#spider light pendant

[mortal-kingss]

for once, for once in life, i finally felt that someone needed me…

[ID: A fully rendered piece of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood dancing. The background is stark black, and the main lighting source is warm, coming from slightly below the camera. Jon has his back facing the camera and his face turned to the side, and Martin has his body facing the camera and face also turned to the side. Martin is a tall, fat white man, with vitiligo, and is an avatar of the Web. He has brown hair with white streaks, square glasses, and eight entirely black eyes. He’s smiling with fangs peaking through slightly, and scars in the patterns of cobwebs on his cheek. He’s wearing a brown suit with a white shirt and brown tie. There is a small web design on the collar of the suit with a pendant of a spider, made out of wire and amber. He’s wearing a belt and dark grey pants that fade slowly into a light grey. His left hand is holding Jon’s, and his right hand is pressed against her back. Jon is a shorter, thin Indian person, wearing a dark green satin dress with a small amount of black mesh material on the upper back. Her dark brown and grey hair is long, and is tied back in a loose ponytail, with a gold hairpiece in the shape of an eye, connected by small chains with green gems, to Jhumka earrings. He has multiple eyes on his face, and all are green, looking up at Martin, except for the normal placement of eyes which are closed. He’s wearing gold arm jewelry with eye patterns on them, and his right arm has a henna design and a ring on his finger. His left arm is perched on Martin’s shoulder. End ID]

[mewhenimanangel]

spiderboy, miles morales x fem!reader

part 1! ʚɞ part 2 ʚɞ part 3 ʚɞ part 4 ʚɞ part 5

pairing: earth 1610! miles morales x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think anything of it when you bumped into miles on your first day at visions. it slowly became one of the best things to happen to you.

wc: 1.9k

warnings!: cursing

You got ready for your first day at Brooklyn Visions Academy. Your mom had decided to send you there for better "academic challenges" or whatever. You were nervous but found solace in knowing you'd already have a friend there, Zoya Hart. You’ve been friends since the third grade, absolutely inseparable.

You put on your uniform skirt and finished your makeup. New school, if you didn't make a good first impression, at least you’d look good. "Y/n hurry up! I've gotta go!" your mom called out from the kitchen. "Mommy just go! I can walk" you applied her lip gloss in the mirror. "Ah-ah, you're gonna be late. Hurry up"

You rolled your eyes spraying perfume over your body. Grabbing your backpack you shoved in your books and pencil case inside. "Wait mommy I need to fill up my water bottle" you rushed to the fridge and pressed it against the water dispenser. "Come on!" your mom yelled walking over to the door. "Wait I need my headphones!" you ran to your room to grab the earbuds sitting on the dresser, quickly scratching your cat's head "Bye Bobo" you breathed out before rushing out the door. "Baby it's school what do you need headphones for?" your mom grew irritated. "If I don't have these, I'll literally kill myself"

"Aye, I told you to stop saying that!" you both walked out the door, locking it. Getting in the passenger seat, you checked her appearance on her phone, fiddling with the nose piercing that sat on her nostril. Your blonde box braids were in two pig tails, edges laid flat. You wore a gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bow, you loosened the tie around your neck. "I hate this stupid ass uniform" your mom laid a smack on your thigh. "Watch your mouth!" "Ow mommy sorry!" you exclaimed rubbing your hand over your leg.

You plugged your earbuds in, listening to music until you saw the school in the distance. Your heart sped up as you took her headphones out, tucking them in her backpack. "Alright baby have a good day okay. Make me proud, I love you" your mom said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you too mommy bye" you replied getting out of the car as she drove off.

You opened up your phone to Zoya's contact.

'i'm here and i'm shaking where are you??' you sent a text.

'in the principal's office'

'surprise baby i'm your tour guide :P' Zoya replied.

You felt yourself bump into another body. Looking up from your phone you saw a boy with a dazed expression on his face. The boy wore a pair of Jordan 1 bloodlines, a tiny spider-man figure on his backpack. He was about four inches taller than her and a bit lanky, his skin dark brown. His hair was a taper fade with kinky curls, his eyes were dark brown almost black shade as he stared at you.

"I'm really sorry about that" you apologized putting your hands out in front of you "Ah it's cool, no worries" he brushed off with a smile. "Um do you know where the principal's office is?" you asked looking around. "Yeah, I can show you. Are you new here?" he asked leading you down the hall to the right. "Uh-huh" "New to New York?" he asked again. "Nah my parents just thought this would be a better school". He nodded his head as they came to the front door of the main office. "It's the one on the left. I've gotta get to class though. I'm Miles by the way" he said, waiting for you to respond. "Y/n" you replied with a smile.

He walked away when you made your way to the principal. "Y/n!!" Zoya exclaimed, going to hug the girl. She had a light tan complexion, pink lips and a bright white smile. Her hair was a beautiful ginger color with her curls falling past her shoulders. Zoya was about two inches taller than you, wearing a pair of platform doc marten 8053s. Her 'Z' necklace rest on her chest along with your matching bow necklace.

"Ugh I am so glad your parents sent you here!" The man behind the desk cleared his throat, alerting the two girls of his presence. "Oh sorry, Y/n this is Mr. Hale, our principal." He reached out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, Ms. L/n". She smiled as she shook his hand "Nice to meet you too, sorry I'm late" "No matter, it's your first day, just don't let it be a frequent problem." he sat back down in his chair.

"Alright, here's your schedule, look over it while i pull up your file" he handed you a piece of paper with all of your classes for the day.

'English Language Arts 11' 8:30 AM

'Modern Us History' 9:34 AM

'Ceramics 1' 10:38 AM

'Algebra 2' 11:42 AM

'Lunch 2' 12:45 PM

'Physics' 1:19 PM

'Sociology' 2:27 PM

He gave you all the information she needed: locker number and code, teacher's names, grade expectations, your guidance counselor's name and office, etc "Alright, I'll have Miss Hart here show you around." he said as the two of you made your way to the door. "Have a good day and good luck settling into your new classes. It's only September, so I'm sure you haven't missed much." he bid goodbye.

You and Zoya got to your locker as you attempted to put the code in. "Right, left, right" Zoya instructed. The locker popped open and you sorted out your things. You saw Zoya look over her shoulder at her sister, Maya. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked the girl. "Yeah, but I don't wanna be" Maya replied giggling. "Heyy, n/n! I forgot you were coming here." Maya said hugging you. "I'm giving her a tour of the school" Maya said, opening her phone to take a quick selfie with you. "Oou can I come?" Maya chirped. "Youu have a class to go to." Maya rolled her eyes and left you two to start your tour.

Zoya intertwined her arm with yours as you walked through the school. She showed you the gym, the library, the cafeteria - all huge. She showed you the student council room, the dorm halls - which wasn't necessary since you wouldn't be staying there, they made their way over to a big window in the main hallway which overlooked a courtyard where she found people sitting outside and a teacher have a class.

"This place is so fancy, shit" you exclaimed. "Ahhh it's aight" Zoya joked. Anyways, let's get you to class." It was 8:45 now and Zoya knocked on the door of your first period. "Meet me at lunch, good luck" Zoya kissed your cheek and walked away. "Well class, we have a new student joining us, Miss Y/n L/n"

Your day went pretty normal, people were nice enough to you and you talked to a few people, making their acquaintance. The bell rung which meant it was time for you to go to lunch and finally see your friend again. You sent her a text asking her where she was sitting when you bumped into someone again. "Woah, gotta stop meeting like this" the boy said letting out a light laugh. "Yeah, my bad" you let out an awkward laugh. "You have lunch now too?" he asked you "Yeah, actually I'm waiting for my friend-" you was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, I'm starving let's go in the line" Zoya said. "Oh you know Zoya?" Miles said, dapping her up. "Yup, since third grade." "Cool well see you around, preferably not bumping into you" he joked and walked away with his friend. "How do you know Miles?" you asked her as you walked over to the lunch line. "Classes, plus he knows Peter." she replied, getting a cheeseburger and fries. "Why, do you think he's cute?" she teased . "Oh he's realll cute" you giggled.

You made your way over to a table where Peter, Maya, and a girl you didn't recognize were already sitting. "Yoo, n/n how you liking the school" Peter said, as he dap you up. "It's alright, fancy as fuck though" Zoya sat down next to Peter, giving him a kiss on the cheek, while you found a seat next to Maya. "Hey, I'm Kiona" the girl you didn't recognize spoke up. "Y/n, you're so pretty by the way" you smiled at the girl. "Aww thank you, you too"

Lunch ended as you and Peter parted ways with everyone. "Physics is brutal but Mr Johnson is chill as fuck" he informed you walking into the class. Peter took his seat as Mr Johnson spoke up "Ah, Miss L/n, nice to meet you. You can take a seat back there next to Morales" he pointed to the back of the room where Miles was sitting, already looking at you. You smiled at the boy and made your way to the back. "Hey" he whispered to you . "Hi" you replied. "Didn't know we'd have this class together. Shoulda told me" "You didn't ask" you joked, opening a notebook.

The bell rung and you got your stuff together "Hey what's your next class?" Miles asked, stacking his notebooks. "Sociology" you answered, putting papers in a folder. "Ah I don't have that" he said, disappointed. "Walk you to class?" he offered. You looked around and saw that Peter already left, so might as well. "Yeah, sure".

"This isn't going to make you late is it?" you asked him. "Nah it's in the same-". All of a sudden Miles tensed up and there was a loud booming noise coming from outside. Everyone in the hall, including you and Miles ran to nearby windows to see what was going on and here was a fire emerging from a bank down the road. You looked to your side to see that Miles wasn't there anymore. Out of nowhere, spider-man swung over to the bank stopping the guys who were trying to rob it. Everyone cheered when he brought the guys out, tied up in his webs

When school ended, Zoya and Maya came up to your locker as you were packing up to go home. "Hey n/n, you going home?" Maya asked, biting into an apple. "Yeah, it would be cool if i stayed in the dorms. Buttt that's mad money spending so nah". You gave the girls a hug and made your way out the building. "Oh Y/n, you're not staying in the dorms?" Miles asked, coming from the nurse's office with a few bandaids on his face and bandage on his arm. "No, what happened to you?" you asked pointing at his face. "Tripped down the stairs on the way to seventh period". You stifled a giggle and nodded your head. "Uh you want me to walk you home?" he offered.

You furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "You don't really have to do that.." "O-oh uh I was just offering, I'm not super busy right now and didn't want you to be alone-" You put her hand out and giggled "Okay yeah you can walk me home" He smiled and skipped down the steps to join you. "Don’t you get in trouble for leaving the dorms without permission?" you asked looking up at him. "Ah sometimes but I get my way out of it"

"So what happened earlier? You disappeared when the  fire happened." you asked him, finally. "Oh I had....gotten..scared" he said, looking up. "Oh..okay. That's normal I guess" "Well this is my stop" you said, walking up to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow" he said waving goodbye "See you" you said with a smile, unlocking the door.

[saintbleeding]

[ID: Digital drawings of Fiona Law, Agnes Montague, Emma Harvey, and Mary Keay from TMA. Fiona is an older woman with light brown skin, greying hair in a severe bun, glasses, and a terrified expression on her face. She holds a pencil in one hand and wears formal, dated business attire. There are squiggly lines emanating from her. Agnes is a young, slightly chubby woman with pale, freckly skin and long, ginger hair. She wears a long-sleeved button-up shirt with a Peter Pan collar under a baggy sweater-vest. In one hand she has a candle burning low, dripping its wax down the sides of her hand and between her fingers, and she gazes down at the flame with an unreadable expression. She is lit only by the candle, and behind her head is a smouldering halo. Emma is a thin white woman with shoulder-length curly brown hair from which a spider dangles on its silk. She wears glasses, a loose purple button-up shirt, dark wide-leg trousers, and purple heels. Her hands are clasped behind her back and there is a slightly wild-eyed expression of satisfaction on her face. Behind her is a spiderweb design in purple. Mary is a thin white woman with warm blonde hair in a 70s blow-out style, wearing similarly dated clothing, a bangle, a wedding ring with a large red gem, sharp red nails, and a large, heavy gold necklace with a Clausen family crest on the pendant. In her left hand she holds a razor blade and there is a knowing smirk on her face as she stares at the viewer. Behind her head is a mockery of a saint’s halo, with the points and circle of a pentacle visible. End ID.]

this week i learned there is no Closen family crest. happy women wednesday

[aralezinspace]

Masquerade

Combining two requests, both from Anonymous: Morpheus and s/o doing each other's makeup, Morpheus and reader kissing, reader teases him until he's at their mercy

A/N: The inherent eroticism of a masquerade *chef's kiss* partly inspired by All Yours by @roguelov (I love your writing so much!) Enjoy! Tagging @fangirlmary - If you want to be tagged in any of my writing let me know!

~~Requests are open!~~

“Morpheus?” I called from my bathroom, “Are you almost ready for me?” I knew time passed differently in the Dreaming, I still couldn’t help worrying we were going to be late. The Faerie realm was hosting a huge masquerade ball in honor of Cluracan’s birthday, and as rulers of the Dreaming we had both been invited. I had never been to a faerie masquerade, so I was more than a little nervous- even newly immortal, I was still only human, about to be surrounded by beings with more power in their pinkies than I had in my entire body.

I heard Dream’s footsteps pad from our bedroom into the bathroom before I saw his reflection in the mirror. I applied the last touch to my lipstick before turning to get the full effect, and my heart stopped in my chest.

He was dressed in his usual black, but the material seemed to be deeper, darker, a void where even the brightest of stars diminished. Within that void there swirled sparkling lines of blues, greens, purples, and reds, dotted with large silvery sparkles I’d bet were diamonds sewn into the fabric. The shirt and pants seemed painted onto his form they fit him so well, moving with him, not even creasing when he walked or moved his arms. The shirt’s collar covered his neck, and his hands were wrapped in black silk gloves.

The cloak he wore when being Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms was attached to his shoulders with silver brooches, each cradling a sapphire the size of a walnut. A silver chain connected the two pieces, swaying gently when he moved. Flames still flickered at the bottom, but this cloak was made of the same living void as his shirt and pants. His hair was only slightly more tamed than usual, which only added to the affect. Black pointed boots with slight heels and soft soles were on his feet.

I needed to stop gaping, before a dream spider crawled into my mouth.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, taking it all in again and again, the words hardly doing my sentiments any justice. He was ancient and beautiful, distant and awe-inspiring. “You look incredible.” He smiled gently at me, and I could have sworn his chest puffed out just a little bit as he approached me.

“As do you, my star,” he replied in a murmur. His eyes roved up and down my body, taking it all in as one would a piece of art. I could feel the slight tremor in his hand as he brushed a stray piece of hair away from my face. “Although there are no words in any language to do justice to your beauty.”

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and bashfully glanced at the floor. “Flatterer,” I teased, but did a little twirl anyway before going back to the mirror.

He was right though, I looked just as otherworldly as him in the clothes he fashioned me. If he was attending as a galaxy, then I was the star at the very center. The whole ensemble was silver-blue and shimmering, made of countless layers of a light, floaty material that swirled around me like mist when I moved. The gown had a sweetheart neckline, and sleeves of fine silver mesh covered my arms, making them appear longer and more graceful. Moonstones and diamonds dotted the dress and sleeves, catching the light and reflecting it back. Small diamond earrings went in my ears, and a strand of silver and moonstone was around my neck, with a large opal pendant hanging just below my collarbones.

I had a cape of my own, made of the same shimmering material and dotted with flecks of gold, flowing out behind me from my shoulders. My makeup had the same slight rainbow and silver shimmer, my eyes outlined in pale blue liner. I looked every inch a monarch.

“Just have to do your eyeliner,” I said as I gestured for Morpheus to sit on the stool in front of my vanity. He swept across the bathroom and sat on the stool as if it were a throne while I gathered my liquid and pencil eyeliners, along with a few shades of eyeshadow. “Close your eyes and hold still?”

Morpheus smiled and did as I asked. His lashes were long and dark and utterly gorgeous against his pale cheeks. He was holding still as he could for me, which was the equivalent of a marble statue. Leaning over him, I carefully lined his upper lash lines in black ink before buffing it out with a brush. “Open and look up?”

Tongue between my teeth as I concentrated, I did his lower lash line as well. The black liner made the blue of his eyes even more startling, and I just knew that his eyes would appear even more like bottomless pits if they shifted to their usual black and silver over the course of the night.

“Okay, look ahead?” Rather than look straight ahead, Dream decided to look up at me, stopping the breath in my lungs with his gaze. With slightly clumsy fingers, I put the eyeliner back in my makeup drawer and grabbed the two eye shadows I had picked for him: a slightly sparkling red, and a shimmering silver. Using my fingertip, I gently pressed some of the red into the outer corners of his eyes, and some of the silver into the inner corners.

If I thought he looked incredibly beautiful and powerful before, I was wrong. Just adding the eyeliner and colors around his eyes had made him arrestingly gorgeous, and I couldn’t look away. My eyes widened at the being before me, heat flooding my entire body. That hint of red and silver was the most beautiful mistake I had ever made. It added more than a hint of mischief to the blue of his eyes, gave the power of dreams the attitude of the devil.

Oh, I was going to have a very hard time keeping my hands off him for however long we stayed at this party.

~~

The fae had truly gone all out for Cluracan’s celebration in a dazzling display of magic, wealth, and the otherworldly beauty of nature. The giant ballroom hummed with life, my skin tingled from the strength of the collective vibes. Even as my eyes absorbed the vibrant colors and wondered at them until they burned, I felt distinctly out of place. Just a tiny human at the side of an Endless, almost like a pet. I wanted to shrink into a gilt corner and hope that none of these beings paid me any mind. But, I was a monarch of the Dreaming. If Morpheus couldn’t hide in a corner, neither could I.

I could tell from his slightly tense grip on my hand that he’d rather be anywhere else. Even with our masks covering the top halves of our faces, it was easy to see how much he detested being here. There were too many people, and wearing the face of a monarch for all of them was taxing. I gently rubbed circles into the back of his hand with my thumb as we waited in line to pay our respects to the king and queen, taking in the sights and sounds and smells.

A beautifully haunting waltz came from the musicians on the modest stage at the back of the room. Fae and gods and other creatures of myth mingled and danced, their movements flickering like mirages. A shiver went down my spine.

The fae herald announced us to the waiting monarchs, and Cluracan sitting beside them: “Dream of the Endless and Lady Y/N, monarchs of the Dreaming, rulers of the Nightmare Realms.” I plastered a smile on my face as we approached the thrones. Morpheus gave a slight, respectful bow, and I dipped my knees in a little curtsy.

“Lord Morpheus!” Cluracan yelled with a beaming grin, extending his hand for Dream to shake. “I am so pleased you were able to attend! Both you and your beautiful wife.” Morpheus shook his hand with a strained smile. “Thank you for the invitation, we are honored to be here.”

Cluracan then extended his hand to me. I did what was expected of me, and placed my fingers in his waiting grasp. “Your visage this night is a true blessing,” he murmured against the skin before brushing his lips over my knuckles with a flirtatious smirk. I could feel Morpheus tense beside me.

Dream exchanged the necessary pleasantries with the king and queen, something I was content to let him handle. After the fae monarchs wished us well with the encouragement to enjoy their hospitality for as long as we wished, we were finally free from royal obligations to enjoy the party.

Morpheus was a wallflower at social engagements on the best of days, but I could tell that being in a ballroom surrounded by fae and magical creatures of every kind made him especially uneasy. His hand never left my lower back as we mingled with the other guests, sipping on sweet wine to take the edge off.

After we took our leave of some forest spirits, the orchestra struck up a tune I recognized as old Dreaming folk music. I gave Morpheus’ hand a squeeze and whispered excitedly in his ear, “I’ll bet you anything Cluracan asked them to play this for us. It’d be rude not to dance.” I gave him my best sparkling puppy dog eyes. “Please? May I have this dance?”

Dream sighed, but agreed with a small, loving smile. The image of a perfectly refined and dignified ruler, he led me to the dance floor, holding my one hand aloft while the other rested at my waist. We swept around the dance floor in time with the music, our garments flowing out behind and around us- a supernova and a black hole, swirling around each other in perfect harmony.

“They’re all staring,” I breathed, my eyes darting quickly to the assembled crowd.

