it’s that no one ever believed him that gets to me the most. this is a society of telepaths. and yet when the doctor finds out that the drums are real, he’s surprised. the master is surprised, elated, by the confirmation that he’s hearing something that’s really there, that this thing that’s been following him and hurting him for so long is real.
after a certain point, given that the master is Really Fucking Good at mind control and such, you have to imagine that no one could just pick up on the noise in his head with a little general telepathy. he had to choose to let the doctor in to share it. and. and okay. we need to put aside him striving to be The Best At Controlling People’s Minds in the context of him having his mind violated as a child because if i think about these two things in relation to each other i’ll throw up.
but there has to have been a point before he was so accomplished that he couldn’t have defended his own mind as easily. that he couldn’t keep someone, anyone, from delving into his head and hearing the drums. which means i must conclude, because we find out who put them in his head at all and it’s the most powerful guy on gallifrey, that when he was younger, the people around him did know. they could hear the drums. they could figure out what was done to him. but they did nothing, they said nothing, they told him he was hearing things. because if the lord president wanted to use a child for his own ends, who was going to stand up and stop him? easier to sweep it under the rug. and the master lived with that for so long that finally having just one other person hear the drums was a shock to him.
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Here's the concept for one of my Strange AUs :D This has been sitting on my WIPs for months now, and today I finally decided to get it out :']
Info dump of this AU ahead for anyone interested, because I need to get it out of my system orz close ups below too
In this a AU, Stephen is raised in Asgard after his home planet (not Earth) is destroyed during a terrible war. Here, Donna is his older sister instead, and she was one of the soldiers who fought and died in said war (the sword he carries was hers).
He was taken in by the Asgardian army when he was around 6, and was raised collectively by them as part of the ranks. He is trained as a swordsman and excels at it.
He meets both Thor and Loki at that young age, and he develops a very close friendship with Loki, both of them growing up together and getting in all kinds of trouble (although Stephen was usually the one to get them out of it). But not all is fun and games with this two, as Stephen also becomes the person Loki confides the most in and viceversa. As they grow, this often leads to Odin sending Stephen to look for Loki whenever the god disappears after a family fight.
He becomes one of the best swordsmen in the 9 realms, and takes command of the Asgardian army when his mentor, the Ancient One (a commander in this AU) dies in battle.
During a battle in which he was perhaps too careless and cocky, he is gravely injured and his hands are irreparably damaged, leaving him unable to wield a sword.
Stephen has incredibly deep self worth issues, and since he isn't Asgardian by birth and also feels incredible debt to Asgard for taking him in when he was all alone, he is always trying to prove himself of his worth to be called Asgardian. So when he is left useless as a swordsman, he goes into a really dark place. This leads him to study magic instead, trying to still be of use to the throne and able to protect Asgard. He pulls through, and with a similar journey of the MCU Stephen, becomes one of the most proficient sorcerers of Asgard. That along with his previously good reputation with Odin grants him the position of Head Sorcerer in the court.
Unfortunately, this comes at the cost of distancing himself from Loki, being too focused on proving himself since the loss of his hand function. Of course, the god is resentful of this. They go through some shit to salvage the friendship and maybe even make it evolve into something more, but I won't go into that now as this lore dump rambling is already way too long lmao.
Also, he may or may not be part of a race that uses music as magic to affect the world around them too, but that's just deeper lore stuff 👀
Close ups to the head shots because I just adore how much softer and elegant he looks with the wavy hair, tiara thing and earring orz I want to do a better render of him like this so bad-
Plus the full body on its own too :] I would've loved to polish it more but I've got more stuff to do and just needed to get it out of my WIPs already o(-(
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Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts
(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)
TW: mentions of torture, human remains
Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.
Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept.
The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.
After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))
The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan.
It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives.
The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean.
Something in the last room makes him pause.
A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on.
Teeth. Human teeth.
His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.
As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session.
His hand is trembling.
Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze.
Only he doesn’t.
Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.
“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?
He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.
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I love it when people personify Pav as someone thats a domineering and cool man with incredibly cocky behavior that he's right about, only because they're so incorrect
in game Pav is a sopping wet cat who gets upset that Levi is wearing sneakers to the point he rants about it, mopes when he fails at his assassination attempt and is just so so bitchy consistently
His flirting game is also complete trash, he's got canon whore eyelashes and an hourglass figure. He's also wearing heels, which makes me think he's probably short.
Look me in the eyes and tell me you think he's cool, I dare you. You know I'm right
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