skull staff

Love in the Time of the Gods: Chapter 13/17

SummaryKillian Jones is the lonely God of the Underworld in search of a companion. He is watching the goddess Emma, and suddenly has hope that his loneliness can be cured. She agrees to spend two weeks with him in the Underworld. Will that be enough to convince her to stay and rule by his side? (rating for later chaps; mention of sexual assault in one chap and not between Emma and Killian).

Rating: E (for future chapters)

Word Count: ~2K

Catch Up: ff.net / AO3

Author’s Note: FINALLY THE MUSE HAS SAW FIT TO ALLOW ME TO UPDATE MY BABY! Not only that, but Brenda (my muse…yes I named her) has saw fit to give me a final chapter count. So three more full chapters and an epilogue are left in my baby. If wanted, I can still revisit this universe. Thanks, as always, to @shipsxahoy, my beloved beta, banner maker, and Mulan to my Ruby. And to the official artist of LITTOTG and co-head cheerleader (other than Bianca, of course) @cocohook38. I’m telling you, Bianca and Julie are the brains of the operation; I just write the words. 

Now, without further ado…


“I have never seen him so angry…” Pestilence acknowledged, leading the horses towards the cavern entrance.

“I’m just glad it’s not directed at us for a change,” Panic quipped, Pain nodding heavily in agreement. The three of them, while being his closest confidants for many a century, also took the brunt of his anger when he saw fit to lash out.

“How can you think like that when Emma has been taken? Need I remind you what happens when a soul-bonded goddess is away from her mate?!”

Both of their smiles disappeared. Pestilence filled them in on the information she had read in that book Killian had left lying around on his bed that day. She was so worried for her friend; she was taking this news as well as Killian was.

Keep reading

“Out of the surface of her (Durga’s) forehead, fierce with frown, issued suddenly Kali of terrible countenance, armed with a sword and noose. Bearing the strange khatvanga (skull-topped staff ), decorated with a garland of skulls, clad in a tiger’s skin, very appalling owing to her emaciated flesh, with gaping mouth, fearful with her tongue lolling out, having deep reddish eyes, filling the regions of the sky with her roars, falling upon impetuously and slaughtering the great asuras in that army, she devoured those hordes of the foes of the devas.”

Submission: Magic Words

Kakashi was not excited to meet the second of the pair of genin he was going to be stuck helping the Namikaze jounin babysit. The kunoichi was alright, if unimpressive, but the other was an UCHIHA. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, he was going to be spending unfairly large amounts of time with one of the red-eyed occultists. If he had to endure another ridiculous conversation about magic, he was going to electrocute someone. He was already anticipating ostentacious robes and gaudy jewelry and a holier-than-thou attitude with a decent amount of outright dread.
When he arrived at the training ground though, the sight that met him was an unbelievably pale and scrawny boy in shorts and a tank top with wicked-looking piercings in his ears, left eyebrow, right nostril, and lower lip, swirling red tattoos on the entire right side of his body that appeared to trace his chakra system, clawlike black fingernails, black-painted eyes and lips, a necklace made of what appeared to be rat and crow skulls, and an iron staff in one hand topped with a lantern that was DEFINITELY made of a human skull.
“Your face will freeze like that, Kakashi-san,” the boy said, raising a half-shaved eyebrow.
Kakashi tilted his head. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
Dark lips lifted in a crooked smile. “Uchiha Obito, at your service.” His tone of voice was mocking; dark, slicker than oil and colder than sea ice.
Kakashi smirked back in response. They were going to get along wonderfully. Somewhere across the village, Minato shuddered.

anonymous asked:

I'm looking to do a team skull grunt from pokemon sun & moon for my 1st cosplay, at my 1st con. They wear sleeveless shirts, but my upper arms have a lot of scar tissue on them. I'm not sure how comfortable I'd feel with my arms exposed so many strangers, along with the possible interaction with kids. Do you think I should just wear a different shirt, or buy tattoo cover up makeup, or something? I don't want to have to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions from people about my arms.

Hello there!

