#so perhaps an easy target idk

[lady-tortilla-chip]

Speaking of the concert I went to which was fantastic and literally the whole lineup was amazing and super interactive. The downside of the whole experience was having some random man come up behind me and just. Stay in my space until someone I was with came up closer to me. Only when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere did this fucker back off. Shortly after I head the same guy conversing with his friend talking about how they didn’t know ANYONE in the lineup.

[benetnvsch]

white ppl will do anything but admit that their favs are a lil bit racist huh,,,,

[moon0shadow]

Obey Me Sheep MC Drabble/Headcannons.

The Sheep MC of Obey me being a sheep makes me think about them doing Sheep Things or getting into Sheep Shenanigans. Cuz Funny

(Use of They/Them pronouns just to be inclusive, idk if this counts as a reader-insert, this is just me spewing my silly sheep ideas, do i put trigger warnings here? Idk)

🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏

• (MC) is very small in sheep form, while they can be bipedal, the idea of them going 'f*ck it' and walking on all fours like a true sheep is funny. It's hard work trying to walk on two little legs whilst covered in poofy wool.

• Them being so small and short made them an easy target to accidentally kick like a soccer ball across the corridor so the brothers gave them a bell to wear so the brothers can hear (MC) around the corner.

• (MC) has definitely given into the Sheeply Urge of chewing or eating on things they shouldn't at least once. Perhaps they do it when hungry or bored but they have tried nibbling on the Brother's clothes or things, of course they'd never chew on something expensive or important to the Brothers [(MC) once ate a page out of one of Satan's books and he damn near almost threw them out of the window for it] but the desire to gnaw on their sleeves or even furniture is a temptation that has crossed (MC)'s mind more than once.

• (MC)'s wool grows just like a sheep's, the brothers learned that the hard way when it got harder and harder for (MC) to walk until they were practically more wool than flesh. The Brothers took a day off just to shear all that wool off, after all that, (MC) was happy trimmed, shorn and peeled sheep who could walk again. Now the only thing left to do is wonder what the hell they're going to do with all this shorn-off wool now...

• (MC) doesn't only have wool, but they have horns and hooves too. Those grow at normal rates and the brothers don't need to worry about your horns growing to be too long or too sharp, your hooves on the other hands, the brothers keep a close eye on, as they don't want your hooves to be overgrown and making it hard for you to walk so Asmodeus takes it upon himself to give them a pedicure/manicure/whatever if those hooves of theirs are getting too long. He even paints them afterwards to make (MC) feel nice and pretty.

• (MC)'s wool gets stuck on things all the time, usually stuff like briars or thorns when left outside or the unforeseen hook or the rare exposed floorboard nail. Though embarrassingly, the most common thing to get hooked up in their hair is the brothers, their jacket zippers and such can occasionally get tangled up whilst (MC) be sitting in their laps, relaxing, only to try and hop off their laps and find themselves hooked by a clingy zipper.

• (MC) definitely makes sheep noises when happy or spooked, the House of Lamentations will be totally quiet (a rare thing) only for that silence to be broken by a tiny: 'MeEeeEehh'.

[attackurheart88]

hi! I just had this idea of Illumi going to introduce his girlfriend/fiancée to his family, except that she's a spoiled queen bee regina george-ish/cher horowitz like (somehow, they managed to be a couple). Idk really, the image got in my head and I thought it would be funny to see the Zoldycks reaction lmao

When Illumi made mention of his future wife, surprise and disbelief exploded in his family’s eyes. They intended him to follow family traditions and continue the Zoldyck line of course, but when it came to finding a partner the family was sure an arranged match would be needed.

To think there was a woman on this Earth who not only found attraction with Illumi but Illumi himself approved of was a huge shock.

Silva expected the woman to be strong and bear powerful children for the Zoldyck family.

Kikyo believed the woman’s beauty was what attracted her son.

Zeno felt pity for the woman as she must’ve been submissive and easy for Illumi to control.

The traits of being soft-spoken, delicate, graceful, and well-educated gathered in everyone's mind.

But…

A young woman dressed fashionably in black and leopard strutting into the Zoldyck family mansion as if she owned it and Illumi trailing behind holding a cat was far from their predictions.

It took a lot for Kikyo to hold in her anger and not faint at the sight.

“Father, Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancee.”

A displeased grunt from his fiancee and Illumi was quick to add to his sentence.

“And her cat, Cassandra.”

Silva didn’t respond at first. He just stared at Camilla, his steely gaze lingering on her Prada dress, the excessive jewelry, and—unfortunately—the very loud sound of her heels.

Was this the best his son could do? Did he fail as a father somewhere? Perhaps he broke him too early.

You completely unbothered, smiled brightly and stuck out your hand

“It's very nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Zoldyck. You have a lovely home.”

He looked at her hand as though it might bite him, and then—after a long, uncomfortable silence—gave a small, formal nod.

“I’m glad you think so-” Kikyo started.

“But it could be redecorated don't you think?” you continued.

“What?”

Did she just insult the state of their home.

“Black and white is so outdated. Perhaps a shade of red or purple might do. What do you think Illumi?”

“I’ll keep it in mind when building a place for you.”

Silva and Zeno exchanged glances. It was clear this woman found a way to exert control over Illumi. Such a thing was unspeakable. Either she used an ability of some sort or she truly is that influential. It was dangerous either way.

Taking initiative Zeno spoke up. “Are you aware of our families occupation?”

“Of course, you're assassins, right? Illumi has told me all about it. I promise I'm more than able to continue the business-

A pin was thrown in your direction aimed for the neck but you were able to grab it swiftly.

“Is this a gift? It's beautiful. I have a dress in this same color to pair it with,” you explained excitedly while looking over the jeweled hairpin.

Kikyo frowned at her failure to inflict damage.

“How was it the two of you met?” Silva asked wanting to keep things on track.

Illumi glanced at you before answering. “I met her while completing a job. She was arguing with my target and stabbed him in a fit of rage.”

“I see. Was that the first time you’ve killed someone?”

You adjusted in your seat and gave a small sigh of impatience. “Am I the only one who thinks this kind of talk is boring? For such an infamous family I was expecting much more entertainment.” You examined your perfectly manicured nails.

“Honestly you're just like Illumi, Sliva was it? Much too serious.”

Illumi’s lip twitched at the playful jab. Silva's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“What do you do for fun around here? I mean, besides, you know, the whole... killing people thing."

A tense silence followed.

“Nothing?”

“Has anyone ever heard about hobbies? Knitting, cooking, reading, yoga? For such a well-off family one would expect that you should have a spa day once in a while. A family day at the beach. Just relaxing. You know, take a break from all the stabbing."

“Relaxing?” Silva questioned in disbelief.

“Yes. Surely it must be tiring being all serious and stabby all the time. I know a guy who is amazing at massages. I could give you his number. You look like you need one.”

A chuckle could be heard from Zeno.

“You’re rather amusing. I can see why Illumi is so taken with you.”

“I always aim to please, Grandpa.”

Zeno raised an eyebrow at the endearment. But didn't say anything in fact, he seemed rather pleased.

The evening continued that way. Despite the family making plenty of attempts to threaten or test you. You continued to exceed their expectations and bring humor and warmth into the home.

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

ROTTEN. | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!reader

warnings: healthy dose of angst and self-loathing, mild sexual descriptions and references, wrote this in less than 2 hrs so give me a break, mainly astarion's pov idk it just happened that way

word count: 2.6k

For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love, and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

He's using you.

He knows he’s using you; since the moment he laid his eyes upon the weathered lines of your face, you were his newest target—the first one of his own choosing. He initially planned to kill you; you couldn't turn on him or drive a stake through his ribs if you were already dead, and he already had enough to worry about without adding additional fuel to the already burning fear he had for his life. Not to mention, he was hungry and getting worse by the minute. He planned to call for help—play the damsel like he did countless times before, catch your attention for only a moment, just long enough to get close enough, and slit your pretty little throat.

Every step played out perfectly. You approached him just like he knew you would—his pretty face has always granted him the illusion of being a safe person; you answered his calls for help, just like he knew you would. All you had to do was get close enough, and he would take care of the rest.

Though he was completely thrown off kilter when you offered to help him, rather than leaving him to the ‘things’ in the bush. In a split second, his plan changed. If you were willing to help a stranger in the mess that the pair of you found yourselves swept up in, what would you do for someone you thought was a friend? A lover? Perhaps the wizard of—at the time—unknown power, quite frankly threatening incineration, were his knife to continue its trajectory, did encourage a modicum of restraint and de-escalation on his part, though he will never give him such credit.

However, the most unexpected change in plans was the direct, albeit slightly painful, mental link shared between him and you. You were infected—same as him—by a Mind Flayer parasite, ready to take over your body and destroy your mind in an alarmingly short timeframe.

You were an ally—a useful one and tentatively worth sparing—so long as you could continue to benefit him.

So, he started with a simple introduction: “My name's Astarion.” Spoken with a dramatic flair and a sickeningly sweet undertone that could only be found after two hundred years of charming pretty faces and innocent minds. In the moments between his introduction and the offering of your name, while the words still clung to the empty air between, Astarion formulated a new plan. It was brilliantly simple and borderline foolproof. All he had to do was convince you to fall for it, and his safety was nearly guaranteed.

(He now knows that hindsight always paints a clearer portrait than the present, and he is a fool in more ways than any would dare to calculate.)

He started small, coated his words in honey, and never oversold the part—playing into the role of the mysterious charmer that he had perfected all those years ago. He was honest, reliable, and always came to your aid during battle; he made you believe he was someone that could be trusted, no matter what your instincts may have convinced you otherwise. He was charismatic. A stolen glance here, an accidental touch there, a subtle look in his eyes that betrayed far more debaucherous intentions than what a gentleman such as himself would ever dare voice in the presence of someone as pure as you.

Perhaps, though, he erred too close to the side of caution and played his part too carefully. Vampirism is no easy condition to conceal, and the lesser creatures he managed to feast on during the night were horribly unsuitable to sustain him in the midst of such a perilous—and quite frankly, exhausting—journey. He was in a rapidly deteriorating state and worsening by the minute; he needed an intelligent, thinking creature to sink his teeth into if he wished to be of any use. He could not imagine a universe in which he would be allowed to remain in the company if he could not pull his own weight in battle or the camp.

He obscenely and undeniably fucked up when he chose to attempt to sink his fangs into the supple skin of the pretty little neck he nearly mared just a few weeks prior. He could not identify exactly why he believed he could get away with such an act undetected; his extreme hunger could be to blame, though he could not deny that the sweetness of your blood caused an insatiable stirring in his gut—he could smell it from six feet away. It permeated the air around him, nearly making him dizzy with the want—no, the need—to taste you. If hunger had driven him mad once again, then you were to blame, and therefore you were responsible for paying.

