off the designated hunting area and found him. Wounds are consistent with what we’ve seen on the other three victims. Burns, bruises, scratches, all of it. We’ll still need to wait for the coroner’s report to establish the cause of death, but it will most likely be strangulation, just like the rest.”

Wanda was supposed to be listening to what Gregory was saying, but she was not. He repeated everything that had been in the file and although he was discussing the details of the fourth victim, they had still not gleaned any new information. 

Wanda looked around the scene as Gregory continued to talk. She saw the forensics team discuss something between them, and a few were putting away some equipment. A different forensics team was preparing to bag and transport the body. Other agents stood outside the bright yellow tape, discussing things Wanda could not hear from this distance, while others seemed to continue to verify the perimeter.

There was one agent that caught her eye, though. She could not see any distinguishing features from this distance, but she noticed they wore a black hat and jacket, printed with big white letters spelling “FBI.” She tilted her head to the side curiously as she observed the figure that simply stood there, alone. 

The figure seemed to be observing the crime scene, before pulling out a notebook from inside their jacket and writing something down. 

“Who’s that agent, the one in the hat?” Wanda asks out loud, interrupting Gregory from his monologue. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks, his eyes landing on Wanda.

“The agent up there. Their uniform is black and white, not blue and yellow,” Wanda explains.

Natasha follows Wanda’s gaze and clocks the figure immediately.

The figure approached the yellow tape but did not pass it. They subtly craned their neck, observing the victim, before writing something down again. 

“That’s the incorrect uniform,” Gregory says, furrowing his brow.

The figure looks up and accidentally makes eye contact with Wanda. A sudden rush of cold runs up Wanda’s spine, making her shiver involuntarily. They stare for a few moments, their head subtly cocking to the side in curiosity. 

Until something pulls the figure’s attention away as they suddenly look off to their right. Wanda follows their gaze but sees nothing. 

No, not nothing. The trees to the figure’s right were oddly distorted, moving from side to side in small, short waves. Best Wanda could describe it would be that it resembled heat waves radiating off hot pavements and cars. Wanda furrowed her brow in both confusion and curiosity.

But in the blink of an eye, the distortion disappears, the trees standing still behind the crime scene.

“That’s not one of my agents,” Gregory states. 

Wanda watches as the figure quickly puts away their notebook and begins to back away, their eyes never straying from whatever they saw to their right. They turn around and begin to hike up the small hill in front of them. Wanda saw out of the corner of her eye as Gregory reached for his communicator.

“Wanda, go from the right, I’ll take the left,” Natasha commands easily as she begins trailing the suspect.

Wanda nodded as she began running, circling around the right side of the yellow tape. The figure was already up the hill by the time they began their pursuit. Wanda found it odd, though, as the figure did not seem to be running away from them. Their faces gave away no signal of being caught, instead, they had looked at her in curiosity. Their focus was entirely placed on something beside them, beside the crime scene. They did not seem to be running towards something either.

No, they seemed to be leading something away.

Natasha and Wanda ran as quickly as they could, doing their best to avoid tripping over tree roots and rocks, the loud crunch of dead leaves sounding off with every quick step. The figure was fast, maintaining a good distance away from Natasha and her. That was before the stranger came to a sliding stop, staring at something in front of them. They stood quickly and backed up a few steps, their head raised as they stared at something slightly above them. 

Wanda herself began to slow down as she watched the figure do a subtle hand motion, followed by a bright light. A white light flashed in the figure’s hand, a sword magically appearing in their grip. The same cold shiver settled at the base of Wanda’s spine. 

The figure swiftly raises the sword as if to block themselves from something. She watched as the sword was met with brute strength, making it swing to the side forcefully. The figure backed up once more, before throwing an uncoordinated strike at something Wanda could not see.

Wanda tried focusing on whatever the figure was fighting, and suddenly the odd distortion, similar to the one at the crime scene, reemerged. The distortion was large, seeming to be at least three feet taller than the stranger they were pursuing. It moved swiftly, as it seemed to take a swipe at the stranger that stood in front of it, but the figure jumped out of the way just in time.

