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killerpancakeburger · 2 months

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Being Ghost's BFF Headcanons

(while also dating Soap cause you deserve the best of both worlds)

If you told anyone that Ghost was your favorite person to see in the morning, they'd write you off as clinically insane. Or laugh in your face. It didn't make it any less true though. When you don't want anyone speaking to you before you had your coffee, the Ghost feels heaven-sent. Others might see it as rude, but you're content with him acknowledging your presence with a nod of head or by raising his mug of tea in your direction.

You've never been afraid of him - more like displaying a healthy apprehension towards a guy exceeding 1m90, weighing over 100kg, and hiding his face.

After spending a couple hours with him, you quickly came up to a new conclusion about him: he just had a resting bitch face. Just because he had a deep voice and a monotonous tone didn't mean he was angry 24/7. He treated people how he wanted to be treated. He had high expectations for himself and for others/teammates. All in all, a pretty reasonable guy.

You like to think he started to respect you for your combat skills and experience, but evidence pointed to the fact that he began to look at you differently after seeing you decisively slap Soap in the face to wake him up after he passed out from blood loss.

There had been a few milestones in your relationship: when he told you a bad joke for the first time (you briefly thought you were having an aneurysm), when he told you to call him Simon (in private), when he awkwardly tried to cheer you up by patting you on the shoulder (first time he touched you outside of combat/training).

Outside of missions, the time you spent together was divided between shooting matches on the training grounds and hanging out with a smoke at night when both of you struggled to sleep. He was one of the rare men not pulling any punches against you, allowing to enjoy the competition freely. Soap tried time and time again to stay awake to join you two, but failed systematically.

Acting like a divorced couple with Soap as the kid you have shared custody of. "Yer man escaped medical again" "Before 6 a.m he is YOUR man, Lieutenant"

Frequently finding yourselves shouting both at the same time: "English, MacTavish!" In the same exasperated tone.

You can handle yourself, and Ghost is perfectly aware of that. That doesn't stop him from standing behind you menacingly like the Grim reaper himself when he thinks someone's taking too many liberties with you.

If Soap's a golden retriever when he's in a good mood, Ghost reminds of your parents' cat: silent, deadly, and shows affection by deigning to occasionally hang out in the same room as you.

You always carry a spare mask for him; and he wears spare hair ties on the wrist - plain, black ones. Cannot mess with his vibe.

People keeps asking how you managed to have a relationship with "The Ghost", and your answer is very simple: "learn when to shut the fuck up".

A/N:

Me in the beginning: I'm only gonna write Soap content

Ghost:

Me: Oh FFS

BONUS:

When Ghost told you a bad joke for the first time:

You still remembered the joke incident vividly: you were on a mission together, just the two of you, and as you were focusing more than usual, anxious to disappoint him or to be a liability, you suddenly heard in your com: "Ye heard the rumour 'bout butter?"

If Ghost's voice hadn't been unmistakable, you would have thought he had been killed and replaced by someone else.

"What (the fuck)", you exhaled, not because you wanted to know about butter, but because you had no idea what the hell was happening. The fact that his tone was exactly the same as usual - deadpan, flat - contributed to making you feel insane.

"Nah, I shouldn't be spreadin' it". was the answer. Torn between demanding explanations and not wanting to commit a faux pas, you replied the way you replied to your parents' bad jokes:

"Ha. Ha. Haha...?"

The seasoned killer on the other side of the mic didn't seem to mind, but you texted Soap in panic as soon as your butt touched the helicopter's seat.

“JOHNNY”

"Sup hen"

"Cannae go wan mission without missing me, ae? ;)"

"Did Ghost hit his head recently??"

"Negative Ma'am" "Why? Did something happen??"

"He told me a dad joke. A fucking dad joke."

"😂 Thats kinda his thing"

"thought I was losing it"

"Congrats, ye can consider yerself stamped wit The Ghost seal of approval"

"Ok? Cool???"

"Mah too favourite people gittin along" *trails of smiling emojis and hearts*

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queenshelby · 8 months

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Forbidden Desire (Part Ten)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

The following morning

It was a gloomy afternoon in Birmingham, the streets covered in a thin veil of mist, creating troublesome conditions for the upcoming races. There was a lot of business to attend to that day, and Polly hurriedly made her way through the crowded streets in order to meet with Tommy at the gambling den.

As she turned a corner, Polly nearly collided with Lizzie Shelby, who was scowling with jealousy at the sight of Polly. Sensing Polly's urgency, Lizzie's expression hardened.

"Where is Thomas, Lizzie? Is he at the den?" Polly asked, her voice laced with concern.

Lizzie crossed her arms, looking down at Polly with disdain. "Oh, I'm sure he's off gallivanting with his new favourite person," she sneered before telling Polly that he hadn't shown up at the gambling den yet, which Polly knew was unusual for him.

Polly's heart skipped a beat, her intuition telling her who Lizzie was referring to. "You mean...," she began, her voice trembling. "You mean he's with Y/N?" Polly wanted to know, and Lizzie nodded, relishing the opportunity to unsettle Polly further.

"He's been spending quite a lot of time with her lately. Fucking her. Though he's doing his best to keep it hush-hush,” Lizzie told Polly while inhaling her cigarette smoke.

Shocked, Polly clutched her chest, her mind racing. She never thought Thomas would engage in a relationship so quickly after Grace’s passing, especially not with a woman almost half his age.

"Fuck!” Polly cursed. “I must speak with Thomas immediately," Polly declared, her voice filled with urgency. "This can't go on,” Polly pointed out, stammering almost, which, for Polly, was unusual.

“Why do you care?” Lizzie asked as her eyes widened, but Polly did not have time to explain and decided to rush to Tommy’s house where, no doubt, she would probably find the both of you.

An hour later…

An hour later, Polly finally arrived at Arrow House. She barged inside and asked Frances for Tommy’s whereabouts. As expected, Frances pointed to Tommy’s office, which, even in the morning, was a dimly lit room that smelled of stale tobacco and expensive whiskey.

Polly pushed open the door, revealing Thomas deep in thought, his brow furrowed and his eyes glazed with concern.

"Thomas!" Polly exclaimed. "We need to talk. It's urgent,” Polly told him, and Thomas looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and concern washing over his face.

“Polly? What's the matter?" he asked while Polly took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with pain.

"You cannot be involved with her, Thomas. She's Arthur's daughter,” she spat out in urgency, but Tommy did not comprehend what Polly was saying.

“Who is?” he asked, his mind struggling to process Polly's words.

“Y/N. She is your niece, Thomas,” Polly said, her voice a bare whisper that caused Tommy’s chin to drop.

Silence hung heavy in the air as Thomas processed those words. He felt as if the ground beneath him had crumbled away, leaving him tumbling down an abyss of confusion.

Pale as a ghost, Thomas swallowed hard, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His hands trembled, his mind struggling to accept the unthinkable truth. Just then, a wave of nausea washed over him, and Thomas stumbled out of his chair, rushing to the nearest waste bin. As Polly watched in shock, he emptied the contents of his stomach.

“Lizzie is right. You fucked her, didn’t you?” Polly asked, seeing his reaction and just as she raised this question, Thomas's gaze landed on Polly, his expression one of disbelief and realisation. His heart sank, knowing that the love he felt for you would now be tainted by this newfound truth.

“Yes,” he simply said as many thoughts raced through his mind, his heart torn between his love for you and the sudden weight of your familial connection. How could he continue this secret affair, knowing the truth?

With a heavy sigh, Thomas finally spoke, his voice laced with resignation.

"How could I have been so blind?" Thomas muttered, his voice filled with regret. "I had no idea, Polly,” he told his aunt.

Polly took a step closer to Thomas, her voice filled with understanding. "None of us knew, Thomas. Y/N’s mother came to see me. She told me about it, wanting me to make sure that her daughter does not get involved in the family business,” Polly explained.

“I…” Thomas began to say, lost for words, and it wasn’t very often that Thomas Shelby was lost for words.

Polly, of course, was well aware of the gravity of the situation and spoke up. "We can't let this continue, Thomas. It's best for everyone if you sever your personal ties with her. She is your niece,” Polly pointed out, and Thomas’s heart ached at the thought of letting you go, but he knew it was necessary for the family.

“You're right,” he told his aunt as a mixture of sadness and relief washed over Polly, who queried whether you were still at Arrow House.

Tommy nodded, telling his aunt that you were sleeping upstairs, in his bed and that he would go and talk with you about it in private.

Half an hour later…

You wake up in Thomas's bedroom, stretching your limbs and blinking away the remnants of sleep. As you glance around the room, your heart skips a beat at the sight of Thomas sitting on the edge of the bed, a sombre expression etched across his face.

You scoot closer to him, the warmth of the sheets still clinging to your body, and try to place a gentle kiss on his lips. But he pulls back, his eyes clouded with sadness.

"Thomas, what's wrong?" you ask, concern lacing your voice. His silence unnerves you, and you need to know what's troubling him.

He takes a deep breath, his hands clasped tightly together. "We need to talk," he says, his tone heavy with sadness. You feel a lump forming in your throat, fearing the worst.

"It's about us, Love," Thomas begins, avoiding your gaze. "There's something you need to know,” Tommy tells you as he struggles with his words as if each one is coated in barbed wire.

“Okay, Tommy. What is it?” you ask as your mind races, anxiety gnawing at your insides. What could possibly be so dire that it threatens your relationship with the man you love?

“We found your father,” Tommy declares, and you nod.

“Yes, your brother killed him,” you tell him while running your hand over his back, causing Tommy to flinch.

“No, your real father, Love. The one your mother told you died in France. He is very much alive,” Tommy tells you, and your eyes widen.