All thoughts of your reparations, however, were thrown from his mind the moment your eyes opened and he remembered that you possessed the ability to end his unnaturally long “life.”

“Shit.” His mind was completely blank. “It- It’s not what it looks like. I swear.” He could only hope that his performance would award him a standing ovation and the momentary benefit of the doubt: “I wasn't going to hurt you. I just needed... well, blood.”

It was not the confession he hoped to perform for you. He was meant to come to you, fully conscious, and present the idea as his own—he would choose to come to and confide in you. (I feel as though you and I have a… strong bond. I believe I can trust you. I cannot bear to keep this from you a moment longer.) with pretty words and round eyes. Instead, he was on his back foot and practically begging you not to ram a stake through his ribs.

And that is where his brilliantly simple plan began to pay off…

For a time.

You offered your body to him in more ways than one, and he intended to take full advantage of them all.

The sex was easy; it came to him perhaps more naturally than his flirtatious demeanor. He gave you the performance of a lifetime—he fed you borderline godly pleasures on a silver spoon while you dug your nails into grassy forest beds and moaned his name into the treetops. He knew exactly what to do to your body; he hit every single pleasure point with beautiful precision, used his mouth in all of the right places, sprinkled in the perfect praises, and made you beg just enough to make you believe you had to work for the pleasure of being underneath him and you deserved to be rewarded for it. He made sure every little word from his mouth was almost as perfect as what his mouth could do to you.

(Gods, you're beautiful.)

(Tell me how you want it. Use your words.)

(It’s as if the Gods made you to ruin me.)

He did not mean a single moment of it…

He knows he didn't. He knows, without an unparalleled doubt, that he did not mean a single sugar-coated word when he spoke in those intimate moments. He knows how vile he felt before, during, and after; he knows the suffocating self-loathing that consumed him for days after your first late-night tryst and every single night after that. He knows that, deep down, he wants you to see him as more than a sexual being, though he is not sure what else he could possibly be if not this. He knows that his manipulation was calculated and intentional; you were meant to be nothing more than a means to an end. You would help him remove this cursed tadpole embedded in his brain; you would help him kill his former master; and you would help him grasp a power that has never before been held by another vampire. You would hand him the entire world because he convinced you that he deserved it, and then he would dispose of you, as he did with the rest of his victims.

It was a brilliantly simple plan, and yet it all managed to fall apart. He is sure he played out every step perfectly, and somehow, you managed to change his plans once more.

It was never more apparent to him than right now.

Right now, as he watches you saunter around the camp, offering various greetings and the most beautiful smile he believes he has ever seen in his two hundred years of life, he realizes that you are the most incredible being he has ever gazed upon. And never has it been more apparent to him that he is a rotten thing—nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster that pretends he can believably wear the mask of a man. He thinks this is the closest thing to love he has ever felt, and even now, he will never be able to show it to you in a way that means something.

How could he have been so stupid?

How could he not have anticipated this outcome?

How could he have been so ignorant of the pining in his heart and wound up in such a situation?

His inner turmoil must have been more obvious than he would have preferred, because when you approached him, your face screamed with worry. “Astarion?” You questioned, “You look... stressed.” He was unable to find the words to respond. Something about the light shining on the hard lines of your face, leaving a shadow that danced across your cheekbones, captivated him, and he lacked the strength to look away—he doesn't think he wants to. Perhaps he could spend one hundred years gazing on the wonderful imperfections and blemishes on your skin until he has memorized every detail through the end of time, so that when you are no longer breathing, he may breathe your life once again himself, so that when another one hundred years have passed and you are nothing more than ash in the ground, he will be able to recall every minute detail of your face.

“Are you okay?”

He is on another plane of existence until the sweetness of your voice walks him back into the present.

“I… I think we need to talk.” His voice betrays him, just as his face did moments before.

You respond as you always have—with care and concern and a compassion running so deeply through your veins, it would be impossible to fabricate: “Are you alright?”

And he realizes the answer is no. He realizes that no matter the intensity of his devotion (or perhaps, is this what love is supposed to feel like?), he can never undo the damage he has caused. He can never change the sweet little lies he whispered into your ear late at night as you exposed your body to him; he can never change the intentional manipulation behind his words as he told you of your beauty; and he can never remedy the fact that he took advantage of you. You—who is made of honeysuckle and mandarins, who he has grown to so deeply care for, who he will ruin in a heartbeat if he were to ever truly love you. And perhaps he will never be able to love you. Perhaps if you are not a target, then you will never truly be anything to him; he is far too damaged to ever love you in a way that is pure and without the promise of personal gain. Perhaps he has always been and always will be a monster and deserves such treatment. He will never be able to share your bed without feeling disgust and hatred for himself. He will never be your lover, no matter how desperately he now knows he wishes to be.

“No—Yes, I just… feel awful.” Your face tells him he owes more of an explanation. He knows you are owed it. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan—seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so that you would never turn on me. It was easy... instinctive.” For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love (is this what love is supposed to feel like? I think I would rather choose the stake.) and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

(He now realizes these are two very different states of being.)

“All you had to do was fall for it.” Your face is twisted into something resembling grief. “And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Your eyebrows are furrowed together, and your face has morphed into something entirely unreadable, but you almost seem relieved.

“I…” Another sigh: “You deserve something real.” He cannot bring himself to look into your eyes.

A heavy sigh escapes your mouth as your eyebrows relax. “I only want you.”

“Why?”

“I don't believe you to be the monster you think you are.” If he had a heartbeat, he is confident that would have stopped it. He cannot fathom a universe where he is more than what his master made him to be.

“You don't know me.”

“Then show me who you are, Astarion.” He isn't sure when you managed to get so close to him. “Let me be here for you.”

“You don't know what you're asking for.” He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He will never be able to give you what you’re asking for, yet you still seem to want him all the same. He knows that he is no good, that he will never be more than the image Cazador sculpted him in; he is capable of tenderness no more than the Gods are capable of answering his cries for help. And yet, here you stand—headstrong as ever, practically begging him to give this a chance, and he desperately wants it. “It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me.” Your hand reaches into the space between you to gently cup his face.

“I can't give you what you want. Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I… performed to lure people back for him. I know this is different; we’re different, but it still feels… tainted.”

“I already told you what I want.” His eyes met yours for the first time since you approached his tent. “You. Whatever it is you have to offer, I want it. It's not a dirty job; it's just you.”

For a brief moment, Astarion is able to lose himself in such a fantasy; your eyes shine as though galaxies were constructed in your irises, and he can spot no inkling of deception. Your hand is soft against his cheek as he leans into the warmth of your touch, and it does not go unnoticed that you choose to keep your hand placement modest—as though you were a gentleman dancing with a lady in a fancy ballroom while all the guests silently stared.

“I don't know what to do from here.” He places his hand over yours and leans into your touch even harder—he almost resembles a wounded dog, searching for any ounce of tenderness he can find in this midst of such an ugly world—”But I know that this... this is nice."

As you wrap your arms around his waist and nestle your head into the crook of his shoulder, Astarion believes that this is something he may be able to get used to. 

Thank u for reading !!! Prob making a part 2 that is more .... idk angsty and more "I'll take care of you" if yall want it

[mgparker]

recruitment gone… right?

platonic!steven grant/marc spector x teenage!reader

summary: who in their right mind sends a teenager to recruit a dangerous vigilante all on their own? oh sam and fucking bucky.

warnings: teenage avenger reader, inaccuracies, clueless steven being an overall mess and a huge cap fan, violence, swearing, gen z shit? perhaps idk, 2k word count

request: ‘can you do a father figure Marc Spector/Steven Grant x A teenage avenger who was sent to recruit him? I imagine the reader being a typical Gen Z kid with a sarcastic sense of humor, but meaning well.’

notes: loosely based off this request i got MONTHS ago. i’m so sorry it’s taken forever this has literally been in my drafts for a year. not a whole lot of father figure-ing going on but i think it’s a funny little neutral recruitment blurb/one-shot. enjoy. also not sure if this is gen-z enough but i was not going to make this obnoxiously “relatable”

“It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Sam, I want you to think about what you just said. Then think about who you’re talking to. And then… consider the possibility that your plan might actually work if you send Barnes.”

A distant voice shouted through the speaker of your phone. “No can do, kid. Recruitment is below my paygrade now!”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling down a busy sidewalk in the midst of London. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m talking to the big champs now.”

You heard Sam chuckle in amusement, and you could imagine him shaking his head at your words. “You know what you gotta do. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can get back to base. Kick some ass with the big champs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” it was time to get serious. “Got it, Wilson. I’ll check in later.”

Instead, it was Bucky who answered. “You’ve got this, squirt!” 

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even give Sam a chance to get a word in before you were ending the call, stuffing your phone into your pocket and narrowing in on the bus stop ahead. 

This is stupid, you thought as you waited a safe distance away. You couldn’t risk your target spotting you before you could properly assess them. Who in their right mind sends a teenager—a freaking teenager—to recruit one of England’s most dangerous vigilantes?

You’re not scared—you were far more than capable to defend yourself, even against the famed Moon Knight—but it feels out of your way, something you’ve never been asked to do. But of course, as an Avenger, this was your duty.

You couldn’t help but think of this whole thing as a personal attack. With Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson assuming the mantle of interim leaders of the Avengers (or rather what remains of them), this whole mission seemed like their version of a practical joke. 

Those two loved you with all their heart, you didn’t doubt it, but they take the role of “fun uncles” a bit too seriously. 

But anyway, this recruitment... This isn’t fun. Not in the slightest.

This is like being a salesperson. 

Shudder. 

Finally, you catch sight of your target—Steven Grant, an extremely sleepy, stumbling gift-shoppist who had appeared at the bus stop surprisingly early for once.

He seems gentle enough, guard mostly down, clutching his bag with a paranoid grip but that was the only thing tense about him. He’s technically older than you, not ridiculously so, but a bit younger than Sam.

You watch as his lips start forming some words; it’s subtle, nothing anyone would really notice unless they were analyzing him piece by piece like you currently were.

Ah. You realized with a pleased smile. Steven Grant and Marc Spector are working together. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the bus arriving, squeaking loudly as it stopped in the street. 

Showtime. 

There was a click in your brain, or that’s what it felt like at least, and a quick scanning of your surroundings made it easy to instantly blend in. 

Steven Grant was having a decent morning. He actually woke up in time, ate a decent breakfast, and rushed out of the house with ten minutes to spare. 