“They cannot help but be entranced by you, my darling,” he purred back, “And neither can I.” My eyes flickered up to his, my heart stopping in my chest and lips tugging up into a smirk when I caught the expression on his face. There was no way he hadn’t noticed the hitch in my breath, or the flush in my cheeks, and his tiny smile became unbearably smug. Oh, so that’s how he wanted to entertain himself tonight. Well then, two could play at that game.

“They’re staring at you too, you know,” I breathed against his lips just before he twirled me out and then back in to his waiting arms. “You’re easily the most powerful being here, I bet they’re trying to decide whether they want to be your ally, or stab you in the back. Not that I’d let them.” The hand that was resting on his shoulder slid up, up, so that I was caressing his neck. “And I bet the women are just burning inside, aroused by your demeanor and aggravated their husbands could never hope to measure up.”

It was soft, but I could hear the growl that rumbled low in Dream’s chest. I could feel the way his fingers tensed into the flesh at my waist. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly- he now knew I had caught on to his game, and was not only willing to play, but playing to win.

When the song was over, I pulled away to bow to him, low and slow and graceful with a smile that was anything but submissive. Dream returned the gesture, a perfect gentleman, one who knew exactly what effect he was having on his partner. Rather than take his hand to leave the dance floor, I turned away from him, throwing a flirtatious smirk over my shoulder as I walked towards the buffet. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as he watched, intending to follow, but stopped by a fae lord wishing to speak with him.

I could sense Dream’s growing tension as the night wore on and I refused to stay by his side, rather flitting just out of reach. I made small talk with the other guests, even exchanged a few more words with Cluracan- that really got him going. It was only a matter of time before he came to sweep me away. I intended to beat him to it.

It was hard to evade the stare of an Endless, but I managed well enough. Just enough to catch Dream’s eye before leaving the ballroom and disappearing around a corner into a quieter hall. I could hear his footsteps following me, letting him catch the occasional glimpse of my skirt fluttering around a corner. Almost there…

I turned the next corner and hid in the darkened space between two stone columns encircled with vines. My heart pounded as Dream drew closer. When he was about to pass my hiding place, I reached out and snatched his arm, pulling him into the shadows with me and pressing him against the wall. The air left his lungs on impact in a breathy moan. I stepped in closer, pressing my nose into the hollow just below his ear and taking a deep breath. I was already warm and fuzzy from the wine and fae magic in the air; breathing Morpheus in only made it more so.

With a soft hum, I gently pressed my lips to his, moving them slowly, carefully, testing just how far I could push him. I teasingly ran my tongue over the seam of his sweet lips, and he immediately parted them for me. I flitted in for the slightest taste, the sweetness of the wine still lingering in the corners of his mouth. I pulled away the moment he tried to deepen the kiss, letting him lick beggingly at my closed lips.

One hand cradled his chin while the other slipped under the edge of his mask, mussing his hair slightly as I lifted it over his head and let it fall to the floor. He gasped against my lips and his breath immediately hitched, like he had been caught in the act of showing just how much I was affecting him.

His hands found their way to my hips, fingers digging in to soft fabric as he tugged me closer. My fingers threaded into his silky hair, gently caressing for a few moments before tightening around the strands and giving a gentle yank to expose his neck. Another gasp left him, his eyes fluttering.

I attached my lips to his jawline, kissing and nipping, just hard enough to sting. His fingers bit into my hips, holding me closer. I chuckled low in his ear, more than a little proud of how little it had taken to tease him into a gasping, trembling mess. “I think we’ve stayed long enough,” I cooed, “Unless you’d rather have another dance, or talk with Cluracan some more…”

Dream’s eyes flashed open, no longer ice blue, but deep black, and somehow still burning and sparkling. I had been right before: the eyeliner and colors at the corners of his eyes made me want to sink into those bottomless pits that looked as though they wanted to devour me whole. A breath shuddered out of my lungs and heat flooded my body. Dream smirked, smug and feral.

A hand left my waist to rip off my mask and cast it aside. Dream’s eyes raked over my face, eyes burning with desire. “My little star…” his low growl rumbled through me like thunder. “You are making it incredibly difficult to keep my composure.”

I slowly licked my lips, smooth and sultry. Dream’s eyes tracked every movement of my tongue. I stepped in even closer: “Then let it go.”

When I felt the vortex of sand carry us back to the Dreaming, I knew I had won this round, and also that Dream was more than alright with losing.

[slymewitch]

Slyme’s stats

Hp: 65

Attack: 12

Defense: 17

Magic attack: 23

Magic defense: 18

Speed: 10

STR:+1 DEX:+1 CON:+2 INT:-1 WIS:+1 CHA:+1

Skills: Persuasion, Investigation, History, animal handling, arcana,

Slyme’s equipment

Mana Arnis, upgraded mechanical body (cannon, rockets, and blowtorch, rune slots), spellbook, coat, glasses, blue tophat, backpack of holding, journal,

Slyme’s inventory

a gold dreidel with gears spider legs and a tank of red liquid, weed, slime dye kit, cute pink bunny themed armor, flask of Sybjorn's Wonderful Brew of A Thousand Effects, empty gun, a bucket, popsicle, 18 healing potions, vampiric shield, arcane halberd, ring of heat metal, bracelet of druidic illusion, monocle of sigils, stareater dragon nest map, strange pendant, GAU-8 minigun, luck crystal necklace, 4 slime potions,

Slyme’s spells

Fireball, slyme’s water slash, minor healing, shield ward, levitation, summon light, speak to goats, bubbles, Tueux’s soap of persisting bubbles, gather experience, summon duskbolt, summon burgerbarian, water ward, speak to plants, lesser control, lesser lunar blast, summon raven familiar, lesser control magma, summon leafcrest, lightning bolt, water sphere, ice blast, electro orb,

Slyme’s recipes

Sybjorn's Wonderful Brew of A Thousand Effects, spirit sight potion, gorgon’s brew,

Slyme’s team

Golbat: level 24

Misdreavus: level 34

Joltik: level 29

Lapras: level 35

Level: 5 (next level 160 xp away)

Lives: 654

Gold: 0

[coffee-at-daybreak]

no more games | brynjolf x f!reader

can't sleep it's skyrim sexyman thirsting time. also! this is really only labeled as f!reader bc bryn says "lass" a few times but otherwise there are no explicit pronouns used for reader. it also gets like the slightest bit steamy but i don't think it needs any tags, lmk if i should though! anyway hope you enjoy tysm for reading!!!

Not even the pouch of septims tucked along your belt makes a noise as you slip into the entrance of Nightingale Hall. The singing of crickets fades behind you, replaced by the eerie silence of the cave. 

You continue all the way down the windy tunnel, past the waterfall and run down bridge alongside it. You pass through the archway leading into the main interior hall, bathed in warm light from the nearby torches. Then, you finally relax. 

Your shoulders droop and your lungs expand with a deep breath. You pull your hood off your head and reach for the newly attained loot at your belt. A small, hefty pouch of septims, with a valuable piece of jewelry wrapped tightly around it. 

You drift closer to one of the torches to get a better look. A necklace, you realize. In your hurry to snatch it off that sleeping nobleman at the Bee and Barb, you'd barely gotten a glance at it. All you knew at that moment was that it was valuable, and you had to have it. 

With deft fingers, you pull the necklace off the pouch and hold it up to study the material. It's made of shiny gold, and has a large pendant dangling off of it. The pendant is round, with a small but glimmering red stone in the center, and intricate markings etched into the gold around it. 

You're turning the treasure between your fingers when you hear a low whistle come from behind you. 

"Now that's quite the prize," Brynjolf's voice flows across the hall. You turn around to see him slipping in from one of the nearby tunnels. 

You turn back to the necklace, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. "You know me - I have to take anything that catches my eye."

Brynjolf chuckles. "I don't blame you for it, lass." He stops next to you. "Where'd you get it?"

"Some rich drunkard at the inn. I don't think he'll miss it much." You hold out the necklace by the pendant for him to see. When he goes to take it, his fingers just barely graze over your own. The flicker of warmth you feel from them seems to shoot all the way up your arm. 

He studies the necklace for a moment, giving you a chance to study him. His emerald eyes are bright with awe, and his russet hair looks even brighter, nearly matching the intensity of the torch light. He's in his Nightingale garb, but everything's slightly .. unkempt. He definitely didn't just come back from a job like you. 

"Flawless ruby, for sure," he murmurs. "Very valuable, indeed." His eyes flick to catch your own. "And quite the beauty."

You cross your arms and hold his gaze. You pretend not to notice the gesture - and pretend you don't feel a blush crawling up your neck. "I am not trading that in to Delvin. Don't even ask."

He grins. "What if I take it off your hands?"

You reach over and snatch it from him. "Not for sale."

He chuckles again, a low rumble from deep within his chest. You tuck the necklace into one of the many pockets at your belt and start to head back to the waterfall cave. Crashing into one of those old beds there sounds rather tempting right now. 

"What are you doing here right now, anyway?" You ask Brynjolf as you walk. His footsteps trail behind you. 

"Housekeeping, of course," he replies. "This place has more cobwebs than the Ratway."

You smile at the hint of disgust in his tone. "Afraid of spiders, are you?"

"Aye, just a bit. I don't much like the thought of them crawling around while I sleep." 

You roll your eyes in amusement as you stop next to a bed. The gentle rushing water of the fall and creek echo around the room. The familiar smell of wet stone and misty air flows to your nose. It's not the most pleasant scent, but it's a significant difference from the cistern. 

"I'm surprised you're up at all," you say with a snicker. "It's rather late."

Your gloves come off, and you stoop down to start working off your boots. You hear another couple approaching footsteps. 

"What if I said I was hoping to run into you here?" Brynjolf asks. 

This time, your heart feels like it's leaped into your throat. You try to swallow the nerves down, and focus on slipping off your boots. "You can run into me anytime in the cistern - anywhere in Riften, really. Why here?"

"Because we're alone."

You straighten up, and turn around, and nearly jump back. He'd moved much closer now, a mere hand's width away. The sudden proximity just about takes the breath out of you. 

His eyes seem dark, but there's a little bit of torch light reflecting off of them. And when he smiles, they seem to glimmer. Very much like the stone of that necklace. Something about his eyes is much more captivating, though. 

"I know you feel it, too, lass," he murmurs, voice so soft that you wouldn't be able to hear it over the water if he weren't so close. The cave air suddenly feels warmer than it did a moment ago.

You gulp. "Feel what?"