“Who is he?” you are excited to know, not knowing that your excitement would be short-lived.

"It’s Arthur,” Thomas blurts out, his voice laced with pain. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Your brother, Arthur?” you gasp. Your heart stops for a moment, the revelation hitting you like a gust of icy wind. Arthur Shelby, is your father?

“Yes,” Thomas whispers before his fingers brush against your cheek, his touch a mix of love and torment. "I wish it wasn't true, but it is," he says quietly, his eyes filled with regret.

“No, that means that…” you stammer, unable to say the words as it feels as though the room is spinning, reality fracturing like a shattered mirror. The man you love is your uncle.

“Yes, Love. You are my fucking niece,” Thomas blurts out, and you take a moment to process the news until speaking up again, your face laced with tears.

"Thomas, please," you plead, your voice trembling. "We can't let this news tear us apart,” you try to reason while Tommy looks at you, anguish etched in every line of his face.

"Love, I cannot be in a relationship with my fucking niece,” he tells you, angry and confused.

"But I love you, Tommy!" you say, tears welling in your eyes, and Tommy’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and torment.

"I love you too, with every fibre of my being. But it’s not right,” Tommy says as his room is heavy with the weight of a forbidden love, the knowledge of your shared bloodline casting a shadow over their hearts.

“So, this is where you draw the line, then?” you ask. “You kill and steal and still have fucking morals, huh?” you point out angrily, shaking your head. Your mind races, searching for a solution, an escape from this agonising predicament. But no matter how hard you search, no answer presents itself.

“It’s not just about fucking morals, Love. It’s my reputation. The elections. Arthur. Fucking everything,” Tommy tells you, and with that, silence settles between you, the room filled with unsaid words and throbbing desire. Love and blood are tangled threads, impossible to unravel.

“I should leave,” you eventually tell him, grabbing your things before leaving Arrow House.

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

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Torn | Part One

Summary: You're Philip Graves' secret lover, and it's complicated, to say the least. When your new 141 ally, Simon Riley, catches your eye, you're forced to make a decision.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), mentions of smut, canon-typical settings, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1k

A/N: this is a short series! Not as detailed as my full fics, but will have a few parts leading up to the conclusion. Part one is more of a short intro than actual plot, but whatever. This was requested! @redhoodxsupergirl

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GRAVES MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ next chapter | ao3 ver.

His lips trailed from the crook of your neck, then down the middle of your cleavage—the skin exposed from the tight grip he had on the neckline, pulled so hard it would fray the edges. For the first time in weeks, you two had time alone, to be just a tiny fraction of an average couple.

Your fingers ran through his short blonde locks, staring down at him as his mouth trailed even further, tugging on the waistband of your jeans.

He was so close to finally getting somewhere, so hot and heavy within only minutes of being in his office.

The phone on his desk rang, halting all movements and feelings of need. He pressed one last peck on your stomach, then you heard the stomp of his boots to the blaring phone.

“This is Graves.” Next, the click of him removing it off the hook, the faint mumble on the other line. With a sigh, you fixed the shirt's placement, sitting up from the cot with an impatient expression. Of all the times for a phone call, it had to be now.

Based on his solemn expression, his lips tightened into a line, he wouldn’t be hanging up and finishing what he started. It was yet another urgent message, then most likely he would be sent on a mission halfway across the globe—something you’d learned how to get used to by now.

With a few nods to himself and a few hums of agreement, he disconnected the call, throwing his jacket back over his shoulders.

“What is it now?” You asked, sliding off the mattress of his cot.

“They need me at the border.” Graves began gathering his intel on his desk, then stuffing his gear into his pack.

“You should suit up too, Shadow.”

He was a completely different man in the field, and definitely not the one you had come to love.

Yes, the job would always be more important. Yes, you were just as absorbed in the counter-terrorism work as he was, but did that diminish the sting it gave you? Not one bit. Laughing with his Shadows like a frat boy, acting like a cocky bastard. Though he was only trying not to draw suspicions surrounding your relationship, it still made you feel insignificant.

Some evenings, it seemed he paid more attention to General Shepard and his idiotic friends than you. The worst of it, each time you tried to be intimate, at least half the time, you were interrupted or rushed before any satisfying conclusion.

What a way to live, and you were stuck in it.

He was your boss; your arrogant, enticing boss. All the traits that drew you into him at first now became qualities of him you despised. But you couldn’t stay away. Maybe it was risking your job, or your military record, or even breaking his heart—you still cared, no matter what he did, it seemed.

There was no time to dwell on it now; you were being sent on a mission in South America, with him and all those Shadows.

—

The blades of the chopper sent stands of your hair flying, whipping past your eyes.

It was only a game of follow the leader now, the blob of Shadow soldiers meeting at the mission point. This was it, you’re going to meet your new partners. Perhaps, they would be civil, clean-cut soldiers who mean business.

Or, unqualified and bureaucratic—a persistent theme in your mind as of late.

It could be Graves’ pessimism getting the better of you, finally spending so long with him that it has infected you, changed you. Who knows? He spent so long as your superior, that even when romantically involved with him, his voice became your inner one, and it was not a pleasant one to listen to, for the record.

Graves began introducing each member in front of you, four of them in front. They must be the big players, noticeably one of them, who really was a big player. Their expressions were stern, but their Captain remained friendly enough, at least.

Captain Price; a good ally to have, that you could tell.

Soap MacTavish; the man you would call to get a job done seamlessly.

Kyle Garrick or “Gaz”; his age didn’t fool you, his resilience seen for miles.

And then, the one who interested you the most, though no part of him was visible except for some tattoos on his forearm. Even the insignia for their Task Force—141, if you remembered Philip’s briefing correctly.

Simon Riley… But no one dared to call him that. Instead, it was Ghost.

You had been staring too long, so long Graves nudged you, “this is my second in Command.” He gave you a passing look, forcing you out of this trance. He introduced you, your name, and callsign since it was clear you were going through something right now. That something? Graves didn’t know yet, and quite frankly he was too dense to ask.

This was wrong, utterly wrong, to feel this way when looking at a new ally. One who looked dead in the eyes, at that.

Your hand is outstretched, the gesture being second nature from your time in the service. “Nice to meet all of you. Hopefully, we’ll do some… good work.” Ghost’s gloved one met yours, leaving a sting on it even after it ended, from just how firm his grip was.

The formalities escaped your lips with ease, but your mind was still wondering. You chalked it up to being deprived for so long, but that didn’t change who it was directed at. Of all of them, this one? Maybe it was because he was the largest, the most secure in himself.

Perhaps it was the tattoos, the mystery of not knowing what was under his balaclava…

The Shadows clustered behind you two had dispersed, as did the rest of the Task Force. “You feeling alright? I need you here.” Graves now touched your arm with just one finger, a gesture that wouldn’t draw a lot of suspicion if someone saw it.

You shook your head, not at him, but at the thoughts in your mind. It took several seconds before you could form a sentence.

How were you supposed to get any work done? Could you even trust yourself to be alone with either of them anymore, let alone have a hidden relationship with one of them?

It wasn’t cheating if they were only thoughts… right?

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Such a liar, and a horrible one at that. Luckily, Graves had always been awful at social cues. For once, his ignorance was working in your favor.

You were far from alright.

The silver lining? Your dreams would have some sustenance tonight.

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #philip graves x reader #philip graves

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ohbo-ohno · 7 months

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i’ve been stalking your most recent ask about the stuffy 👁️👁️, i had this sort of angsty idea on how one day jonny and the reader get into some sort of argument during one of jonny’s off days and out of frustration reader’s stuffy gets snatched out of her hands and torn apart. i can just imagine reader looking down at where the stuffy fell with teary eyes and wobbly lip and starts to absolutely lose her mind because it’s such a comfort item for her and now it torn shreads. i also the idea of both simon and jonny scrambling to stitch back together, jonny didn’t mean to destroy it :((!! he just got so wound up and wasn’t thinking straight!! he’s super sorry and groveling after everything said and done

- 🐏 (if it isn’t taken)

i've left this ask for a few days (so sorry) because i looooove it :(( its so soft and sweet like im MELTING

i do think that serial killer johnny is a little emotionally immature, very quick to overreact to things - especially when you're not behaving how he wants you to. if simon didn't keep him on such a short leash, your captivity with serial killer ghoap would be a lot more confusing and painful

let's imagine you and johnny get into a fight over smth while simon is out in town for a bit.

i can totally see johnny grabbing the stuffy from your hands and feeling vindicated when you get mad at him - cause he's so fucking angry at you and you're just scared so it makes him feel more justified in yelling at you when you're also yelling at him. but he gets really worked up, your anger just feeding his, and... he doesn't even really fully notice when he tears the head off your bear :( he just wants to make a point, yk?

but you're so upset. you let out this agonized little cry that has his heart stopping. that bear has been the one constant comfort you've had in this living nightmare, you genuinely don't know how to cope with the idea that it's gone

simon comes home to a bit of a wreck. you're just crying, absolutely inconsolable. and the more johnny tries to comfort you, the more upset you get. johnny's a little lost - he hadn't realized how severe your reaction would be to losing the stuffed animal, but it's kinda the last straw for you. you just break completely

ghost would probably be able to help you calm down eventually. sends johnny out of the room with a mean glare, makes it clear he'll be suffering for his misbehavior, and pulls you real close to try and fix things. promises you you'll get your bear back, good as new, that everything is ok, helps guide your breathing and holds your ear to his heart.

johnny spends his night agonizing over how to sew your bear back together :( hunched over the little guy with a needle and a thread, desperately trying to keep his stitches clean. he gets to see you the next morning to apologize and give you your bear back, then spends a few days taking his punishment in the basement

simon makes you give johnny all sorts of cuddles when he's allowed back up. tells you both that everything is water under the bridge now, to kiss and makeup <3

#asks and answers #🐏 anon #serial killer ghoap x reader #bo writes

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psychedelicprincess · 1 year

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Hearts / Wires

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

♡ Summary - What a hard man to read, he is. Secretive, mysterious, fragile. You want to find a way the cut through the wires that hold his heart back from feeling; anything to get through his tough outer shell. Acquaintance, friend, lover. Anything that keeps you close to him. The problem? He isn't ready to let anybody in yet.

