#that whole scratching then freaking out when white shit starts gushing?

[teecupangel]

Thinking about those time travel/animal au’s, and now I’m thinking about Desmond as an emperor dragon from flight rising, (it’s basically a zombie/Frankenstein hydra, if u don’t know what it is) also maybe each head represents a different ancestor and the older the ancestor, the more decayed the head (example: Altair would be mostly skeletal with some mummified flesh, but des himself would be mostly intact except the bad burns.)

I feel like the official art from the wiki doesn’t do the concept justice so here’s a link to a fanart by @/pencilcat instead

It should also be noted that, this kind of emperor dragon should have at least four heads with different elements.

… wanna make it more fun?

We’ll go with the usual dragon!Desmond setup and he becomes pretty much the keeper of the Apple, growing close to Altaïr and even managing to change the past enough that the tragedy of the Ibn-La'Ahads does not come to pass. When Altaïr dies, he dies surrounded by family, having said his goodbye to Desmond beforehand. Desmond flies away, taking Altaïr’s Apple with him, to grieve his death and to celebrate the life he lived. Then… he starts getting this itch in on his neck. Like, it’s so itchy that he just starts scratching it.

Then his nails dug too deep and something starts gushing from the wound he just made. It looked… like whiteish fluids mixed with blood??? Like, it’s super gross and Desmond is going “Oh fuck! Oh shit! What the fuck!” because it’s still gushing.

Then…

Something starts moving underneath Desmond’s skin, wiggling and… ewewewewewew

Until something longer and larger than his head burst out of the wound, a loud piercing scream erupting from it that makes Desmond scream his head off in horror because this FEELS LIKE SOME HORROR SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!

Just when Desmond wondered if he was going be killed from the inside by a parasite, the thing shook the remaining white fluid and Desmond realized it was a dragon head, not the same as his but definitely dragon-shaped. The dragon head turned to look at him and blinked its golden eyes that Desmond recognized immediately.

Altaïr’s voice was full of confusion as he asked, “Desmond? Why… why am I still alive?”

Unorganized Notes:

Okay, I had to read this up in the wiki so please excuse me if I make any mistakes but each dragon head has a different ‘element’ which I am assuming is connected to their ‘flight’. As such, their elements would be the following:

Altaïr: It was a toss-up between Light and Arcane to be honest because Arcane is curious dragons who like to know the unknown while Light is the most scholarly and holds the pursuit of the truth. In the end, the fact that Light Dragons have golden eyes made me choose Light Dragon for Altaïr.

Ezio: Ezio would probably be Earth as he is the most ‘stable’ of the four, creating a legend that last ages. But Nature is also a good fit to show how Ezio truly thrived as a nurturer during his time as the mentor of the Italian Brotherhood.

Ratonhnhaké:ton: I think Lightning would be a good fit for Ratonhnhaké:ton, especially when we remember how he refuses to compromise the way people wish him to. He wants to change the world and, really, everything he did had an impact that everyone had to adapt to.

Desmond: Honestly, Desmond was meant to have the light flight but, since I gave that to Altaïr, Desmond is now the Arcane dragon, because of how Arcane dragons pursue their dreams, often oblivious to the effects of their actions which works well with Desmond’s mission to give his ancestors a better fate without thinking of the butterfly effect (or not caring)

Possible dragon head candidates: Edward (Wind - carefree and free), Haytham (Ice maybe? Shadow would have been a good candidate but Haytham isn’t fickle and Plague would have worked to show how the tragedy of his past shaped him but he's not savage enough to fight those like him)

The idea is that they’re an immortal dragon that sorta becomes a legend among the Assassins and Templars.

This would also have them meet Arno and the Frye twins, acting like their guides… contradicting guides at times but guides nonetheless.

They are also the guardians (hoarders) of POEs. And really, it’s a bad idea to try and get the POEs they guard.