Even Marc had been pleasant this morning, making unusual small talk as Steven went about his business, getting ready for work. 

And everything was well. Up until now—as he stood in the bus, trying to keep himself from falling asleep on the passengers around him, despite the extra shot of espresso he’d slipped into his drink this morning. 

Steven. 

He jolted awake, pulling his head away from a man’s shoulder with a small ‘sorry!’

But before he could doze off once more, something odd came over him. A strange tingling feeling, as if he was being watched. 

It snapped the drowsiness right out of his system, eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

You feel it too, don’t you? Something isn’t right. 

“What—” He mumbled quietly, searching for the source but coming up emptyhanded.

There was nothing peculiar or odd about his fellow commuters. 

So, he continued about his day, feeling that unsettling eye on him at all times but unaware as to its source. 

It was only when his shift was over, that he was walking home, that he decided this charade had gone on for far too long. 

Despite Marc’s pleas to let him front, Steven stopped in his dead tracks, away from any curious eyes. 

“Oi, who’s there?”

Great job, Steven. If that isn’t the most cliché thing to say before the main character gets killed in a horror movie. Marc sighed. 

“Shut up,” hissed Steven quietly. “You know I don’t watch horror movies—”

Steven blinked and suddenly you’re there, standing in front of him as if you’d been there the entire time. 

“AH!” 

The scream echoed down the alley, high-pitched and nearly startling you into a similar yelp. 

But you were quite used to your presence spooking others, it’s a part of your abilities that you’d never been able to control. 

Chest heaving and cheeks tinted with embarrassment, Steven gave you a suspicious glare. 

“Oh, it’s—it’s just a kid,” he tried to brush off his embarrassing reaction. 

You scoffed, a bruise to your ego. “Not just a kid.”

“Well, I know what I’m seeing,” Steven argued. “And you look like a child—“

“Firstly,” you’re staring at Mr. Knight’s suit, taken aback by the change in his appearance that you’d apparently triggered by startling him so bad. “I’m seventeen. Second, I thought you had a whole—“

You aimlessly motioned around your head in a sort of halo way, confusing the ever fuck out of Steven who just stood there blankly.

“A whole w-what?” He gaped, desperate to know what you— a complete stranger — had to say about his kickass suit.

“You know, a whole cape thing goin’ on.”

Ha! Colonel Sanders.

Steven wished there was a way to punch Marc.

“Now, you’re just talking about my lesser counterpart,” Steven shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he had just been offended to the core.

“Ouch, hard feelings?”

Steven pulled his lips to the side. “You could say that— wait. How do you know about—?”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” you interrupted. “I was sent here on behalf of an organization that is really interested in having you join our ranks. Normally, they’d send someone else but you’re stuck with me so—“

“What organization? What ranks? You’re hiring?” I guess we’re both interrupting each other now. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Even if the task was annoying, you wouldn’t be returning to base with a new recruit if you hit him with a bunch of attitude.

Patience was not your strongest virtue. “Not exactly. As soon as you put that blade down, maybe we can talk some more.”

Steven looked down with a jolt, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been white-knuckling the weapon since you appeared.

Slowly, he started to store the blade before Marc cut in hastily. Hello? Are you seriously letting a kid tell you what to do? A kid who appeared out of thin air?

Steven caught Marc’s glare in the reflection of a small puddle, the road damp from London’s regular showers. He looked much more menacing than Steven, even with his half-assed suit. 

He hadn’t said it yet, but Steven knew Marc was aching to take over. And it was probably the smartest option- Steven wasn’t the best at confrontation. 

“Don’t hurt a minor please,” he pleaded quietly. Marc narrowed his eyes at the notion. But he nodded his head dismissively.

With a sigh, Steven allowed Marc to front.

All the while, you minded your own business as well as you could, staring at the sky suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had sent Redwing to spy on you. Not because he didn’t trust you of course, but because him and Bucky loved to get a laugh in whenever they could. 

“Alright, let’s cut the bullshit. Who sent you? Harrow?” 

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from how fast your head snapped forward. 

The suit was different, cape billowing behind him, and eyes even whiter than before. They seemed to glow-- no, they were glowing-- and glare into the depths of your soul. You were almost intimidated.

“Who the hell is Harrow? Absolutely not. Since you asked so nicely, I was sent on behalf of Captain America.”

Captain America? He gripped the crescent blade tighter. 

He considered your words carefully, staring at you with the utmost suspicion. Lip curling up, head already starting to shake in disapproval, annoyance consuming him altogether— 

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s- that’s amazing!”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. “It is pretty cool,” you shrugged thirty minutes later, chewing through a particularly large bite of your warm bagel. You were sat in the corner of a small, dingy bakery. What it lacked in aesthetics, the bakery definitely made up for in flavor.

“Do you think you could maybe, like I dunno, introduce us?” Steven asked with an excitement that barely kept him still in his seat.

You’re surprised he hasn’t gathered the attention of everyone else in the bakery, but for once, you’re not the one worried about being on the opposite end of a judgmental eye.

Being an Avenger in these post-Blip days isn’t as easy as it was before… stack that on top of being a ‘child’ and it’s the perfect recipe for disaster.

‘They’re too young!’

‘They can barely contain their abilities!’

‘The Avengers already ruined our lives before! Why should we trust a child?!’

Even if you denied it a million times, there was always a small part of you that craved their approval. Their vote of trust…Maybe this mission would help with that, once they learned that it was you who got the infamous bad-guy-turned-good Moon Knight to join the world’s mightiest superheroes…

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly you who got Steven to willingly agree. But there was absolutely no way in hell you were ever telling Sam that it was his pull that got the deal sealed.

“Sure,” you smiled back at Steven who just about died at your response. The coffee in his mug jostled out and splashed onto the table. “Big Captain America fan?”

“As of late,” Steven grinned. “So, when do we leave? Is—” He gasped suddenly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is Captain America coming to pick me up?”

Jesus Christ. Marc groaned. This was a fucking mistake. 

Steven ignored him and looked at you expectantly.

You glanced up from your phone where you’d been rapidly typing something up. You did a double-take as you processed his question.

“Absolutely,” you deadpanned. “He’ll send a car for you. Probably meet you at the airport with his private jet.”

Steven’s eyes grew wider with every word. Marc was scowling in the reflection of the window behind you.

“Bollocks...” he breathed, staring down at his lap in disbelief. 

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t even know what to say. I mean, who—who would’ve thought they would send a seventeen-year-old to recruit little ole me—”

You saw something click in his brain. He looked up with glazed over irritation. “...you’re... you’re not being serious.”

“Of course, I’m not being serious, Grant. I got here alone and I’m more than capable of getting us back to base. You can save the fangirling for when we finally touch down alright? He’ll meet us there.”

Steven pursed his lips at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you finished your text and locked your phone with a click. “I’m being serious this time.”

Excitement poured into his gaze again. You’re not sure how Marc feels about it, only that after explaining yourself in very, very specific detail, he was open to the discussion. But it must be a mutual decision at this point. You doubt Steven would’ve gotten this far if his counterpart was fighting against it.

“Marc is on board?”

“Absolutely.”

Don’t lie. I’m regretting this more and more each second.

Steven continued. “Should I... should I pack my bags?”

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” you agreed nonchalantly.

“... now?”

You tapped your phone and glanced at the time. “If you want to make our flight in less than an hour, I’d say so.”

“Bollocks!” Steven exclaimed, nearly knocking the table over on his mad dash out the door. 

You snickered as he slammed into a lady on his way out. 

—————> the big champs + bucky

you: i’m expecting a promotion when i get back. and for you two to get off my ass already 

redwing’s bitch: I told you it wasn’t going to be too hard. Proud of you, kid

you: 😐

you: thanks i guess... expect a meet and greet when we get there. he’s probably going to be up your ass. steven’s your biggest fan. marc not so much.

you: and don’t worry bucky, they didn’t mention you at all <3

bucky bitchy barnes: fuck off. I have a fanbase. It’s on tweet.

you: wtf is tweet

bucky bitchy barnes: Don’t fuck with me you know what tweet is. 

you: my brother in christ... you mean to say twitter :,)

bucky bitchy barnes: I hate, no DETEST, your generation. 

ha ha

— elle <3

[rustycopper4use]

Do I spy an opportunity for Fizz/Ozzie x reader? 👀 I can't get that episode out of my head either. Could you per chance write some poly Fizz X Ozzie X Reader (gender neutral)? I'm kinda new to your blog so idk if you prefer writing like headcanons or stories more, but either format perhaps you could talk about what kind of dates they'd go on?

  USUSJSJKSKSJSJSJSN SORRY IF ITS SORT

How ever did you manage to pull the prince of lust, and his popular entertainment jester. It was anyone’s guess, you weren’t sure yourself one day Ozzie picked you up, and placed you on his shoulder. And you’ve been on it ever since.

 The relationship was a match made in hell, envious to any sinner.

 The dates would dates were very diverse. Being the S/O of the very well know demons, came with the knowledge that many of your dates would be in the lap of luxury. Or in the lap of Ozz

 You loved the extraordinary dates,even dates that were usual planned last minute. Or low effort ones funnily enough.

 For example, one day consisted of just a marathon of Mean girls, and the pitch perfect movies.

  That one ended up being a drinking game. You were the last one to pass out, barely.

  You guys ended up waking up a day later with fizz’s arms covered in pink glitter, with an equally pink mean girl like outfit. It left little to The imagination.

  However Ozzie was also a target of this pinkifying adventure, but while fizzaroli was an easy fix, Ozzie was more permanent. 

 He was completely died pink and purple. Even his flames, no one could figure out how. 

  You weren’t safe however, your face was crudely drawn on with a pink glitter pen.

Another date, was a day out to the beach! It was fun but of course paparazzi, had to be there.

 You and Ozzie ended up having a ‘friendly chat’ with the demon, and he suddenly had a change of heart! But weirdly enough some bystanders find the demon hours later tied up and left for dead.

 Some days you guys would just hang out in Ozzie’s club, watch the shows. Some days you would even join fizzaroli when he was on stage, Ozzie really enjoyed seeing you two perform.

  There would be the rare chance you and fizz got catcalled, you didn’t care much it happens. But one day some lunatic decided it would be a smart idea to try and lay their grubby hands on you two. Even after many attempts of getting them to stop, Ozzie had to step in, the poor sucker. The demon was banned from Ozzie’s and lost his hands in some freak accident!