♡ Content Warnings - Mentions of injury, mentions of rough feelings, romantic confusion, lots of joking around, mentions of marriage, mentions of death ... nobody actually dies.

♡ A/N - Hii! I just got back into writing, so this may be rough. Anyways - please enjoy reading! Feedback is appreciated!!

Word count - 1.8k

(Many, many anatomical terms! This is my way of studying for anatomy class lolllll....)

Nothing can save me now, it’s what I believe.

“Snap out of it,” He muttered against your ear. “We have things we need to do.” You glance up at him, gathering your thoughts and running your hand down your shirt in an awkward attempt to cease the wrinkles.

“Right. Sorry, L.T.” He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even dare to look your way. “Whatever. Don’t call me that. You’re wasting time.” He scolds, breaking the airy silence. You hear his radio crackle to life, a familiar voice chattering on the other side. Simon gets up and stomps away, leaving you sitting in your torn, mangled desk chair alone.

You barely register when your radio goes off, signaling a soldier on the way to your infirmary for a gash. You grab the radio softly, confirming that you’re there, your meek voice barely signaling your presence.

An argument with your “friend,” if you could even call him that – it felt more like slight acquaintance sometimes, wasn’t part of this morning's schedule. He had gotten a nasty infection just below his right clavicle, and you fought him with the fact that he was not fine at all, and you needed a closer look. Of course, Simon is a stubborn man. It took you multiple attempts to get him to finally peel his clothes off to the point where you could see his collar bones.

After examining and cleaning his wound, he decided he’d had enough and got up, berating you for wasting time on something so unnecessary and walking out into the four-a.m. darkness after pulling his clothes back on the way they were before. Such a confusing man, he was.

You push past your thoughts and take a swig of water before guiding your patient onto the infirmary bed, putting a new pair of medical gloves and a new medical mask on.

♡

The infirmary was quiet today since you had stayed back, that was until Simon came back in the afternoon with a fresh batch of wounds, ranging from near the ulna down to his tarsals. His pants were torn, same as his right sleeve, you’ve never seen him this butchered before.

“What happened to you?” You ask, still taking mental notes of every visible injury. “Mind your damn business.” He snaps. You glare at him before regaining composure, beckoning him to sit down on the freshly made bed.

“I’m going to need you to remove as much clothing as possible,” You start, “Or at least as much as you’re comfortable with.” He thinks to himself for a moment. “No.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean no, Simon. I can’t see anything through that fabric, I'm not a fucking X-ray machine.” He looks up at you in disapproval. “I don’t want to be here. I was forced – this was against my will. I’m bloody fine, dammit.” He starts to stand up, but you’re quick to push him back down. This shocks him enough to stay in place, mindlessly and silently staring up at you.

“I’m going to examine you through your clothes first. Stay put.” You turn away to replace your gloves once more, retrieving a folder with every single injury you’ve ever treated Simon for. You think about it for a second, you’ve seen him so much, you wonder why he still seems to dislike you. Maybe he’s just like this with everyone, but you don’t want to bring yourself to believe a human could be this cold.

You walk back over to him, opening the folder to a clean incident report sheet and starting your examination near his fibia. You massage your way to his tibia, feeling for fractures. It’s hard to tell through the thick, layered clothing he was wearing. Not wanting to give up, you drag your hands up to his femur, past his patella. Your hand doesn’t compare to the size of his thigh, especially while sitting down. The intense muscle build he had going didn’t seem to help either.

You can feel his gaze on you, deciding you’ve examined his legs to the best of your ability, you move to his arms. Feeling from his humerus to his carpals, his stare never weakened, instead, it felt stronger. You’re holding his right hand up now, before averting your gaze over to his. “...What?” You ask. “What?” He reciprocates. “You’re staring at me.” “Well, what else do you expect me to look at?” You fall silent at his response, starting to toy with his fingers.

His ring finger feels off. As you worked up to his distal phalange, the finger seemed to get more disoriented. You must’ve touched it wrong while deep in concern because he flinches.

"Did that hurt?" You drop your fingers back to the proximal. He doesn't respond. You huff and take his silence as an embarrassed 'yes'.

♡

"...Are you almost done?" He breaks the silence, "We aren't even five minutes into the examination." You groan, locking eyes with him for a long moment, watching his pupils dilate. "Now you're the one staring at me." He adds quickly. "Okay?" Your tone is confused and careless, sounding almost sarcastic. Once more, the room falls silent as you finally conclude the exam. "Now it's time for the fun part. Stitching you back together." You hop up, placing the sheet of paper down on your desk to fill out later. Simon would never let you examine him long enough to fill it out while you examine him.

"You seem rather excited about that part," He says, making you look back at him with a satisfied grin, "Fuckin' weirdo." You stifle a small laugh at his words. "You're funny. Veeery funny." You say, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. His heart skips a beat, but it goes unnoticed. "Funnier than you," He scoffs, "Wanna hear a joke?"

You ponder for a second. "Hit me." You finally say. He looks up at you, seemingly trying to force eye contact. "What happens to suicide bombers when they die?" You furrow your eyebrows and look down at him. "...What?" "They go everywhere."

You take a second to process what was just said to you, completely frozen in your spot as your nose slowly scrunches up. "That was.. Definitely a joke." You continue collecting the items you'd need to aid him. "Indeed."

Your thoughts are racing with denial of the fact that you're so infatuated with this man, his stupid joke didn't phase you, other than the fact that it was horrendous. Did you really like him that much? You've never even seen his face. His personality wasn't exactly to die for, either. Yet, something drew you to him, every time you spent "alone time" with him, the rope that intertwined your hearts grew thicker and stronger. It felt like his heart was made of blades, every time he managed to cut you away on accident - or maybe it was on purpose - you'd have to build the rope stronger again. His cold-hearted attitude didn't seem intentional, it's not like he ignored you or--

"Wake up. Don't got all day. Stitch me up already, Doc." You're pulled from your thoughts abruptly, giving a nervous laugh. "Sorry. On it." Your mind clears and you turn your gaze towards him. "...You still need to take your clothes off." You remind him, and his face drops, you could tell by the way his eyes phased from wide awake to half-lidded. "I've already told you no." He bites. "And I've already told you I can't see through your clothes."

The clock ticks as you both sit there in silence. He tries to get up. "Simon - Sit back down, now. You aren't leaving." He groans and complies. "You can't keep me here forever." "Oh, but I could."

He looks up at you, disgusted. "We both know that wouldn't do any good." You faux pout. "I could use the company." "I'm not exactly what you'd call good company." You cock your head to the side. "What do you mean by that?" He doesn't respond, so you decide to drop it.

♡

"Wanna hear another joke?" He asks. You're halfway through the stitches on his upper arm, after practically begging him to let you do your job. "...Okay." You nod. "Want to know how you make any salad into a caesar salad?" He questions. You glance up at him, signaling him to continue. "Stab it twenty-three times." His joke took a minute to process, but once you got it, you looked even more concerned than the last time. "How did you come up with that?" You ask. "I didn't." You cock a brow. "What?" "Oh, nothing."

You were thoroughly confused, nonetheless, you were glad he was easing up. You also drank in the sound of his voice like liquor, you wouldn't mind if he told you horrible jokes for hours.

"Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?" He asks. "Where?" "Everywhere."

That one actually made you laugh. Finishing his stitches, your mouth is agape as humorous laughter spills.

"So you do think I'm funny?" He cocks his head. "That depends on if that joke was a 'Simon-original' or not." You giggle. "Simon original? What the fuck? Are you shittin' me?" "No, no. I would never." You smile, and he shakes his head. "You know what I think?" He asks. You hum. "I think you're a dirty little liar." You gasp. "Simon Riley! Not until marriage." He's confused until he realizes how degrading he sounded. "Smarten up." He growls. "I'm as smart as they get." You shrug.

Marriage now paraded his mind. Of course, he'd never admit that. He didn't want to get married. Pssh...

"Speaking of marriage..." You interrupt his thoughts. "Would you ever get married?" You interrogate. "...No."

"Oh. I would. I've wanted to get married since I was little. Sometimes when I'm alone and bored in here, I think about my dream wedding." You confess. "C'mon, you've had to have thought about it at least once or twice."

"I never said I didn't think about it..." His voice trails off into a quiet whisper. "Can we drop it?" You notice how his tone has changed, realizing you've probably just crossed a boundary.

It's silent, almost deafening as all you can hear is the weather outside. "I'm really sorry for bringing that up, Simon. I didn't-"

"I'd get married to you." You're taken aback at the sudden interruption. "...What?" He rolls his eyes. "Never-fucking-min-"

"...I'd get married to you, too." You interrupt him this time. He's completely silent now, as were you. "Would you, now?" You can sense his bold aura washing away. You gulp. "I would. Matter of fact, I'd throw on a white dress right now and kiss you and call you my husband."

Your cheeks heat up, your tone coming off in a joking way. "What are you waiting for?" He's not nervous anymore, relishing in the way his words make you smile.

"M'waiting for you, Simon."

#simon riley #cod mw #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #soft #fluff #simon riley fluff #call of duty mw2 #mw2

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desertfangs · 3 months

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A Ghost in Our House [AO3]

Armand/Louis - Mature - 3098 words

After traveling to New York City together in the early 1900s, Louis is living like a ghost in their shared home. Armand wants to bring back his passion and joie de vivre, but doesn't know how.