They do start to decay the ‘older’ they get (except Desmond) but, for some reason, they never end up becoming fully skeletal which is weird. Underneath their skin are lightly glowing lines that matches the lines of the Isus so definitely Isu BS.

[madswritingvoid]

Bootlegger

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x gn!reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: Some swearing, sm**ches, but otherwise it’s still just fluff because Llewyn Davis makes me weak.

A/N: Okay so technically I played around with the state of bootlegs and access to recording devices but that’s fine we’re fine.

“Honey, I’m home!” 

You bounce into your apartment, putting the groceries in your arms on the small kitchen counter. Met with silence, you take off your coat and hat and begin looking for that mop of curls you love so much. “Llewyn? Baby? Are you okay?”

You hear shuffling and a string of muttered curses come from your bedroom and smile to yourself, even in your small New York apartment Llewyn could lose himself in whatever new song he was writing or record he just bought. “Hi sweetheart, yeah everything’s okay, just - just stay out there for a second. I was doing some cleaning and now I fucked it up,” he calls out but you don’t listen.

Even though you moved in together five months ago, your one-year anniversary around the corner, you couldn’t get enough of him. If that meant sitting on your bed and watching him clean up whatever mess he’s made, you were more than happy to keep him company.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I moved in. You’ve never been known for being cle-,” you freeze in the doorway. A sheepish Llewyn looks at you from across the room, sat in front of your turntable, every record between the two of you spread out in front of him.

“Honey, why are my records on the floor?”

“Well, I realized we always have my records out and yours just stay in that little crate in the closet… So I thought it would be symbolic or something to mix them together and make it our collection? I’m even alphabetizing them!” He proudly exclaims, lifting up the larger crate of records to show you the letter markers he’s made with cut up cereal boxes. 

Your chest tightens, Llewyn has never been what people may traditionally consider “romantic”, but you loved him with your whole heart and knew he loved you too. Little projects like these may seem trivial to others, but you know this was just another way he was telling you he loves you.

“That’s a great idea baby,” you smile and walk over to the closet to get into some comfy clothes. Your last trip to the laundromat meant your favourite shirt of Llewyn’s was clean and ready for the taking, “why don’t you put something on for us while you keep organizing?”

He hums in agreement as he files through the stack of your records, his eyes immediately lock in on a record in a plain white paper sleeve with just the title in marker. 

L.D. Gaslight ‘65.

“What about this one? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put this one,” he holds the record up so you can see it from the other side of the room. Your blood runs cold as you Superman leap onto the bed, trying to snatch the record from him, “no no no no!” 

“Whoa, baby! Slow down! We share everything, remember? You got me to admit I like Simon & Garfunkel, I promise whatever this is will not change how much I love you… Unless it sucks, then I might have to judge a little bit,” he teases, flashing you those big brown puppy dog eyes until you sigh in defeat. With a tiny nod from you and a reassuring kiss on the forehead from him, Llewyn carefully places the record on the player.

The comforting first crackle of the needle meeting vinyl fills the room and you’re taken back to that night at the Gaslight. 

Jean begged you to come with her after Jim had to ditch her for an impromptu writing session in the city, still asking her to record tonight’s performers at the Gaslight with his fancy new tape recorder. He thought the next step for their duo would be to record live performances at the lounge, a bootleg of themselves, or some bullshit like that according to Jean. 

“I know you’re not here because you want to be, lord knows I don’t, but I think tonight’s last minute line-up change might help.” You looked up at Jean, brow raised. Last you heard some marines-to-be were taking over the open mic, why would you give a shit? 

There’s a tapping sound against the mic and you can’t help the gasp that escapes.

“Um, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see I am not a group of strapping young marines, but my name is Llewyn Davis and I hope you’ll still enjoy your night.”

Your head whips over to Jean who’s sporting a knowing smirk on her face. Even though she had her own past with Llewyn, she was as supportive as she could be with the new relationship forming between the two of you. The past month was full of you sitting on her and Jim’s couch, gushing over your latest coffee date or poem you found on your bedside table in his rushed scrawl. You had admired Llewyn from afar for so long you dove head-first into being with him.  