A low, bellowing sound resonated through the trees, but it sounded faint and far away. Wanda turned her head towards Natasha, “did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” Natasha looked at Wanda with furrowed brows.

“There was this sound, and there’s something, over there,” Wanda stammers through her words as she turns back to watch the figure. They swing their sword again, and this time, it looks like it made contact with the odd distortion.

“I don’t see anything,” Natasha replied, giving Wanda a confused look.

Wanda continued staring as the distortion seemed to rise and come crashing down over the figure.

They yelled as it fell on top of them, knocking them onto the ground forcefully, their weapon falling out of their grip and their hat falling off their head. Whatever was on top of them had them pinned down as they were struggling to get up. They placed their feet firmly on the ground, attempting to squirm out of the distortion's hold to no avail. They begin kicking up into the air, as if hoping to get the mostly invisible creature off of them.

Wanda hears as Natasha takes out her gun and sees her point it forwards. Her finger hovered over the trigger but did not shoot.  

The figure suddenly screamed in pain, but Wanda could not exactly see what was happening. She watches as they struggle to reach for their sword, the weapon a few inches away from their fingers. The figure still kicked their feet up onto the air, but the distortion would not budge from place. 

Another faint, bellowing noise was heard, followed by the figure’s pained groan. Wanda’s irises flash a dark red color as she extends her hand out, urging the sword to fly into the stranger’s hand.

The figure’s head turns towards the sword, before gripping it tight and stabbing it into the air above them and twisting the blade. The figure kicked up into the air once more with a forceful yell, digging their weapon deeper into the creature’s presumed wound.

Wanda hears the creature roar again, this time louder and clearer than the other times. For a split second, Wanda swears she saw something. An inky black mass that almost resembled a giant canine, but as quickly as she saw it, it disappeared. She almost assumes she imagined it.

The distortion seemed to bob upwards, no longer pinning down the stranger. They crawled backwards quickly, sword still in hand.

“Shoot,” Wanda said suddenly, glancing between Natasha and the odd display in front of them.

“Shoot what? I can’t see anything,” Natasha said, a mixture of confusion and frustration subtly ringing in her voice. 

“Straight forwards, about 5 feet over the suspect,” Wanda instructs, her eyes staring sharply at the scene before her. Natasha shot off two bullets and Wanda watched as the bullets disappeared into thin air. “Hit,” Wanda reports.

The figure jumped up to their feet, not looking back at the two Avengers that stood a couple of feet behind them. They slashed their sword twice into the distortion, and Wanda can only assume that they hit it.

The distortion moved and Wanda saw as it was about to come down on the stranger once more. They swung their sword upwards, the blade facing up to defend themselves from whatever was about to hit them.

The creature made an impact with the sword, the force strong enough to make the figure scream and buckle under the pressure. The same bellowing sound came again, this one louder than the one before. “Shoot, two feet above the suspect’s head,” Wanda commands, watching as the figure rightens themselves and backs up a few steps.

Natasha aims and takes a few seconds before shooting, taking the necessary precautions to not hit their only potential lead. 

She shoots off three more bullets, and Wanda sees as they ricochet off of the distorted creature. The stranger then charges, sword at the ready and seems to stab at the creature. They yell as they try digging the sword in deeper, and then forcefully drags the blade to the side. The figure did not stop until the blade no longer felt any resistance and cut freely through the air. A low, guttural sound reverberated through the forest and the distortion suddenly fell with a hard thud, the figure swiftly moving out of the way before impact.

The two Avengers watched as the figure breathed heavily, staring off into nothing. After a few moments, they groaned loudly, their free hand flying over to their shoulder, their sword in their other hand. Wanda could see as crimson began seeping through the stranger’s fingers. They turned and stared down at where Wanda last saw the distortion on the ground and nudged it with their foot. 

