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emperor-palpaminty · 1 year

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Possessive HCs

Minors DNI, must have age in bio to interact or else ya get blocked. TW for possessive kink and all that jazz. i am unhinged and have no train of thought that makes sense. Also my inbox is open for requests hehe

(This post features Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro with anGN reader)

Price

LAWDY this man gives me possessive vibes. He's a captain after all, he's used to having his way and people respect his property.

And you are, after all, his... Right?

Price doesn't get the appeal of hickies at first. They seem immature, silly even, and he thinks they're more trouble than they're worth. And then he sees you with one that he gave you the day before.

Totally changes everything.

He'll cover you in hickies if he can, where where your flesh is soft enough. If your job is more "professional" and would frown upon it he would make sure to leave some just where the corners of a bruise is peeking out from under the collar of your shirt, just so people can still know you're his.

If someone comes up to flirt with you, he makes sure he winds an arm around you and maintains eye contact with the intrusive party until they get the hint and leave. He's the kind of guy who would stare the flirter in the face while kissing your neck, or up your arm, and he would carry the conversation on calmly.

Casually refers to you as "my girl/lad/love", "pretty thing", etc. Just as long as it's obvious you're his.

Ghost

In my brain, he's the most possessive but because he wants to stay as anon as possible, he doesn't get super grabby or touchy in public. The second you get behind closed doors however? Hooooo mama.

He marks you up good. Scratches, hickies, everything. Even if they aren't visible to others it is enough to remind you and that's enough for him. He is fine with getting some of his own too, but he prefers they stay somewhat hidden. Part of him wants to make sure you're as safe as possible, and that includes not letting the enemy know he's getting hickies from someone.

If someone comes up to flirt with you, I can see Simon standing nearby- but always staring down the person seeking your affections. You are polite to them but tell them you aren't interested, and if they press on that's when Simon comes over. He's probably thrown a guy through a window before TBH. After that he takes you home and treats you real good ;P

Soap

Yeah. yeah. yeaaaaahhhhhhh. This man is loud as hell and has a short ass temper when it comes to you. When others come up to you or are even looking your way, he grabs your waist or hand or pulls you close. He has one hundred percent given you a hickey in the middle of a crowded room (club? bar? who knows?) just because he saw a couple of folks looking your way with eyes that lingered too long. If someone tries to flirt, he is not shy at all about speaking up or pulling you behind him ("Sorry, this one's taken, lad. Go find someone else for the night.")

He will also mark you up too with all the hickies and scratches but he loves when you do the same to him. Honestly, the more hickies the better. If you give him any, he WILL walk around shirtless just to show them off. (Price scolds you for quote, "defacing government property")

Gaz

In my head Gaz isn't like. super kinky. He just seems so sweet in the games. I could be totally wrong though and he could be a kinky bastard (drop your Gaz HCs). But this is MY HEAD, welcome to the terror dome.

Yeah, Gaz isn't super possessive in a kinky way, but he does like when people know you're together. He'll slip an arm around you, or put his hand in yours. At one point as a joke you got a shirt printed with his face on it that said "Gaz's Guy/Gal" and he thought it was the funniest thing ever.

If someone comes up to flirt with you he's pretty quick to intervene. He will slip between you and the person and try to redirect them away- but if it comes down to it, he will knock a guy out for flirting with his partner despite a plethora of rejections and "no"s.

Alejandro

Alejandro is PASSIONATE deadass, and doesn't give a shit about who is watching. He'll pick up your hands and kiss them any time any where, or hold your face, or he will just stare into your eyes from across the room. The tension is palpable, you can palp it.

When it comes to showing you off or being possessive, he's more defensive. He will stand between you and the person coming to flirt with you and square up, just to remind them that this is not their place or purpose.

Afterward, he of course kisses you and makes love to you rather intensely ("Amor de mi vida, no one can do this to you, and even if they were lucky enough they wouldn't do this like I do"). And no matter what, you wouldn't let anyone else do that to you, because it's true- no one could do this (or you) like he can. Also he's vocal- he lets the both of you be heard if he's enjoying himself and he wants everyone to know that those sounds from your mouth were because of him.