You had it bad.

Llewyn’s eyes widen hearing his own voice. “... Baby? Did you make a bootleg of me?” You feel the heat rising until your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t meet his eyes.

“N-No! Well, technically yes it is a bootleg of you. But I didn’t make it! I was there with Jean and you were performing, and I always thought you had a wonderful voice and we were just starting to talk and you were cute and and and -” he cuts you off with a soft kiss on the lips, pulling back so see the big grin he’s sporting.

“Since you’re so cute I won’t try and come after any copyright,” he laughs placing a reassuring kiss to your forehead, “but now you have to come and listen to this with me, voice cracks and all.” Holding his hand out to you, you slide off the bed and climb into his waiting lap. Your fingers automatically find their place among his crown of curls, Llewyn nuzzling his nose against your neck as you start to gently scratch his scalp.

His set only lasted twenty minutes but sitting in his arms, humming along to your favourite songs as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, you could have stayed like this forever.

“Thank you for sticking around. Up next we have Jane Lane, have a good night everyone.”

Knowing what comes next, you try to wiggle out of Llewyn’s grip, but he doesn’t let you go, tightening the arms around your waist. “What’s wrong? Did you catch someone talking shit about my set on the tape?” He chuckles, but you freeze, knowing it’s too late to stop the next part of the recording.

The audience gives a polite but unenthusiastic round of applause. You roll your eyes and wolf whistle, making sure Llewyn knows that someone out there loved what he just did.

“I don’t know why you bother. I get that you’re all goo goo about him now, but come on. He’s a Grade A asshole, always has been,” Jean scoffs as she notices how your eyes still haven’t left Llewyn. 

You don’t even look over at her when you reply, Llewyn’s eyes finally meeting yours from across the smokey bar. You can’t help the large grin you feel coming, him giving you a shy one in return.

“I’m gonna marry him one day.”

The needle yanks itself off the still spinning record and you rush over to the turntable, quickly but carefully putting everything back in its proper place. “Okay, that’s enough of that for the night. They said they wouldn’t include anything after your set finished, but I guess that was a fuckin’ lie,” you mutter. 

Refusing to meet Llewyn’s eyes you go through the motions of putting the bootleg back among your collection and putting on some Simon & Garfunkel to fill the silence surrounding you both. If he had just let you go everything would’ve been fine. You weren’t embarrassed by what you said, but it still made you nervous knowing that he heard it. You tried to play it so cool when you first started really talking, he didn’t need to know you loved him so much from so early on, you didn’t want to scare him away now that you were finally going to that next part of your relationship. 

“Baby,” you will yourself to turn around, meeting those soft brown eyes you love so much. “Did - did you mean that?” 

“That depends,” you shrug, “did it freak you out? Because if it did that’s an inside joke between Jean and me and man is it funny but now’s not the time to start explaining everyth-'' you can’t seem to stop rambling until Llewyn stands in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“Did it freak me out to know the person I would look out for every time I got up there to sing was into me? That I loved you so much from the start and now I know you felt the same? Nah, didn’t freak me out at all,” he places a soft kiss on your lips and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying the two of you to the song playing in your own little dance. 

You don’t say anything after that, both of you just basking in the warmth of your love. There was so much more Llewyn wanted to say to you, but for now he just let himself relax into you. What you said didn’t just make him feel good, it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And it sure as hell made him feel ready to finally show you what’s been in the small velvet box he’s been carrying around for the past two months. 

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 3)

part one | part two

(I don’t think I clarified it in parts one and two but Lance and Pidge are roommates. Lance finished college two years ago)

After spending the weekend with Shiro and Keith, everything seems a little brighter.

Lance has an extra spring in his step that annoys the hell out of Pidge. He plays Overwatch with Keith at least twice a week, and they make a devastating team when they’re playing to win. Keith plays with a fiery, single-minded focus that would probably be scary if Lance wasn’t already crushing on him. So instead it’s just insanely attractive, the way Keith sounds when he’s barking out orders to the team. He’s a natural leader and Lance is stupidly eager to follow.