Brynjolf's head tilts slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow. You know he's clever enough to figure out when you're playing dumb. But of course, he has to play along. 

He takes a step closer. You back up, but your back meets the rough stone of a wall, and you freeze. 

"Don't be coy, now." His eyes  break away from your own, only to travel around your face. You see them looking at your hair, your cheeks, your nose. Then back to your eyes. "I don't exactly try to hide it anymore, if you couldn't tell."

You exhale. Your breath comes out choppy. You don't try to hide it either, because the first thing you look at when you break your eyes away from his is his lips. That slight smirk in them makes your insides coil. 

You had felt a connection with Brynjolf from the moment you'd met. It didn't take long to realize it was more than just a platonic connection. You'd never forget the way your heart went into a frenzy when you and Karliah returned from Snow Veil Sanctum and Brynjolf was trembling with relief. Or the way you'd held each other in Bronze Water Cave, trembling from both the tumultous battle with Mercer and the freezing water you'd so desperately escaped. And the little moments in between the big ones had the same effect. It felt like a game - a tedious, frustrating game of throwing flirtations and quips at each other to see who would crack first. You couldn't deny it any longer, and truthfully, you were tired of trying. 

"You know it's not wise, though," you say. Your words are a protest, but the way you tilt your head up, closer to his own, is the opposite. "We're Nightingales now, after all. Sworn to duty, with no distractions."

Brynjolf pauses for a moment. His hand lifts, and finds the side of your face. You suppress a shiver as the warm skin of his thumb brushes your cheekbone.

"I think we can find a balance, lass." He leans a tad inch closer, and his breath is ghosting over you. 

You let out another shaky breath. Your eyes flutter closed when his thumb moves lower. It trails along your cheek, under your jaw, down your neck. He spreads his hand along the side of your neck, and you know he must feel your racing pulse somewhere in there. 

"I took an oath to Nocturnal because I had to," he whispers. "But you-" his other hand circles your waist, pulling you closer, and by the Gods you nearly collapse against him. Your hands press flat against his chest in an effort to steady yourself. You grow weaker still as he continues, "I'd willingly lay my life down for you. I'd do anything for you."

His voice seems to flow around you. You can hardly imagine your  surroundings anymore - you only feel his hand trailing your side, his breath tickling your skin, his heartbeat thumping beneath your palm. His entire presence is like honey, as if you could melt right into it. 

"Bryn-" Your hushed breath is cut short. His hand is coming off your waist, and coming up between the two of you. 

You open your eyes. He's holding up the golden necklace, dangling from his fingers. 

He grins. That stupid, charming grin. 

You narrow your eyes. "Really?" 

"Easy pick." He leans back, but his other hand doesn't come completely off of you. It glides from your neck to your shoulder, leaving sparks in its wake. He gives the necklace a light swing with his other hand. "Take it back if you can."

You merely glare at him. He still wants to play games. You don't.

Your hand flies out. Brynjolf reels back instinctively. But instead of your hand fishing for the necklace, you hook it around one of the buckles on his chest, and pull him in until your lips meet.

Heat floods you instantly, from just about everywhere. He kisses you back so fiercely that you nearly lose your footing again. But his arms are quick to take you in, one squeezing around your waist and the other coming up along your back. Just as you break the kiss for a gasp of air, his hand buries in your hair, and he's angling your head to bring you back in. 

You clutch at him, pressing as close as you can. It almost feels like you could mold into him, with how perfectly your body fits against his own. It feels right - he feels right. 

You lose track of how many kisses you exchange, how many gasps of air you trade, how many times your hands grip each other in a new spot. You lose yourself completely in him, in his firm lips, in his powerful arms, in that faint taste of Black Briar mead on his tongue and -

Someone clears their throat behind you both. 

In an instant, Brynjolf breaks the kiss and whirls on his feet. He pulls you with him though, earning a small gasp from you when his arm stays hooked firmly around your waist. His other hand is quick to pull out a dagger and point it in front of him. 

Karliah leans against the archway, her violet eyes glimmering in the faint light of the cave. "Good evening," she murmurs.

Brynjolf huffs, his chest heaving against your own. "By Talos, lass. Thought you were an intruder."

You're struggling to catch your breath, especially since you're still pressed up close to him. Your head is spinning and a fuzzy warmth takes over your face as you glance up at Karliah. 

The Dunmer tilts her head. "No, but it seems I did intrude on something."  She leans off the wall. "My apologies. I'll be off... housekeeping."

She disappears down the tunnel as quietly as she came. There's a brief second of silence save for the gurgling water nearby and your heart still roaring in your ears. 

You can't help the giggle that builds up, though, and drop your forehead against Brynjolf's chest. "Alone, huh?"

He scoffs, his breath tickling your hair. "Sorry, love. In my defense, the  girl's a ghost."

You laugh again. Just as you start to catch your breath, you feel Brynjolf's hand hook under your chin, and he's tilting your head up. There's another fluttering warmth in your belly as you meet his gaze. 

"No more dancing around the matter, right?" He asks, voice soft but serious.  His eyes search yours intently. "No more games?"

You hum thoughtfully. You lift a hand up, where the golden necklace peeks out from your fingers. "I make no promises."

He chuckles, head shaking with amusement. "Aye, that's what I expected. So be it."

He yanks the necklace from you once again, and dives back in to crash his lips to yours before you can protest.

[foundtherightwords]

The Hollow Heart - Chapter 6

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

Chapter warnings: descriptions of spiders, snakes, and mice, a brief scene of dub-con toward the end (nothing graphic though)

Chapter word count: 6.2k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - The Chamber Carved So Curiously

Christabel woke with the feeling that she'd had a bad dream. She tried to remember what it had been about, and could only conjure up an image of cypress trees, hundreds and thousands of them, surrounding her, stretching as far as the eye could see, dark, twisted shapes looming out of the fog. There wasn't anything particularly disturbing about them, yet the memory of the dream lingered, weighing down her limbs, tightening her chest, and keeping her mind exhausted, although she discovered, by a grandfather clock in the front hall, that she'd slept for nearly twelve hours.

In the daylight, Creel House did not improve much. It was probably because daylight could not penetrate its depth. The gloom was worsened by all the dark Victorian furnishings that must have been fashionable when the house had been built—redwood paneling, mahogany furniture, wallpapers the color of raw liver, and blood-red carpets and curtains—which swallowed up any speck of light that was brave enough to come through the tall, narrow windows. If it wasn't for the candle and matches that Kas had considerately left for her the previous night, Christabel doubted she would have found her way downstairs at all. The darkness pressed down on her eyes, making her feel as though she was going blind, so after leaving her bedroom, she'd gone down the corridor and opened every curtain she could put her hands on. Outside, the fog had lifted, to be replaced by a slate-colored sky and drizzling rain, but even the watery light was preferable to the murkiness of the house.

And it was quiet too, oh so quiet. Her footsteps struck the thick carpet with no sound at all, and the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock only accentuated the stillness. The silence constricted Christabel's throat, and she didn't even dare call out for Henry or Kas, afraid of hearing only the echo of her own voice.

She paused at the stained glass window for a moment, comparing her pendant with the bigger rose. The light coming through the glass was stained red, falling across her hands like blood. She then made her way to the first floor and down the corridor leading to the back of the house. The first two doors she opened led into a drawing room and a study, both so dark that she could only glimpse heavy furniture and tall shelves lined with books. The third was the dining room. More dark wallpapers and furniture. She'd really have to talk to Henry about updating the decorations and bringing the house into the twentieth century.

Breakfast was being kept warm on the sideboard, though there was only one setting at the table. A note was tucked under the plate, along with a grocery list. Written in a strong, large hand, it read, "Mr. Creel has gone to town on business and asked that you have breakfast without him. If you want any changes to the grocery order, please let me know. Kas."

Giving the list a quick scan, Christabel was struck by how little she knew about housekeeping. She wasn't even sure what they needed on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps Kas would be kind enough to help her.

The stillness of the house seemed to have robbed her of an appetite, so she only spread a piece of toast with some marmalade and nibbled on it while continuing to roam the house. It wasn't as large or grand as her family townhouse in Manhattan. Christabel was glad of that though. She didn't think she could be mistress of a large house anyway. At least Kas seemed to have kept his words, for everything was dusted and polished. Christabel wondered if he'd cleaned all night.

She found two more rooms on the first floor—next to the dining room was the kitchen, which opened into what appeared to be a greenhouse, connected to the main house by a covered walkway, and a parlor, with a bay window looking out into the sea, though of course the view was obscured by thick curtains. It could be a nice place for her to retreat to with her books and her music, while Henry worked in the study next door, or they could share it on cozy evenings when there were no guests. She decided this would be the first room she'd work on.

The second floor contained only bedrooms, but they all appeared to be closed off, other than her own and one at the very end of the corridor, which was locked. It must be Henry's bedroom. Christabel tried not to feel hurt that it was locked. Henry probably locked it out of habit. There was a small door set into the wall just outside this room. Opening it, she discovered a cramped staircase leading up to the attic. She expected it to be dusty and cobwebbed, but it was as spotless as the rest of the house, perhaps even more—it was clearly kept in regular use. Curiosity getting the better of her, she retrieved her candle and went up the creaky steps.

The attic was vast, taking up the entire top floor of the house, stretching back so far into the darkness that the feeble flame of the candle could not illuminate its edges. Shelves and cabinets lined the wall. In the middle of the floor was a large table with a steel top, strewn with glass vials, test tubes, burners, and other scientific equipment whose purpose she did not understand. A desk stood next to this worktop, its pigeonholes filled with papers containing complicated equations and diagrams—Henry's notes on his studies and experiments, she supposed.

Christabel tried a window and discovered they were all nailed shut. She turned her attention to the shelves. Most of them were stacked full of books on every subject imaginable, others were full of bottles of chemicals, all neatly labeled in Henry's slanting hand. Then she came to the far end of the attic, and her steps faltered.

Glass cages were arranged along the wall on sturdy steel legs, their lids secured with padlocks. Most seemed empty, filled with nothing but sand, rocks, and dry twigs. Christabel leaned closer to one, the candle held high. Did she spy some movement amongst the rocks? A twitching black leg appeared, then two, then three, and Christabel recoiled in horror when what she had presumed to be a black rock broke apart into a mass of wriggling bodies. Spiders, hundreds of them, the smallest no bigger than a sesame seed, the biggest only the size of her fingernail, crawling all over the glass to get away from the light.