This was written for the @valenfangs prompt "Unrequited."

Before anyone gets upset, let me just say I don't think Armand's love here is unrequited, but at this point in time, Armand believes it is. Louis is so mired in his grief and misery that he is unable to appreciate or reciprocate the way Armand wants him to.

I find this era with them so fascinating because Louis describes it as entirely miserable and cold, and then Armand leaves him because he can't get him out of his malaise, so we know that's true, but also, I believe they had good nights and intimacy during this era, too.

Short Excerpt:

Armand looked down at Louis' pallid face, soft in sleep, surrounded by a mane of inky black hair. He spent countless hours studying Louis’ eyelashes, the little lines in his lips, the way his head rested on the small pillow. He was a gorgeous man and the death sleep rendered him more stunning, like a sculpture.

Armand was lingering. He had only opened his coffin to make sure he was there. Normally he did this check before sunrise to ensure Louis had made it home safe, but he hadn’t done so yesterday and thus he’d come in now after sunset to ease his worries.

Last night, Louis had torn out of their shared home like a tornado, whirling right past Armand who’d been in the living room hoping to catch him. It was as if Armand did not exist. More and more, Louis treated him like a ghost. Or worse, a hideous end table he’d rather pretend wasn’t there. So Armand had gone to his room and stayed there, not bothering to listen for his return, not bothering to ensure he was back before the sun came up, as he so often did.

Louis was younger in the blood so the death sleep took him sooner, held him longer. It was lucky, really, or Armand might not see Louis at all.

At least now he could see him sleeping, for all the good it did. He reached down into the coffin, stopping short of touching his face, fingers dangling just above his forehead. He wanted to feel his smooth skin, to have that contact, brief as it was. But he pulled his hand back. It wasn’t the same if the touch was stolen.

He would have it again. Louis would come out of his malaise. He’d been distant and broken since they left Paris, but there were moments of awe, of pleasure. Moments when Armand saw a spark, felt a change, and thought he might finally be snapping out of it, only for him to retreat back inside of himself again.

And yet here in New York he’d only gotten worse. He’d sunk further into his dark moods and now Armand had to sneak into his room to get glimpses of him sleeping, lest he never see him at all.

He snarled at the sleeping form, annoyed that Louis seemed determined to exist as a phantom and in turn, was making Armand into one as well.

Louis’ face twitched. His eyes fluttered. Armand held his breath. He should close the coffin and go, he knew that, and yet he couldn’t look away as Louis sucked in a breath, his chest rising as he came back to life. His eyes opened, searching around in a panic until they locked onto Armand, hovering above him.

“What is it?” Louis asked, sounding breathless.

“What do you mean?” Armand asked.

Louis sucked in air as if his vampire lungs required it and sat up slowly in his coffin. “Is there trouble?”

He looked scared and Armand’s heart squeezed. He wondered if Louis was having nightmares again. Strange that creatures such as them could dream even in the depths of death sleep, that even the comfort of oblivion eluded them.

“No trouble,” Armand said gently. He reached out but again stopped short of touching him.

Louis frowned. “Then why are you here?”

Read the Rest on AO3

#armand/louis #loumand #armand #louis de pointe du lac #interview with the vampire #iwtv era #their broken marriage years #armand x louis #louis/armand #vc fanfic #vc fic #tvc #vc #vampire chronicles #valenfangs #valenfangs 2024 #the vampire chronicles #my fic

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 year

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DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #4

✦

Just a Shade

Vlad blasts Phantom with a new invention of his without any warning. What it does is it siphons away his ectoplasm and weakens Phantom to the point it reverses his powers, but not in the way you think. Instead of needing to concentrate to be intangible/invisible, he has to concentrate to stay tangible/visible and trying exhaustes him to a dangerous amount. Like, almost passing out and fading away entirely kind of dangerous. Like this, he's like ghosts you see in some movies, he can't touch or move objects more than an inch, plus add in he can't speak other than some ominous noises. In other words, he's stuck. For who knows how long.

The Justice League haven't heard from Phantom for a while, but they just think he's probably more busy on his home terf and can't spare any time. That's fine. Everyone keeps going about their business as usual. Even more time passes and the Justice League are getting suspicious over Phantom's absence and are worried.

They go looking for him and come to find out that they've been receiving multiple messages and calls from Team Phantom that were blocked/jammed, asking if they've seen the missing ghost and that he never came home however long ago. JL asks Team Phantom when was they heard from him and what was he doing at the time. They tell JL that he was last seen fighting one of his rogues, Plasmius, but that they haven't seen the evil ghost for a while either and that the other rogues were acting strangely.

The JL go to Amity Park with the proper precautions, and find a hoard of angry ghosts swarming the mayor's home, but they're being blocked from entering by a ghost shield. The JL cautiously asked some of the ghosts what was going on and they reply that the man hiding behind the ghost shield has harmed and stolen their Prince. The JL decide to pass through and break down the door to the house.

The house is eerily quiet as they search for the resident. They find Vlad curled up on the floor in one of the corners of the lab absolutely beside himself. His face is splotchy red, bags under bloodshot eyes, and hair in disarray. His usually well kept suit is dirty and torn. He rocks back and forth mumbling, "I didn't mean to. Never wanted to end him. Never. Never." Vlad thinks he killed Danny all the way dead, so his mental state is in shambles.

He's terrified once he sees the JL there. He went through all the trouble of jamming any correspondence between them and Amity Park in fear of them taking retribution for offing one of their members, unintentional or not. The JL are furious and grief stricken for the loss of the young ghost. That is until Superman picks up on the faint sound of something clicking and a sound similar to harsh wind hitting bare branches. He brings it to the other's attention and they start searching for the noise when Batman recognizes the clicks as code.

They find a pen on the table next to a messy handwritten note, the words rushed and staggered as if the writer kept being interrupted. The note read:

"Help. Trapped. Need portal. Far Frozen. To weak to open myself."

The JL are confused until they see Phantom's form flicker in and out of focus like a film reel. He looks terribly gaunt and exhausted to the point of almost collapsing. The JL get to work opening the portal with the help of a frantic Vlad, securing a ghost net to carry Phantom in like a stretcher, and booting up a map of the Ghost Zone to get to the Far Frozen. The JL decide to send the three leaders, Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. With Phantom secured in the net and all three ready to go, they step into the portal.

✦

I'm kinda reminded of that fic where Danny is stuck in-between dimensions because of his parents so he decides to haunt the Watchtower to get the Justice League's help. Not trying to copy anything I swear. I woke up with this idea on the brain.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny is ghost prince until 18 #possible redemption arc for vlad #the justice league still wanna punch him in the face #protective justice league #missing phantom #writing prompt #prompt #dp x dc prompt #sleepy-writes-stuff

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violets-in-her-arms-writes · 10 months

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Make Me Write

Thanks for the tag @elbritch-kit! I hope your writing went well ♥

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count)

I have so many WIPs in my folder, I decided to use a wheel to chose three for me... i'm kidding but it will end up this way one day. Anyway, you can find the contenders under the cut if you want to know more about them (or you can vote based on vibes only) :

I'm not tagging anyone but consider this an open tag (and don't hesitate to tag me if you do make a poll 🥰)

LIGHTS UP

When her ex-bestfriends knock on her door and ask for their old band to get back together, Nat slams the door in their face. Somehow, this is not the end of the story.

-> I'm technically almost done with the first draft, I just need the last chapter... Yes it's been on the back burner for three years, your point? 😭

WITCH'S TIME:

Lorelei Douxruisseau had always had the unfortunate tendency to get into trouble on her own. It didn't matter if it was about pissing off a Goddess, starting a war or terrorizing a village or two, all these dubious decisions were always motivated by the same thing: boredom. And it was this same boredom, Lorelei's secular enemy, that encouraged her to push open another Witch's door unannounced. And to meddle in their messy ritual. But really, it's not her fault. After all, who'd have guessed that behind their brilliant idea and idiotic ritual was the last of the Maledictus, eh? Not Lorelei, that's who. After an ill-prepared ritual and a poorly negotiated contract, when the Mighty Ones find themselves projected into Lorelei Douxruisseau's past, the whole fabric of the universe shakes and the veils of time are torn apart. Faced with an amnesiac Lorelei devoid of magic, they'll have to be patient if they ever want to return home. And they'll have to pray that she doesn't slit their throats when she regains her memories.

-> I'm on the third book for this series and it has been kicking my ass big time. I had to cut it in half and put one half in the fourth book, and I was so pissed I haven't picked it up since.

THE FLEDGLING

Jo Hautain is in love with a vampire. It has been her reality since her girlfriend has been turned, seven years ago, and yet, she still manages to be surprise but the utter bullshit that came with this life-changing transformation. What do you mean Lou has to bond with an established Coven to rule her bloodlust ? What do you mean Jo is not enough ? Still, she is not one to go gently into the night. If the Rodins think they are worthy of Lou, they will have to prove it. When the vampiric masquerade ball Lou has been invited to (and which Jo crashed) takes a turn for the worse, she must come up with a new plan to ensure her girlfriend's survival while trying to preserve her own heart. Unfortunately, Lou isn't the only one having issues of the supernatural variety. Iris suffers from a rare fae disease currently trying to kill her, Charlie still can't accept being a wolf three nights a month and is sinking even deeper into despair as time goes by, Alex longs to return to the sea, despite knowing it would be her undoing. And Ana is hunted and hounded by the Virulentes, the less-than-human leaders of the witch's community, who resent her "abusive use of magic". Add to the mix two customers too charming for their own good, a mysterious Coven settling back into their town and a ghost from the past lurking in the shadows, and Jo is ready to throw the towel. No, really, it's not easy being to be the only sensible one around, but someone has to do it. Jo just wishes it would be someone else, for once.