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hero-israel · 11 months

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A rant that I just can't post on main but think you might appreciate:

If the left had sided with the Jewish people and mourned our dead with us, even if it couldn't prevent the massacre itself, dayeinu

If the left had extended measured sympathy even if it had not been righteously angry and grieved on our behalf, dayeinu

If the left had just remained silent even if it did not extend measured solidarity, dayeinu

If the left had denied the atrocities against us and throughout Jewish history, even though they could have just remained silent, dayeinu

If the left had engaged in some sick quiet pleasure at our dead for having deserved it, even though they could have just looked away and pretended it wasn't real, dayeinu

If the left had cheered our deaths loudly even though they could have kept that within antisemitic enclaves, dayeinu

If the left had radicalized a generation of activists against us, even though they could have kept it to just being bold talk like they do with everything else, dayeinu

If the left had kept their radical "advocacy" to being in words and marches even though they could have stuck with ugly beliefs, dayeinu

If the left had contented itself with property destruction and defacement rather than escalating to physically attacking Jews in public, dayeinu.

But unfortunately, now we are facing the radicalization of a generation into physically violent antisemitism, where attacks and rockets launched at Israeli Jews are being justified because they're in Israel and physical attacks on diaspora Jews are being justified because *something something* Israel, Holocaust inversion and genocidal rhetoric is rampant, and angry mobs are threatening Jewish students on campus.

I'd love to say that there are going to be a lot of extremely ashamed leftists in the future, but I'm sure they'll just deny it the same way they casually deny the Holocaust and Soviet pogroms now.

Not much to add to this one. You have a way with words, though I'm sorry it's necessary in these circumstances.

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toomanythoughts2 · 14 days

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You remember how they had a documentary about Pickles life in Snakes N' Barrels? Do you think they have other documentaries about the others?

I think Skwisgaar would have both cameos in other band documentaries and also his own documentaries about his life, starting in Sweden and ending in Dethklok. Nathan would have his own documentaries about the creation and development of Dethklok as his band. Nathan's documentaries would be the most in-depth about the band itself and not just one member. Murderface would absolutely have a documentary about being the only slap-cock bassist in the world.

However, I also wonder about Toki.

Toki's early life is perfect for true crime documentaries that push the limits of being too far. Whereas everyone else's documentaries had their input in the documentary, because Toki's documentary would be treated as a true crime case, they didn't actually need him.

Which makes me wonder if Dethklok and Charles would be blindsided by a documentary detailing intimate information about Toki's child abuse in Norway. The information used was gotten super unethical, like stolen reports from the few hospital visits Toki had to get as a child or sneaking onto the Wartooth Property and even into the home of his parents. It would be super invasive and downright humiliating for Toki. I don't think the public eye knows about Toki's child abuse like how Skwisgaar knew about it before Dethzazz or how the band learned about it from Dethzazz. Like, I know we like to think that the band had some thoughts about it, but they are selfish assholes. They might have had no idea until that episode. But I disgress.

Charles immediately sends out klokateers to the director of the documentary and does everything he can to remove the documentary from the air. But the damage is already done. The world has watched it and it's already been re-recorded and posted online. Toki is horrified and upset and won't leave his room. The band is equally as mad. The Wartooth property is ransacked and Anja is harassed and threatened. Charles has to send klokateers out there to protect the property because it is still Toki's family and it's his past. People try to break into the "Punishment Hole" to deface it or record themselves in it. It becomes a tourist attraction for the bravest fans to get to.

It would be such a mess.

I don't know, I just think that with Toki's luck, he wouldn't get a normal documentary. He would be the victim of True Crime enjoyers and media.

