#I really wanted to make them darker but i wanted them to feel realistic... the suture marks could be more obvious tho. oh well.

[sokkastyles]

I'm not sure if you're tired of seeing asks like this, so it's okay if you don't want to give a lengthy answer, but I have some thoughts about why female fans (in general) are more open to the idea of Zutara or hearing takes about them as a pairing compared to male fans (in general). I think it might partially have to do with how men (in general) see women versus how women (in general) see themselves. I feel like a lot of male fans are very resistant to the idea of Katara being a flawed person because it gets in the way of their perception of what makes Katara desirable and a good character. For a lot of male fans it seems like Katara's darker, more complicated emotions are separate from who she is as a whole person or something that needs to be fixed, but for a lot of female fans Katara's complicated emotions and her trauma are considered an essential part of understanding her as a character and not something that needs to be corrected or fixed. Personally, as a brown girl myself, I loved the fact that Katara was realistically flawed, decided to handle her trauma on her own terms, and had Zuko supporting her through it and understanding her. I'm not really sure if this makes sense, and I might be very off base, but these are generalizations based on my personal observations. What do you think?

I think you're spot on. Just look at, for example, Katara's characterization with regard to her mother's death. Her taking on motherly traits is something that makes her a desirable love interest when those motherly instincts are turned on Aang, yet Aang especially refuses to deal with the negative side of that, Katara's trauma over her mother's death and the toll that this emotional labor takes on her. Women are supposed to be motherly by nature. They aren't supposed to complain about it or be negatively affected by having to carry other people's needs all the time without attending to their own. They aren't supposed to be human. The way that Aang thinks Katara should deal with her trauma is by being endlessly forgiving, and that's telling. It's framed as coming from Aang's personal cultural beliefs, yet he does not tell other characters, like Zuko or Sokka, that they should forgive the people who hurt them. He did not forgive the people who destroyed his people or who stole Appa. This need to forgive is focused solely on Katara, even though Sokka points out that Kya was his mother, too. And oh, we can talk all day about the difference between the way Katara and Sokka feel about their mother, but at the end of the day, these are fictional characters and the writers made a decision to portray Katara's pain, that is directly connected to the ways they established her as a motherly figure to Aang, as bad and irrational and something that stood in the way of her reciprocating Aang's love. That this aspect of her personality needed to be purged or repressed so that she could fulfill her role as Aang's motherwife.

Men dichotomize women like this all the time, without realizing that they have created these dichotomies. No woman ever fits into these boxes because women are not dichotomies, they are full human beings. That's why a lot of women identify with this aspect of Katara and resent the show's attempts to dichotomize her.

#katara #antikataang #zutara

[beanghostprincess]

i would care if you talked about luffy's issues please talk please tell me all your takes, genuinely (< anon who enjoys your takes)

I am so thankful you asked me this because Luffy is genuinely one of my favorite characters of all time, especially when it comes to shonen protagonists. I'm always saying I don't like shonens (says the one that watches a lot of shonens) but that's mainly because the main characters never feel... Well-written enough for me to like them. But, well, One Piece is different. With all characters, really. It's one of the first shonens I watch that I genuinely love and enjoy because of the characters (shout out to Mob Psycho 100 being one of my favorite animes of all time too because of that same reason).

Luffy is a very complex character and I think that's why he gets mischaracterized most of the time when it comes to the fandom. Some people make him too dumb. Others make him too childish. Others make him way darker and more depressed than he truly is. And I'd say that's weird, having in mind how much the show talks about Luffy and is focused on Luffy's POV, but I kind of understand because people aren't used to characters that are both optimistic and realistic at the same time. Most of the time people consider an optimistic character to be completely idealistic (a good example here is Uta. She is idealistic because she's been sheltered for so long and thinks something as complex as the corruption in the world can be solved with a few songs and love) and refuse to acknowledge the fact that somebody with hopes and dreams can also understand (first-hand, even) the suffering within the world. People like extremes. They like to make both Law and Zoro extremely edgy. They like to babify Sanji and Koby. They forget about Nami's character depth to make her only "the mean lesbian" of the group (that term makes me so fucking furious you don't even know). Etc. Etc. Etc. The thing is: Luffy has layers. His personality varies. He's optimistic. He's realistic. He's stupid. He's emotionally intelligent. He's impulsive. He cares about the safety of the people around him. He's careless. He feels guilt. He's confident. He's so damn insecure. He's playful. He's the most serious character too. Etc. Etc. Etc.