Oddly enough, Wanda could no longer see it, the ground and the trees of the forest remaining as still as ever. 

The figure continued to stare down at the ground, lowering their sword, the tip of the blade touching the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. With a sudden flash of white light, the figure drops the sword into the ground, the blade no longer visible. For the third time, a familiar cold shiver ripped through Wanda’s body.

The figure slowly turns and makes eye contact with Wanda and Natasha, fatigue evident in their face. They continued to breathe heavily as they stared. Without breaking eye contact, they extended their free hand off to the side and made a subtle circular motion. Once again, a bright flash appeared and both Avengers watched as the figure took one step to the side and dropped entirely from their view.

Natasha and Wanda looked at each other, before running up to where they last saw the stranger. Natasha bent down to the ground, running her hand over where the figure had been last, trying to find some explanation of how the stranger disappeared.

Wanda, in turn, approached where she last remembered seeing the distorted figure. She reached out and her hand came in contact with something. She startles and backs away slightly, not having expected to feel anything. 

She shakes her head, throwing away the nervousness and hesitation, before feeling around again. She feels it again, an odd, slimy, sticky texture that makes her grimace. “Natasha, there’s something here,” Wanda announces as she retracts her hand from the invisible creature. 

“What is it?” Natasha asks as she approaches the young brunette. “I-I don’t know, it’s sticky,” Wanda replies, cringing as she rubs her thumb over the rest of her fingers, still feeling the gross texture on her hand. She forcefully waves her hand downwards, trying to get any of the excess goop off of her hand.

“Today keeps getting stranger and stranger,” Natasha mutters, her brows furrowed together, having reached out with her index and middle finger to touch the invisible creature herself. 

“They left their hat behind,” Wanda comments as she notices the piece of clothing laying on the ground.

“We’re gonna need forensics over here,” Natasha announces as she backs away from it.

“And find that person with the sword,” Wanda adds. 

“I know just the right person who can help us with that,” Natasha replied as she pulled out a phone and made a call.

Chapter 2 →

[tassjis]

I want to talk about the Vault Gods and my design process

Each idol was drawn as though they were statues or altar peices, something of worship not necessarily what the gods look like but what the villagers would interpret their looks to be.

First I wanted to ensure that they looked like villagers, or have a villager template. The initial drafts has them with their arms together in a villager pose.

Each design had multiple aspects I gave them, a material, a gem, a minecraft mob, and an item

Idona The Malevolent, kill and sacrifice the marked to appease this god

The idol is designed after cinnabar a toxic red material with high levels of mercury.

Idonas item is the vault hunters altar with reference and designs inspired by Mayan and Aztec sacrificial alters.

They are designed to look like a bat and a Wolf with lots of sharp angles and shapes, with cultish and sacrifical undertones

The eyes are rubies, a gemstone that symbolises life force. They are cut with a 5 point star facet and bezel with means the eyes are also pentacles, there is also a hidden sacrificial knife in the eyes.

They say experience makes you wiser, but is it wise to give it up for treasure? Sacrifice your experience and knowledge to Tenos the Omniscient to be granted treasure beyond your wildest dreams.

Tenos is made of silver or iron, a pure metal that is reflective

Tenos has the enchanting table book, a potion of enchanting and xp balls

They are designed with a lot of softer rounder shapes compared to its counterparts and is based on a polar bear with angelic bird wings to give it a wise and pure vibe.

The eyes are sapphires, with a gemstone meaning of focus and inner vision. Tenos also is the one one to wear a gemstone accessory to give the allusion to a third eye.

Velara The Benevolent, sacrifice your health, sacrifice yourself to appease Velara, only then will you gain the riches

The idol is designed to look like oxidised copper. I wanted Valara to look like an old and ancient god from a forgotten religion, the kind where you find a forgotten statue in a forest overgrown with new life.

The like all the idols, it focuses on a theme relating to what you use to open the altars, so Valaras design is health or in this case life.

Velara has the fern and tall grass as its minecraft item.