It’s time for Lance to make a trip home to Cuba to see his parents and he’s so excited, he only gets to go home every few months. It’s only for a week, but Pidge will take care of his cats. He mentions to Keith that he’ll be out of town and won’t be available to play for a bit.

Lance makes some vlogs while he’s home, and does them in Spanish because why not? He bets a lot of his followers don’t even realize he’s Cuban and this is his chance to show off his home. It takes a whole night to add the English subtitles because he doesn’t trust YouTube’s auto CC feature not to garble his words, but it’s worth it when he sees the outpouring of comments on the video, a lot of them in Spanish. He gets one from Shiro complimenting him left and right and it makes Lance blush and flail a little.

He spends every other minute with his family, teaching his nephew how to play the ukulele and cooking with his mom and he’s so happy to be home, he cries a little when it’s time to catch his flight back to the states.

He gets in an Overwatch game with Keith the night he gets back, and he tries not to be annoying but it’s hard not to gush about his trip over the mic. He’s halfway through telling Keith about some sea turtles he saw on the beach when he’s interrupted.

“I know, Lance. I saw the photos on twitter.”

Lance blinks. “Uh. You did?”

Keith seems unfazed and triggers his ultimate, taking out half the enemy team. “Yeah? I follow you.”

And oh my god, Keith follows him on twitter. Keith follows him on twitter. He’s suddenly freaking out that he might have tweeted about Keith?? But no, his account is public and he knows better. “Oh, uh.” Lance almost gets taken out by a Sombra. “Your account is set to private, so it didn’t tell me you were.”

“Oh.”

Lance is panicking a little because he wants to ask if he can follow Keith on twitter but is that too much? What if he keeps his account locked for a reason? What if that’s too forward? What they have is cool and he doesn’t want to fuck it up--

“You can follow me,” Keith says, quiet. “All I ever post is bikes and photos of Kosmo, though.”

Lance hopes the sound of his chair squeaking as he bounces in it doesn’t come through the mic. “I could always use more dogs on my timeline,” he says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. They play for another hour and then Keith yawns, saying he has to work early tomorrow. Lance bids him goodnight, then manages to wait until he’s brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed before hitting the “follow” button on Keith’s twitter, @k_redlion. He then opens discord on his phone and goes to the chat with Hunk.

LanceyLance: HUNK HE SAID I COULD FOLLOW HIS LOCKED TWITTER LanceyLance: HUNK LanceyLance: SEND HELP

When Lance wakes up, all he’s gotten from Hunk is a few party popper emojis. He checks to see if Keith accepted his request and he totally did. Lance spends a half hour just scrolling through the mysterious secret twitter, and Keith wasn’t lying. It’s just photos of motorcycles in progress, his dog, occasionally Keith taking an adorable selfie with Kosmo. Sometimes a photo of a sunrise. He checks Keith’s profile and sees his birthday is in late October and Lance has to laugh. Of course he’s a Scorpio. Of course. Keith has less than 40 followers and Lance sort of feels blessed.

He manages to stop himself from liking a five month old tweet where Keith is smiling up at the camera with Kosmo out cold on his lap. Just barely.

July finally hits and it’s disgustingly hot, but it’s always Lance’s favorite month for several reasons:

More excuses to get ice cream,

More excuses to hit the beach,

It’s his birthday month,

It’s the month of Harborville Pride.

Pride comes first and Pidge is excited too, because the college town of Harborville might not have much to offer other than the university, but it definitely knows how to put on Pride. The city park becomes crammed with people for days, food trucks lining the streets with picnickers and grills and ultimate frisbee (which Lance is no slouch at). The marina becomes packed with boats. Most importantly, it means Hunk is coming into town for the weekend, so Lance will get to hang out with his two best friends like they used to - stay up late, watch movies, stuff themselves on junk food and Hunk’s homemade cookies.