-> This is my July Camp NaNo project and I'm 16k in out of 20k so I'm doing pretty well. Is it good? Meh, maybe not, but at least it's moving forward unless the other two XD

#wip: la fledgling #wip: witch's time #tag games #polls #kill. me.

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kaikaykoa · 1 year

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shoutout to gale for being so nice and enabling me anywhosits heres like a whole collection i have so far it’s not that fleshed out okay where was I. for every part of lore I get wrong you’re legally allowed to throw a pebble at me.

SO taking place in oliver’s timeline so I can play with the soulmates concept I guess. They also dont really have names so we’ll just use the place holders I’ve been using. whoopsie.

In Ni no Kuni, Oliver finds this lady (haven’t drawn her yet) who gives him a tip about this other fogged up area of the world and some ghost town civilization somewhere. They find this traveler at some point who’s actually from that civilization. He’s not too sure how long he’s been alive but he tells Oliver about it so he can better find it because for some reason this man can’t just tell him directions to it as much as he wants to.

There was a god made out of clay, molded by the people of the civilization. They make her based on what they want her to do. In this case, they wanted a guardian for their land and someone who can answer to their every need.

One day, there was disagreement among the people and suddenly they tore her into two. One side had more clay than the other, meaning their new god would have more power than the other. The one molded with more clay was to perform the duty to answer their needs no matter how immoral or self destructive. The other one with less clay was the new guardian to protect their land. These gods had no memory of who they once were as a whole.

Those who molded the guardian were worried she wouldn’t be powerful enough, and they kept her away from the other god because they thought he’d kill her. But in the end they recognized their kinship and treated each other like family. The traveler was a close friend of theirs.

People thought splitting the clay god was a good idea. But their mouths were too loose and the first half was enraged after hearing this. They thought humans were much too selfish for such kind and dutiful gods, they engulfed the land with mist and one day, the memories made in the land, of the land would be gone forever. Their stories, songs, legends, history—everything would be lost no matter which stones or whose hearts they were engraved in. It would be as if it hadn’t existed at all, like how they kept the secret they were once one loving individual that was torn into two because of greed.

Anyone who stays in the mist would also disappear when the first half expunges it all. The second half, a loving sister, roams the ghost town, still as its guardian, muttering poems and humming songs of its sad tale.

The traveler finishes his recount of this story, saying he had been able to escape the land before the mist engulfed it. He had returned multiple times just to figure out how to help his friends and his home, and when he finally figured out how, he realized he couldn’t do it. Not under Shadar’s watch, nor the white witch looming over them, prohibiting them from using magic.

He learned he could help one soul from this world by helping their soulmate in another. And while that was one of his many leads, he did the next best thing. Spreading his home’s history to as many people as possible. Although, he knew this was a futile task, seeing as no one could help at all.

Oliver asks him what he’ll do in the end. He says he’ll go back to his home and disappear along with the mist. Hopefully provide his friends some company when the time for expunction comes—if they even still remember him.

Oliver decides to help and ask the traveler what they look like, in an attempt to find their soulmates in his world, Ichi no Kuni.

Although when he and his friends get there, they’re a bit baffled their soulmates look fine. On the outside, at least.

OKAY yeah I dont really have names they’ll go by labels for a bit. The first half’s soulmate is a friendly mechanic with his own humble repairshop in Motorville. Somewhere inside it is reserved for a private investigator’s office? Firm? There’s two signs up front. They’re good friends with each other, as well as a young lady dressed in black who’s the mechanic’s little sister, just like their soulmates.

Somewhere by the repairshop is a little fortune telling booth with a lady inside that Oliver can't recall where he's met her... until Drippy tells him she might be the soulmate of that lady that gave them the tip on the lost civilization.

okay some commentary bcause i know better than to put THAT in tags <- hit the tag limit too many times.

sorry i just whipped up that hopefully nnk-ish clothes i am terrible at character design i hope it doesnt look like nazcaan clone WUGHH. i also like the idea of soulmates being stark contrasts but this guy is mega MESSED UP !!!!! i'll put their drama in some other post or. uh. spomething. also umm i had the nnk2 artbook open the whole time and referenced stuff from there sorry if they look like citizens. theyre little guys. sorry if i get drippy out of character it was funny in the moment

#burning alive mention #nnk #ni no kuni #oc #yma.odles #oliver ni no kuni #drippy ni no kuni #// yeah i also mentioned this was supposed to be a crossover thing but i am the master of being obssesed with the #// obscurest concepts possible and mashing them togehter makes it completely undecipherable #// purse owners if you can recognize the characters good for you !!#// if you recognize the parallels (HARD MODE) you get umm free coffee coupon #// sorry im guilty of putting guys in situations i wanted to assign blorbo a familiar but it spiraled into whatever convoluted mess this is #// to anyone who knows my whereabouts for the past two years you can SEE how bad it's gotten

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grimescum · 4 months

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ok fine (i say to nobody because nobody asked me for this)

HEADS UP i speak about some of these as if im like. dissecting the actual meaning of the song... thats not true idk why i decided to phrase it like that. i meant that this is how the songs relate to him in my head but. i dont feel like fixing it

and ive got crazy brain fog here we fucking go

baba yaga - nilfruits is, in retrospect, a pretty loose fit considering its actual meaning, which i didn't figure out until AFTER i associated it with walter. so. :P blehh

the MV shows a young girl, easily impressionable and desperate for validation, being lured into a building with compliments and promises of being something great. she's then continually groomed (into dancing, presumably for free or next to nothing, as well as murder??) using that same validation

... or somehign idk POINT IS i know generally what its hinting at and it doesn't fit w how i see walter

brutus - the buttress reminds me of what walter might've thought about alucard right before his betrayal as well as everything that came afterwards. verse 1-3 is from the perspective of old walter,

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing / For untimely death or demise / Or am I just wishing I could be like you?

envy is a feeling very familiar to me. even with the people i love most, if they're more liked or better off than me in any regard, i might have moments of extreme hatred towards them. it always passes, but in the past i've acted on those feelings impulsively or in a moment of lapsed judgment..

all of that was to explain how i see his betrayal, basically. him reacting in shock when seras tells him she enjoyed his presence was def the "oh i fucked everything up" moment, and him continuing on regardless could've been apathy that i also tend to feel after I've also fucked up; i think he's mentally protecting himself against the trauma of losing basically all he had in the moment. also just. yk. he probably thought since he went this far he might as well. but 1. he still could've just stopped 2. shhhh

verse 4 is from the perspective of dark! walter,

Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy / I too have a destiny / This death will be art / The people will speak of this day from near and afar

This event will be history / And I'll be great too / I don't want what you have / I wanna be you

and the outro would be during walter's defeat, though that's usually when my daydream stops since the lyrics don't match up well enough ell oh ell

scapegoat - ghost and pals mostly for the chorus.

Now do you hate me? / Are you afraid of me? / Are you able to feel culpability? / Come forth and kill me / Bow down and worship me / Take your time, all we have is eternity

Now with a new start / Broken and torn apart / Nothing in me resembles a human heart / My name is unknown / Something I've never told / On my own, I declare / "I don't wanna go home"

i see this from the perspective of dark! walter, with some lines being both literal and metaphorical. i see "all we have is eternity" and "now with a new start" to be literal in the sense of his turning. "my name is unknown, something i've never told" is metaphorical, representing him lying about his true thoughts and feelings, maybe not even having a good idea himself. also a nod to lack of identity issues in bpd. "Nothing in me resembles a human heart" is both literal and metaphorical since he's no longer human, but he's also lost the ability to care for those around him now that his plan is already in motion.

appetite of a people pleaser - ghost and pals is pretty self-explanatory but I'll point out some lyrics i think fit well anyway,

Give me your dire expectations, and I’ll consume perfection

Now that I’ve become a full-course identity / Take a bite of me / I hope that I’ve become a favorable delicacy / That I’m worth something

I’ll eat ‘em all, the thoughts of anyone I’ll ever meet / Just to make them happy / Wondering why I’m a burden, or so it seems / Aren’t I everything?

These flavors of personality are / Hindering my likeability / My impulsive desire, my appetite has / Spoiled my urge to satisfy / Everyone will like me more without it

copycat - circusP hardly even counts here but i'll add it anyway. listening to this song gave me the headcanon that whenever he realized he subconsciously picked up a behavior or habit from alucard, seras or integra, he'd feel an intense guilt for it. thats also bpd related btw i used to do that and still do to a lesser extent

ok im bored that's it

#flea talks #walter c dornez #hellsing #my eyebal itch

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narrators-journal · 10 months

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part 4

Okay, so the next part is a very heavily, basically remade, chapter, so I'm gonna warn you now that it might be a bit late and a little less polished. Kinda like this chapter is a little rougher than the others, but it's at least not a massive change like the next one lol. I hope you enjoy it regardless tho!

CW: Monsterfucking, groping or heavy petting, another example of my weird streak of blue-balling Ryomina lololol. It's just a spicier chapter tho.

Previous part: here

Next part: Here

TOC: Here

I should apologize. Was the primary thought running circles through Minato's head as he stood under the cold rainfall and let the shower cool the desire in his blood.

How should I apologize though? Suck his dick? He mused when he finally stepped out to dry off. Continuing to think, Though, maybe sex isn't a good apology. He might not be as much of a whore as I am. While pulling the only article of clothing he had on hand back over his head and padded back to his bed. Only for finding sleep to be far more challenging than it had been that morning.