And then, stirred by the light or perhaps the movement of the spiders, the other cages came to life as well. More spiders, mostly the black kind, but also some brown, smooth like a pebble, or furry, some pale like the sand they were hiding in. And there were other things as well, coiling, slimy ropes that slithered and writhed with a whispery hiss, occasionally showing a forked tongue or a rattling tail. Snakes. The cages were full of spiders and snakes.

Christabel stepped away from them, forcing herself to go slowly. The glass was thick and the lids of the cages looked well-made, but somehow, she still believed that if she made a sudden move, those creatures would burst out of their cages and lunge at her...

Her back collided with something. She screamed.

"What are you doing here?" came Henry's stern voice.

Christabel's knees buckled with relief. She leaned against Henry for support, but he stepped away, causing her to stumble. "Careful," he said, and she noticed he was holding a large cardboard box, which rattled ominously. "I ask you: what are you doing here?" he repeated.

She didn't understand why he looked so displeased with her. "I was just—looking around. I know I should've waited for you to show me the house, but I got impatient." She tentatively touched his sleeve. "Was that wrong of me? I didn't mean to snoop."

Henry's eyes glinted in the murkiness. "No, not at all," he said, smiling. "And it's not snooping when it's your house, is it? Come, let me show you."

His smile eased the knot in her stomach. She waited while he lit a lamp over the worktable, turning the wick high so a pool of yellow light illuminated some of the further reaches of the attic. He then set the box down, and, taking her arm, he led her around, pointing out the different kinds of spiders and snakes, listing off their names, black widow, brown recluse, tarantula, viper, mamba, so quickly that Christabel couldn't remember them all.

"Beautiful creatures, are they not?" Henry said. "And so misunderstood too. Their venoms can cure as much as they kill, you know. After all, they're only doing what they must to survive."

He then proceeded to tell her about each of the creature's venom, how powerful it was, what it could do to a victim. Christabel tried to muster up some interest, but found herself unable to. Back in New York, when Henry told her about his studies while they sat in the sun, under the trees of Tuxedo Park, it had been fascinating, enthralling, a sharing of mutual interest. Now, in this darkened attic, surrounded by all those creepy crawlies, the light in Henry's eyes appeared almost feverish, and he droned on and on without paying any attention to her.

"Take the black widow spider," he said, stopping in front of the cage with the black-and-red creatures she'd first noticed. "A single bite is just like a pinprick, you'd hardly even feel it. But just a few minutes, and a numbing pain will spread from the bite, paralyzing you, making it difficult to breathe. In severe cases, it can lead to seizure... and death."

Then, to her horror, he opened the lid and, still holding her arm with one hand, dipped his other hand into the cage, right in the midst of those wriggly bodies and legs.

"Should you—should you be doing that?" Christabel asked shakily.

"Don't worry, darling, they only bite when threatened," Henry said, lifting his hand out. A spider clung to his finger like a drop of blood. "Besides, they never bite me. They know I'm their master." He turned his hand, letting the spider scurry along his fingers. As it moved, Christabel could glimpse a red mark in the shape of an hourglass on its belly, and was suddenly reminded of Henry's costume at the Carvers' All Hallows Eve ball. He extended his palm out to her. "Would you like to say hello?"

Christabel shrank back, shaking her head. She could not understand the hungry look in Henry's eyes.

"No? Well, maybe this would be more to your taste then." He returned the spider to its cage and opened the cardboard box he had brought, which was shaking and squeaking. Christabel soon discovered what was making all those movements and noises—Henry pulled a white mouse out of the box, dangling it by its hairless pink tail. Ignoring the poor creature's writhing and squirming, he lifted the lid of another cage, this one containing a single, fat cobra, almost as big as Henry's forearm.

Paralyzed with fear and revulsion, Christabel could only watch as Henry lowered the mouse into the cage. The cobra raised its hooded head and appeared to be sniffing the air. The mouse, too, seemed to have sensed the predator, for it screeched and thrashed even more violently, in a vain attempt to escape.

"Henry, please—" Christabel begged. Her voice sounded thin, like that of a scared child.

"Shh. Watch."

The cobra fixed its baneful yellow eyes on the mouse. In a blur of movement, it struck. The mouse's screech was cut off abruptly, and the cobra settled back down, its head bulged, the mouse's limp tail disappearing into its mouth like a pink ribbon.

Christabel could take no more. She wrenched her arm out of Henry's hand and ran blindly out of the attic, down the small staircase, and straight into someone.

"Mrs. Creel? What's happened?"

It was Kas, except she couldn't really see him, could only feel his hands on her arms, because all the curtains were closed again, and the corridor was once more plunged into darkness. It was like escaping from being buried alive in a coffin only to find oneself locked in the crypt. Now she knew how poor Madeline Usher must have felt.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, lashing out wildly at Kas, feeling much like the doomed mouse as it was being lowered into the cobra's gaping jaw.

His hands loosened instantly. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Christabel stepped back, trying to catch her breath. Her fear was gone, replaced by embarrassment for having run away and screaming like a child, and that embarrassment turned into irritation.

"Why are the curtains closed?" she snapped. "From now on, I want them open, day and night, do you hear me?"

She stalked into her room and slammed the door behind her. Throwing her windows wide open, she leaned against the windowsill, breathing in the fresh air and daylight until they calmed her.

The door opened with a creak. Christabel whirled around. Henry strolled in, looking as calm as ever.

"What's this?" he said. "You're not crying over some silly mice, are you?"

"No—no—"

"Good, because you know I can't stand tears." He approached her and grabbed her chin, tilting her face up into the light. "And there is nothing to be afraid of. That's just how they feed, the snakes. If the prey is not alive, they will be bored and not eat. It's completely natural."

Christabel nodded slowly. Once, during a trip to the Catskills, she'd seen a hawk snatch a rabbit from the meadow. It hadn't been upsetting one bit. Perhaps she had let the dark and stifling air of the house get to her...

"But must you keep them in the house?" she asked. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Most of them like dark and dry places, and it's too damp to keep them on the ground floor. Don't worry, the containers are perfectly secure." His face turned serious. "Still, I would prefer it if you don't wander about the house by yourself. And stop bothering Kas about the curtains. You'll just have to get used to the darkness."

Feeling irritated again, she jerked away from his grasp.

"Why do you employ him?" she asked. "He told me about his condition. It's positively ghoulish." She knew she was being unfair to Kas, but how fair was it when Henry expected her, the mistress of the house, to accommodate the servant? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Henry shrugged. "He has his use. And let's face it, if I didn't employ him, no one would take him on, not with that—condition of his."

Christabel's irritation subsided. Well, if her husband employed Kas as an act of philanthropy, then she shouldn't be too harsh on either of them.

"All right, Henry," she said, leaning on his chest. "I promise I won't go into the attic on my own again, and I'll let Kas keep his curtains."

She nuzzled his neck, hoping for a return kiss, something comforting and reassuring to calm her down after the scare she'd just had. But Henry pushed her away—quite literally, like one pushing away an unwanted dish at the dinner table—and, with a brief "Good", went out again.

After lunch, Christabel found Kas in the kitchen. He stood up upon her entering and moved uncertainly toward the windows.

"Shall I open the shutters, Mrs. Creel?" he asked. The house seemed to have some effect on him as well, for he seemed paler, more subdued and diffident, quite unlike how he had been on the train. 

"No, it's quite all right." She held out the shopping list. "I only want to give you this. I've looked it over and added a few orders of my own." As he took the list, she continued, a little stiffly, "And you can keep the curtains closed. No need to change how you've always done things on my account."

"It's all right, ma'am, I'll manage." There was a slight pause, as though he was weighing his words, deciding whether to say them at all. "And I apologize for earlier. This house can be a difficult place to live in at times. I'm sorry if I've made it worse for you."

In response, Christabel only gave him a curt nod, not wanting to show how much his simple words meant to her, much more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

***

It took several days for Christabel to get used to Creel House and its closed, oppressive air. It no longer frightened her as it had on her first day, but she was certain she would never fall in love with it.

Kas kept his word and kept the curtains open for her, having devised some sort of pulley system that allowed him to control them from the door, so he could close them when he needed to walk through the house and open them again behind him. The daylight helped tremendously, though it showed that the house was even more neglected than she'd realized. The furniture was scratched and chipped from careless handling, the carpets and curtains were fraying, and the wallpapers were peeling in places, including a strip in the corner of her room. She was determined to talk to Henry about refurnishing the house soon, and told Kas to order some catalogues and samples from the best furniture makers and upholsterers in town, in preparation.

For some reasons, she felt hesitant to talk to Henry about such things. For a start, she didn't want to throw her weight about too much too early in their marriage, as she kept having a vague but nagging sense that Henry resented her presence. She thought she could understand it, having heard about it enough from her married friends in New York. No matter how in love a man was, a part of him always regretted marriage, always yearned for the freedom of bachelorhood. She should give him time to get used to being married.

But the other reason was that they hardly had any moment alone together. Every morning, Christabel woke up alone and breakfasted alone. Henry was away most days, taking the car with him, and when he was home, he locked himself in the attic with his monstrous creatures, sometimes even forgetting to join her for dinner. He brought back more boxes, boxes that rattled and growled and scratched and skittered, and Christabel remembered the little white mouse and stayed away. But at night, she lay alone for hours, hoping to hear him turn the handle to her door, but he never did. She was tempted to come to him herself, but shyness held her back. She'd already eloped with him, what kind of lady would he think she was if she came knocking on his bedroom door at night as well?

Fortunately for Christabel, diversion soon arrived in the form of her old things from New York. She'd fully expected her mother to have thrown away all of them or perhaps burned them in a fit of rage, so it was a pleasant surprise to come downstairs one morning and find several crates in the hallway, filled with clothes and books and even trinkets from her room. There was no letter from her mother, not even a note, but that didn't disappoint Christabel. If anything, she was relieved.

She spent several happy days unpacking the crates and putting things up in her room, finding comfort in their familiarity. Then she discovered a curious thing, or rather, two curious things.

She was putting her underthings into the bureau when she found something in its bottom drawer—a little cigar box made out of flimsy plywood, all warped and faded with age. The box contained a pair of scratched spectacles and a cheap pocket watch, long dead.