[mohgreal]

you know how mohg grows wings in his 2nd phase? even on hist 1st phase model there are wing nub bones on the skeleton. I've had this headcanon for a long while that he was born with them (morgott got a tail, mohg got wings, both being signature aspects of the primordial crucible).

also isn't it funny how on the way to morgott's rune, you fight the "omen twins"? who drop the ashes of the first omenkiller in history when defeated? ashes that normally are kept in catacombs for safekeeping?

to put it short, i have a theory that at one point the twins were being hunted by rollo, and mohg got his wings ripped off in the process. morgott later killed rollo in revenge, and made it so he never got a proper burial. furthermore, the fact that mohg gets wings in the transition itself is interesting to me - perhaps a reach, but I wonder if this is something the formless mother would use as bargain to manipulate him.

OKAY this is really interesting to me now even if there isn't much proof. I think that it's very possible that Mohg got some type of scar in the sewers considering that pot throwing item says *Mohg* used it in his childhood to protect himself.

Morgott killing the omen killer also makes more sense to me because I personally think Mohg was likely weak before the formless mother. He had no blood powers, no wings likely, no cult, no nothing. Which is likely another reason the formless mother would want Mohg, not Morgott.

As for the formless mother I think its VERY possible she used some type of bargain to keep Mohg under their control. Mohg's nihil staff thing I forgot the name of, is also used as a "communication" type device with the formless mother so it seems to me that whatever the formless mother was planning was a long one. Mohg would be easy to manipulate since he grew up in the sewers shunned as well; The fact that the formless mother has the word mother in their name-

Mohg grew up hated by his mother/Marika so this could also be further feeding into this.

Keep in mind that the outer gods all want power over the lands between in some way. They want their influence. There's no reason why the formless mother wouldn't want to. The outer gods target demigods (See Ranni,Miquella,Malenia, and idk if you count a few other ones.)

I think its likely the formless mother wanted the dynasty, and why wouldn't Mohg would power too? So obviously he would agree to that, and when you consider his cult (and how be may see them as family like the formless mother?) that would be more likely.

Good theory to me, I honestly don't know where im going with some of this but your cooking so keep going

[abysskeeper]

Trying to figure out some characterization on the latest Tav. Word vomited whatever this is. Idk.

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

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Shit.

Astarion froze, the words brushing against the edges of his mind like the caress of a cool breeze against his face. His jaw clenched against the feeling of the bloody parasite wriggling behind his eye and he whipped around, searching for the woman who evaded his senses. He was so, damned sure everyone else had retired for the night, how had he missed her?

But sure enough, as his eyes scoured the camp in search of her, there she was, emerging from the shadows at the very edge of camp, small prayer book in hand. Blazing orange eyes met his, the color the leaves around them would turn in a few months, when the weather grew cooler still and winter approached. A fool would call them beautiful—the wizard had called them striking earlier that day—but Astarion knew better. Those eyes were the color of loss, the last warning before death inevitably claimed its rightful due.

Those eyes were as somber and bitterly determined as the God she prayed to.

Admittedly, Astarion wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. He hadn’t factored in for anyone discovering him before he claimed his victim, only what he would do when said victim inevitably awoke from his bite. She stood too far from him to be able to pivot and strike at her without giving her considerable time to react to him, and he couldn’t just delve for her sister trancing at his feet either. He had no desire to incite the holy magic of any cleric, let alone one devoted to the God who would take the most offense towards his existence.

His options were limited, and though he was loathe to concede to it, his best chance was to react instead of act. Perhaps he could talk some of his way out—no one knew what he was yet and, given his current stance, it would be just as easy to believe he was stealing from Rin as he was about to suck her dry. He could apologize for attempting and make up some excuse about how he needed the money, a sob story would probably work on Vira, and even if it didn’t, it was better than the alternative. And, if she did attack, then at least it would be easier to play the victim.

“Unless, of course, you wish to feel what it is like to have an electrified fist gripping your throat.”

She continued before he could say a word. Vira smiled—the smallest of upturns of the left side of her mouth—and tilted her head, strands of white hair slipping over her shoulder and neck with the movement. “I understand her being a sorcerer makes it seem she is an easy target, but I assure you her size is not an illusion. I can also assure you it is by no means a pleasant experience to startle her.”

Astarion frowned, eyes darting down to the other drow still trancing peacefully by his feet. He had considered Rin’s build when choosing her as his victim but, given everyone else in the camp and their specialties, she still wound up being the safest option in his mind. Perhaps he had misjudged. Perhaps Vira was merely toying with him. Perhaps it was both. He released a small sigh and returned his attention to Vira, realizing his misstep in ever taking his eyes from her in the first place.

Much to his surprise, she hadn’t moved from the edges of camp. It was a small mercy.

It also appeared to be in his best interest to attempt to talk himself out of this situation. He would downplay it considerably, and maybe grovel a bit. “I am quite good at what I do, you know. She wouldn’t have even felt me stealing—”

“Stealing?!” Vira’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “I suppose it is, in a sense, but I’ll stop you before you make a fool of yourself. Come, I can grant you what you need.” With that said, she motioned her head towards the woods she had just come from and turned around, receding back into them.

Astarion hesitated, watching as she disappeared into the tree line. Had she just implied…? And, surely if she had, she hadn’t just left her sister to him, right? If she had figured him out, then she wasn’t a fool, but if she had just turned her back on him and left Rin trancing peacefully at his feet then he couldn’t imagine her as anything else.

But no…no, she was still paying attention to him. He could still feel the parasitic connection faintly in his mind. She was watching him, waiting, likely wondering which option he would choose. He could still go for Rin, and Vira was far enough away now that he could likely get enough blood from the sorcerer to have a quick burst of energy to fend off any attacks. If Vira was bluffing and Dezerin didn’t immediately awaken and attempt to kill him for the intrusion, in any case. If Vira was speaking the truth, then the correct option was obvious.

Yet, the “correct” option did not feel much safer. If Vira had truly figured him out and what he needed, then she was either as much of a kind-hearted fool as he already believed, an over-confident idiot who thought she could handle herself alone against a starving spawn in the woods, or a woman with a plan. And what would it make him, exactly, if he followed the invitation of a cleric of Kelemvor into the woods actually expecting her to keep her word about offering him what he needed?

Desperate.

He would claim intrigue won out in the end. There were a lot of questions he held regarding her decisions, and if he followed her, perhaps she would even consider it appropriate to answer some. That was, assuming she did keep her word and did not immediately try to kill him, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had no reason to believe she was lying about Rin, and if he were forced to consider that true, then he had no reason to believe she was lying about her word.

Still, Astarion stepped away from the resting party members quietly, and followed after Vira cautiously. He walked through the woods carefully, hand hovering over one of his daggers as his eyes darted around him, half-expecting the bladed end of a sword or a burst of holy magic to come flying at his head. When he moved further into the woods, he finally found her sitting calmly on the trunk of a fallen tree, flipping through her prayer book.

He was struck frozen again as her orange eyes turned from the pages to him, and her faint smile returned. “I see you chose the correct option,” Vira remarked.

“I had no idea there was an incorrect option.” The words came from him easily, even as his mind remained hypervigilant as ever. He watched her, waiting for even the slightest change in expression or twitch in her body to suggest she was on the verge of striking. “Are you testing me, Tav?”

Her smile fell at the use of her improper nickname. She had insisted half a dozen times not to be called by the first part of her given name already. He had figured correctly it was a decent way to throw her off, even if just slightly.

“It is not so much a test as a matter of your safety,” she answered, “Though I suppose my intent was not entirely without curious examination. I was interested to know who you chose; I am glad you chose properly.”

“Given the current atmosphere, you hardly feel like the proper choice, darling,” he quipped.

Her smile returned, both sides of her lips lifting as her eyes narrowed at him. He recognized that expression for what it was, he had worn it and smoothed it out a thousand times in the past two-hundred years.

Predator.

“Are you nervous, Astarion?” Vira asked simply.

“Nervous around you? You flatter yourself,” Astarion laughed. He knew better than to give an inch towards someone like her, which also meant he knew better than to concede the truth before she forced it from him. “Rightly cautious, however, would be accurate. You did just invite me into the woods alone after catching me attempting to steal from—”

“Ah yes. ‘Stealing,’” she cut him off again, just as she had with the tadpole. She tilted her head, “Is that how you refer to it?”

He frowned and placed a hand on his hip, indignant. “I haven’t the faintest what you’re otherwise trying to imply.”

“It’s just not the terminology I thought vampires used these days,” she shrugged easily. “I thought you still referred to it as feeding.”

She was bold to outright say it, he’d give her that. Still, his mouth went slack in well-practiced offense. “What in the Nine Hells—”

“Astarion,” she deadpanned, stopping him before he could even begin his rant. Her eyes all but verbally asked if they were really going to go down this road. “You aren’t exactly subtle. Between the red eyes, the pale skin, and the bite wounds on your neck you’ve done nothing to conceal, it is rather obvious,” Vira said, lifting a finger to point towards his neck. “To your credit, you are better with your fangs. You hide them well when speaking, but they’re not invisible.”

He deflated some, arms going slack at his sides while the remainder of his counterargument left him. He already determined he wouldn’t—couldn’t—deny it if she called him on it properly, and of course she did exactly that. The only thing he could get a read on and potentially control was how exactly she intended to respond to the revelation. She was surprisingly calm—far too calm about his predicament for him to trust her with the truth.

“That aside, everyone in the clergy has the innate ability to detect any undead in a certain radius around them,” she added and smirked, “It is, quite frankly, impossible for me to not notice you, and has been since we first met.”

“How charming that I’ve had your attention from the start, darling,” Astarion retorted. Slowly, his hand inched towards the dagger on his belt as he kept all of his senses focused on her. “And what, exactly, do you intend to do with that information?” he asked carefully.

Her eyes flickered to his hand and then back up to meet his gaze. “Probably less than I should, but also exactly as I said,” Vira answered. “You need blood, do you not?”

“As every vampire does,” Astarion said. He was certainly not letting her in on how dire his situation was. “And you are just…offering yourself?” he asked, unable to prevent the derisive snort he let out.

Vira shrugged again, looking down at herself and then back to him. “I suppose I am, yes,” she agreed.

He shook his head in disbelief. She was a bold one indeed. “Do you take me for a fool, Tavira?” he asked, nearly hissing. “Why would I trust you? A Kelemvorite cleric, of all things?”

“You shouldn’t,” she agreed again with a nod. “But I haven’t attacked you yet. And I am the best option for what you need now,” she shrugged. When he made no move towards her, she sighed and held out her arm towards him. “Consider it a peace offering,” she said with her small smile, “I have noticed how carefully you tread around me, and I’m sure you have noticed how on edge I am around you. This is a show of good faith, I won’t harm you. I am trusting you not to harm me, nor take anyone else from camp.”