Initially designed to be more rabbit like the design ended up becoming vague in animal and more bug like.

The eyes on Valara are emeralds that symbolise rebirth and growth.

Wendarr The Timekeeper, you only have limited time, will you sacrifice some of it to this god for riches?

Wendarr is a brass idol, a very common metal for clocks and timepieces to be made from.

Wendarr is designed to look the most like a villager with wings similar to that of DaVincis flying machine.

Unlike the other gods, Wendarr did not receive a minecraft item as I felt the minecraft clock did not fit the ancient and old aesthetic. Instead, they received an hourglass and an alluded clock face in the background, and some rococo inspired designs in the foreground.

The eyes are made of topaz, which apparently stands for manifesting clarity and astrology?

Anyway that's my thought process and some small details about each God and my designs.

[missmoonysweetluna]

what are the skellies' ideal body types? like what do they find the most attractive in a partner?

Just a disclaimer for this post! The skeletons are into all shapes and sizes, but these are just headcanons on what I think their favorites would be!

It's a bit suggestive, so it's also going under a cut.

Sans is into women with larger proportions. Stretch marks? Fine with him. Big stomach? More like extra pillow. Shape doesn't really matter to him, but he likes larger women for sure. As for face shape, he thinks that squishy cheeks are adorable. They're fun to mess with.

Papyrus' favorite shape is a strawberry shape! That would be broad shoulders, large chest, and smaller hips. He thinks it's nice to be held. Extra plus if she's muscular! With face details, he thinks that moles (although he refuses to call them anything but "beauty marks") are the highest sign of status and beauty! They're just so unique!

Blue is into hourglass figures, plain and simple. They're curvy. When it comes to faces, he likes round faces with big eyes. They just look so cute to him!

Stretch likes big thighs; that's the only part of the body that he actually pays much thought to on its own. If you ask him, he'll probably say that freckles are cutest to him (and who could blame him, honestly).

Red thinks that hourglass figures are great. There's just so much of the good stuff! He also likes big, pouty lips (and sinking his teeth into them).

Edge likes "flat" women with long, angular faces. He thinks they're dainty and beautiful, no matter what size they are.

Grimm, like Sans, is also a bit of a "chubby chaser". He views fat as a sign of beauty and being well-fed. If there's more to her stomach, that's even better--he's just glad she knows how to take care of herself. Just like his counterpart, he thinks that cheeks are the best part of the face.

Spooky is into pear shapes! Big thighs, wide hips. Like Red, he thinks that lips are beautiful and fun to bite.

[shadowsageingempress]

Tierlist of the Great Sea costumes from Hyrule Warriors Legends.

I plan on doing more for the other costumes from the rest of the Adventure Mode maps.

(Costumes and explanations below the cut. There's a lot to go over, so it'll be long)

They probably couldn't make Warriors' costume based on Toon Link because it would likely be too similar to the Skyloft outfit, so they went with the crayfish pajamas. And I gotta say, I really like it. The blue shirt, white scarf, orange pants and gray boots go really well together.

I don't know why they made Impa wear pink. Maybe they were trying to reference the King of Red Lions? I'm not sure. But I do think it works pretty well for her.

I only just realized that Sheik's costume is colored that way as a reference to Tetra. That makes me like it a bit more. These colors are very striking, but they look good on her in my opinion.

Lana's costume is apparently based off the koroks, which I don't know if it matches up well with her. But the outfit looks really nice. My only complaint is that I don't know if the green hair fits her, so I've deducted points for that. Otherwise, she looks pretty cute and festive.

Of course, they gave Valor the princess dress that Tetra wears for the latter half of the game. The color of the dress is fine, but the dull armor and too bright hair kind of ruin it for me. Also, my partner is PISSED that this costume isn't based on Tetra. I think that would look substantially cooler, even if Sheik's costume would make it redundant.