The day of the parade (the first one, anyway) is a Saturday morning. Lance and Pidge wake up Hunk from where he’s camping on the sofa and they all get dressed, Lance in his blue, pink, and purple sleeveless shirt, Pidge in her black, white and purple hoodie, Hunk in his pink, yellow, and blue tee. Pockets stuffed with small cash bills for funnel cakes and hot dogs, they set off for the town center.

The parade is amazing this year and they have a blast. Lance convinces Pidge and Hunk to be in a selfie with him that he posts to twitter with the caption, “Having a blast at Harborville Pride!!” Lance then puts his phone away and doesn’t really check it for the rest of the day, having too much fun with Pidge and Hunk and all his other friends.

He’s exhausted when he comes home, collapsing into bed. He manages to open twitter and check it one last time before he passes out. His notifications blew up, of course, but one sticks out.

@k_redlion liked your photo

He kicks his feet a little. So it’s out there, Keith’s saw the colors he wore. Was it too forward? Did Lance unintentionally broadcast his crush on twitter? Maybe. Who knows how Keith would take that information. Lance passes out with his phone in his hand.

He’s in a queue for a game in Overwatch with Keith when it comes up again. Lance was casually talking about a band he saw at Pride.

“Sounds like fun,” Keith comments. “Pride sucks here. One tiny parade and then everyone just goes home.”

There’s a record scratch in Lance’s brain. Does that mean…?

“You should come here next year,” Lance says as evenly as he can. “Harborville knows how to party.”

He hears Keith huff a laugh. “Maybe.”

Lance sucks so bad after that, missing all his shots and dying more times than ever. He’s too distracted. Keith goes to Pride. What did that mean? It could mean so many things. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, he really, really shouldn’t.

“You okay?” Keith’s voice comes through his headphones. “You’re sort of sucking tonight.”

Lance feels a wave of hot embarrassment wash over him. “Ugh, yeah, sorry. Guess I’m just tired.”

He stops playing after that, saying goodnight to Keith and resisting the urge to scream at Hunk over discord about it.

.

Pidge is taking one of her high level classes over the summer so she can graduate in December, so she has little time to hang out with Lance. So he’s bored. A lot. Work at the cafe has slowed down, the only customers he gets are dying for cold brew coffee. He makes a lot of videos, records a lot of comedy Overwatch material, sings some covers of love songs for his channel.  He goes to the beach a lot and posts selfies on twitter, making sure to showcase himself while also trying to remember that he has a few thousand followers and he should be careful what he posts. Lance starts playing some free games from Game Jolt for his channel and it gets a good response. His birthday is right around the corner, and though it’s on a Tuesday, Pidge promises to take the night off to celebrate with him. Hunk is going to make the drive in too.

He’s scrolling through twitter on a rainy night when Pidge kicked him out of the living room to spread out her study materials. There’s a photo of Keith smiling softly with Kosmo on his feed and Lance takes a minute to appreciate it, the warm lighting complimenting Keith’s ridiculously attractive cheekbones, Kosmo with his giant tongue hanging out as Keith hugs him. It’s adorable and Lance hits the like button immediately. He’s about to keep scrolling when something catches his eye. Lance sits up and taps the photo, using his fingers to zoom in.

There’s a rainbow bracelet on Keith’s wrist.

It’s almost hidden under Kosmo’s neck fluff but it is absolutely a rainbow, exactly the kind you’d get at Pride and Lance is about to hit the ceiling. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? They’d talked about Pride like three days ago and Keith liked a photo of Lance in his bi shirt and holy shit. Was this a hint? Lance already liked the photo. He could take it back, but he didn’t want to?

Lance rolls around on his bed clutching his phone to his chest for the next ten minutes before opening discord to gush at Hunk yet again. Hunk, apparently, is getting fed up.