Astarion eyed her outstretched arm. Her dusky skin glowed in the patches of moonlight filtering in through the trees, but he was barely able to focus on anything else other than the faint sound and miniscule flutter of her pulse in her wrist. She was absolutely correct in her observations, but he could still feel trepidation pumping in his veins. This was not a normal reaction towards his kind, especially not from someone of her clergy.

“Isn’t your church dedicated to hunting and eradicating my kind?” he asked, red eyes flicking back up to meet hers. “Is that not one of your core tenets?”

“It could be worse, I could be Lathanderian,” Vira joked, a wry smirk crossing her face. As quickly as it appeared, her smile fell, and she glanced away, staring out into the dark woods. “It is, I suppose, but in truth, I am not keen on waging wars with allies. I…have had enough of that for a lifetime.”

She said it softly, more as though she were talking to the darkness around them than she was to him. It felt as though that was an admittance he should not have heard, but when she returned her gaze to him, her orange eyes were momentarily weighted with a sort of melancholy. She blinked and it was gone, her gaze settling back into her usual, solemn calm.

“I made my decision a few nights ago,” Vira added, “Lord Death has not yet abandoned me for it, so I suspect that it is fine.”

She was being genuine about this. Astarion wasn’t sure why she was willing, but as his anxiety settled and he eyed her arm again, he decided it didn’t really matter. He was not one to turn his nose up at an opportunity, and he wouldn’t deny she was a kind-hearted fool for granting him this one. Perhaps that was all there was to it, and if it was truly as simple as that, perhaps he could push for more.

His eyes traveled from her wrist up her arm and to the exposed part of her collarbone. His gaze settled for a moment on her neck, watching the stronger pulse of her heartbeat with thinly veiled desire, before he met her eyes. “If that is what you decided, I would not decline. However, your neck would be far more suitable and far quicker for both of us. It would harm you less—”

Vira’s snort cut him off. “I am probably being far kinder than I should, but I am not a fool, Astarion,” she remarked.

His eyes narrowed. “I thought this was a sign of trust,” he retorted.

“It is, and I have reason to believe you would not take more than necessary if you are contained within the proper boundaries,” Vira explained, “But I have no reason to believe you would not drain me dry if I did not maintain those boundaries.”

She looked over him for a moment before sighing, the hand at her side moving to grip at the hem of her shirt. “Just as you have reason to believe I will hold up my end of the offer,” she continued and lifted her shirt some to reveal the wooden body of a stake tucked into the waistband of her pants, “But no reason to believe I would not stake you if you moved closer than I liked.”

Ah, mutual assurance, he understood that well enough and her point was well taken. He probably should have been concerned she was only now revealing she had a stake on her person, but if it weren’t for the fact she was denying him—and denying him correctly—Astarion would have smirked. Perhaps she had more guile than he initially credited her with. She was still offering at least, and he still needed to feed. These weren’t the worst terms he had operated under by far.

“Very well,” Astarion nodded in agreement.

He finally walked over to her and stopped in front of her outstretched hand. He took her wrist into his palm and raised it towards his mouth. Even without it being his preferred method, the clearer sound of her pulse pounding in her wrist and the faintest smell of her blood pumping beneath her skin had him salivating. To her credit, and to his surprise, her heartbeat remained steady, even as he lowered his mouth to her skin and pierced his fangs into her vein.

And if he happened to bite harder than necessary, if he happened to move his fangs to roll her vein and dig them deeper than he needed just to prove a point that the wrist hurt more than the neck, Vira made no movement to show any discomfort. Her gaze remained fixated on him, steady, calm orange eyes watching him with the slightest hint of curiosity. And in truth, any lingering pettiness he felt dissipated the moment the sweet tang of her blood hit his tongue.

[my-pjo-stuff]

God, I can’t believe that you prevented the tragedy of Manhattan by putting little Luke in a box and shipping him off to Germany. Astounding how easy that was. Great commentary on how fucked up USA’s (and, by extent, the god’s) system is.

But now. Without Luke in the place to initiate the rebellion, the situation all the unclaimed demigods were in would have continued for many more years. At some point, someone, perhaps the child of a minor god, would have noticed the unfairness of Olympus and would have became the new target for Kronos. Which raises the question: how would the second Titan war have gone if Luke was not Kronos’s chosen?

Idk, I’m just having thoughts 🤷‍♀️. An AU where Alabaster for example hosts Kronos could be really interesting…

Turns out that Germany can solve a lot of problems in PJO actually, who knew XD Also thanks a lot for the compliment 💖

NOW ONTO THE QUESTION : Honestly? I think that the revolt still would have started the relative same- but instead of Luke it would have been Chris starting it. I mean just think about this logically! In the books it was mentioned that Chris was with Luke from basically the very get-go. He remained unclaimed (afaik) for a good chunk of time and was among the oldest Hermes campers. He would have been the next best starting point. Later in canon he did join back up with CHB of course, but the thing is- I doubt that in this AU he would have gone on that labyrinth mission in the first place. He takes Luke's place in this AU- and Luke obviously wouldn't go around doing simple missions. Chances are that just some other, random Halfblood took over Chris' mission and was driven to madness. Otherwise..... I don't think that too much would have changed. Atleast not until TLO. I suppose some changes would have to be made with TTC, since Annabeth wouldn't have had any reason to take the sky from Chirs. That's easily remedied tho by saying that Clarisse was the one being kidnapped for the plan instead. She's also a maiden, Artemis couldn't care less whether it's Annabeth or Clarisse in that regard. Since Clarisse has a crush on Chris she'd have a reason to take the sky- she also has a strong enough will to carry it. I'm sure. From there on it would still go the relative same. Percy probably would still go off to save Clarisse- even if it's just to get Atlas taken care of. Chris would be the one to get possessed by Kronos. TLO will probably change the most though- I still assume that Luke's the Hero of the Great Prophecy for this part- which means that we somehow needs to get A)Luke from Germany to the US and B)Percy to realize that LUKE's the hero. Kronos would probably be revived later than in canon since he doesn't have Luke there. The way Kronos can come back is by a certain amount of demigods swearing loyalty to him, remember? The thing is, without Luke there as the one demigod who swore loyalty first Kronos is missing one more demigod post Ethan. Who would that demigod be? Idk and idc. What matters here is that TLO would turn to being a race against time for both Percy and Kronos. For Kronos, it's finding and getting one more demigod to join him.

For Percy it's finding the Hero of the Great Prophecy. Which is why I think that the plot of TLO would change to Percy and co. trying to find out who the acctual Hero of the Great Prophecy is.

Hestia's involvement here could possibly be pointing Percy into the right direction. Or in this case, sending the our MCs to Germany. From there on we'd probably take some time getting to know german!Luke, since this would be his first appearance. Possibly starting out with Luke being the one providing Percy and Annabeth some aid? They are two minors in a foreign country afterall where they don't understand the language or culture. In that case Luke would props have to be on leave during the plot or something, since he's in the military. Anyway, so plot happens and sooner or later people realize Luke's the Hero of the Great Prophecy. By that time probably would have run out, with Kronos finally getting his last Halfblood and taking over Chris. Enter : The Battle of Manhatten. Hestia and the gods at that point still have their own issues to deal with, so I doubt Hestia would be able to ship them around the world again. And a normal flight would take ages. So Luke decided to do something a little desperate. He throws on his military uniform, tells Annabeth to throw on her Invisibility Cap and keep quiet and follow him and Percy. He gets everyone in the car, drives up to the military basis and basically starts lying through his teeth. He tells the guards that he decided to shorten his break on a short notice, since something else came up in the future which ne needs the leave for more. Percy is Luke's nephwe, and currently doing an internship for the military. He has been assigned his caretaker for the duration of the internship. Luke being considered a prodigy and already being well respected and high up in the military, aswell as some demigod talents get the guards to let them through with an invisible Annabeth trailing after them. Putting his talents as a son of Hermes to use, Luke basically steals a military helicopter- loads both Percy and Annabeth up into it and decides to commit impromptu treason and takes off. One short prayer to Hermes later, and the trio find themselves miraculously back in Manhatten. From then on more plot happens, Luke manages to get into the fight and from there on it pretty much goes as canon again. Chris/Kronos being defeated in this could possibly come from Luke figuring out Chris' Achilles Heel by analyzing how he fights, and going for it. Getting stabbed by Kronos' scythe in the process and thus dying. Short note tho, since Luke had to throw on his uniform to steal the helicopter this means that Luke's pulling up to Manhatten wearing one of those two drips.

(Head covering and badges vary, since those are diffrent ranks than what I imagine Luke to be)

ALTERNATIVLEY

In an AU where Luke ISN'T the Hero of the Great Prophecy, I think it would honestly just switch to Percy. 'cause well.... who else? The plot would props go as everyone would have expected it to go, with Percy dying at age 16 probably also to Kronos' scythe. In that case Luke props wouldn't even rly have noticed anything going down in Manhatten.

[moongothic]

Hi! Just found your blog and I'm having a blast reading through your Croc theories and analysis, they're great! I wanted to ask you what you make of Croc's last manga appearance (I think), where Buggy announces he wants to be Pirate King. Just before that Croc mentions they need power and influence to form their utopia. It bugs me. Operation Utopia was your typical bad guy plot, but now he's still going on about that? What's that about? What idea of utopia could Mihawk and Croc possibly share??

I mean the OG Operation Utopia was simply about creating a military nation powerful enough to oppose the World Government, Crocodile explained it during the Alabasta arc explicitly. And the reason he targetted Alabasta specifically was because he believed Pluton would be there which would make his military nation unstopable.

So it's not entirely shocking Crocodile still wants to create that military force, even if he's given up on the Ancient Weapon part.

What bothers me is:

Why did Crocodile wait two whole years until he made his first move at restarting his Utopia Plans?

Why does he want that military force to begin with?

Like the easy answer for 1) would be that Crocodile had to wait for his turn to become plot-relevant again and was simplying enjoying his vacation in the meantime. Like considdering the shit happening during Dressrosa, Whole Cake and Wano, having Crocodile start his BS early would've been a distraction storywise frankly and Oda had enough balls to juggle at once with those sagas. But also, it is odd Crocodile hasn't done ANYTHING ahead of time to start rebuilding a new military force, like. He had two whole years, what the fuck was he doing then? Why wait that long just to start??

And I can only assume... he was waiting? For something?

Let's think about what has changed in the world of OP between Dressrosa and now, like the big, key events that impact the whole world:

Luffy has not just returned to the pirating scene after two years but has caused a fuck ton of world-shaking chaos in the New World (becoming an Emperor being simply the latest big thing)

Reverie happened

The Revolutionaries attacked Marijoa for the first time

The Shichibukai System was demolished

And there's two things we can kind of take-away from these.