What I want to say with all of this is that Luffy, despite being always perceived as this childish, dumb, and careless character within the fandom, has so much depth and trauma he deals with every fucking day. I once saw somebody saying Luffy is "not smart enough to understand the feeling of sadness" and I started laughing because what the fuck does that even mean. And... Is that person watching the same thing as me? Because the guy has suffered the injustice of the world so many times and so many losses that I can't even count them.

Basically: People portray Luffy as if he hadn't gone through any type of trauma when OP has shown countless times that he has been through a lot. A fucking lot. Perhaps it's the fact that he's the one hiding it all the time in the show, always replacing sadness with the need to be stronger so he doesn't feel like that ever again (aka protecting everyone so he doesn't lose anybody again. And not even in a selfish way to not be alone, although we could say that he does feel like that to some extent. But because his loved ones do not deserve to disappear or die in those ways and he feels guilty whenever it happens because every time, he says it's because he wasn't strong enough to protect them) and that's why most people don't realize how much pain he has gone through. But that's not a very valid argument because we have a lot of arcs that prove it otherwise (Sabaody, Marineford, Film Red, Wano...). So, yeah, I guess people just don't know how to read.

Starting through chronological order, I want to talk about his abandonment issues and savior complex that always seem to go hand in hand.

Luffy doesn't like to be alone. He's a very empathetic and extroverted person. He doesn't like to be bored, always loving the company of somebody else. But, sadly, he has always been kind of alone? People come and go for him all the time, and you can't tell me that doesn't affect him psychologically. He's 7 when he meets Uta and Shanks and the kid has never been more excited! That's when his dream of being a pirate begins and it's the first time he has a friend. A real friend, not just random animals he manages to find or older people that sometimes take care of him. Luffy gets bored easily, so of course, Shanks and Uta, being something new, make his life brighter. With dreams and new experiences and hope for a newer, better life outside his village. And then Uta and Shanks have to go, of course, and he stays all alone again. From what we've seen, the only thing Luffy did when they weren't around was just... Waiting for them to come back to him. That's it. Luffy's joy basically comes from being with people, and especially when he's fixated on somebody in particular, he doesn't let them go. Then they come back... But Uta is not with them anymore. That's Luffy's first heartbreak, in my opinion. It's when he decides that he has to be stronger. He loved Uta so damn much. She meant the world to him. And suddenly she isn't there, giving him no time to say goodbye, and... He only has Shanks. But Shanks refuses to tell him the truth about what happened with her. So here you go! It's the first time Luffy loses somebody this dear to him and the first time Shanks betrays him enough for him to get angry at his hero. He ends up accepting it, of course, but not because he has moved on, but because both Uta and Shanks told him to be stronger. More mature. And he forces himself to grow up faster because he wants something. He wants to know where his friend is, and if Shanks refuses to tell him because he's just a kid, then he'll just have to grow up and become stronger. To become a pirate and to keep the promise he made with Uta. The movies aren't canon so I just keep thinking about Luffy wondering where Uta is, and it breaks my heart every time.