The thing with cosplay is that you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you are fine with exposing your arms and rocking the scars, that’s fantastic, but if you aren’t comfortable with that and want to cover them up, that’s perfectly fine, too. I’m all for encouraging people to do things, but I also am never going to try to push someone past their personal limits.

That said, there’s multiple ways you can cover your arms in this costume.

One would be the tattoo coverup makeup you already suggested. This would keep the accuracy of the costume and look the most realistic, but would be the most expensive and difficult option. I have heard good things about Dermablend as a brand, though I have not tried it myself. Even though the makeup is formulated to stay in place on your body, still be sure to set it well so that it doesn’t rub off or sweat off over the course of the day.

Another option would be to basically make armsocks, but in your skin tone. You can easily stop these at the wrist rather than covering your hands. The problem here is that they’ll be a bit less realistic, since your arms will be covered in fabric, and you may have difficulty getting a perfect skintone match. This may end up drawing more attention to your arms, but it would be full coverage.

The last option I can think of would be to modify the outfit slightly. I’m not sure how far down your arms the scar tissue goes, but if it’s not too far down your arms, a muscle tee with sleeves (either masculine or feminine in cut otherwise) would fit the aesthetic of the characters well. A baggier shirt with longer sleeves might work, but you’ll have to check the proportions on your body to make sure it’s not too loose up top (especially if you have the loose shorts on bottom). You might be able to find a half-sleeve or long sleeve tight muscle tee as well, and just say to hell with the tropical environment of the game, your comfort is more important than accuracy.

Which of these options you choose depends on your own personal comfort level and budget.

I hope that helps! Good luck :]

Fabrickind / Q&A Staff

4

Today I made this super cool deer/monster skull wand or staff!
I like it so much that I’m actually selling it! If you’re interested in this staff then please IM me or email me at; mollarting@gmail.com
Then we can discuss prices and shipping!
I’m always open for a good haggle!

It’s reasonably heavy made from wood, hot glue and clay. It stands to just over 11 inches tall including longest antler.

☽ ☼  ☾ Part One  ☽ ☼  ☾

There was no signal from Commander Rhün as they approached the last few miles to the tower; there didn’t need to be.  The whole unit, which was comprised of fifteen bodies without including Rask, grew all at once silent.  Even Jonesy stopped cracking jokes, the only sound from him becoming the pad of his boots and the quiet rattle of his bones.  It was an eerie thing to Rask’s still-human psyche, marching alongside fifteen other bodies without hearing labored breath.  He was glad for the years of physical training that allowed him to walk all this distance without much strain, else he might be betrayed by his own body.

As if urged by the thought, Rask picked up his pace, surpassing the Commander who merely gave him a ghost of a nod as he went.

“Rask!” He turned at the hiss, seeing Jonesy waving vigorously.  “Good luck!  Kick their ass!”

Vassya clocked him on the skull with her staff, creating a hollow sound.  “Shush!”

“Aw, Heartblossom,” Jonesy whined, and Rask again couldn’t help his snort of amusement.  The Forsaken’s beaming skull grin was the last thing he caught before he turned away again, pulling on his hood and the mask he’d taken to wearing for missions such as these.  The mask reminded him of a horse or deer skull, stylized to a simple piece of silver with two black eye sockets which allowed him to see out, but barred anyone from seeing in.  It made him faceless, immune to sympathy or regret.

The sparsely wooded landscape narrowed abruptly to a crevice only a few bodies wide as the ground sloped sharply downward, the rocky mountain walls growing on either side.  Rask traversed the bottleneck as little more than a whisper in the crevice’s deep shadow; if there were any guards posted here, it would be his job to dispatch them.

He came across no other soul, however, and after a few minutes of walking the walls fell away without warning, the right side plummeting down a now sheer cliff face as the mountain continued upward on the left.  Ahead of him was little more than broken boulders, enterprising shrubs clinging here and there as the path tumbled downward toward the sea.  Rask’s eye followed it to the rocky jetty that thrust into the ocean, raised above the dark waters by some dozens of feet of sheer rock.  It was on the end of that rock spur their prize was built; a tall tower of grey stone, visible despite the clouds that choked the crescent moon above thanks to the dancing glow of the Worgen’s fires.