I don't know who decided to make Ganondorf's costume fuck so goddamn much, but I am so glad they did! Everything about this Phantom Ganon costume is incredible. It kind of gives me Metroid Prime vibes, which is a very good thing.

Darunia's Phantom Hourglass goron costume isn't too big of a change, especially when compared to the masterpiece that was Ganondorf's. I don't really care for the brown spikes, but the stomach tattoo looks pretty cool.

The Laruto costume that Ruto has is very striking, and I think it works very well. Between the color combination and the character reference, I like it quite a bit.

I'm not sure why they decided to make Agitha a goth with this costume, but I think it suits her. Unfortunately, the way her face paint looks kind of lessens my fondness for it. But I definitely don't hate it.

Midna is already my favorite character in this game, so I was probably going to like whatever costume she had. But this Floormaster-inspired look is incredible! The changes are pretty slight, but the pink markings and the darker color of the Fused Shadow adds so much to what was already peak character design. In fact, she probably could have been on the top of S Tier if they'd leaned a bit more into it.

I don't know if Zant's costume is based on Gohdan or Jabun. Neither of those options really fit him, in fact they're kind of the opposite, and it may seem a bit weird to give him such bright colors. However, I actually like how he looks in this costume, even if it does look a bit more regal than he deserves.

Given that Fi's design was partially based on the Fairy Queen, this costume was only natural. And I'd describe it in the same way. This coloration is perfect for Fi, and the purple ribbon-markings down her legs are a nice touch.

Kalle Demos is one of my favorite Zelda bosses from a strictly aesthetic view. So it only makes sense that they were the base for one as, shall we say, colorful as Ghirahim. I love the gradients on his suit and cape, and I only recently noticed the green gem on his belt.

Like with Agitha, I don't really get the reference in Cia's costume. But I will not deny that she looks really good in that dark red, especially with the sunset colors of her shoulder cape. I do think that her hatless outfit is the best looking of the three, though.

Volga's costume is another with a subtle change. But like Midna's, I think that this one looks really good. The colors look good, and the reference to Valoo is quite fitting.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about Wizzro. I think his costume is based off of Jalhalla, which could have worked. But I really don't like the brown.

I'm already conflicted about how I feel about the design of Midna's true form, or 'Twili Midna' as she's called in Hyrule Warriors (I don't get why), and this costume only adds to it. I don't know what the reference was here. And while I don't hate the color combination they used, I don't think it works with her. It's really a shame.

Also, why did they change the color of her skin here?

I have a lot of questions about Young Link's costume. What is the costume supposed to be? Why is he purple? Why does he have red hair? I don't hate this costume, but it doesn't make much sense to me.

This may be surprising, but I actually kind of like how Tingle looks in this costume. The gray and blue work well together, and I like the reference to Ankel or Knuckel. It's good.

Given what costume they gave to Warriors, I think it makes sense that Linkle's is based off of Aryll's dress. Not only do the colors work, but I like the little flower designs on the tunic. It's adorable.

Oh, Hell yes! I love Skull kid's costume. Not only do the white and purple go well together, but they look perfect when put with the colorful Majora's mask. I think it's also based on the poes, which also works. I can't think of anything I would improve with this one.

Another Link, another set of crayfish pajamas. I don't know why he has a belt, but it doesn't take too much away from the appeal. It's just a solid design. Although, if they did this one twice, then maybe they could have made Valor's costume look more like Tetra

Speaking of Tetra, her costume is also pretty cool. I think it's cool how the colors of her jacket and bandana are swapped. My only complaint is that I don't really care for the striped shirt. But I guess it helps to get the reference to Niko across. I like this one, even if my partner doesn't get why she needs a Great Sea costume

Finally, we have King Daphnes. I really don't know who or what his costume is based on. But I also don't hate it. The bright colors are very striking and mesh decently well together. It actually kind of reminds me of a movie I saw when I was a kid.