Then Ace and Sabo appear in his life and... They are literally everything to him. I like Garp. He did what he could do. Kind of. But he leaves Luffy on his own with Ace under the care of some bandits (Dadan we love you, queen). So he can't really blame Luffy for the way he turned out to be, honestly. The thing is: Ace and Sabo are, again, something new to Luffy. They are not just friends. They are his brothers, now. We don't talk enough about Luffy's maturity and respect for other people's dreams even when he's just a kid. Luffy literally was kidnapped and beaten up and he didn't dare to say a word about Ace and Sabo's treasure because he respected their dream. He's loyal and understands other people's feelings and hopes perfectly. His empathy and emotional intelligence are just perfect. Then, well, you all know the story, but these two become the most important thing in Luffy's life, not only because they are his brothers, but because they are the representation of their dreams and future. And then it crashes into a million fucking pieces because of Celestial Dragons and classism and rich people quite literally saying "We are burning down the poor because they don't deserve to live! Woohoo!". And it's Luffy's first time realizing that the world is unfair and fucked up and that there are people that believe to be superior to others, a thing that Luffy fights against all the time.

So, Luffy learns that the world is extremely fucked up at a very young age. He has first-hand contact with the abuse rich people inflict on others, in every way. He suffers from the torture that is fighting for your life in the world of pirating and thieves when he's not even a pirate yet. He's just a kid. What the fuck. And then he loses Sabo. His older brother literally is killed by a celestial dragon and he can't do anything about it. He can only cry, of course, he's just a kid. What is he going to do? So he decides to become stronger. Because he feels weak in the hands of what is the injustice of the world. He feels trapped by that injustice, in my opinion, and wanting to be stronger is just the path to freedom. Because freedom means being able to save the people he cares about.

And here's the thing: Luffy's need to become stronger always comes from the guilt he feels after losing somebody, blaming himself even though he literally could have done nothing at the time to save Uta or Sabo. He has a severe savior complex, not to feel better about himself (although you could say that it would certainly fix his fear of being weak) but to not lose anybody else. For some reason he always feels responsible for the faith of the people he loves, he's constantly putting others first and sacrificing himself and then feeling guilty and weak when he can't save them when it wasn't even in his hands to save them in the first place.

Kid Luffy goes through a ton of stuff in his early years and the fear of being alone... Of losing somebody he cares about... It haunts him. He sees Shanks and piracy as the meaning of freedom and strength. It's just that simple for him: If he becomes a pirate, he'll be strong. If he's strong, he'll be free. If he's free, he'll never lose anybody again.

And yet, even if he's confident he'll manage to do this... He's still a kid. He's still a little brother. Ace's little brother. He depends on Ace, too, because that's the one person he has left. Ace promises him he won't die because he's just as confident, and says this as if Luffy was stupid for thinking something could happen to him. Not to get too into Ace's character right now, but the fact that he's constantly wondering if he should be alive to then realize Luffy needs him to stay alive... Is so damn beautiful.

And then he literally dies in front of Luffy. Protecting Luffy. And Oh, boy if that doesn't kill him... But that comes after Sabaody! After losing literally all of his crew! God, stop hurting this guy already for fuck's sake-

Long story short, Luffy manages to get a family. Not a crew. A family. He's not alone anymore, and he proves constantly that he won't let any of them go or die on him the way it happened with Uta and Sabo.

Water 7 is... Rough for Luffy, to say the least. Because it's the first time he sees everything he has built crumbling down. Robin is taken by the Marines. Usopp wants to leave the crew because he doesn't feel like he fits in, even though Luffy knows he is perfect for the family (Usopp just can't believe him because, you know, insecurities suck). And he has to learn how to be a captain. A true captain. He has to make the harsh decision of fighting his best friend and letting him go (his worst fucking fear) at the age of 17 because he's the captain. He has to be mature. And strong. And he definitely doesn't feel like those now. Not when Robin is also on her way to be executed.

Usopp is leaving. Robin might die. And it's just like Uta and Sabo all over again.

So, basically, Luffy grows up too fast. He grows up too fast, with the fear of abandonment and being weak, and the weight of being the captain of a whole crew resting on his shoulders. Besides, he fights against the world government for Robin because he refuses to let her die thinking she doesn't deserve/want to live, and it reminds me a lot of Ace's story. Ace doesn't think he deserves to live but then stays because he realizes that Luffy loves him and needs him. Robin, thanks to Luffy, realizes that she wants to live and that she has a new family to fight for.