Christabel wouldn't think it strange to find some forgotten belongings here and there in the house, but these two things had clearly been kept together and hidden away, mementos of sorts. Even more curiously, upon closer inspection, she realized that the spectacles were not randomly scratched. Someone had made an attempt to carve two letters onto one of the lenses—F.B. Somebody's initials? The inside of the watch's lid had been scratched too, with different letters—P.M. The spectacles and the watch must have belonged to two different people. So why keep them together?

There was something vaguely familiar about those scratch marks, though she couldn't remember where she'd seen the handwriting before. More than that, they were disturbing, desperate. Whoever made them had clearly been anxious to leave behind some reminders of these people, whoever they were. It seemed to Christabel that those marks were made not only on the surface of the glass and the brass of the watch, but on the barrier of time as well, and at any moment, the owners of these mementos would be able to scratch down that barrier altogether and reach her from the past. The thought made her shiver, and she tossed the spectacles and the watch back into their box, and shoved the box into one of the empty crates to be disposed of. She did not want them around her.

One day, the drizzling rain stopped long enough for the sun to come out and clear the fog. Henry was out again and Kas was shut up in the lighthouse, but Christabel took full advantage of the nice weather by taking a long walk around the island, something she hadn't been able to do since her arrival. She went straight to the grove of cypress trees first, trying to look at them from the same angle from her window, searching for any sign, any irregular shape or formation on their bark that may suggest the figures she'd seen on her first night. There was nothing of the sort. The trees stood still and silent, casting a thick shadow even under the full sun. The memory of those silent trees in her dream came back like a cold finger down her spine. Christabel wrapped her cloak closer to her body and went down the drive, onto the path toward the shore, which had emerged from the low tides.

A soft jingling caught her attention, and she spied a horse-drawn wagon, bright red against the sand dunes, with Melvald's General Store painted in curly gold lettering on its side, rolling down the shore toward Creel House. This must be the weekly grocery delivery. She quickened her pace to catch up with it. The wagon drew up to the shore at the same time she did. The driver, a woman of late middle age, jumped down from her seat at the sight of Christabel.

"Afternoon, ma'am," she said. "You'd be the new Mrs. Creel, I bet."

Her phrasing puzzled Christabel for it indicated that there was an old Mrs. Creel, but she decided the woman must have meant Henry's mother, or perhaps simply that she was a newcomer of Creel House.

"I am," she replied.

"Joyce Byers, at your service," the woman said, taking off her bonnet, revealing a face that must have been pretty once, and was still handsome how, framed by two wings of dark hair shot with silver. "I have your order here."

She opened the back of the wagon and began unloading crates and boxes with an agility that belied her small stature. Christabel lingered about, not wanting to leave the first sign of outside life she'd seen in a week.

"Do you just leave them here, Mrs. Byers?" she asked.

"Please, call me Joyce. Yes, and I'll ring the bell here so young Kas knows to pick them up." Joyce indicated a bell tied to a hook planted at the start of the path, which Christabel hadn't seen on the night they drove up.

"Why don't you bring them to the door? Aren't you afraid they're going to get stolen?"

The older woman regarded Christabel for a moment or two. "Mr. Creel doesn't like people coming to the house," she said. "Besides, it's high tides half of the time. This is more convenient. We never got any complaints about stolen goods. Nobody ever comes out here anyway."

"Have you been delivering to Creel House for long?"

"Nearly thirty years now, even before it was Creel House."

"All alone?" Christabel exclaimed.

Joyce chuckled. "Like I said, nobody comes out here. When I first started working at Melvald's, there was just the lighthouse, kept by old Mr. McKinney."

"Really?" Christabel asked with interest. "Did he leave when the lighthouse was decommissioned?" Henry had told her that after new lighthouses were constructed on the Golden Gate Strait, many lighthouses along the bay were decommissioned, and his father had brought up the land to build Creel House.

Joyce's face turned somber. "No, the lighthouse was decommissioned because he left. After his son, Patrick, died, old Mr. McKinney drowned his sorrow in the bottle. The lighthouse fell into disrepair. After that one ship sank with all aboard, Mr. McKinney was removed from his post as the keeper, and the lighthouse was retired." She glanced at the top of the lighthouse, just visible behind the cypresses. "I'm surprised Mr. Creel kept the old thing when he had the house built."

"I think it adds character to the place," Christabel said, a touch offended.

"Character, yes. Except"—the older woman became hesitant, furtive—"well, I suppose it's not my place to say it."

"What?"

"Nothing, ma'am, it's probably just a silly rumor." She closed up the back of the wagon and attempted to climb back on the seat, but Christabel held her back.

"No, please. Tell me."

Joyce looked at her with pity and heaved a sigh. "People say that young Patrick McKinney died from falling off that lighthouse."

Christabel dropped her hand in shock, not just from the gruesome fate of Mr. McKinney's son, but from his very name as well. Patrick McKinney. P.M. Could the pocket watch have belonged to him? Perhaps the lighthouse keeper, in his grief, had scratched his son's name into the watch as a remembrance... But then who was F.B.?

***

Christabel was curled up on the window seat in the parlor, trying to distract herself with the furniture catalogues and samples of fabrics and wallpapers that had arrived with the groceries that afternoon, when she heard the car coming up the driveway. She expected Henry to go straight up to the attic as usual, and was surprised when he came into the parlor, looking rather displeased.

"What's all this?" he asked, eyeing the samples Christabel had spread on the seat around her.

"Oh, I was just—I've been meaning to discuss this with you, actually," Christabel said, relieved that she'd finally had an opportunity to broach the matter. "What do you think about updating the furnishings of the house a bit?"

"What's wrong with the furnishings?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Except—it's all rather dark and gloomy. I was thinking we could lighten it up a bit. Besides, these curtains and carpets and cushions could do with replacements..." She trailed off, for Henry was still scowling at the samples.

"And who's going to pay for all these 'replacements'?" he asked, finally looking at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I just received a telegram from your bank manager today, telling me I do not have access to your account. I even produced our marriage certificate, but the manager claimed that the account was under your sole name and thus could only be accessed with your permission." She had the feeling this was what he'd come in to talk to her about and was just searching for an excuse to bring it up.

"Yes, that is a stipulation in my father's will to make sure my mother couldn't touch it," she explained.

"But what if something... happens to you?"

Christabel tried not to dwell on the fact that Henry was contemplating her death barely a month into their marriage. "In that case, the money will go to my children. If I have none, it will go back to my mother if she is still alive, or to some distant cousin if she isn't."

"Not to your husband? That's preposterous!"

"You're going to have to take it up with my father, I'm afraid," she said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's a damn nuisance, that's what it is."

Henry's growing irritation was leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "What's wrong?" she asked, trying to stay patient.

"What's yours is mine, by law. Yet if I need money, I have to come to you hat in hand like some beggar?"

"Married women are allowed to have their own assets, you know," Christabel said evenly. "Have been for nearly sixty years now."

"But I am your husband!" Henry shouted. "It is my right!"

"Your right?!" Christabel jumped up from the window seat, scattering fabric and wallpaper samples all over the floor. "What about your duties? Day after day you leave me in this Godforsaken house, you barely even look at me or speak to me, let alone spend time with me. What kind of marriage do you call this? Perhaps I should annul it on the grounds of non-consummation!" It was a bluff, but Henry's demand to own her money angered her so much that she wanted to get back at him.

For a moment, she thought Henry was going to hit her. But he only ground his teeth so hard she could see the veins popping on his temples, and he bit out, "Pay for your own damn furnishings then!" before storming out of the room. The slam of the attic door came a moment later, hurting her more than any physical blow he could have inflicted.

The parlor door cracked open, and Kas's worried face poked in. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Creel? I heard shouting—"

"Oh, leave me alone! Must you always be underfoot?" She tossed the samples and the catalogues into the wastepaper basket and swept out, not stopping to see the hurt look in Kas's dark eyes.

Back in her room, Christabel got undressed, violently yanking off buttons and tapes, heedless of the tearing sound they made, pulling pins out of her hair, throwing them willy-nilly on her dressing table, all the while trying to fight the hot tears that were choking her throat from rising to her eyes.

So Henry was no different from all the others. He was after her money, had been all along. That would explain his coldness on the train, his neglect since they came to San Francisco. All his sweet talk had been just that—talk. How stupid had she been to not see it? And now it was too late...

A knock on her door jolted her out of her gloomy thoughts. She was startled to hear Henry's voice on the other side, all gentle and sweet, "Darling? May I come in, please?"

Christabel debated telling him to go away. But what would she accomplish by drawing out the tension? After all, they were married, and she was stuck with him for the rest of her life. Best to learn to live with him. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Many married women happily handed their money over to their husbands and they were none the worse for it.

Still, she kept a cold countenance as she opened the door for him. Henry stepped in, taking both of her hands in his. "Listen, darling, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," he said. "It's only that—when I learned about the bank account, I felt like you didn't trust me, and it hurt." He lifted her hands to his lips in a rather charming gesture of contrition.

"You should've told me that you wanted access to my account," Christabel said, determined not to let him off that easily. "I could've written a letter of authorization for you."

"No, no, it's all right. There's no need for that. It's your money, you should control it. In fact, you should transfer it to a bank here in San Francisco. That would be safer than to rely on a distant New York branch."

She was taken aback by his quick acceptance. Had she been too hasty in condemning him?

"All right, I'll consider it," she said uncertainly.

"As for your accusations," Henry went on, "I have no excuse. I have not fulfilled my husbandly duties. But I'm willing to rectify it right now."

Without waiting for her answer, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was the same way he'd kissed her right before he proposed to her, but somehow, this time, Christabel wasn't swept away by it as she had, or, rather, it now overwhelmed her in an unpleasant way. All she was aware of was how tightly he was holding her, making her corset dig uncomfortably into her hips, how forceful his mouth was, how probing his hands were. Then she felt those hands tear at her back and heard her corset strings snap.

"Damnable thing," Henry mumbled, throwing the torn corset to the floor. "Stop wearing it."

He then pushed her toward the bed, until her knees hit the edge of the mattress and she had no other choice but to collapse on her back, with Henry's weight bearing down on her. He pulled at her clothes and his own, and now his hands were roaming all over her body, his breath quickening. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, trying to remind herself that this was what she wanted. Unbidden, the memory of the hare came into her mind, and she remembered how these hands, the very hands that were groping and squeezing her, were the same hands that had snuffed out the life of that creature, the same hands that had lowered the mouse into the cobra's mouth. Sudden, irrational fear blossomed in her stomach. She struggled against Henry, but he was pinning her down with one hand between her legs and the other in her hair, and she couldn't move.