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: What your fp/fs looks like but make it actually diverse 🌅

Feel free to leave a tip as well if you enjoyed this pac! $$$ 😌🌺

Pile 1:

Physical appearance

Hair color ranges from dark brown, light brown , ginger, & blonde highlights (Their natural hair color is mostly brown but they could dye it or a few of them are actually blonde/ginger). Their hair texture is coily, curly, or wavy. They are most likely light skinned or mixed race (I'm seeing mostly black, white, or middle eastern. This message could only be for a few but I heard someone's fp/fs could be Somalian, Moroccan, or Israeli to be specific). They have hazel eyes (eye color is a mix of green, aqua, gold, or amber). They have freckles and moles. Skintone is warm and medium or medium deep (tawny, olive, or brown). Your fp/fs's body could be more bottom heavy. If they are more feminine I'm seeing a pear shaped figure and if they are more masculine I'm seeing that they have strong legs. This person could like to workout or they are in involved in sports because they have strong lower body muscles (wide hips, big butt, thick thighs, toned calves, etc). Sagittarius & Leo could be prominent in their birth chart. Sun or Jupiter dominant.

Pile 2:

Physical Appearance

This pile's fp/fs is pretty unique! For some people in this pile, their fs/fp could have vitiligo. It's as if they have two skintones for some reasons. So either this person could have vitiligo, they either get very pale in the winter and dark in the summer, or they could have used tanners or skin bleaching creams growing up. I'm also seeing that this person could strictly only wear black, gray, and white - no colors. They like to be like a panda 🐼. For their hair color I'm seeing its gray, white, silver, platinum blonde, or bleached. They could like to wear wigs or their head is shaved at the moment. If the fp is a feminine they like to wear their hair very long while the masculine likes their hair very short, almost like a buzzcut. They also have dark brown almost pitch black eyes. Your fp/fs could have some type of scar on there face or body, perhaps from a burn, fight, or some sort of accident. Their body is angular, lean, and toned. This person likes to include stars in their aesthetic ☆. They could like y2k fashion or subversive fashion. I'm thinking of the brand "Chrome hearts". This person could be alternative or like being involved in that culture. They could be goth specifically which would explain why their skin color varies (some goths like to paint their face white). I'm seeing piercings and tattoos as well. There isn't a specific race for this pile but they could have almond eyes, a low nose bridge, and small lips (they like to wear lip liner so it looks fuller or red/black lipstick so they can appear as a "vampire" lol). So for some of you your fp/fs could be black, asian, or "other". I'm seeing that this person has Scorpio placements and a Pluto dominance.

Pile 3:

Physical Appearance

This person is white and their cultural heritage could either be Greek, Spanish, Italian, Brazilian, Portuguese, or Argentian. They have dark brown hair and it's straight with a slight bend of wave or curls. Their hair is very voluminous and shiny. Their skin ranges from pale to medium. Their eye color could be blue, brown, or green. For some other physical features they could have a prominent nose, dark circles, red lips, and a beauty mark either under their eye or next to their mouth. If feminine, their body is hourglass shape with hip dips. If masculine, they have wide shoulders, and have more of a inverted triangle shape. Your fp/fs' style is very refined and posh. It's giving "old money" vibes. Rolexes, white Polo shirts, khakis, linen blouses, diamond necklaces, etc. They could have Taurus placements as well as a Venus dominance.

Pile 4:

Physical Appearance

I feel for most people in this pile their fs/fp naturally has ginger, reddish hair or they have brown hair with reddish undertones. They have dark brown eyes, pale skin, freckles, rosy cheeks, and heart shaped lips. They could look like a cat or have features similar to cat. Their eyes are big and upturned. Your fp/fs is either east asian or "wasian" (half white half east asian). Their style is grunge with warm autumn tones or they dress very colorful (they could wear a lot of primary colors with brown and green). They could like to wear khakis, cargo pants, converse sneakers, and striped sweaters. This person gives off obvious Gemini energy 😂 but I'm also picking up that they could have Virgo placements. They have a Mercury dominance.