If Crocodad Real, Crocodile watching his son take the spotlight could've inspired the man to move; the WG would want to target his baby boy and thus becoming an intentional distraction could be his goal here. Alternatively, hearing that his ex Finally Did Something could've made Crocodile be like "fuck I'm not losing to Dragon" and inspired him to actually make a move himself.

OR. Perhaps the end of the Shichibukai System is what got Crocodile to actually make a move? Because there's two things; One, he was able to make a very powerful ally very fast when Mihawk became a target for the WG. It's possible Crocodile might've been waiting for an opportunity like that, to recruit someone reasonable, reliable and extremely capable to make his own future endevours easier. Two. Because Crocodile gave all his money to fucking Buggy, it's possible Croc could've been broke these past two years. But knowing Buggy's now lost his Shichibukai Rights, THAT may have been why Crocodile decided to go get his money back when he did. Because if/when Buggy decided to skedaddle and disappear into the wind, there'd be no way for him to get his money back anymore, right.

OR. It could be all of these things together. The planets aligned and Crocodile saw now was the time to make his move. Maybe. IDK.

And then we get to 2, Why Does He Want To Create That Military Nation To Begin With

And I have no idea

I mean there's the whole Romancing SaGa 2 thing, but while that would work as proof of Crocodile's motivations, it doesn't explain particularly why he wants to destroy the WG. Like not that you need a personal motivation considdering what the WG is like, but without the motivation it's hard to tell if it's for World Domination or something else.

Though if Crocodad Real then it'd sound very reasonable if he was very intentionally trying to fuck with the World Government to protect his son by

trying to put a target on his own back and act as a distraction

take down as many Marines as possible to dwindle down the enemy forces (making it harder for the WG to make moves on anyone)

lowkey assisting Dragon if he wanted to mayhaps attack Marijoa again if he's actually up to doing something now

just prepare for a war against the WG

Or any combo of the above.

Like. I dunno man Crocodad really would just explain so much

But it all remains to be seen

[mykingdomforapen]

Man, the AU you mentioned about LTC possessing LG and causing damage with his voice and hands that he'll wake up to has not left my brain. I do have some questions, if you would maybe expand on it a bit!

Do you think this is a bit of a role swap, in a way? Of LG being the one possessed instead of QL after what happens with Liu Min and Emma? In that case, what could happen? LTC would have access to his memories, to CXS's vulnerabilities and fears that LG is well aware of, and coming back right after Emma's death might have CXS in a position where only words could do immense damage, without even mentioning the knife he might or might not have access to.

I feel CXS might recognize it's not LG even if LTC tried to act like him, right? But it would not make what he says sting any less, or would not make a sudden stab any less surprising as he comes back from a dive with his guard down, I guess. Ah!!

He might be possessing LG in a completely different context, too, I guess! Although he would need LTX to be around for it to be done remotely, right?

Please forgive my rambling, even just as a concept, I'm very very curious to know what you considered for that idea. Thank you for your time!

Thank you for giving me an excuse to expound on an indulgent au that I dream of whenever I have trouble staying awake during my jet lag aksjsksksk.

I admit that when I have my sleep-affected stories in my head, it is effectively Whump Without Plot so I didn't really have a logical reason of why Lu Guang would be possessed. However, if we were to make a rhyme or reason for it, it would likely be to make Qian Jin's capturing of Cheng Xiaoshi quicker. Since CXS was targeted by the antagonists because they wanted to take advantage of his abilities, after all.

(Which of course is what happens vaguely in the canon, but shhh)

But in an AU where CXS doesn't recognize LG is being possessed (or, even if he does find something odd, isn't in a position to question it), he would easily follow Lu Guang anywhere no question. So he would be an easy mark as long as the baddies can use LG to take him somewhere else.

As for my indulgent AU in which it's a completely different context, maybe baddies want to separate CXS from LG for whatever reason, make him run away from LG and make him more vulnerable to the baddies' attacks, whether to capture him or something else. In which case, they can use LG and force him to push CXS away even if it's just for one vulnerable night. And since LTX's abilities are such that she can see all the memories of a person, it would be at least enough to glean what LG's usual personality and talking style is like to make his possession seem at least believable. And as you say, if it's on such a night that CXS is perhaps already vulnerable--maybe a bad dive, or a hard reminder about his parents--really, it's about saying something hurtful to CXS that he already kind of believes about himself that would make him less likely to question whether or not LG actually means it.

Like, if a possessed LG were to say that CXS is cruel and dishonest, I think CXS would be a bit ? about that. But if LG were to call CXS, idk, clingy and burdensome, which arguably (at least in my headcanon) CXS has wrestled with in his own self-image already, that would make him a bit more likely to believe those are LG's words. Because CXS is already struggling with those worries that he is so, and hearing it from his best friend who knows him most deeply would feel like confirmation ...

(and if he doesn't believe it's LG, then possessed!LG would just knife him and drag him to the baddies we get the best of both worlds lol)

Of course, in the way that Chen Bin was able to sort of gain some sense of self when he was possessed because he was being forced to walk off the edge of a building but the love for his unborn daughter gave him some consciousness to, while unable to resist, have sentience, I can imagine that Lu Guang's love and care for his best friend and seeing the way that he was being used to hurt him would give him some ability to try to resist, or at least be conscious about what he was being forced to do...which is perhaps even worse....

Witnessing his own body and mouth hurting his best friend but unable to stop it...

[ilkkawhat]

Feel free not to answer if you don't want to, but why cringe at your own Sorjonen fic? I loved the short one you posted.

If you feel beta readers/someone to bounce ideas off might help, there are willing volunteers out here 👀 myself included

i'm sure it's mostly just me being hard on myself and just my low confidence in myself, but I'm mostly worried I'm not writing the characters well enough, not being descriptive enough, and that it's not as long as it should be--like i'm going through it too fast almost and maybe that's on me for expecting more out of myself and equating quantity with quality (a fic like this? i'd target maybe 5-10k and so far it's at 2.5k)

and idk back when i was in the peak of my fic writing a few years ago i feel like it'd just be so easy for me to write and now it's just...not. like i'm dragging the words painfully out of me--but i want to write and it's just not happening fast enough i guess

if you or anybody else is interested in reading what i got so far, here it is below the cut--i marked gaps with brackets of what i want to put between:

He just wanted to check on them, to make sure they were alright. Kari would never admit if he was bleeding, though Niko knew he would immediately tell if his wife or daughter or Katia were. 

In hindsight he should have just listened and gotten out when Taina told him to. He shouldn’t have pressed his luck. He should have listened to his instincts telling him he didn’t belong in the field. He hated fieldwork. Shit like this was why. 

Perhaps it was the trick of adrenaline that made him think that he could walk out of this unscathed, a foolish thought that he could be a hero, sneak up behind one of the assailants and take them hostage. 

Hard to do that with his back up against the wall, staring at a mirror; a deer in headlights and suddenly his muscles seize causing the rush to both rise and sink in and out of his body. 

Katia emerged from a room and stood there, and she looked terrified. He’d be more concerned if she wasn’t.

He gave her a look, hoping she would take the signal and walk away but just as he was, she was frozen to the spot giving ample time for her reaction to become suspicious. His eyes were on Katia and not on the pair of shoes walking swiftly into frame, offering no warning and no time for Niko to react even if he wanted to shoot the man in self defense—

He crumpled like a ball of paper, shrinking into himself until he realized that hurt more, moving in such a way that pressed the bullet further into his body. He wedged himself into the corner of the stairwell, feeling stupid for being so exhausted by such a simple action. 

The pain seared through his bloodstream, synapses pulled and snapped causing eruptions in his head. He kept his eyes closed, his body still as he felt the sting of each sizzling spark. 

He held his hand against the wound, the blood trickled out between his fingers. He thought he could maybe scoop the burning lava pouring out of the hole in his abdomen and shove it back in, but instead he just felt the rhythmic throb of pain that rejected the notion of healing himself. 

“Niko? Niko!” 

Kari’s voice. Kari. Kari. Kari. 

That’s who he came here for. To make sure he was safe. He wasn’t safe. None of them were. 

Kari lifted Niko’s hand away from the wound, quickly examining it before hovering his other hand against his cheek. 

Niko was only dimly aware of what was being said and done around him, using all of his concentration to focus on Kari in front of him, but the man was called away—“I have to answer it and tell them no one died. Niko needs a hospital”—the thought of which shocked Niko, because he was certain that he was dead and this was just his lingering thoughts before fading away for good—

Kari stepped away, and Paulina took his place. She was uncertain of what to do, hesitant to touch but wanting to do something, anything, and Niko wanted to tell her he’s okay. This was fine. He’d be okay, just give him a couple minutes.

Paulina looked away, watching the shooter walk trudge back up the stairs after checking that nobody was behind Niko. Niko tried to point to his gun which had fallen out of his hand when she looked back.

Fortunately, she got the message, but out of confusion or fear or maybe a mixture of both, didn’t use it herself, or directly hand it to him. She hastily, clumsily shoved it back into his holster before the brothers could see it. A good call, he had to admit. Shooting now with a hot piece in the taller brother, Nikolai, could just make the situation worse. More casualties.  

Above him, Kari was negotiating for his exit. The other brother, Valdek, was insistent that he could get himself out and Niko wanted to laugh at the thought…but understood the reality that he might have to, the thought of which seemed impossible. 

Raised voices resulted in Katia being allowed to take him. The others were held back, ushered into one of the bedrooms away from sight. The brothers seemed to start arguing while Katia hopped down the stairs two at a time, pulling Niko up though she couldn’t move him even an inch. 

“Niko, come on, we gotta get out of here!” she whispered hurriedly, scared that the brothers might change their mind and finish the job. He was afraid of that too, but the second he tried to stand up, he felt as if something tugged hard, fishing for the bullet that ricocheted against the inner walls of his body, tearing the wallpaper down by peeling and ripping it apart. He couldn’t stifle the pained shout, almost a scream that pierced his ears, making every single cell inside stand on edge, an army of goosebumps pushing out, pressing themselves to get away from the eruption in his abdomen. He wanted it to end but instead had to take a step forward that was worse. Searing water coated his eyes while part of him fought every command from his body to just fall back down, to fall into the alluring void of consciousness. 

Katia attached herself to him, propping him up. His legs felt numb, but he took another step down, Katia took it with him. It was an awkward journey down the rest of the stairs but they made it after what felt like an hour. Katia kept looking behind them every so often, the brother with the loaded gun looming above them. Pacing back and forth eyeing his prey. 