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #dethklok #metalocalypse headcanons #charles offdensen

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pedgito · 2 years

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i can’t stop thinking about eddie eating reader out in his throne chair after a d&d game pls i NEED it

author’s note: when i tell you i screamed as soon as this request came in, i can’t even explain the feelings i’m having.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), semi-public (they’re alone and don’t get caught), more acquaintances with benefits, eddie has a small crush on reader, mentions of eddie losing his virginity to reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, assisted masturbation, eddie’s such a giver no one can tell me differently, lots of dirty talk, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 3k

You never noticed how often Eddie stayed late after Hellfire’s weekly D&D sessions—not until you started staying around too. Your acquaintance with him had been gradually growing and his hesitancy at letting you in the club at the beginning had been obvious and with a lot of added tension.

Maybe his anxiety of having you join came from the intimidation he felt from you—it’s how you liked to think of it, but he never had any good, valid reasoning for it. Eventually, with some convincing on Dustin’s part, Eddie gave in. Eddie would come to his senses after several weeks, a few months of your insistent cheerful attitude and mission to change his view on you.

And it wasn’t that Eddie looked at you negatively, that wasn’t even close to his opinions on you—he just couldn’t stand how easily you checked off all his boxes. He thinks it’s just a coincidence when he sees you wearing a Def Leppard shirt, similar to one he had shoved in the back of his drawer, but then it happens again with Dio, then Metallica, and Eddie feels like he’s losing his mind. You’ve always got your Walkman attached to your jeans and your headphones secured on over your ears and he can hear the beat of his favorite Ozzy songs as it blares through, the music flooding his own ears as you sifted through your locker beside him, but when Dustin finally drags you along to your first Hellfire meeting, Eddie can’t stand it.

Forget how much he complained about needing another person to fill out the table, or someone to fill in for Lucas’ growing absence, because when you walked through that door, all urgency suddenly faded away.

It wasn’t a no—rather an absolutely not.

Eddie still caved regardless; Dustin was an excellent negotiator.

Eddie gives you the cold shoulder for about three weeks; minimal conversation, barely any actual eye contact with you, but then you end up spending one night helping him clean up after a particularly rowdy session—half eaten chip bags, cold pizza, and empty soda cans strung about like a tornado had blown through. You’re not sure why you offered to help, but you did.

Selfishly, you were hoping Eddie would finally give up his defensive act of wanting nothing to do with you. But, he doesn’t—in fact, he’s probably more stubborn in that moment of you two being alone than he ever has been, but you can’t ignore the several times you catch him glancing over, eyes peeking up from where his head was downturned, trying to keep himself busy.

You were beyond it—taking matters into your own hands.

You shoved yourself between the table and him and he kissed you without question—heated and forceful, clearly he’d been holding this back for a while. It’s a dangerous routine you two fall into from then on and it never leaves the four walls of that theater room, like it doesn’t exist outside of there.

And Eddie should feel horrible for defacing school property in such away, but it’s the only area of the school that lends some remnant of privacy, sectioned off from the main building, and everyone was already long by the time you two started up—if it ever got that far, which was typically always.

It was a full-fledged addiction and Eddie couldn’t get enough.

Thus, how things ended up the way they did tonight in particular. Eddie was frustrated most of the day, it wasn’t hard to notice, but you don’t pry—you never did. It was an unspoken rule and you both respected it. But, you weren’t completely soulless and cheering him up seemed like the best option, even if the sex was better when he was tense and riled up.

You plop down his throne, a velvet cushion surrounded by intricate wooden design carved into the backing, it was a cheap knock-off of something that could potentially be worth the money—but Eddie loved it, cherished it, and never let anyone sit in it, not even you. His back is turned to you, muttering around with something near the entrance, shoving and stuffing some items away, only when you clear your throat does he finally look over his shoulder.

You expect him to make some snide comment or ask you to move, but he doesn’t, his eyes darkening slightly. And that scares you more than anything, body tingling with anticipation. He thumbs at the lock, flicking it closed and blindly reaches for a chair, forcing it under the doorknob for extra security.

You already know what’s coming, pressing against the arms of the chair to lift yourself up and out, but Eddie shakes his head, stalking toward you.

“Don’t move”. He tells you, voice smooth and confident.

You gently sit back down, watching as he wiggles his way between the table and chair, the legs of the throne squeaking slightly as he shifts it back.