Nobody dies and Usopp comes back this time, so everything ends up turning out fine after all! Yay!

Then Sabaody happens and I swear my guy can't have a fucking break.

Who has suffered more, Jesus Christ or Monkey D. Luffy from Sabaody to Marineford? I think we already know the answer.

He loses all of his crew. All at once. His worst fucking fear. They vanish right in front of his eyes and he can't do anything. He feels weak. He's shattered. Completely broken. But he's optimistic, still, because he believes in his crew and he knows they'll find a way to be together again! They've ben through a lot together, and they can find each other in a few days in Sabaody again. It's fine. But he has to delay it, of course, because his other biggest fucking fear is happening right now: Ace might die. His older brother might die.

So if you mix the trauma that caused him to have abandonment issues and a savior complex with the fact that Ace is the only sibling he has left and he is completely alone because his crew isn't by his side anymore... You get the most heartbreaking arc of the show! Awesome.

He does everything he can to save Ace. Ace complains about it, begging him to stay away from danger. And he refuses because he's his brother. He has to fight for him. And he does. And Ace dies anyway. Ace dies protecting him, too, and the hope that was left within him dies completely at that moment. Everything is shattered. His whole world is crumbling down. And I think that Luffy dies too at that moment.

For Luffy, losing Ace is not like losing a limb. Losing Ace is losing his everything. Ace meant the world to him. He was the representation of their dreams and hopes and past and future. He was the only person who knew Sabo like the back of his hand, too. And now Luffy is the only one carrying their souls. All alone.

That's probably Luffy's rock bottom. He doesn't think he deserves to be a pirate (or alive, either, but I don't want to get too deep into his suicidal thoughts I definitely think are a real thing because then this becomes too dark. But yeah. I think he does think about that too). He doesn't think he's strong enough. And he's completely broken.

There's this line from Fleabag that I absolutely adore: "I don't know what to do with it." / "With what?" / "With all the love I have for her. I don't know where to put it now."

Because Ace is gone. He's completely gone. And all the love Luffy has for him turns into grief and he doesn't know what to do anymore if Ace's soul isn't in the world to look after him. He doesn't know what to do if all the love and feelings he has for his brother go to waste. And it's his fault. Because he wasn't strong enough to protect him. Because he wasn't able to protect himself, Ace having to sacrifice himself for him. (And we know he feels guilty about this because he tells Sabo the second they meet again. He apologizes for not protecting Ace. He feels guilty about what happened still. And Sabo is just glad Luffy is okay because he knows his brothers too well to know already what happened).

Then our beloved Jinbe comes along (I love you. Please adopt me) and, following that quote of Fleabag: "I'll take it. No, I'm serious. It sounds lovely. I'll have it. You have to give it to me." / "Okay." / "It's got to go somewhere."

Jinbe reminds Luffy that he still has his crew. That he still has people who need him alive. People that love him and care for him. That he can't be weak if he has helped so many people already. That they're willing to take both the love and pain Ace makes him feel. And it's such a great character development for Luffy... It makes me go insane. He remembers his crew one by one and realizes that he's not alone anymore. That he has to be stronger for them and for Ace. And for Uta. And Sabo. Jinbe is there with him when the others couldn't, and it has nothing to do with Luffy's issues but I just want to mention how much I love Jinbe for this.

But he still feels the need to be stronger and the fear of losing his crew and the people he loves still haunts him. He tells the straw hats to meet after 2 years (that's a long fucking time. Like. Longer than the time they've spent together. Imagine the loyalty, damn). And it's... It's so beautifully written. The 3D2Y scene is one of my favorites because it shows the loyalty and love they have for each other, and how Luffy is willing to become stronger for the people he loves and the ones he has lost along the way. I literally have the tattoo. I am obsessed with the whole concept.

As I said, Luffy's abandonment issues and the fact that he wants to become stronger to never lose anybody again (Savior complex much?) still remain even after his character development. Because that's not something you get rid of. That's just how he is. And I think that, as long as he is with the straw hats, it won't be a problem.