The environment lent more of a defense than Rask had realized until now, standing as he was some distance above it.  He pushed away a shiver that crawled up his spine at the sight, and at the smell of dense fur salted by the sea’s spray that carried on the blustering wind that plucked at his hair and garments.  He tried to ignore how much the wind scraping against the jagged peaks resembled a wolf’s howl, as well as the sudden fire of a phantom pain digging three vertical furrows in his back.

A gust of wind nearly made him lose his feet, bringing him abruptly to the present.  His instincts caught him as he braced himself, hugging the left wall so he could continue his journey down.  He focused on planting his feet more carefully, trying to steady his breaths as he felt the sweat on his spine turn cold in the wind.  He would be of no good to Vanthir, Thalyssara, or the rest if he got himself blown off a cliff.  Rhün’s voice echoed in his mind; she said it was of no consequence to us.  Under present circumstances, he supposed the Dark Lady had a point.

Finally, the path curved down around a boulder, solidifying as it did into soil and grass.  Rask pulled himself up the boulder instead of following the path, squatting behind a tree stump that clung to its edge.  Sure enough, two Worgen were posted behind the boulder, guarding a stack of crates and undoubtedly watching the mouth of the path for any unwelcome visitors.  He listened to their chatter as he made a last check of his gear, tightening the straps on his armor and boots and making sure the poison coating all his blades was still viable.

“Aye, sure, Sylvanas ‘s a twat,” one of the Worgen said with a snuffling snort, “But really, some shit tower out in th’ middle o’ nowhere ain’t what I was signed up fer when I shipped m’self ter the Broken Isles.”

“Oh, aye? An’ what’d you think you’d be doin’?” Another lilting voice answered, a little reedier than the other, as if it came from a narrower chest.  “Out on the fron’ lines with Khadgar an’ the rest, turnin’ demons inta pincushions?”

“As a matter o’ fact, tha’s precisely what I thought I’d be doin’,” the first voice answered indignantly.  Rask leaned himself around the side of the stump, hidden eyes on the outlines of the pair below.  The one speaking was broad of chest as his voice implied, and the shape of a bow protruded from his back.  He would be the first, Rask decided.  “The las’ Alliance ship we seen was a week ago.  Some feckin’ important supplies ‘ere, to be right sure.”

The second man snorted; he was leaner of frame as his voice implied, but his body reflected the dim light in brief flashes, showing that he was armored from snout to foot.  “Come off it, we all know this tower’s a giant ‘fuck you’ ter Sylvanas.  But you gotta admit, mate– ‘s a good gig.  No demons means no gettin’ yer soul sucked right out yer hindquarters an’ fed ter some soul machinery.”

“Good gig, me arse!” The archer protested.  “I’m like ta freeze m’ ears off, with this damnable wind and sea.  In fact, I think I’m comin’ down with a cold!”  He snuffled again, “I could be dyin’ some noble death fighin’ demons, an’ instead, watch– I’m like ter die from a Lightdamned cold!”

“Ain’t the sea’s fault y’dress like a moron,” the warrior quipped– and Rask felt amusement stir in his breast, the same sort of amusement Jonesy-bonesy usually managed to rouse from him.  He blinked, a frown furrowing his brow as he watched the two continue to bicker for a few dragging seconds.  His job would be much easier with them out of the way; past the mouth of the path was the edge of the jetty where he could continue, unseen, to the tower.  Not to mention, his companions that were surely clattering their way down the crevice above would have an easier time without being ambushed by these two.

The bigger Worgen guffawed below him, slapping his grinning companion on the shoulder.  Rask saw the opportunity, and dropped like a stone from the edge of the boulder.  It was his fist that connected with the base of the archer’s neck as he landed, and the Worgen dropped like a pile of rocks.  The armored lad barely got out a yelp before Rask brained him with the pommel of his dagger, grimacing at the resounding clang.