"Please, Henry..." she whispered, but either he didn't hear her or refused to answer, for the pressure of his hands on her didn't let up.

He thrust into her without warning. A sharp cry of pain was wrung from her lips, only to be drowned out by a burst of the foghorns on the bay. The pain, mercifully, was short-lived, and as it dulled, her cries turned into whimpers, while the horns droned on and on outside her window.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Henry sat up and fixed his clothes.

"There," he gasped. "Let's have no more talk of annulment now, shall we?"

He left the room without a backward glance.

It was some time before Christabel came out of her daze. Slowly, she pulled down her nightgown and sat up. So that was that. The wedding night she'd dreamed of. What a joke, a mockery of love. The pain wasn't even the worst part of it—that she'd known to expect, and it wasn't intolerable. No, the worst, most disturbing part of all was the sense that Henry had no thought for her. To him, she had no more identity than the hare or the mouse, and he'd consummated their marriage only to bind her to him, not out of any desire for her, or even for pleasure.

A chilly breeze came in through the window. The peeling wallpaper flapped, its scratching noise grated at her nerves, taunting her. Unable to endure it any longer, she jumped up from the bed, ran to the corner of the room, and savagely tore the wallpaper off in a long, ragged strip. Clutching it in her hand, she slumped to the floor, the tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed finally flowing.

After a long while, Christabel picked herself up and returned to bed. That was when her eyes caught something on the wall that sent a jolt of fear through her and dried her tears immediately. Picking up the candle, she came up to the wall for a closer look. A section of old plaster was exposed behind the torn-off wallpaper, and carved into it, in the same desperate hand, were the initials "M.M."

[upn-the-sky]

Give me God of War!! (Ares OOAK, Part 2)

Just a reminder that there was Part 1 of this madness.

OKAY

I wanted to wait until I finish sword and spider legs before making a post, but there are three days after finishing the whole armor and I can't wait, I am screaming about Ares's supremacy.

Now I can say, it was hard. And the most hard thing was finding a balance. There are differences between Ares's 3D models from the different years, even in color palette. And I wanted to be as much close to the first game design as it possible. Some features were fully recreated from GOW1, some others I found more good at latest model from GOW3 and reworked them according to it. So at the end we have a good symbiosis I think.

Now let's a take a bow and look a bit closer at the mess under the cut.

Preparatory process

Until eyes are frightened, you can't do anything. To be honest I had no idea from where to start, the plan sounded like a "How to draw an owl" tutorial. Complexity of his armor scared me as hell, and after spending some time with drawings, where I tried to figure out a hook and loop system, which should attach parts to each other, I gave up and started to make his scaly iron belt, it felt more easier. YEAH.

Iron belt

You can see it at the screenshot. Well, one of the versions. Seems, it has no purpose beside decorative, I mean, maybe it can protect the groin, but eh, not really, honestly. At GOW3 model of dead Ares it became more detailed with round flower-like pendants and a little green jewel drops, but also it became golden as all metallic elements. I decided to make everything silver, but anyway, belt is very beautiful and I headcanon it is the same belt, which Ares gifted to his daughter Hippolyte in the past.

I weaponised myself with the smallest crochet hook and red thread and started to knit. WHY KNIT YOU ASK?? I don't know, it is easier for me than sewing all these scales %) Maybe they represents some fishy motives? (His connection with Aphrodite). Or serpent? (One of Ares's children, who was killed by Kadmus). Maybe green jewels is a hint to his mother Hera, because she loves emeralds. Who knows.

Scales, flowers, suns, glass drops.. If I were Ares, I'd present it to my beloved warrior daughter too.

Pteruges

As an example of the true manliness, Ares wears a skirt of course. He is not a barbarian, who hides his beautiful freckled thighs in the pants! How dare we to judge..

The easy part was to make a leather stripes and pierce them with the rivets (little nails, which I cut after this to left a head only). The hard part (which I had a chance to feel over and over again) was to figure out how to attach it to the body and hide all of the fasteners, and how to let stripes flow on his thighs and how the hell it should cover his.. godlike butt, I can't believe I wrote this.. %)

ANYWAY, A MONTH LATER I decided to make it a single piece with the iron belt, by creating a two-part wide leather base, attach knitted waistband to it, then join the each stripe to the separate piece of cloth to make them movable, then attach this cloth to the leather and sew some hooks. Aaaand the final result!

Cuirasse

I just say I literally hanged up myself with it. Here will be ranting...

Let's just think that it is not enough just to recreate appearence. In making 3D you can ignore some aspects like hidden straps and strings, which keeps armor conjoint on the human body. But how to make it wearable to the doll body, which is not soft and has a stable reliefs? How to make armor firm and shaped, but not completely firm, so it can be taken off from the body? Yes, my wish from the beginning was to make whole armor with a possibility to take it off and send nudes dress Ares in different outfit, which i will also make someday. How to make it light, so the doll can stand by itself? How to make it textured, to make it looks rough, to imitate metal or at least used condition? How to make metal parts without using a metal?

OKAY, WE NEED TO BE CANON - I thought and it was a day I decided to not invent armor, but use an experience of the hellenic people, who was smarter than me, I guesse. Because long time ago these people invented Linothorax - composite armor made of laminated linen fabric. ____

First of all, I splited Ares's cuirass to the segments: chest+collar segment, belly segment, spine segment, which emphasizes Ares's love to hunching over a little, and a waist-and-lower segment. Plus cuirasse has chained shoulder straps and side straps.

Well, when you have all elements, it is easier to imagine a complete piece. After that you just buy fabric, glue, chains, 27 hours for your day, new eyes, paint and other stuff. You wrap the body with the film and tape to protect it and start to glue. And here it is time for me to shut up, I know, you are here to watch a process, not to read an essay. I started from the front pieces of course. You imagine a pattern, you cut it, you glue it to hold the natural body forms as close as possible. Collar was formed right here. Gladly we can remove Ares's head when we want to do it...

Waist piece (eheh, spider butt (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and first attempt to assemble the cuirasse. Here I literally lost my last brain cells and bravery, stopped the process and didn't make straps until the last week.

Anyway A MONTH LATER!!11 after the first assemble I started to sculp a relief of the reinforced chest and the metallic collar. Also we can check how's our decapitated dogs doing. Here you can see a belly piece of the cuirasse, which needed it's own dog decor. I was that meme boy with a knife, yeah..

Seemed they doing great! I felt that and decided to finish arm armor. Shoulder pads and bracers Thankfully making them requires the same process: cut a pattern, glue it, repeat for each arm. Here is close ups of the leather "feathers" pierced by rievets, chained bracers (I am very proud that I recreated it fully like at the Ares model. Bracers has no other strings and stays at arm only because of the chains) and shoulder pads as a base and as a complete, fully Cerbered piece. Actually this part wasn't really difficult, I've just delayed the inevitable.

Boots The first GOW novel says he weared sandals!!! Bloodstained SANDALS! But this novel was written much later, so we are making rocker boots. ᕕ(シ)ᕗ HEY!, we are laughing here, but Ares is smart, Ares don't want to break his toes by kicking someone's helmet! Maybe after having some experience %)))

Well, as I said in my previous posts, his boots was the most agressive part his armor. Heel and shoes toes should be firm, but sole should stay soft. Also the whole construction of the boots should looks monolite with the greavers which cover up the layers of the material above the ankles. Don't forget about the chains and double emotional damage, because there is two legs!

A little more damage as a person you receive, when you understand that you need to process each edge of each piece, because all armor pieces has visible layers. And only after that you can paint everything, draw Ares's assymetrical ornaments and dress him up.

That's how we reach the end. Here he is. O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men. Kratos's yes-homo partner and his personal most vieceful enemy.

Ares! God of war!

Thank you everyone for your patience while reading this duvet cover. See ya in Part 3, Skeletor will return soon with a sword, spider legs and normal photos. And stay tuned, I will post some portraits next time!

[gctchell]

@arachnaemboss asked:

they're at an overlord meeting. probably. and his neck is itchy, so naturally, a long claw hooks at the rim of his turtleneck out of instinct, tugging at it slightly and exposing a bit of his neck.

Someone else is having their time on the floor, prattling off into subjects that were only just barely related to the meeting at hand and going into full detail so long as they remains unobstructed, which they would for the moment - seeing as Carmine had suddenly found her attention completely captivated.

The light of Pride glowed through the floor length windows and bathed upon the clad black attire, creeping over the glowing green pendant attached finely to Zestial .. and casting the crook of his neck into illumination. It was only a peek of skin that got its own personal evening spotlight, and it was enough to dry up any word well Carmilla might have spilled in protest to rambler.

Merced *, her mind whispers as hell is unleashed inside, a sudden bit of unintended chaos by the Spider. The inside is roaring and hammering like the hooves of horses running at full gallop, and the outside is starkly quiet and observing, wrapped beneath a hooded observation with sharp whites hooked into that little inch of skin wrapped in a protective, guarding turtle neck. She doesn't even realize her gaze is holding as long as it is, tea cup paused at the lower lip.. she only becomes aware of it when lime lights meet hers and she's too slow to avoid being caught.

Her head snaps to center, ogling ended with darting eyes akin to the frantic energy of a spooked butterfly, tea set down back in the saucer as she clears her throat. "For the sake of everyone, I suggest you return to your point." She speaks, steeled up and refining her nerves, and successfully halting the prattler. "The hour's growing late and we ought to have all of our points made in the neck- nick of time."

Dammit.

Dammit.

Mercy.

[vintagelite-uk]

[trills-n-clicks]

Captain Trilps "Spider" Locket

Mainly going by Spider, but Trilps by close friends in private, she's the captain of TF Arach.

NONE OF THIS INFORMATION IS OF ACTUAL PEOPLE, SOME DETAILS ARE TAKEN FROM MYSELF BUT IT IS NOT BASED ON ME!!!