That same siren call that had almost been inescapable the past few days had left him without even a note to remember it by. Leaving the shaggy-haired sacrifice to simmer in the lingering flames of his desire. With only the conspiratorial whispers of, How big is he, though? Ryoji seems like he'd be pretty well hung. Would he bottom if we fucked? Would we cuddle after? to keep him company until he redirected himself away from those topics.

"I need to stop this shit." He muttered, the sound of his voice seeming to silence his thoughts while he lay with his arm over his eyes. "I only have, like, four days here before I'm completely at Thanatos' mercy. I can't afford to go wading into someone else's sexual awakening. I need to..." His voice petered out before he could even finish thinking the words.

Need to what? What is there for me to need? My casket? He asked himself, his voice falling as silent as the thoughts in his head at the question. Would it be bad to stay here? I don't suppose it's exactly normal to let a god whisk you off to wherever he pleases. He mused, even though the rational point didn't seem to penetrate deeper than the surface. Even with the risk of that unknown place being his death, the anxiety it stirred up was little more than the flicker of a faulty lighter in his gut.

The more uncomfortable thoughts came instead from his earlier musings. The god of death apparently wants me happy. That's what Ryoji said, and if that's true then whatever comes after this place isn't bad. A fair point. But, sticking around here would mean Ryoji would be hovering around more. A far more melancholy point, torn between disgusting the sacrifice and...comforting? Exciting him? He couldn't tell. Either way it leaned though, the feeling was further enhanced by the stone dropped next. What other options do I have?

And it just sat there in his gut. A heavy, souring thought that extinguished whatever weak sparks that broken lighter could ignite in him. Where else could Minato go? For the last eight years of his childhood, he'd had his extended family to house him, but the thought of returning to that town was too big of a deterrent for even his kindest relatives' mercies to soothe. Where did that leave him? The option to stay put until he was likely sent into the afterlife, or homeless, jobless, and lost in a new place. So, by that reality, he would be stupid to go running off.

So, Minato sighed, pressing his arm into his eyes as if that could quiet the debate. Ryoji's not even that big of an issue. He told himself, It's his job to keep me here and to keep me happy. He feels nothing for me, I feel nothing for him, and it can stay like that. And, with a decisive turn onto his side, the boy put the topic to bed. He'd stay and see how things play out.

Minato only realized he'd fallen asleep when he felt someone's hand ghost over his hip. The odd feeling fishing him out of the dreamless dark and back into a hazy, silver-lit version of his room.

Yet, as the sacrifice woke up, he could recognize that haze as his bed's curtains drawn closed, and the silver glow of his room due to the gentle light of the moon taking the place of the sun's.

"Ryoji?..." He mumbled into the empty air. Looking around for the god's assistant in the assumption that he'd taken him up on his earlier offer. Only to find that his night-drenched room was empty outside of himself. Not even a figure in the bed beside him to explain the sensation.

So, chocking it up to something he'd dreamt up, Minato laid back down and tried to go back to sleep. Only for his eyes to fly open at the vivid feeling of someone's hand skimming over his ankle and up his leg. Going until it slid beneath the edge of his skirt to stop at his hip.

"Thanatos?" He tried, doing his best to look down at the foot of the bed without moving too much. But, that didn't matter because all he found was empty darkness at his feet.

Yet, the lack of an explanation didn't erase the lingering warmth of a spectral hand on his hip. Something was definitely in the bed with him.

"Thanatos, is that you or not?" He asked, doing his best to push through the haze of exhilaration to try and be firm. But, the only answer he got was a hand stroking his cheek before gently moving the sacrifice onto his back.

Shouldn't I be concerned about this? Minato asked himself. Looking up at the roof as he let the assumed god's invisible fingers explore his body. The gentle touches to his thighs and hips stirring up those sparks he'd tamped out earlier. No. This is okay. He told himself, letting out a shakey breath as he thought.

Relaxing into the deity's touch, Minato closed his eyes and tried to track Thanatos' hands on his skin. Moving as if his plain dress wasn't there. Following them down his thighs to his knees, only to trail their way back up to his hips. Where they toyed with the waistband of his boxers, but didn't remove the annoying barrier. Instead, the nimble fingers of the god only dipped beneath the elastic. the gentle sting of his claws against Minato's skin making the sacrifice shudder before Thanatos moved on to skimming over the man's abdominals and up his ribs. Deliberate and slow in their movements.

Would it be rude to snap at a god to hurry up? Minato mused as he simmered in the gently building soup of need and thrill. If it's not Ryoji, then probably. As a sacrifice, I guess I'm expected to be submissive in this situation. The thought blurred by the bolt of heat that shot through Minato's core. A heat sent off by the simple feeling of tentative fingers gliding over his erection. If this IS Ryoji though, snapping at him would likely scare him off again. Either way, it's best to keep my mouth shut. He finished. The logic more than rushed under the desperation that single touch stirred up. Yet, a lot of reasoning was shoved aside in favor of trapping Thanatos' hand against his erection.

Yet, much to Minato's disappointment, Thanatos' warm touches were quick to fade. Stranding the sacrifice in a wildfire of needs despite the aggressive consent he was giving.

"Oh fuck you!" He snarled into the empty shadows. His grey eyes opening to glare around in the darkness, but his only answer was a whisper of laughter that only stoked that frustration higher.

So, partly out of spite, and partly out of some urge to lure his god back, the sacrifice sighed and slid his own hand beneath his skirt to give himself that last push of friction and heat. Even if the flood of euphoria did little to scratch the deeper itch.

Jesus, has it actually been that long since I've gotten off? Minato asked, lifting his hand to look at the mess of warm goo that had splattered onto him before getting up to wash. God it has. He realized I can't remember the last time I willingly socialized with someone, so it's been a hot while since I've screwed someone. Which, stoked the embers of irritation in his gut.

With the heat of lust mixing with irritation beneath his skin, sleep was a futile pursuit. So, the midnight-haired man instead went downstairs to the kitchen. Standing before the stove like a zombie, watching his sandwich cook by the time he heard Ryoji sit at the island.

"So, uh...have you slept at all?" He asked, Minato not needing to see the pink hue on the man's cheeks to hear the awkwardness in his words. "Thanatos is a fucking prick."

Silence. Nothing but the sizzle of Minato's sandwich in the pan between them.

"Uh, out of curiosity, how is Thanatos a prick? Because you're not allowed to go outside without me?" The brunette finally asked, breaking the silence while the sacrifice flipped his sandwich.

"No, not for that. It's just that..." He sighed, mulling over how to phrase it to not make Ryoji squirm. "If I'm supposed to be his spouse and not you, Thanatos is an asshole." And Ryoji cackled at that. The sound making the shaggy-haired male jump with how sudden and ugly it was.

"The god of death is an asshole spouse? H-how?" The brunette asked, biting back more giggles before his mirth abruptly dropped. "Oh god, is he abusive? If he is, I am so fucking sorry for laughing..."

"If you thought he was abusive, why did you laugh?" Minato asked, looking over his shoulder at the brunette with a raised eyebrow and a dry voice. Seeing the way Ryoji wilted,

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I thought of a joke that I was laughing at before the abuse thought came up, y'know? Does that make sense?" And Minato sighed, turning back to plate his food.

"You're fine, Ryoji. And no, Thanatos hasn't abused me."

With that, Minato moved to sit at the island across from Ryoji. Neither acknowledging the elephant in the room while the boy ate and the brunette studied the dark marble of the countertop.

"so, uh, there any constructive criticism you want me to pass on? Because, as his helper, I have that power." He offered to break the silence once more, which made the man snort.

"You're a pussy and you need to fuck me or not. Enough of the touch-and-go shit." Minato told him bluntly. Biting into his sandwich as he watched Ryoji blink at him.

"Hold on, I'm lost. Are you generally calling me a pussy, or are you implying I'm somehow Thanatos, and thus an asshole of a husband to you?" He finally asked, giving a breath of a laugh that he caught before it could escalate.

"Both."

"Both?! First, I'm not going to apologize for not knowing how to go about having sex with a man." The assistant began, making Minato snort, "Second, if I was Thanatos, why would I pretend to be a normal ass person? You'd be unable to stop whatever I do, I'd have zero reason to lie to you."

"I mean, it being a part of some sick game is the explanation I've been going with. And also, gay sex is worlds easier than hetero sex, so what's confusing there?" Ryoji let his head hang back. Staring at the ceiling while letting Minato's counter sink in. All while the blue-haired emo chomped through his sandwich to hide his grin.

"Funeral lily," Ryoji finally sighed. Lowering his gaze to look at the man as he continued, "If I told you, right now, that I was Thanatos, what would you even do? Be honest." Minato shrugged at the question, "I've called you a pussy to your face. I don't fear death." Adding, "Also, you aren't exactly an intimidating figure, so forgive me for not cowering." "First, ow. Second, how the hell do you not fear death? Everything fears dying! Hell, even I fear death and I'm his assistant!" Again, all Minato did was shrug. Opting out of explaining his sordid past in favor of explaining, "I just don't." As if that was a satisfying answer. So, Ryoji changed the topic. "Why do you think you're meant to be his spouse, anyway? Not that I would blame him for taking you as a bride, but the risk of necrophilia would be a bit of a turn-off for you. Or, at least, I'd hope." And while the attempt at a joke made Minato's eyes roll, he did at least explain that time. "I mean, what other reasons would a god take a sacrifice for? if I was dinner, I'd be eaten already, and he has you for a dog. So, if I'm not here to play 'wife', why am I here?" "Garden fertilizer." "It's fucking winter, you dumbass." Regardless of his snap, Ryoji still giggled.