Also I wanted to mention his reunion with Sabo! The guilt he feels for losing Ace? The way he clings onto his older brother as if they were going to take Sabo away from him? They're extremely codependent and I am here for it, honestly. Sabo would die for Luffy and Luffy would kill him if he did that. Also, I don't know where the fuck Sabo is now because I'm only watching Wano but I swear to God if something happens to him I will murder somebody with my bare hands. :)

Oh! And then it comes my favorite arc of all the show: Whole Cake Island (to the surprise of literally no one!). Luffy, in the beginning, is extremely optimistic when it comes to rescuing Sanji. He's simple like that. "If he doesn't want to get married, we rescue him. If he wants to get married, he just brings his wife with us!". And if Sanji didn't want to come back to them (truly not wanting to) he would accept it. But Sanji wants to. Luffy knows Sanji wants to go back to the Sunny with them. He knows Sanji isn't being true to himself. And God, he's desperate. Because Sanji is stubborn and his self-sacrificing and deprecating thoughts are even stronger than Luffy's, and he won't give up until Luffy lets him go. But Luffy doesn't want to fight him, he just wants his cook back. Because he knows that, no matter how much harm he does to him, Sanji is only doing it to himself (one of my favorite quotes from OP). So, Luffy goes again through the desperation of not losing a crewmate, but losing one of his wings. Without Sanji, Luffy can't become the king of the pirates. He's willing to die from starvation for him. Are you- Are you all aware that he almost fucking dies from starvation? I don't think we talk about that enough because what the actual fuck. There's this thing they tell Luffy (I don't remember exactly when or the exact phrasing) about him wanting Sanji back out of selfishness and not because of Sanji's well-being and... I partially agree? Don't get me wrong, Luffy does everything here for Sanji because he knows Sanji is suffering and lying to himself. But Luffy is selfish, too. Luffy doesn't want Sanji to go away because he loves him. That's his cook. He doesn't want to lose anybody else, even less knowing that they're going to be unhappy. That's kind of for me the confirmation of Luffy's abandonment issues. Like- He does everything for his crew, of course, but he's so scared of losing them. Then Sanji comes back to them, of course, and they have their own Pride and Prejudice moment. Not even Jane Austen can write shit like this.

I kind of want to talk about Wano but I haven't finished it yet (I'm like, on episode 1056) but I would like to mention how beautiful it is for Luffy to carry Ace's soul and promises like that. And also the responsibility he carries during the whole arc to save Wano? That's so- It's so fucked up. He's such a good leader and captain and everything I said in this post and all the things he does in Wano show that he will become the king of the pirates. I love him so damn much. I can't even write it down properly.

Anyway, summarizing everything: Luffy has a lot of abandonment issues and a savior complex that becomes unhealthy to the point of sacrificing himself and always carrying the burdens of everyone else. Because he fears he might lose his loved ones if he isn't strong enough. So. You know. It would be great if people stopped saying he's just childish and fun and that he doesn't have any character depth because he's probably the most complex shonen protagonist I've ever seen! He has suffered so damn much it hurts! Live Laugh Love Luffy! <3

#......... i love him a lot #he makes me go insane #please i swear i am okay mentally he just makes me ill #i truly thought this was gonna be longer ngl #one piece #monkey d. luffy

[ga-yuu]

Romance manhwas/webtoons I highly recommend!!!

Look! You guys must know, by this time, I am a romance connoisseur! *ahem* self-proclaimed*ahem* Romance is my fav genre and I'm not ashamed to say that aloud!! Since valentines day is coming and I'm still single, I simply fill the empty space in my heart with these cute manhwas/webtoons!!! I love reading them so much! But there are some really good romance manhwas that really give me hope about love. These are my recommendations, the ones I really enjoyed.