“You’re not mad?” You ask curiously, head peering up to look at him from where he’s settled between your legs, hands pressed against the arms of the chair too, covering yours.

He shakes his head casually. “I mean—yeah, it’s my chair, but I only say all that shit so Dustin keeps his hands off, that kid would be power drunk if I let him DM for a night.”

“Fair point.” You nod slightly, eyeing the growing smirk on Eddie’s face. “I don’t like that look—“

“Why not?” Eddie asks teasingly, knee bumping your own to spread your thighs further apart. You didn’t wear skirts often, but the humid Indiana weather wasn’t too kind near the end of Spring and you really wanted to wear it anyways.

“It’s never a good sign.” You tell him, his figure sinking further down until he’s settled on his knees, wrestling with your legs until they’re resting over his broad shoulders. “See?”

Eddie laughs into the skin at the bend of your knee, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses into the dip of it, never trailing further up your thigh—he was waiting for something, eyes locked on yours.

“We’re out of condoms, Eddie.” You remind him, “We can’t.”

“I can fix that.” Eddie supplies—the hot, calloused palm of his hands roaming up your legs and over your thighs, squeezing at the flesh until you’re keening forward, hands shifting behind you onto the pad of the chair, trying to keep yourself from slipping any further forward. “I don’t need to fuck you to feel good.”

“Is that so?” You ask, watching his smirk grow into a full grin, finger squeezing harder, cunt clenching underneath the cover of your skirt.

“This is already doing enough for me,” He chuckles softly, your mouth falling open slightly as his fingers dip underneath your skirt, pulling at the hem of your underwear, “do you mind?”

You shake your head furiously and it’s all Eddie needs to break the dam, pulling at the material with fervor, already soaked with your wetness—and he somehow manages to make the awkward fidgeting even more endearing as he finally gets the last bit of your lace panties past your ankle, dropping them to the floor carelessly.

“Don’t hold back,” He reminds you, leaving a hot, saliva slick trail of kisses up your inner thigh, hands cupping under your calves until he can adjust your ass near the edge of the chair, giving him perfect access to your throbbing cunt, glistening with sticky arousal, “you know I hate it.”

The first contact of his tongue against your cunt is like electricity jolting through your body, gasp ripping from your chest as he licks you fully, moaning at the way you coat his tongue.

“Gonna make a mess of this chair, aren’t you?” He comments redundantly, lips closing over your clit gently as he sucks, one of the hands used to prop yourself upright shooting to his wild and untamed curls, entangling into them, hand molding the curve of his head as you guiding him slightly, hips rutting shamelessly into his waiting mouth.

You nod dumbly, head falling back as your breath quickened. “The velvet, it’s gonna get ruined.” You complain, voice catching on the last word as one of his hands joins his diligently working mouth, slapping at your cunt gently, the cool air of the hit a shock to your system. He laughs quietly at your reaction, startled and half-frustrated as your eyebrows knit together, staring daggers into his obscured face, tongue rubbing slow circles against the delicate bundle of nerves. He drags two fingers, your preferred middle and ring, through your excessive wet arousal and dips them into your waiting hole with no resistance, his face lighting up at your wrecked tone, letting out a broken sob at how easily his fingers sink into you.

“Who cares—“ Eddie replies, “so pretty like this, like a queen or whatever that saying is—“

“A throne fit for a queen?” You guess, a small laugh escaping your chest. “I’m honored, truly.”

“Yeah—yeah, that.” Eddie was only a savant with words when he felt like it, and right now he was far too distracted. “Wider, sweetheart.”

You obey, stretching your legs open further, letting him adjust you until they hang over the armrests, giving him even more room to work, both hands free.

“Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” Eddie tells you through muffled tone, his mouth occupied with your throbbing heat, “it’s fucking ridiculous.”

Despite the overwhelming pleasure you feel in the moment, you’re puzzled at the comment, remembering how he opted to leave out the fact that he was a virgin until his dick was already buried inside of you the first time, fucking you sloppily over the table.