Though, when he finally got his dark amusement under control, he was back to his questions. "What even brought this on? Like, you cooking at 4 am and declaring Thanatos an asshole, not the sacrifice stuff." He asked, and once again, Minato had to think of whether Ryoji would get uncomfortable if he told him the entire truth. He deserves to be fucked with. As payment for making me laugh, the bastard. So, he answered with, "Thanatos paid me a visit." Vague enough to bring an annoyed glint to those pools of blue. Good. "Oh, that's rather new. He usually doesn't come to see the sacrifices until he collects them." Was Ryoji's counter. As if he knew that would stir up disgusting butterflies and a zip of childish 'I'm special' excitement. "You must've piqued his interest somehow."

Minato stood up, leaving his sandwich half eaten on the island as he marched out in an almost offended huff. I pique the god of death's interest, fucking great. He internally grumbled, the words stinging him like a cross would a vampire.

Though, the possibility of earning more time to live did do more for the shaggy-haired sacrifice than turn his stomach. It also chose Minato's course of action in the time it took for him to leave Ryoji's line of sight on his path back to his room. If I'm not taken to whatever afterlife is waiting for me in four days, I'm getting the hell out of here.

#Winter is a lovely season for romance and funerals #RyoMina #Ryoji Mochizuki x Minato Arisato #MinaRyoji #persona 3 #au #Ryoji Mochizuki x Makoto Yuuki #persona 3 au #fanfiction #passion project #Ryoji Mochizuki x male!persona 3 protagonist #not sfw #lemon #spicy

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thesoulspulse · 1 year

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Regarding The Veil...

Now that I’ve reached the big reveal in the latest chapter of “Nevermore” about the true power of Necromancers and where it came from I thought I’d simplify the idea to share the lore of it here with you guys! But before we get into it, spoiler warning if you haven’t read this story or the original/old fanfics about Owen, aka “The Grimoire” and “Ravenheart.”

Nevermore: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14102184/1/Nevermore

The Grimoire: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12409238/1/The-Grimoire

Ravenheart: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12742285/1/Ravenheart

Alright, now if you’re sure about this let’s get started!

The basic idea is this:

The Veil, aka what the Ghost Zone was originally called, once overlapped the Earth directly but not many people could perceive ghosts let alone interact with them or vice versa apart from magically gifted or psychic people. So it was more like the classic spirit world we see used in most horror stories where only ghosts with strong emotions or other evil entities could slip through into the real world to cause problems.

Back then, ghosts didn’t have physical forms which means that even moving objects, turning visible, or communicating with anyone in the real world took a lot of energy to do so normally only the most determined ghosts/spirits would bother going through all that trouble unless they REALLY wanted something...

However, long ago Lilith, the Mother of Demons, vowed that if she could not become the divine mother to mankind then she would rule over the dead and made it her personal mission to capture and corrupt as many souls as she could to create Wraiths out of the darkness in their hearts. And since ghosts are typically anchored to the Earth by their unfinished business or feelings of loneliness, hate, sadness, and whatnot they're much more susceptible to her dark magic than the living are in most cases.

That’s why Death made the ultimate sacrifice to stop her once and for all by completely tearing The Veil away from the Earth to protect the spirits of the dead along with the rest of humanity, thus banishing her and her Wraith’s to the void that formed between the two realities. In other words, a realm that came to be known as the Nevermore where neither ghost powers nor human advantages work.

Death used the last of his power to give a select number of humans a portion of his power to help guide ghosts and other spirits which he also gave the means to defend themselves by altering their nature so they could use the raw ecto-energy he unleashed to attack their enemies as well as create new bodies for themselves. Still, almost every ghost still feels a natural pull towards the Earth where remnants of the old Veil remain. Not to mention many of them still feel the need to draw their energy from the living. And lastly, since the Veil was torn away so suddenly, there are places all over the Earth where the barrier between the real world and the Ghost Zone is thin. Especially in haunted places where natural ghost portals often form.

As for the Nevermore, it’s loosely based on Butch’s idea of an Unworld which is the same thing, a void between worlds where ghost powers don’t work and I just renamed it to the Nevermore. And before you ask, this is WAY before the Wednesday show on Netflix was a thing. Owen’s story has a lot of raven symbols which obviously made me think of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems which I’m sure inspired the name of the school in that show too but I digress! Anyways, the point is I thought that’d make a great prison for extremely dangerous creatures of darkness that even ghosts know to fear, aka Lilith and her soul-snatching Wraiths.

It’s extremely rare but sometimes when two large domains collide in the Ghost Zone small portals into the Nevermore can appear through the black hole similar to how natural ghost portals can form on Earth in certain places at random times. That’s why Lilith’s goal is to take over the Ghost Zone first and then unleash her army of Wraiths onto the living world to destroy humanity so that their souls will become her new children as well and she will rule them all as a Goddess of Death. And sadly Owen is the key to making that dream a reality which means she’ll need to bring him under her control first one way or another.

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onceuponanaromantic · 1 year

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of living dead and sights unseen

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial‘s prompt: FFF190 Trapped in the Dark. Have a little ghost story, though CW for mentions of death and of some violence. Enjoy!)

There is a ghost looking back at her when she looks into the mirror.

The bathroom light creaks, splutters and spits sparks. The ghost looks at her with open, dead eyes, beneath the long ragged curtain of her hair. Shadows leak across the stained concrete, spilling out from beneath the sinks. The air sinks around her, heavy with the bitter iron and the withering sweet of frangipani.

She doesn’t let her gaze flinch away from the ghost’s, even as her hand goes to the wooden pencil. Technically, stakes or even a crucifix would work better, but wood of all sorts works fine, and pencils are easier to store. They’re also less obvious, given how often she returns to the school, which, by default, also makes them less suspicious. The freezing touch at the tip of her spine grows colder, creeping down her back.

“Hello.” She says softly, hand reaching towards the mirror. “Would you like to come with me?”

The mirror ripples upon contact with the pencil, which is good, and shatters, which is not.

The ghost shrieks, and shoves her to the ground.

“I know you’re scared.” She chokes out, between rolls across the concrete, between those too sharp fingernails pulling at her hair and face, “It’s hard, being alone in the dark there. But I’m not here to hurt you. Please.”

She wrenches herself up, forcing herself up against a cubicle door. “Listen.”

The ghost lifts a hand and hisses. The toilet behind them gurgles threateningly. The smell of decay seeps into her eyes and nose and mouth, curdling around them.

She continues to meet her gaze. “It must have been a long time. I’m sorry. It must have been cold. And dark. And you shouldn’t have had to go through that. Let me help you.”

The ghost snarls, her teeth bloody and eyes wild. She raises the pencil.

“Go with her.”

A new voice startles both ghost and girl. She takes the chance, pushing the pencil forward gently and encouraging the ghost to take hold. When it is done, she breathes.

She turns, and stops.

A familiar name falls from her lips. The ghost before her is more human than ghost. The soft faded blue of the pinafore wrinkles as she kneels before the girl, taking her in. She looks so young.

“Are you hurt?” the ghost asks, in the creeping darkness. “I’m sorry that I didn’t intervene earlier.”

“I’m sorry.” She blurts out, not even caring that she remains kneeling in the remains of the fight. Her voice hitches into a sob. It breaks. “I should have come back for you.”

The ghost’s eyes are soft. “It’s okay.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s not. I couldn’t- I couldn’t even come back.”

The ghost reaches forward, only for her to turn away.

“I’m sorry.” And just like that, it all breaks free in one go. Tears stain her torn blouse and ragged jeans. Her voice breaks again and again as she looks at the face of her best friend. The one she didn’t save when it mattered.

“I should have come back. I should- I knew. I knew that- I knew that wasn’t safe. I knew- I shouldn’t have left you there alone. And then it happened too fast and I couldn’t. And I-“

“And you keep coming back.” the ghost says, “Because after it all settled, they found my body.”

“I didn’t mean to.” she sobs, “you should still be here. What was the point- what was the point of being able to- of knowing how to- I couldn’t.”

She chokes, voice a harsh rasp. “What was the point of all that power if I couldn’t even save the few people who mattered to me?”

The ghost hugs her. She feels almost solid. There’s even the scent of her rose shampoo still clinging to her hair.

“And then I tried-- I tried, god knows, I tried to find your ghost. But I couldn’t. So I thought you had passed on, but you-“ She looks up at the ghost’s face, taking in the whites of her eyes and the soft roundness of her jaw betraying her youth. “I’m—”

“It’s like you always said.” The ghost said comfortingly. “Right? Ghosts are drawn to where they were torn violently out of time. They haunt because they cannot escape the well.” She presses a hand to her jaw. “You said that grief is like a gravitational pull, remember? When you were explaining it to the juniors.”

She nods, hiccupping.

“So when I didn’t come back as a ghost, you thought I had passed on.”

“But you didn’t.” The words tore themselves out of her. “You’re still here. I’m-“

“Don’t apologise.” The ghost met her eyes. “You have nothing to apologise for. You did your best.”

“But you’re still here.” She fumbled, almost on instinct, for a pencil. The ghost pressed her fingers to hers. She had always had poor circulation while she was alive, so the cold almost didn’t register.

“Don’t you think I get some choice in whether I wanted to move on?”

The ghost pulls her hand, pushing her to sit against the wall instead of the cubicle door. She goes easily, still in shock.

The ghost pulls her hair through the dark brown of her hair. “You never dyed your hair.” “What?”

“Asteria, I knew enough about ghosts. If I really had wanted to move on, I could have.” The ghost says sadly, “Look at you. They tell me, you know. You’ve been coming back here every weekend for the last three years, to deal with the ghosts.”

She pulls her hands towards her, looking at the short, torn edges of her nails. “You wanted to paint your nails. You said, after we’re out of here. You were going to dye your hair bubblegum pink. And paint your nails-“

“Teal. With gold flakes.”