He stared down at the two, and wondered what Rhün would report when the unit found the Worgen unconscious but not dead.  He wondered if they would even notice– and the thought of what his Forsaken friends would do if they did compelled Rask to drag the two bodies behind the pile of crates they’d been guarding, hiding them securely from sight.  No sooner was the job done than he was darting toward the edge of the jetty, darkness and magic helping conceal him as he all but fled from the two breathing bodies that had cost him more than he’d expected.

☽ ☼  ☾ To be continued! ☽ ☼  ☾

Hawke’s Tunnel Vision

I imagine after the death of Hawke’s mother, Hawke becomes ten times more reckless in fights, she sprints past everyone else with her to smash skulls with her staff. For the first time, she ignores everything her father taught her about fighting as a mage. She ignores staying back, firing spells, and avoiding direct combat. Hawke pushes and pushes forward the further she goes the easier it is for her to see the ogre and Bethany. With each hit and spell Hawke finds Carver in his Grey Warden uniform that shines brighter and brighter and as her adrenaline peaks, she sees her. Her mother is always purple gown with the smile she wore when she saw her new home. My little girl is so strong I’m so proud of you is the only thing Hawke hears in her head before she falls to ground again. Hawke never excelled at hand to hand combat, and her flimsy robes provides little protection against steel, so she is almost always knocked unconscious.

And Fenris notices. He sees his love sprint past him and fall time and time again to the weakest humans and watches as Anders fires a shock at her unconscious body to shake her awake four five times a day. He knows Hawke was the opposite of a poor fighter, but he can’t find the right words to talk to her.

So he goes to Anders, avoiding all eye contact, and begs him to talk to Hawke. As much as it infuriated him, Hawke and Anders had magic in common. Anders scoffs for a second at Fenris’s incompetence but agrees.

Fenris waits at the door of Hawke’s home as Anders talks to her. He presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear her voice. He almost falls flat on his face when Anders opens the door and steps out. His laugh pierces his ears. I told her to fight like a mage not a warrior with me since there’s obviously not room for two on the front line… He only pauses for a second. and I told Hawke I care about her.

For the next month, Hawke pushes herself closer and closer to the edge until during one fight, the coterie ambushes the group and a thug strikes Anders in the back and he falls in the snowy alleyway in Lowtown, leaving Varric, Fenris, and Hawke to fight the thieves. Fenris cuts through human after dwarf after elf. Hawke’s blood paints the snow beneath her feet as she swings her staff. Her entire body is on fire. It burns through her enemies, harmless to her, but their blades cut through her clothing and her skin.

Use your magic Hawke. Fenris screams. HAWKE HEAL YOURSELF. As her flame dies, she pulls out a vial, drinks it, and recasts her fire. An archer takes her out that fight, and she falls to the ground.

Fenris hears Varric yell Hawke’s name, and he finishes his assault on the remaining thieves. As quickly as the fight starts it ends. Varric nods at Fenris and walks over to Anders. He picks up the limp Hawke and takes her home.

When she wakes up her in her bed and sees Fenris across the room she groans. What? Did I get really drunk last night or something? she asks with a grin on her bruised face. There were a noticeable increase in scars on her face and neck. He blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

What do you think about when you fight Hawke? Fenris asks, taking a seat next to her.

She turns her face away from him and laughs. I think about how I’m going to get all these damned blood stains out of my clothes. She replies. What do you think about?

Take a guess. Fenris asks.

She clears her throat and in a deep voice she says. Wow how am I swinging this blade so well? It’s taller than me! I’m so strong and handsome.

Fenris can’t help but laugh. He kisses her forehead and moves to the door.

I only think about one thing and that’s you.

The next time they fight together is the first time Fenris has ever seen Hawke cry. She stays in front of Fenris the entire fight, making sure to strike every enemy before him. But as the fire that caresses her body burns brighter, hot tears stream down her face. After watching the leader of a band of thugs fall to the ground, she sinks to her knees and presses her hands to her eyes to stop the flow of the tears. Fenris kneels next to her and lets Hawke hold his face in her shaking hands as her tears fall in absolute silence. She cries because for the first time she can’t see Mother or Carver or Bethany just Fenris clear as day.