Pile 5:

Physical Appearance

This person has a very rich, deep skintone. If your fp/fs was a man they would remind me of the saying "tall, dark, and handsome". I'm seeing that they are either Black or South Asian. They have thick curly/coily hair and it's the color onyx. Their eyes are the color chocolate brown. They have a balanced and proportionate body type. I feel that this person really embodies having Venusian energy and could have Libra prominent in their birth chart. Their style is casual with a touch of luxury. They like to wear black blazers, white shirts, sundresses, gold hoops, pearls, and jewels. I'm seeing purple, red, and green (sapphires, rubies, emeralds, etc) so they could like to wear very regal colors as well or they could just look like royalty.

Pile 6:

Physical Appearance

I channeled a few different people for this pile so this might not resonate for all of you but only for some! So for those who are attracted to people with a feminine appearance. Your fp/fs could like to have their hair very colorful and it's always changing. They either wear wigs or dye their hair blue. I'm getting a "2014 tumblr girl" vibe from them. They are just naturally beautiful. As for those who are attracted to people with a masculine appearance. Your fp/fs could have short to medium length blonde hair. Their hair is very shaggy and they like to style it in a messy, carefree, tousled way. They could have slight wavy hair as well. They could look like a "surfey boy" or a "skater boy". Both feminine and masculine fp/fs could have blue eyes, a button nose, and pink lips. Their body type is petite and thin with a narrow waist. I'm not seeing a specific race being stated for your fp/fs but I wanna lean towards for most people who picked this pile that they will have a white partner. While for a few of you, you will date/marry someone who will be considered racially ambiguous. They could have Aquarius placements and a Uranus dominance

Pile 7:

Physical Appearance

This person has black or dark brown hair. Their hair texture could be straight or wavy. They could have siren eyes as well. Something about their eyes are very captivating. Their eye color ranges from light brown to dark brown. While their skin color is like copper. They are average height and their shoulders and collarbones could be very beautiful. Your fp/fs could be of West & South/Southeast Asian descent, this message might only be for some but I'm hearing that they could be possibly be Sri Lankan, Tamil, Iranian, Saudi Arabian, Bengali, Malaysian, Singaporean, Pakistani, Thai, and Indonesian (very specific, I know 💀). I feel like you would meet then while they are in their cultural attire or during a special holiday. If you are not from these countries perhaps you go there for a vacation and meet them there (how cute!🥺). I feel like their faith or beliefs are very important to them, so they might wear some sort of necklace to represent that. Capricorn could be prominent in their chart and they could have a Saturn dominance.

Pile 8:

Physical Appearance

For your fp/fs I feel that they could have a duality to them, so it is possible that they are mixed, have two cultures, or they have a dual citizenship somewhere. I believe that they are Aboriginal, Pacific Islander, and for a few, South East Asian (I'm getting the Philippines to be specific). They have thick wavy, curly hair. They might like to switch up their hair a lot by either straightening it or curling it sometimes. They could even do perms on their hair or use relaxers. The skin color varies from person to person. Their body type will be more fleshy and muscular, some of them have a prominent tummy. They could have Cancer placements or the Moon is dominant in their chart.

Pile 9:

Physical Appearance

Your fp/fs is indigenous or Latin indigenous descent. They have straight, dark brown hair. Their skintone varies from medium to dark skintones. Some of them have a hooked nose or will have a upturned nose. The corner of their lips could be downturned or when they smile it looks like this ^~^ (adorable 😭). I feel that these people have a very loud but infectious laugh. They could brighten your day when you are sad. For some of you these people could be a cowboy/cowgirl or work at some sort of ranch or farm (I'm not from the South so idk how all that works but you get what I mean 😅). They have a natural connection to animals. They could wear stetson hats, beaded necklaces, bolo ties, flannels, boots, bone shells, and silver or turquoise jewelry. They could have Aries placements and a Mars dominance.

[bardic-tales]

The following is from a Tumblr game that went on a few months ago. I found it in my Scrivener drafts under Bia's character folder.