TF Arach Masterlist

DOB: August 27th, 1987. [36 years old]

Relationships: ↓

Livia Locket- Wife <alive> {Took Trilps last name}

Dorothy Locket- Mother <dead>

Anderson Millard- Father <dead>

/////// ///////- Uncle (Fathers side) <alive> {he's bed ridden :'(}

//////// Locket- Nephew (Mother's side) <alive>

Alice /////////- Niece (Fathers side) <alive>

Renee Locket-Millard- Brother <alive>

Sally Millard- Sister <alive>

Molly ////////- Goddaughter <dead>

Physical details: ↓

Head: Dark brown, collarbone height, kinda wavy (1C-2A) hair(she tucks he bangs behind her ears, otherwise they would be flat bangs hanging low). Dark indigo downturned and close-set eyes. Bulbous nose with a slight upturn. She has a heavy lower lip and a rounded square face shape.

Body: Mesomorphic, Apple shape. Large hips smaller bust, kinda like a Mama bod, my queen 🥺

Marks (scars, birthmarks, tattoos, missing limbs, etc.): Her left leg has a sleeve tattoo from half up thigh to ankle, designs are about flowers, chains, ice(trauma~~) and some little hints of hospital equipment used in a virus ward(gloves, goggles, hazard stuff etc.). She has no birthmark. She's got some scarring from cuts on her forearms and calves from interrogations and torture, Hypothermia scarring across her shoulder blades, down her back and bit and up her nape from her childhood(her mother was a bitch). A scar across her nose from a narrowly missed bullet. And a dot on her lower forehead(Taken from Chim in the LA 911 tv show) from a building collapse. Her only missing limb is a chunk of her right ear from bomb shrapnel. She has dimple piercings and a belly button ring.

Other (height & weight stuff, skintone, nationality, etc.): Her skintone is white with a slight tan, freckles and moles scattered about. She's Australian and has a strong origin in America, CA. He parents were from there and moved before she was conceived, so she was growing up in Australia. She is 6'1" (1.84m) and weighs 198lbs (89.8 kg). The only way I can describe her clothing style is simply grandma core, ugly sweaters, gardening cargo pants, and she loves her wood pendant jewelry. Keeps one on the chain with her dog tags.

Personality details: ↓

She's an open pansexual but is not on the ace or around spectrum. She is a cis woman, but struggles with gender dysphoria sometimes. She finds light purples like lavender quite pretty but will not admit that if there's a pretty red dress, she will try it on. Outside people describe her as passive aggressive, fast paced in both mind and body, and sweet. People she knows well however, describe her as snarky, a great topic changer, and loving. She is an ambivert, meaning basically that she needs interaction to function but needs isolation as well or else she begins disassociating and that never turns out well (haha trauma :') ). She's a bit of a picky eater and tends to herd towards fruity things like pies or fruit salad (her favorite food). She does have mental disorders, including PTSD and post-stockholm(?) basically she used to have Stockholm Syndrome but was saved and recovered (kinda).

And Military info!: ↓

She joined in 2005 at 18 years old, and was transferred to be in the SNS 5 years after joining. She has skills in Covert ops, Undercover missions, Hand to hand and knife combat, handgun techniques, and hostage rescue. But she has difficulties in longer range combat like sniper techniques, along with being a hostage, and trying to resist brainwashing if her captors know the techniques to use.

Basic picture using gacha (I use it to visualize what they will look like with color)

And I will insert a photo I drew below (it will not have color)

This is her second design as the first was not accurate to the way I saw her

I'm sorry if it's too long, read if you want but you really don't have to, she will be basically described in the fic.

[godkilller]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁    𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 :

COLOR.       ——     red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, black, white, teal, silver, gold, grey, lilac, metallic, matte, royal blue, strawberry red, charcoal grey, forest green, apple red, navy blue, crimson, cream, mint green, magenta, pastels, bubblegum pink, blood red, ivory.

ELEMENTAL.      ——        fire. ice. water. air. earth.  rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY.       ——       claws. long fingers. fangs. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape-shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY.        ——       fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. venom. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katana. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles.

MATERIAL.        ——        gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE.       ——       grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS.       ——       lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. misc. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. pigeons. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK.      ——      sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. pomegranate. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES.       ——        music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self - defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. fiddle . cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE.       ——       lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. legging. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar. no makeup.

MISC.       ——        balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. ripe. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirror. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. laughter. screams. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. stories. drugs. kindness. love.

tagged by: i stole it tagging: @dokuhai, @keikakudori, @owabisuru, @madestars, and you!

[the-mighty-dalob]

As a preparation for the Ball she got together with her Girlfriend to make her an outfit consisting of a Dress, a pair of boots and some Jewelry.

The Dress is made of fine Spider silk, durable yet light with a shine to it. It's build is asymmetric with a single short sleeve covering her Right leaving her collar and the other side exposed.

Further down the Dress hugs her figure terminating on her Thigh on the right while it extends to the Knee on the Left.

Its colored in fiery shades in a Gradient from a dark Brown at the bottom over to a strong Orange, which seamlessly bleeds into a Reddish yellow finalizing in a nearly shining Yellow at the sleeve going over the Right shoulder.

The Fiery aesthetics are augmented by being covered in a fine layer of Flames which seem to not burn her at all.

Her ankle high Boots are Finely plated with some form of Reddish Brown metal resembling Mountains and have a small wedge heel at the back.

For the accessories she's wearing a Golden Necklace with a sun shaped Pendant whose center Piece is a single Red Gem.

Her reddish brown hair Extends to her Shoulders and seems to be covered in a thin layer of fog, it is crowned by a golden Circlet with cloud motives.

Furthermore a set of Lightning shaped golden bracelets surrounded by actual lightning can be spotted at her wrists. The Final and last piece is a small Purse made from shining Red Dragon-Scales hanging on her right.

[soralinklokidottirofmirkwood]

Clone of Mischief: Spider Trio x Loki Clone child reader part 2.

The spider trio realest the clone and found out her name.

The spider trio began fighting the agents and scientists, they managed to knock a few out but cocooned most of them "now to get this kid out of here" Spider-Man said pushing a big red button that said "open chamber." as he pressed it the liquid ran down a drain and they saw the kid more clearly she had S/C skin, Black fading to silver and pastel green hair in a braid, she had on a green T-shirt, black leggings, barefooted, and she was connected to lots of wires with an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth "she's so tiny and fragile." Silk said in sympathy "guys I found her files" Scarlett spider said "Scar, how do you know if those are hers?" Spider-Man asked until Scarlett spider pointed at a name label on the glass chamber saying "experiment Y/N." Silk read out loud "how did I not noticed that?" Spider-Man asked himself as he made his way to the girl now known as Y/N.

She slowly began opening her eyes, The trio was amazed with them one eye was green with a silver outline the other was silver with a green outline but the cool part was her pupils instead of them being rounded they were star shaped, she had a look of curiosity in her mix match eyes then she spoked "hello?" The trio smiled and replied "hello." the three decided to take their mask off but before doing so they webbed the cameras and knocked out guards for safety measures then they took off their mask "I'm Peter and this is MJ and Ned, what's your name?" The girl smiled the most adorable smile they've ever seen and said "Y/N." she got up and they see her run to a metal door with an outside lock, she unlocked the door and they followed her in to see a small room with only a bed with white sheets and a green stuffed bunny on it, a bookcase with books, novels, and manga and a single nightstand with a lab top on top of it.

They see her come out of a changing curtain wearing an oversized pastel green, black, and silver hoodie, a matching horned beanie with Xoxo stitched into it, pastel green and black striped stockings and silver sneakers, she took out four backpacks a legend of Zelda bag, a kingdom hearts bag, a Star Wars bag, and a lord of the rings bag, they packed up her books, novels, manga, her few T-shirts, shorts, socks, jeans, and lab-top with the charger she then grabbed her stuffed bunny and a star shaped pendant with an emerald on it, Peter picked Y/N up (surprised by how light she is) with one of her bags strapped to his shoulder, MJ grabbed another bag, and Ned grabbed the last two then they swung out of their.

When they finally got to their apartment (yes MJ and Ned now live with Peter and May) Aunt May was already there "ahh hey guys how was patrol and who is this little cutie?" She asked "h...hello I'm Y/N" she said shy "you guys must be hungry I brought pizza, I didn't feel like cooking, but before we eat I wanna have a talk with you three, Y/N sweetie you can wash up in the bathroom ok."" the child nodded "explain!" May said crossing her arms the trio took a deep breath and prepared for a lecture Peter went first  "we saw a HYDRA van drive around here.", then Ned went "we followed it to the sewers." then MJ "then we found an underground laboratory in the abandoned underground subway" then all of them "we found her in the lab took out the people and saved her." then all of them said more like screamed "PLEASE DON'T TELL MR STARKS OR THE OTHER AVENGERS." May was surprisingly calm "all right I won't tell but please be carful next time what you three did was dangerous, reckless, and stupid, but I'm proud of you for saving an experiment that could be helpful." May said smiling "but please wash up before eating." the three thanked her "we'd give you a hug but." Peter didn't get to finish as May pushed them to the bathroom "and one of you give Y/N a bath".

After the bath all of them changed into PJ's.

Peter wore Star Wars pj bottoms and a cheesy math pun T-shirt, Ned wore Darth Vader cosplay pjs, MJ wore grey sweatpants and a black T-Shirt, Y/N wore Peter's old Green basketball shorts and his old Star Wars T-shirt that May accidentally shrunk and forgot to throw away, but what worried May was the bandaging she saw on the kids wrist and ankles, May wore one of uncle Ben's T-shirts and black leggings, they ate a good dinner of pizza and watched "the Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug", (my favorite chapter in the Hobbit Saga) "This is so badass." Peter said amazed "I can't believe we've been missing out on this." Ned said in awe "great movie choice kiddo." MJ praised ruffling Y/N's head after the movie everyone went to bed.

[ciaossu-imagines]

So, for the aesthetics day of the event, I used one of the prompts for Riku from Eyeshield 21! I hope you all enjoy :)

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal.silver.gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold.steam. frost. lightning. sunlight.moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck.shoulders. legs. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison.guns.axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies.sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool.fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.ribbon.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals.seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef.beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes.turtles.ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves.unicorns. pegasus.dragons.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka.beer. coffee. sake. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. bird. Mangoes.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching.fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing.martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. drums. flute. bells. exploring.playing cards. poker chips. chess.dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings.trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets.doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money.power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. alcohol. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer.autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village.