“Wait—I thought,” You start, sensing the beginning of an incoming banter, but it dies on your tongue, just as Eddie’s prods inside of you, his idle fingers traveling up to your clit, giving it a deserved amount of attention.

“Just take the compliment.” Eddie grumbles against you.

You laugh softly, enjoying how easy it was to frustrate him. But the rumble of his voice against your cunt is satiating a need you didn’t know you had, the full vibrations like magic.

You hum slightly, “Keep talking.” You encourage him.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow from below, half of his face buried in your core. “I’m a little busy.” He protests. You tug at his hair slightly, pulling his face away from your cunt, “—oh, you’re serious?”

There was something about his voice—warm and soothing, it brought you comfort, but the calming contrast of his voice as he spoke such filthy words was stomach-clenching, making your brain go fuzzy and lose all sense of time and thought.

“Oh—okay,” He nods, taking a short breath before letting his fingers take over for a moment, staring up at you wantonly, eyes wider than ever as you pull at his hair more, a soft grunt leaving his lips, “fuck—I really like that.”

“I know.” You reply confidently.

Eddie senses your pride, feeling the need to knock you down a peg—it’s not that he didn’t mind the easy switch in dynamics, but he needed to feel that control tonight, even if it required embarrassing you a little.

“Almost as much as I like watching you touch yourself,” He says, gripping the wrist of the hand bound in his hair, pulling gently until you released him, “—go on, since you felt the need to sit in my chair without asking.”

“But, you said—“

Eddie chin tilts up, head cocking to the side in warning.

“You’re so annoying,” You mumble, listening despite his obvious ego as it oozes from him, you lean forward and press two fingers to his lips and Eddie doesn’t even question it, wetting them gleefully with his tongue—and maybe you get too greedy, causing Eddie to pull tug your hand away, pressing it carefully to your already sensitive cunt, the pads of your fingers resting over your aching core, dragging through your folds and over your clit. Eddie let’s go then, using both hands to grip at your thighs, holding you open as you touched yourself.

You know he’s definitely straining in his jeans, hard cock pressed against the line of his zipper—so you imagine how pretty he looks bare, ruddy tip pressing up against the start of his stomach as he kneels before you.

He’s watching, unashamed—lips pink and swollen as he pulls his bottom one between his teeth. You’ve never felt embarrassed or ashamed around Eddie, a stark contrast to any other person you’ve been with—Eddie adores every part of you, from head to toe, beginning to end, it’s everything you could want in a sexual partner—serious or not.

“Do you wanna come?” Eddie asks challengingly.

“Yes—yeah, I do.” You answer softly, a soft gasp falling from your lips as your fingers circle your clit, apply the perfect amount of pressure. You could applaud Eddie on how attuned he was with your body, but nobody knew it better than you.

“Fuck, look at you,” He replies with admiration, watching the way you cunt clenched around nothing, aching to be filled, “—god, I could fuck you right now.”

“Can’t.” You reply breathless, adamant on your safe-sex stance.

“I know,” Eddie agrees, “but, I can dream, right?”

“Dream all you want,” You snark, “but finish what you started.”

He laughs slightly, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right—sorry, sweetheart.”

Your fingers alone were enough, but you were being selfish, seeking the feeling of his tongue as it flattened against you, the ungodly noise as he ducks and laps at your slick, drinks it in like nothing, eyes peering up at you daringly, waiting for more.

You whine as his tongue works you over, his body unable to resist as his fingers join again too, filling you up with three instead of two, and it’s a lot to take in, even for you, his fingers mirror the girth and width of his own dick almost, long and thick, the blunt edge of his rings pressed up against your core.

“Look at me,” He muffled into your cunt, pulling back slightly to look at you, mouth glistening with wetness, “—want you to look at me when you come.”

You nod deftly, fingers working quickly to relieve that painful ache of an impending orgasm, mouth hung open on a soundless gasp as you tip over the edge—your vision whites out and you’re almost certain you go blind for half a second, not even remembering half of the encouraging, sappy shit Eddie says to you as you work through it—it’s like white noise.

“That’s good,” Eddie says softly, “—fuck you’re so warm.”