Hunk: omg just talk to him!! LanceyLance: i cANT Hunk: Lance you know I love you but this is painful to watch, just ask him out already. please. for me?

But Lance is scared. What if he’s reading too much into this? What if he’s only seeing a connection because he wants there to be one? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s made that blunder, cringing as he remembers Nyma and the huge falling out that resulted from Lance charging in head first. He couldn’t even repair their friendship after that.

He didn’t want to risk losing Keith, too.

.

July is winding down and it’s almost time for his favorite birthday tradition: an all-day charity livestream. This will be the third year he’s done them, and he’s expecting the response to be even better this year. It takes him a while to decide on a charity - he’s done a children’s hospital, first responders, local charities. Lance spends days trying to decide when it hits him. The next day, he makes the announcement tweet:

Lance! @LancyLance • 2m Hey guys!! Doing a birthday charity livestream on Saturday 7/25, 10am-10pm to benefit Disabled Veterans National Foundation! Will be playing Overwatch, Risk of Rain, Apex Legends and more!!

He goes about his day, feeling pleased. Later he checks twitter and sees that Shiro has retweeted his announcement with a comment, “Make sure to check out my buddy’s livestream next week! This charity means a lot to me.”

And wow does that make his day.

For the next week it’s business as usual. Work at the cafe (his latte art is getting better, but Lance keeps photos of that work sequestered on Instagram), recording videos, singing in Overwatch, playing games with Keith and Hunk. Lance can tell that Hunk is trying to push him to make a move on Keith, but he’s still reluctant. Keith hasn’t really indicated that he’s interested in Lance at all. Sure, they’re casual with each other, but there hasn’t been anything he could classify as “flirting.” Even though he’s opened up, Keith is still stoic as hell and Lance hasn’t figured out how to crack him.

It’s the Saturday of his livestream and Lance is loaded up with snacks, drinks, and everything he needs. He’s set up his room to have a fun backdrop and did his full skincare routine to make sure he looks good for the webcam, he even borrowed some fancy diffuser lights from a friend.

The stream starts and he gets about 30 viewers in the first hour, which is a good start. By noon he’s up to 400 which is insane, and the donation counter keeps going up. He set his goal to a thousand, and it’s looking like he’ll reach it before dinner. Lance takes song requests from viewers and has more than one laughing fit. When he gets into an Overwatch game, he’s thrilled to see Keith there, and shoots him a quick text to make sure it’s cool for Lance to point him out.

Keith (2:18): yeah it’s cool

So Lance introduces Keith and his chat goes nuts. Apparently Keith is crazy popular and Lance can’t help but notice how many declarations of “omg Keith is so hot” are scrolling past. They play a few serious rounds where Keith dominates everyone, then Lance creates a custom server with no cool down time on abilities and zero gravity. He uses it as an opportunity to do more comedy songs. Lance takes a short break, and when he comes back, Keith has signed off. There’s a text on his phone from Keith reading “gotta work on some stuff.”

He’s in voice chat later when some girls come on with mics and they know his channel. They’re thrilled to be in a game with Lance.

“Lance! I love your videos!”

“Sing a song for me, Lance!”

“Lance, I love you! Marry me!”

He laughs at the last one, playing his guitar. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a mock marriage proposal in a game. “Sorry, ladies,” he answers, strumming on his guitar. “I’m afraid my heart is spoken for.” He’s talking about his massive crush on Keith, of course, but no one needs to know that.

There’s some “aww” and “boos” but they don’t actually sound hurt, so Lance keeps going. He switches to Apex Legends which he’s spectacularly bad at, but he still  has fun. By seven that evening, they’ve met their goal of one thousand dollars, but Lance encourages people to keep donating.

He’s exhausted by the end of it, but at 9:50pm Lance does his exit speech, thanking everyone who donated, thanking his friends who played with him, and taking a second to thank Keith by name. He hopes Keith is still watching.

Lance falls into his bed and sends a quick text to Keith to thank him. He doesn’t get a response.

.

CONTINUED IN PART 4