“Did you really think I would have wanted you to remain trapped here?” The ghost smiles, “I love you too.”

She waves a hand, and stands. She pulls the girl up. The lights continue to flicker, and the darkness continues to seep.

“Go.” the ghost says, “I’ll stay here, if you want to visit. But go.”

“I expect your hair a different colour when I next see you.” Her voice is light, even as she steps forward into the mirror.

When she finally stands, bracing herself against the wall, there is a ghost in the mirror, looking back at her.

This ghost grins.

#fff190 #syl's writing #flash fiction friday #trapped in the dark #little ghost story!!

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septembersghost · 2 years

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If you're not tired of me yet, I've a few thigs to add about a recent post where you and anon were discussing the relationship between Jimmy and Chuck, and, although Chuck was abusive to Jimmy and it was a bad relationship, there still were great and loving moments. It reminded me of a phrase (and a song!) of Damien Rice (his other song I've already mentioned in another ask in relation to Kim and Jimmy).

So, he was performing "Rootless Tree" (and the title alone I find a VERY fitting metaphor for Jimmy and Chuck's relationship, a tree, this powerful symbol, which could be beautiful and green and full of life, now lies bare, rotten, leafless, with torn out roots, like a lifeless ghost of a past) and he said these great words: he used to think that people were like this field of grass, and when you walk across the field, the grass goes down, but the next day it's gonna go back up, and he thought "it was possible to push boundaries". But then, he said, he'd realized that:

"People are like grass, and when you walk across the grass too many times... it doesn't grow back".

It's Chuck and Jimmy, right? I think they both thought so as well, they both hurt each other. Chuck started it, thinking he was right, thinking Jimmy would get over it, Jimmy would forgive, that he could reject Jimmy and kick him down, keep "pushing boundaries" and the "grass" would just pop back up, and Jimmy tried to forgive him at first, but then he got pushed and "walked across" so many times he pushed right back. In the end, it was a vicious circle of them both betraying each other and hurting each other and kicking each other down, all the while feeling like their broken relationship could be mended... sometime. But the grass doesn't grow back.

And then Chuck died because he lost everything, and Jimmy stayed in this vicious circle of hell, haunted by his ghost, because nothing could be changed now.

The song is so perfect for them. I feel like it encapsulates Jimmy's state of mind, the hurt, the anger, the undeniable love, but also a sense of betrayal, rejection and loss.

"Fuck you and all we've been through / I said leave it, if it's nothing to you".

("But the truth is, you've never mattered all that much to me").

"And if you hate me / Then hate me so good / That you can let me out / Let me out of this hell when you're around".

Because it was an abusive relationship, it was hell (for Jimmy especially) to try so hard to make his brother proud, to win his love, only to be rejected again. But without Chuck around it's worse, because it means the rift between them can't be fixed. Chuck may be gone but his ghost is still here, and the weight of all they've been through "leans on [Jimmy] like a rootless tree."

"We fake, we fuss and fracture the times / We go blind when we've needed to see / And it leans on me like a rootless tree".

The live performance itself is here:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-F8iL1Q6png This is so incredibly powerful, I get shivers each time I listen.

(Also, now that I think of it, it reminds me of Jesse and Walt relationship too, and how abusive Walt was. The parallels in this universe are insane).

never <3

one of the hardest things about a relationship like that is how the good moments begin to feel convincing, making you think the bad things can be overcome, and then retreading that ground over and over again (we always have the same conversation). when you trample the ground enough times, nothing can grow. they don't plant anything new there, they only keep running back and forth, tearing it up underneath them. we want to believe something broken always has the possibility to be fixed, but they'd gotten to a point far beyond that, where the shattered parts could never fit together again. (mixing metaphors there, but you get what i mean.) and then there's that heavy symbolism of burning the ruin down. jimmy can never heal that ground, but some part of him is always walking over it.

it's also tied into that "you say i killed you, haunt me then!" (in a familial rather than romantic sense) - being so mired in the loss and the hell that you'd rather be haunted, rather keep opening the wound.

"killers reinvent and believe"/"let me out of this hell when you're around" is also VERY walt and jesse, tragically. power and control warping the landscape, ripping it up and leaving ashes.

#snowstormserenade #letterbox #better call saul

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shadowsong26fic · 1 year

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NaNo Wrapup

((she says, disingenuously, as if she’s actually gotten stuff done this month))

...yeah, I didn’t XD I think I wrote all of five hundred words, if that. A lot more kept building in my brain but in situations where I could neither actively work on it nor jot down the highlights to remember later (most often when I was driving because Of Course that’s when Inspiration strikes lol)

I have actually figured out a few things, at least, just need to actually Get Things Written Down. I have some time off and no travel plans this month, plus the Liminal Space that is the last week of December tends to be very quiet at work so I’ll (hopefully) get some stuff down then. Part of what I’ve figured is a few more gaps filled in for The Other Battlestar (which still needs a better title; I will probably dive into Shakespeare to find something suitable, all of the mythological references I’m coming up with Do Not Suit); I’ve also worked out a list of possibilities for this year’s Star Wars Big Bang, which is starting up now (exciting!)

I didn’t really get any further on Incinctus. I joined a Castlevania creatives discord Ages ago, I should probably just. Like. Ask for someone to help beta/bounce ideas off of/whatever. Then I would probably unstick, lol.

So, yeah, that’s where things stand. I’m hoping to actually get some Stuff out later this month, but not really counting on it at this point. If the last couple weeks of the month go the way I’m hoping, though, I should have some things going up in January! That seems much likelier but we’ll see ::knocks on wood::

In terms of SWBB...well, I do generally appreciate feedback in terms of ‘what would y’all like to see from me’ when I’m torn between a few options, so, here’s what I have right now ((this is, of course, assuming nothing New jumps out at me before I have to Settle on something, lol)) Several of these are in fact BSG crossovers because that’s where a good chunk of my head is at and crossovers are allowed for the event.

List, along with some pros and cons, behind the cut.

Also, plug for my writing discord; and I’ll be around for an open question night if you guys are!

Crossover Option 1: Some subset of the Ghost crew, post-s4, ends up on Occupied Caprica during the Kobol arc (i.e., while Starbuck is there the first time)

Pros: This is one of the easier ones to keep self-limiting (meaning, I can have a Clear End Point and then separate the two storylines without derailing the future too much; that’s one of the harder things about plotting a BSG crossover, I’m finding. Unlike the ATLA crossover I wrote a year or two ago, it’s hard to keep these contained/reasonable, lol). Also it would focus a lot on Zeb (and, to a lesser extent, Kallus) and Zeb needs more love from fandom.

Cons: 95% of why I want to do this is to build up to/around a conversation between Zeb and Helo that I wrote a while back; I’m not really sure there’s enough here to sustain a long-form work. ...I mean, I am an Extremely Wordy Writer, lol, but still. Also I haven’t done a whole lot outside of self-indulgent RP with a friend involving the Ghost crew so I’m not 100% solid on doing them justice.

Crossover Option 2: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and possibly Rex and/or Padme end up on Kobol while the first landing party is there.

Pros: Another one that’s easy to keep self-limiting (by the time the SW half of things is able to get back there, the second landing party has come and gone; radically different hyperspace/FTL tech means reconnecting On Purpose is like finding a needle in a haystack). And there’s a lot of stuff I can do with Baltar and Anakin; and Anakin and Chief; and Visions and Head!Six. And possibly even keep Crashdown from spinning out and getting shot!

Cons: A lot of this would rely on Unsettling Vibes and Mysticism which is Not my strong suit.

Crossover Option 3: Either immediately after A Measure Of Salvation or during the skipped year, a Basestar and a Clone Wars-era capital ship (probably the Resolute) cross paths.

Pros: Clones and Cylons are a connection just waiting to happen; plus I can get some of the stuff I want out of the Head!People without adding the Kobol Vibes into the mix; I also have a few Cylon OCs I could throw in because Why Not.

Cons: That self-limiting problem is a Big One here. I also don’t write a whole lot of clones other than Rex, so...yeah, doing that connection justice isn’t easy.

Non-Crossover Option 1: actually using this as an excuse to finish our faces like a mirror the way I keep saying I could

Pros: I might actually finish this! I’m still really invested in my girl Bo-Katan and the way her relationship with her sister collapses.

Cons: That whole ‘I keep saying I could’ things is. Not an exaggeration, lol. I’ve been working on this off and on for like...five years? And still have a Long Way To Go.

Non-Crossover Option 2: Dive back into Devoted!verse; pick up either Padme or the Kryze sisters’ backstory, or Anakin and Ahsoka as kids; or possibly Bail and Breha.

Pros: I do want to get back to this AU, and there’s a lot to build on. I’m not sure Bail could support a BB-length story on his own the way the other options could, but I do love him. (Kryze sisters is the most likely at this point, because half a summary popped into my head, but I don’t. I don’t really have much beyond that, lol. Anakin and Ahsoka are a close second because I just have Feelings about Sibling Bonds.)

Cons: There’s a lot of white space to fill with any of these options, figuring out what I’m doing and getting it done in a way that I feel as satisfied with as the main story in this AU is going to be difficult.

Non-Crossover Option 3: Something Else I Haven’t Come Up With Yet.

Pros: Things pop into my head a lot and if I ride the wave when it does then it usually goes well??

Cons: Well. Sign-ups are technically starting, and I...don’t have the concept yet, lol.

...I think that’s about it! Thoughts, opinions? Unrelated questions? Let me know!

i guess this sort of turned into a coming attractions post lol so i’m not gonna do one on monday but here we are

#open question night #coming attractions #feedback greatly appreciated #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes castlevania #shadowsong writes bsg #shadowsong writes crossovers #miscellania

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