The numbness dissipated by the time they made it down the stairs, he held his breath in and focused on moving forward. They could see the flashing lights outside. The ambulance. They were almost there, and then he could rest. Katia’s hand was almost on the doorknob—

A bullet whizzed past his ear faster than he could hear it. The most motion in his body since they started walking, a sharp gasp and flinch of sheer terror while Katia screamed out at the sound of the gunshot. He yelped as she dropped him and he fell to the floor, but he still reached out to her, wanting to pull her down so he could protect her, keep her safe.

Even though he could hardly protect himself. 

Niko tried his best to sit up, interpret the mixture of screams and shouts from everyone in the household. He could barely understand Kari shouting at the brothers, could only hear Katia next to him. He wanted to ask her if she was okay but all that came out was a long, pained groan. 

“You were letting us go!” Katia screamed to the blurry shadows on the staircase. 

“You’re not going anywhere, except back up here!” Nikolai shouted back. “And you leave him there!” he added, as Katia stood up and tried to take Niko with her. 

“He needs a hospital!” he could hear Kari, begging once more. “Valdek, please, see reason here—!”

“What he needs doesn’t matter. You solve this, fast, or he bleeds out.” 

Katia looked down at Niko with wobbling lips. Her eyes shone with an unspoken apology as she ran up the stairs, the bedroom door was slammed shut. The final nail in his coffin nailed along with it. 

Kari pushed through the bothers, ran down the stairs despite their protests. 

“You leave him down there!”

“Get back up here or we kill one of the girls!”

Kari didn’t seem to care, calling the bluff for the moment, he returned to Niko.

“I’ll try to get something to help. I need you to hang on, stay awake,” Kari held Niko’s hand against the wound. 

“Too…tired…” Niko moaned. 

“I know, Niko, I know. I’m going to get us out but please, promise me—”

“Get up, now,” Valdek grabbed Kari by the back of his shirt, pulled him up and forced him back up the stairs. Niko’s eyes drooped, but didn’t close entirely. He tried to focus on something, anything, but all he could think about was how tired he was…and how much it hurt. 

The strobe of the emergency lights blinked through the window panes of the door. Niko blinked with the light, and when he opened his eyes again the staircase was vacant. The house was eerily silent again, just as it had been when he entered. This was his chance to leave the way he came, silent, unnoticed. 

He breathed in and out as quietly as he could, but as deep as he needed. The bleeding wasn’t stopping, his fingers sheathed in a sticky crimson glove. He raised his other hand up, eyes still transfixed on the stairwell as he blindly fumbled for the doorknob. He found it, twisted it, then started to twist himself to pull it open. He bit down on his lower lip, stifling the rising scream as he stretched his body—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Niko froze, his nerves vibrating the buzzed hairs on his head to rise as high as they could. He swallowed hard as a blinking shadow grew larger and larger on the door before his hand was lifted and removed from the knob, and then dropped carelessly causing his body to tip over onto it. His face fell onto the shoe of the man stopping him, a soft cry escaped his lips. He tried to lift himself up but his body was a rag doll after his attempt at escape drained what little energy he could muster.

“Just…let…me…go…” Niko shuddered, his voice hoarse and strained. Every word was a challenge, he was losing composure with every syllable. “Please.”

“Told you before, pig, you’re not going anywhere. You’re the one who wanted to join the party,” it was Nikolai, who jabbed the side of Niko’s head with his gun. “Try it again, and I’ll blow your brains out…and theirs, too.” 

A shove of the gun thrusted his head against the door, for a split second he heard a spike of chirps in the radios outside. Niko was reminded of his loose earpiece, once Nikolai leaves he can try to put it in, call for help.

“Nikolai, quit playing around,” Valdek called from upstairs. 

Nikolai spat on Niko’s face, and walked back up the stairs. 

[gap, niko agonizing before kari tries to check on him?]

“Niko!” Kari called down. “Can you hear me?”

“What…?” Niko groaned, too low for anybody upstairs to hear.

“Stay awake. Okay? Promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“Wh-why…?” 

“I know it’s the last thing you probably want to do, but we need to keep your brain active. I could use it right now.” 

Are you fucking kidding me, Kari? I’ve been shot…what use am I at all?

But he understood the point. If Niko fell asleep…he might not wake up.

“Stay awake.”

He blinked, and Kari was in front of him. Pointing to Niko’s brain. 

“You don’t need my help,” Niko murmured. “Already tried to and look where it got me.”

“I do need you. Stay awake,” Kari repeated. 

“Yeah, got the message,” Niko tried to sit up, paying for it immediately with a harsh spike of pain in his abdomen, before he slumped back down again. Kari was gone. Was he ever there to begin with? He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back a wave of terror that he was losing his mind. His head felt heavy, lolling in all directions with a dizzying lag. The slam against the door must have given him a minor concussion. Or it was the blood loss. Or both. 

“You quit playing around, too, old man. Get back to work.”

[niko waiting for the dust to settle, maybe fading in and out before he tries calling taina. calls her and then feels guilty, he has to give his gun to somebody to even the odds, making the same mistake that got him hurt in the first place]

“Tuh-Taina…” he whispered into the mic. 

“Niko? Niko, what’s going on? Kari said you’d been shot.”

“Yeah…it’s not good. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m at the front door. I just…need someone to—”

He heard a worrying commotion. Paulina cried out. Heard a man in pain. 

“Niko? Niko, are you there?”

It had to be Kari, as the brothers shouted. His heart sank. He had to go back up there. If he could hold his gun steady for just a few moments, or somehow give it to Kari or the others, the table could turn in their favor. 

“Niko!”

He ripped the ear piece out of his ear again, leaned himself forward on his good side with one arm cradling his wound while the other reached out, pulled his body ahead.

[niko climbs and then gets kicked in the face and falls down the stairs]

As he reached the top he could see the giants looming above him, Kari with his hands tied behind his back. A bleeding forehead. The punishment he received earlier…for helping Niko? Or something else? 

Finally, the last step, a surge of adrenaline helped him to almost stand up—

For the second time, he missed the pair of shoes that came too fast for him to react. He lifted his head just in time for the shoe to come in contact, the tip lifting his chin up before it retracted, then the bottom of the shoe pushed against his face, shoving him back, he tumbled, his spine bumping hard against the railing behind him, he slid and twisted down, fumbling for something to stop him from pinballing but his head kept getting knocked around, disorienting him, the world was shaken like a snowglobe and he was trapped inside of it—

The hardest impact came when he fell into the same corner splattered with his own blood. Under the flat tone that pierced his eardrums, he could hear women’s screams and a man’s desperate pleas.

“Niko!” Kari shouted, the name having been said so many times in such a short period that it almost felt foreign to him now. Didn’t even feel like his name anymore. Felt like it was the name of a dead man. 

[niko passes the gun to katia so she can shoot the one dude]

Niko grunted, unable to get a word out. He stared at Katia with the most seriousness he could focus into her. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want her to have to do this, but it was the only way. 

He led her hand to the holster, and when she realized what she wanted him to do, her eyes widened. But she didn’t protest. He saw Lena’s fire rise within her. 

[ending of the hostage situation. Stretch ending to hospital?]

Eyes fluttered open. 

“Niko!’ Kari’s voice again, this time with less fear and more relief.

“You can go to sleep now. It’s over.”

Thanks for the permission, Niko thought bitterly, but felt the corner of his lips twitch that must have given Kari some more peace of mind. He held his hand up against Niko’s cheek, once again uncertain, before quickly nodding his forehead against Niko’s while gripping his shoulder. A warm wave washed over Niko, if he had anymore blood in his body he’d blush at the gesture. 

[6okuto]

Hi!!! If your still taking requests can I ask abt mhin (from touchstarved) with a siren s/o?

MHIN WITH A SIREN S/O

gn!reader | ok. some gender stuff i had to work around here. since i couldn't 100% confirm if sirens affected only men or Everyone (yknow. w women Not Being Sailors) i went w the assumption Everyone is affected. "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them" is GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!

and tho sirens are usually half-women i still used gender neutral terms! found depictions of male sirens which disappeared around the 5th century bce so. yknow. mythology.

! a Little difficult to safely prove your problem (especially if you run with the idea that sirens die if someone survives hearing their song) to mhin unless you're capable of transforming into the usual mermaid appearance, or perhaps the half-person half-bird version, etc. in which case,, it's pretty easy to tell. lol. to be fair you point out that mhin transforming isn't exactly safe either.

^ if it's the half-bird version i think they would exhibit a Certain kind of Shock since their form is also some sort of bird creature. like okayyy twinning ?! you'd get to compare your forms and they're like ? there's some major differences between us but i see what you mean

it intrigues them about how good your voice could be, and they wonder how long they could listen or if there's some sort of work around. like would it affect them the same if They were in their monster form, and do either of you really want to test that theory

^ specifically a solution that doesn't involve others bc there Is already 2 solutions,, but neither of you are very excited by this experiment Or involving anyone else.

one big (good!) difference is the fact that you both know you aren't alone, if ykwim. like, it isn't being a siren that's important to mhin, it's that you guys can relate to each other's problems and can face them Together

there is definitely. a conversation you have about whether you enjoy being a siren or if you would try to get rid of that part of you if given the chance. how your thoughts compare to mhin's, and reassuring them that even if You didn't want a 'cure', you understand why they do and support them. or that you Would choose to be something else,, and mhin keeping that info in the back of their mind for later

anyway. on a more lighthearted note.

in general, mhin doesn't really treat you differently than they would if you weren't a siren. other than maybe making sure you aren't picked for karaoke and—depending on how often you sing while alone—making sure it's safe to come into your room, it doesn't affect day-to-day life very much!

being a siren doesn't stop any date ideas, walking around, physical affection, etc. What about a good singing voice means you can't tease them or help them clean up after a mission or trying new sweets together. LOVE WINS!

imagine if it was like,, you had to have the intent of luring someone in + you don't Die if your 'target' survives,, so you could hum or sing without someone being in danger. and Mhin knows that. but the others don't. Idk i think we should let them be a menace. support it, even. play along, if you will

^ ! if this was the case they would at least be very interested in hearing you sing while you're one-on-one. like as a siren Out of the water Not leading sailors into a rocky death,, if you're in a safe enough environment, there's really less risk of...death. and they trust you!

but seriously,, ais and vere say something irritating and mhin is shooting you a look. and you have to tell them No you will Not sing to fuck with them right now

mhin asking if there's specific songs you have to sing or if you could technically sing something dumb + silly. not because they secretly think it'd be amusing to watch someone fall under your control but solely because of curiosity /sarc

! being a siren could potentially pull off different jobs which means you can work as a Team :) no longer alone!

are you a siren with a mermaid form? if given the chance mhin would take you to...a lake...the ocean... a body of water so you can show them what you look like, and they're just. in awe. they understand how sailors would've fallen for you and others like you

Something to be said of how mhin wishes their curse was more like yours in this case (alluring, control over your power, not intrinsically horrific, etc) but Let's not think about that too much

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Wagh!! Idk if requests are closed but if so sorry and just happy 1.5K!! If not, can I get Mirelurk queen for Ulysses and the prompt ❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

This is so sweet for him <3

Ulysses really does deserve more love, imho. So hopefully this is a worthy contribution 😅

I hope you love it!