Full Name: Bianca Moore

Age: 28 (human years)

Gender: Female

Species: Celestial-Infernal Nephilim (hybrid of angelic and demonic lineage, infused with Jenova cells and S-cells)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Appearance:

(Pre-Fall): Bianca has golden hair that frames her brown eyes with round pupils and flawless skin. She stands 5 feet tall with an hourglass figure, measuring 36-24-36, and wears a D cup. She has elongated canines with white wings.. Her eyes glow with a golden sheen when she is using her divine powers.

(Post-Fall) Bianca's appearance is marked by indigo eyes with feline-like pupils, waist-length wavy black hair styled in a half-up half-down do with a white ribbon, and porcelain skin. She has sharp fangs, a long prehensile tongue, and blood-red stiletto nails. Her wings are a mix of black and indigo feathers, embodying her corrupted celestial and demonic heritage with Jenova and S-cells.

Occupation: Published romance novelist / Self-Proclaimed Priestess of Jenova

Family Members:

Biological Father: Azrakiel (also known as Asmodeus)

Surrogate Father: David Moore

Biological Mother: Seraphine

Surrogate Mother: Sarah Moore

Daughter: Aurora (Sephiroth & Bianca’s)

Son: Lucien (Sephiroth & Bianca’s)

Spouse/Partner: Sephiroth (current), Mordecai (deceased)

Best Friends: Sephiroth (also her soulmate) Pets: None (sometimes refers to the Dark Dragon as her 'pet')

Ideal Bedroom: Bianca's room is a blend of elegance and gothic charm. Soft, ethereal lighting illuminates dark walls adorned with silver filigree patterns. A large, canopy-style bed with black silk sheets and feather pillows dominates the space, complemented by bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and romance novels. A single vase with white roses sits on her desk, next to a framed photo of Sephiroth.

Way of Speaking: Bianca speaks with a soft, sultry tone, choosing her words carefully. Her speech often carries an air of poetic eloquence, masking the sharp wit and occasional venom beneath.

Physical Characteristics: Petite yet striking, Bianca stands at 5 ft tall with a curvaceous hourglass figure. Her weight is 105 lbs (128.6 lbs with her wings). Her most distinguishing features are her indigo eyes, sharp fangs, and intricate wings.

Items in Their Bag/Purse:

A black notebook and pen for jotting down ideas

Healing salves (potions) and antidotes

A compact mirror and blood-red lipstick

Ornate silver hairpin with a ruby tip.

Hobbies:

Writing romance novels

Reading ancient texts and poetry

Practicing swordsmanship

Exploring ruins and celestial lore

Favourite Sport: Swordplay, particularly dueling

Abilities/Talents/Powers:

Abilities: Reality manipulation, shadow magic, ice spells, and casting nightmares. She can also communicate with the souls of the departed and navigate temporal and spatial rifts. Can fly

Talents: Journeyman swordswoman and an adept in manipulation and persuasion.

Powers: Her celestial powers are corrupted, allowing her to bend reality and wield destructive energy. They come at the cost of emotional and physical stability.

Relationships: Bianca is devoted to Sephiroth, sharing a deep soul bond and a history of trauma bonding. Her relationships are marked by loyalty and passion, but her past losses (Mordecai, her first husband, and other loved ones) deeply affect her trust and attachments.

Fears:

Losing Sephiroth to Asmodeus or his madness

Reliving her traumatic experiences with Shinra and Hojo

Being captured or experimented on again

Faults:

Obsessive devotion to Sephiroth, often leading to morally questionable decisions

Emotional instability due to her corrupted powers

A tendency to manipulate others to achieve her goals

Good Points:

Fierce loyalty and determination

Compassion for those she loves and considers family

A creative and strategic thinker

What They Want More Than Anything Else: To bring about a new world alongside Sephiroth, fulfilling both their destinies and securing their place as rulers of a reborn omniverse.

Theme(s):

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @prehistoric-creatures

@seastarblue