You almost forget his fingers are still buried inside you until he’s pulling them out, gently resting your back down to a more comfortable position, hips screaming for relief.

He takes his fingers in his mouth, sucking greedily—Eddie’s never been one to shy away from typically grosser stuff, he wasn’t ashamed of any of it. He’d just as easily shove his tongue in your mouth after coming down your throat, it made no difference to him.

You let out a rough sigh, making a weak motion to your discarded panties on the floor. Eddie laughs softly, reaching for the garment to shove them in your waiting hand.

“I hope you’re good at getting stains out ” You comment, feeling the wet, sticky puddle under your ass—a mix of his saliva and you, leaving a growing mark in the material.

Eddie makes a face of uncertainty, “Yeah, not so much.” He brushes it off, “Either way, no one’s gonna know.”

Which was true, it was just as indiscernible as all the other stains riddling the furniture in that room.

“Besides, there’s gonna be a few more by next week.” He comments slyly, you pull your underwear back on, lifting yourself from the chair with shaky, weak legs.

Eddie sees it, reaching for your arm immediately.

“Woah,” He smiles, “don’t go down just yet.”

“Oh, shut up.” You say playfully, shoving his hand away when you feel stable enough. “What are you even getting at?”

Eddie’s smile turns devious, crowding into your space as you fall back against the edge of the table, succumbing to another compromisable position.

“You, me,” His finger trails from himself to you, “and a lot of free time next Friday after the campaign.”

You smile slightly, patting his chest gently.

“Yeah—if someone can actually remember to bring protection.” You remind him, his face falling slightly.

“I told you I can pull out.” Eddie says defensively, voiced raised in offense.

“With your track record?” You ask, eyebrows raised in question. “I don’t think so.”

“It was one time—and the condom broke.” He tries to argue. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re not knocking me up.” You tell him, finger shoving at the center of his chest. “We’re not even friends, Eddie. We just fuck, right? That’s what we agreed on.”

Eddie shrugs indifferently. “I mean, we could be friends.”

Your lips pull into a tight smile, smugness flooding your features. “If only you didn’t despise my literal existence on a daily basis.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie nods in agreement, moving to allow you room to escape his entrapment. “If only.”

“At least the sex is good.” You shrug, grabbing your backpack. “Give me a ride?”

Eddie laughs at the hidden meaning, mind running with unspeakable thoughts. He senses your disapproving look, fixing himself immediately.

“Yes ma’am.” He clears his throat, throwing up a mock salute. “It would be a pleasure.”

He always manages to sneak his dirty thoughts in somehow, earning a soft smack on his arm in return. You weren’t good at resisting though, knowing that there was truth to it—Eddie was impossible to quit.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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punkeropercyjackson · 5 months

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Afro-dominican Percy Jackson headcanons but by a black dominicana cause y'all write him like an oreo

His name is actually short for Perseo and his middle name is Isadore.Percy is a nickname given to him by Sally so he took it on willingly instead of assimilation but also gringos are always pronouncing Perseo wrong,including monsters and that only encouraged him to not use it in full

Sea green eyes but also darkskinned,4d textured hair,thick lips and a big nose.He's 6'4,his gray streak naturally faded to white and he has a wide variety of hairstyles per book:Baby dreads(TLT),wicks(TTC),twists(TLO),afro(for most of SON because he dosen't remember what styles he likes),dreads(SON finale),adds beads(MOA)and long locs(Tales of Dead Seas)

He calls Sally Mamí,obviously???