Six watched him, brows set low in determination and focus, as Ulysses demonstrated the motion for them once again.

"Keep your eye on the target; always, and your arm should follow." He told them, his voice uncharacteristically uninhibited by his cumbersome mask in the still-grueling heat of the Mojave evening air. "You worry too much about your form. Allow your mind to hone in on what truly matters. That which you are aiming for."

His dark eyes darted to their face in time to see Six's nod of understanding. With that, he turned back to the large, dead cactus they were using as a target.

"Breathe deeply, so as not to disrupt your aim, and then strike." In one swift thrust, the throwing spear spiraled skillfully through the air before tearing square into the shell of the cactus 15 yards ahead of him. "Simple enough are the motions, for the focused mind unified with the body."

"Easy for you to say." Six retorted. "You never suffered a headwound like mine."

The ex-frumentarius snorted at that.

"How long will you use such a thing as an excuse for your poor discipline?"

"As long as I've still got the scars." They quipped, grabbing up their own spear from the pile the pair had made between them.

"I see." Ulysses said, the slightest hint of a half-smile tugging at one side of his lips. "Your poor excuses will plague me forevermore, then."

"Forevermore?" The courier echoed, their head snapping to face him as their voice raised an octave in surprise. "That's ah... quite the commitment you're making there, Ulysses."

"If it's been this long..." He continued staring ahead, still towards the target, but that half smile on his lips only grew at some continuation of his thought he was choosing to keep unvoiced.

Six couldn't say more themself, couldn't move to practice their spear throwing, couldn't so much as blink as they took in the sight of Ulysses' soft grin. It was... so warm, It gave the, usually cold, man a pleasant sort of glow. Or perhaps that was only the orange hue of the sun as it bowed its head behind the mountaintops. Still though, Ulysses' dark eyes shone, lines were drawn on either side of his mouth that Six had never noticed before, and there was even the small hollow of a dimple at the cheek facing them as he continued looking out to the desert.

Soon enough though, Ulysses felt his partner's eyes on him, and turned to face the pressure of them.

"Six?" The smile faded in an instant, in favor of his usual intense frown.

"Right, right. Sorry, let me just..." They cleared their throat as they squared their feet behind the line Ulysses had drawn in the sand when they'd began their practice session.

Their tongue stuck out the side of their mouth as they closed one eye and set it on their target.

"Both eyes should remain open." Ulysses sounded from their peripheral. They only nodded in response.

"Focus and remember to breathe. Line up the tip of your spear before drawing it back. Maintain your balance, the straightness of your spine, before you thrust."

"Got it."

Six's eyes narrowed, they lined up their spear, trying to think about their form, ensuring it was straight, it was proper, but without focusing too much on it.

Just as Ulysses had said.

They released their breath, pulled their arm back, and threw their body into it as they launched the spear forward and towards the cactus.

Towards the cactus, as in, not the opposite direction. But still, only towards.

Their spear never landed. Not in the target, anyway, but about 3 yards to the right of it, before striking a rock and bouncing up into the air, only to clatter to the ground a moment later, as Six stood slack-jawed with disbelief.

"How...?" They whispered under their breath, completely at a loss.

Only a soft huffing sound tore their eyes from the downed, useless spear.

When they turned to face him, Ulysses was actually laughing.

It was a strange sound. Unfamiliar, but exactly as they had imagined it would be. Low, like his voice always was, but breathy and soft. Like a gust of wind through a deep mine shaft.

And his smile...

It was broader now. More than Six had ever seen it. They couldn't recall actually seeing Ulysses' teeth before, unless he was snarling in rage at some foe, but this... Just the slightest peek of glinting white through his parted lips.

They couldn't help but gawk.

"I'm sure that aim of yours was only on account of the headwound, hm?" He asked as he turned to them, and still, Six could only stare.

Ulysses didn't ask them anything this time around, only raised one brow in question.

"Sorry." Six said, delayed until the smile had completely vanished from their partner's expression. "It's just... I don't think I've ever seen you smile, and... well, twice it's been now. I'm just starting to wonder if I'm dreaming or something." They chuckled a bit themself, shaking their head as they spoke.

"Should we continue to practice the art of the throwing spear, I doubt it will be the last time you see such an expression from me."

Six pursed their lips in embarrassment, but truly, if that's what it took?

Maybe it won't just be the headwound that keeps me from improving at this infuriating form of combat...

"You truly are terrible at this. It's actually quite incredible to observe firsthand."

"Guess I should try again then, huh?"

Ulysses' eyes narrowed at their inquiry, already onto their scheme, and yet...

"Yes, I suppose you should. Otherwise you will never improve." He said the last bit cheekily, knowingly, and as Six stepped forward to retrieve the few spears in the dust ahead of them, Ulysses lips quirked once more into the slightest of fond smiles.

As few times as they've seen it for themselves, he thought, more often than not, they are the cause of this rare expression of mine.

Perhaps I should amend my actions and allow them to regard it more frequently...

Yes. It couldn't hurt to do so. If 'forevermore' truly is where we are headed...

[teecupangel]

Help, I’ve fallen to deep into infamous crossover hell and now I’m wondering what kind of powers all the playable assassins would have? Like, I don’t think they’d be as strong as Des is power-wise , but they’d still be an entirely new kinda hell on templars ( as for how they got powers, idk, maybe the Eye transported them through time when Des used it and gave everyone powers?)

So I’m going to try and incorporate their skills or any ISU bs they had to suffer from.

I have a feeling these need to be balanced but, honestly, their powers should probably be highly specific to make sure Desmond is more powerful lollol.

Altaïr

Considering just how much mastery he has over the Apple, it’s hard to think of what kind of power he should have. In the end, I’m gonna suggest he have a power that starts off as a noncorporeal illusion and then later becomes a corporeal illusion that can attack and kill (similar to how he summoned ghost Assassins in ACR to fight off the Mongols).

Ezio

For Ezio, I was thinking of a power based on maybe one of Leonardo’s war machines or based on ACR’s bombs. Maybe both with the bomber? Instead of actual flight, Ezio is able to jump off the ground using explosions of his ‘bombs’ and use the same explosions to maneuver himself on air (very, very similar to Bakugou from MHA)

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

His power would be based on the animal-shifting abilities he gain from Tyranny of King Washington DLC but, to make it more interesting, he can shapeshift to any animal as long as it’s an animal that he had eaten. Also, his animal forms will have a similar power as in the DLC (ex: being able to glide as an eagle) and it’s hinted that his power is actually body manipulation and not just shapeshifting. By manipulating his body, he can manipulate how strong or how light he is.

Aveline:

Perhaps we can change her different personas to the ability to blend into any crowd? Like, unless you’re looking for her, you can’t actually see her as your brain is telling you that the pretty woman in the corner is an aristocrat's daughter or the girl behind you is just one of your slaves, ignore her.

Edward:

I mean… it would be easy to make him have a water-based power. Pretty much something like water bending. Or… we can go down the route of the Observatory and make him able to track anyone he knows. (If we’re going to be more closely based on the Observatory, make him only able to track people he had drank the blood of. Not like vampire level, just a few drops is enough).

Shay:

… Let’s make his powers connected to his trauma XD. Earth-based power but focusing more on tremors and vibrations. Earthquakes and sudden creations of quicksand would be his main skills. He can also create spiky pillars at higher levels.

Arno:

Based on his ability to see his targets memories instead of having the white corridor for the final words, Arno’s power would be to see memories of other people. It’s a touch-based power and it starts off with him seeing only glimpses but, given enough practice, he will be able to see a specific memory of his choice.

Jacob

Jacob’s exclusive skills aren’t exactly all that flashy so we’ll let him have a power similar to his student, Jack the Ripper. He has the ability to change, heighten or lower one’s emotions. Good for calming crowds or riling them up. It starts as a one-target power but its most powerful capability is an AOE that Jacob could pick which emotion he wants to heighten. Now, if he was like Jack the Ripper, this would mean he could inflict unbearable fear to an area and make it easy to pick them off. But this is Jacob so he’ll probably mostly use it to pump up his Rooks.

Evie:

Based on her exclusive Chameleon skill, she can turn invisible. It starts off as her being only able to turn invisible if she’s stationary and if she doesn’t breathe. Then she becomes able to be invisible while moving but she mustn’t breathe. The higher state of her power would be that she can turn whatever she touches invisible as well (which will be foreshadowed by how her clothes and weapons turn invisible with her).

Bayek:

We can give him the ability to hijack a living thing’s senses. At first, it only works on his eagle, Senu. Then, given enough time, he can hijack a person’s senses but cannot control them. The highest form of this one would be being able to control a target’s body for a limited amount of time. A drawback would be, if he’s hijacking, he cannot move his actual body.

Aya:

Since Amunet is mostly known as the one who poisoned Cleopatra with a snake (which isn’t actually what happened in AC lore), maybe something poison or snake related?

Kassandra:

For Kassandra, we’ll let her focus on the Hunter skill tree with something similar to telekinesis. All of her projectiles always hit their mark and, as her power grows, the more projectile she can use at the same time to set up different attacks (like a bullet version of Rain of Destruction)

Alexios/Deimos:

Alexios/Deimos’ personality would be more in line with the Warrior Skill tree and he’s just a dead ringer for Ares Madness which is more in line with strengthening one’s body for super strength and super defense.

Eivor:

We’ll make use of her connection with Odin and make her power similar to Gungnir in AC Valhalla. She can activate a forcefield around her (like a shield maiden hehe) that is hard to destroy. The forcefield is also capable of hurting others as touching it felt like being stabbed. The more her power strengthened, the larger the forcefield she can make and she can even tag people who will not be harmed but will be protected if they remain in the forcefield (and, in higher ranks, would be able to project it elsewhere to protect something or someone else).

Since you want all playable Assassins (I added Shay as a freebie), we’re still missing:

Adéwalé

‘Lo Sparviero’

Shao Jun

Nikolai

Arbaaz (I was thinking something connected to the Koh-i-Noor)

Basim