Daytime star

This manhwa is one of my most fav!! If you haven't heard of it, or read it...GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW!!....or whenever you have time, BUT I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS MANHWA! It's not just about its beautiful art style, but the story is AMAZING! If you're like me, who loves mature adult romance (and by 'mature adult romance' I don't mean a story like 50 shades of grey, but a more natural realistic romance between two fully grown adults) then this is the manhwa for you! I swear! I was binge-reading this manhwa the whole day, while eating, while playing games, while sleeping I was dreaming about this manhwa. The story is about a struggling actress falling in love with a very popular actor. It sounds simple, but it's really really REALLY GOOD! It's worth your time! There's nothing bad I have to say about this manhwa. It's truly outstanding.

Marry my husband

What? You want a revenge drama with the female lead in her comeback era? I recommend Marry my husband. I saw the Kdrama adapted from this manhwa and although the actors are really good....the story changes drastically towards the end. The Kdrama has so many....'Kdrama' elements which I'm not really a fan of and it just makes the story unnecessarily complicated for no reason. So I highly recommend you read the manhwa version. The manhwa version is more straightforward and simple compared to the kdrama and doesn't have any unnecessary drama to waste your time. All the characters are so good. Even the side characters have stories. I love how simple the story is and how satisfying it is. I'm sure you will enjoy the manhwa and fall in love the characters. Again, highly recommend this. This is the 2nd manhwa that I binged the whole day, and re-read it again yesterday. It's really good!

A Marriage of Convenience

I'll be honest, I was ignoring this manhwa for god knows why? Looking at the art, it just gave Under the Oak tree vibes.....and I'll be honest again, I got bored of under the oak tree. Everyone seems to love it, but I just got bored after 20 chaps or so. But this one, I finally decided to read it and again! I JUST CANNOT STOP READING IT!! I wonder why I'm so in love with it...it's because the female lead is so cool! I LOVE THE FEMALE LEAD IN THIS MANHWA!!! and you will know why once you read it. I feel like the female lead really carries the story on her back. Its so beautiful to see her growing and then comparing her present self to how she used to be in beginning of the story. Hey! I'm telling you! Go read it!! *points my gun*

I Thought It's A Common Possession (Ongoing!)

Isekai villainess manhwas are the trend guys! I wonder when is cybird going to release their own ver. of isekai villainess game? Well...I have not seen many people talking about this manhwa, so I wanna shed some light. It's a slow-burn but a really good one! At the first chap, you'd hate the male lead....but at the end of the latest chap, you guys will surely love the male lead. You'll think that the story is just a simple villainess manhwa were everyone hates the villainess but soon end up liking her...but no, it's much darker. You'll find out when you read it. Also the female lead...is a mommy!!! She gives me mommy vibes!! She's so beautiful!!

For My Lost Love (Ongoing!)

Another isekai manhwa that I'm obsessed with because the male lead is too hot for my own good! I think the reason I love this manhwa is because 1. it's a slow burn 2. the male lead is so good-looking 3. The relationship developing between the male lead and the female lead is really cute! It's like you can't help but want to see these two together! Right now, the male lead is completely in love with the female lead and its' so cute to see him being possessive about her and the female lead is completely oblivious. The female lead really loves the male lead because he is her fav character of her fav novel. It's cute! I love the female lead's personality, showing heart-eyes and blushing when the male lead does something....even the smallest things like drinking his coffee or arranging flowers. It's really cute!

Remarried Empress (First 80 - 90)

This story is really popular. There is a manhwa and a game....Phew~ Another one of those that I couldn't stop reading......BUT!! As much as I love the story and it's main characters...I feel like this manhwa is better if you only read it up to...90 chapters and from there, just read the spoilers. I'll be honest, the first 80 to 90 chapters of this manhwa are FUCKING AWESOME!!!! IT'S DRAMA AFTER DRAMA AFTER DRAMA! ABUSE! VERBAL ABUSE! EMOTIONAL ABUSE! It's bad but it's also good. The abuse is just too much to handle that you can't stop reading it because you want the female lead to be happy...and in the end she gets it. I highly recommend reading 90 chapters of the manhwa and then read the spoilers because the manhwa gets very sluggish. I bet you, because you will be only invested in the 4 main characters of this story and you won't care about anyone else. The first 90 chapters mainly focuses on these 4 characters and after that the story focuses more on other side characters until it connects back to the main 4 characters. This part is a drag.....so don't waste time and read the spoilers.