His favorite dominican food is blue flan

Third gen inmigrant and monoracial(lightskin Percy with loose hair is fake,that is a NIGGA 100%)

Sally had him grow up on Discovery Kids

Trilingual-Fluent in english,spanish and greek

Haircare and skincare king

Uses nigga enough that it's a common aspect of his vocabulary

All his durags/bonnets/beads are blue

Huge Pokemon fan(It's a latino meme that we love anime based things)

Sally taught him exactly zero latino machoism or black toxic masculinity and he's actually transfem bigender and femme.She uses she/he and a bunch of neopronouns and her womanhood is extremely afrolatina with her mannerisms and tastes(doing black woman hairstyles and makeup on herself,her favorite Disney Princesses are Tiana and Brandy's Cinderella,post transition she learns she deserves to be high maintenance and tons more things)

He listens to Mcr,D'Angelo,Meet Me @ The Altar,Rihanna,Megan Thee Stallion,Ice Spice,Lo-Fi beats and hiphop

He's demisexual and his type is princess-y black women(Perseus' wife was Andromeda,the princess of Ethopia afterall and names have power in the Pjo world)

Bro is romantic-He's a guygirl so that automatically gives him an advantege with rizz but she's autistic so that boosts it by 100+ points.No regards to social norms,just unfiltered kindness and acts of service that would kill any other nigga to even think of.Also i'm obsessed with the idea of her calling his s/o 'Strawberry Pop' because i'm a Demeter Kid

As per canon he's punk but i'm not boring like Rick so i do a deep dive into it.He uses 'Punkero' for himself too and he's crustpunk,afropunk,seapunk and solarpunk and he knows how to diy things that don't even exist,uses an emulator and only phone and secondhand bought games on anti-capitalist principal,defaces public property,did a lot of research after finding out punk is an actual culture and not just an aesthetic that was surprisingly easy to focus on and starts dressing punk too as he slowly finds the right thirft stores and learns to make clothes.He throwns black/dominican influences in his outfits and in Tods he gives himself that multicolor mermaid hair where you keep your og hair tone still for that Ocean Girl swag

She's a Latino Memes Queen OBVIOUSLY but her favorites are cat ones and she's also huge on energy drinks(cotton candy bang stan just like me fr fr)and legos(i'm pleasently surprised at how many lego shows fans are latinos).White people jokes are her jam also and Luke's colonizing fascist ass got the worst of it before he killed his ass

He is 100% Nico and Hazel's mom and dad,as per canon.Nico is black too because it fits perfectly and Hazel's got black hair and brown eyes because fuck exoticification so it gives them a special connection and La Residencia Jackson is a bit of a cultural melting pot because of it.Dominican flag hung on the wall behind the couch,even more hang gesturing and loud inside voices than normal,New Orleans cuisine and everything inbetween.Percy calls Hazel 'Mamita' and Nico 'Papito',do eachother's hair,they hang out almost 24/7,he radicalized them so now Hazel's pastel goth punk and Nico's goth punk,there's a lot leaning against him for emotional support or even just out of younger sibling/child love,Percy guilt-trips Poseidon into giving him money for Nico's meds and aids and helps Hazel out with girls,beach days with them are made straight up tropical with Percy's powers and they're every white man and Karen's worst nightmares combined as one big happy familia with Sally as the topping who seems easy to speak over but Percy said herself she got her rebellion against shitty people from her

Percy Jackson is NOT Peter Parker.C'mon now,don't fall for the boyloser propaganda and be real-We all know he's Hobie Brown and that his Spider Variant is an older Spiderpunk.Speak the truth with me

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starlightshadowsworld · 9 months

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I imagine that Kunikida has a criminal record.

He's been fined for helping others shoplift essential items and feminine hygiene products.

Intimidation, he's gotten into the face of police who are trying to intimidate someone, so he does it back to them.

Arrests made after those altercations turn violent, Kunikida never threw the first punch but that never mattered.

He's been arrested at protests, no matter how peaceful they've been.

Aggravated assault when a parent of one of his students hit them infront of him and he saw red.

Defacing and vandalising public property, aka tearing off spikes on benches so that unhoused people can sleep on them.

I like to think he was in a holding cell the day Fukuzawa met him and realised he was the perfect candidate for the agency.

Because Kunikida, along with hating authority has a strong code of ideals he abides by no matter what.

Something as trivial as the law is not going to stand in his way of doing what's right.

#kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs #Bsd

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firapolemos05 · 1 month

Text

@augusnippets Path of Hurt

Day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

CW: minor whumpee, mock execution, government corruption, abuse of power, imprisonment, framed for a crime, future captivity

Itzal (he/him)

Word count: 756 (a bit longer but I couldn't resist)

The Champion taglist: @emmettland , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

They don't listen when he says he hasn't killed anyone. When they shove the gag into his mouth and secure the strap at the back of his neck, Itzal realizes they're not going to listen to anything he has to say.

He doesn't want to die.

It didn't make sense. There wasn't a trial. No evidence given that tied him to the supposed death of whatever unnamed Lapis guard they mentioned.

Only twenty-four hours between Itzal getting brought down to this prison and learning they were going to kill him.

‘ “Rebels don't get trials,” ’ they had said, sneering laughs lapping up the tiefling's terror.

He cursed them. Would've trashed and clawed up his cell had the shackles at his wrists not held him down. Would've tormented the guards with illusions had his magic not been suppressed. All he had were his words and he used them. Such fragile pride they had that they'd waste time and resources to silence a seventeen year old vandal who dared to insult them.

Itzal's anger spat until they gagged him.

He realizes now part of that anger had been fueled by denial. Armored guards clutch his bound arms as they drag him towards the courtyard, and dread clutches his gut.

He's going to die.

He tries so hard to fight. Bucks at the grasping hands until their grip is hard enough to bruise. Lashes out with his horns until one guard grabs one to force his head still. The blindfold around his head is wet with tears he failed not to shed.

He should’ve been more careful. Should've picked a safer, less public spot for his last graffiti run. Should've went home when his mother told him to and wait for a different day.

His mother's face flashes into Itzal's mind. His father's. His little sister's.

What's going to happen to them?

He won't even get to say goodbye.

The screech of a metal door opening preceeds a waft of warmth as the sunlight hits his skin. The Crescentine sun is always harsh in the summer. The guards force Itzal to his knees in the dirt, latching the chains to a bolt in the ground so he couldn't stand. Couldn't flee. He balls his hands into fists to hide how much he's shaking.

“Itzal Azarola,” a voice booms from behind. “For the crimes of treason, accomplice to murder of a government official, defacement of government property, government slander, and resisting arrest, you have been sentenced to death under orders from the Cerulean Constellate.”

Treason?

It doesn't seem real. It can't be real. This has to be a nightmare. He'll wake up home in his bed and be safe.

There's more noises. A rifle being loaded. His heart hammering in his chest.

He will wake up soon. He doesn't want to die.

A click of the safety being released. A muffled sob escaping his lips.

He doesn't want to die.

“Fire!”

HE DOESN'T WANT TO DIE!

A trigger being pulled.

A deafening blast sends him reeling, all other sound drowns under the piercing ring in his ears. His head throbs. His body collapses. He hopes it'll be quick. He hopes it'll be over before he feels it. He-

He's still alive.

The pain of a bullet tearing through his organs doesn't come. No smell of blood or burning flesh. The world still dark under a blindfold he can still feel on his face. Itzal is still alive.

More hands grab him. The chain is released from the ground and he is being carried away. His legs drag uselessly. His muscles feel like gelatin. His mind in a fog.

Why?

He should feel relief but instead there's a void. Nausea burning up his throat he has no choice but to force down because he's still gagged.

What's happening?

Was there a mistake? Is he actually dead and his thoughts now are from his ghost trying to cling to life? Where are they taking him? He still can't see. No one's saying anything. What're they going to do to him now?

They drop him on hard stone. “Is this the one you wanted, Lady Matar?”

The blindfold is removed. There's a woman standing in front of Itzal. Short red hair and red eyes. Cloaked in the luxurious vestments of the Constellate. Lady Matar. High Martinet Scarlet Matar.

The master of judicial law stares down at the young tiefling, drinking in the tears on his face.

The way she smiles at him is the most terrifying thing he's ever seen.

“Yes. I will be taking him now.”

#Augusnippets #Augusnippets day 10 #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump stuff #mock execution #tw minor whump #Narcos #(before he became the Champion)#Scarlet Matar #my ocs #my writing #my work #original #Xitanae tag #Itzal was Narcos' original name before Scarlet forced him to forget

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