The Villainess Turn The Hourglass

Ah....This manhwa....truly one of the best villainess manhwa I've ever read!! I won't say anything! This is truly a 'VILLAINESS ROMANCE' manhwa and again...a story about a woman in her comeback era. Read only the main story though, I don't really care about the spin-off. The main story is truly satisfying. Read it! READ IT RIGHT NOW!! *Points my gun*

I'll keep sharing more manhwas and webtoons with you guys because I'm never gonna stop reading it! Even on my death bed, I'll still be reading it!!

#manhwa #romance manhwa #webtoon #romance webtoon #the villainess turns the hourglass #the remarried empress #for my abandoned love #daytime star #marry my husband #i thought it's a common possession #a marriage of convenience

[nebulousmedic]

Hihi! Love your art! I'm quite curious though. If there a specific reason why you draw sniper the way you do? For instance you have more darker skin, is that perhaps to make him look Maori? Either way I freaking love the way you draw him! (sorry if this offends you any way)

I'm not Maori or even remotely dark skin (I hate the sun), I have nothing to be offended about lmao

About his skin color: I just imagine that he... Spends time in the sun, but I'm too lazy to draw the tan lines or I just think that they don't fit the drawing, so I leave them out unless I'm going for a more realistic style

His eyes: the most striking feature of his design, I think. Besides from me thinking that heterochromia is really cool, I find it would make quite a bit of sense, like why always hide your eyes (even indoors, god) from other people? it's my headcanon that he kind of got bullied for it on his childhood, and when he was gifted a pair of shades he not only found himself looking very cool, but he also found that people didn't really notice his condition, so he just decided that he'd wear them pretty much all the time. He uses his shades to hide that he's high as well but, yknow

Facial hair: not much to see here, really. giving him a couple longer hairs on his upper lip and chin just kinda makes him look more rugged and feral

Hair: Come on, how could I not give him a mullet? in the game and the comics he already has a sort of.... mullet-y thing going on, so I just like to make it way longer, it makes him appear even more rugged and feral in my opinion. I will usually vary the length depending on what I feel like drawing, no particular reason for that specifically

Clothing: I want to make him look like a cowboy most of the time, but his comfortable and very casual attire is more dad-esque, I think? I want all the outdoor vibes, honestly. The hat and the shades are always a must, but you may notice that I tend to depict him with a fang pendant, I just headcanon that it's a trophy he kept from a particularly arduous hunt

As for his body, I like to make him sort of... Sharp-looking? To make him stand out from the other mercs a little more. He's tall, and a little gangly, but not skinny, he has muscle and a little fat on him. I also like to make him the hairiest out of all the mercs, because he deserves it

Color palette: I really like giving him a very warm and cozy sort of color palette, it just kinda fits with his vibe, I guess? certainly fits with the "cowboy" theme that he has going on

I want to note that my style for him specifically is inconsistent at times because I just cannot make up my mind on how to draw his facial features, but the one thing that I do keep is his nose and his ears, long and sort of triangular

Overall I think I just kinda took the canon Sniper and exaggerated him even more? Cowboy-ified him, maybe? Anyway, yeah, that's it that's why I draw him the way I do

I have changed how I draw some of the mercs since I made this but these are my pseudo references for them, if you're curious.

#ask #answered #anonymous #sniper #tf2 sniper #mun talks #tf2 headcanons

[kyrieeleisonelise]

Ai’s true feelings?

(Spoilers!)

Judging by the amount of times I’ve seen with this manga panel on tumblr and YouTube, Ruby’s interpretation of Ai in the recent chapter has definitely made a stir. 

Is this really how Ai felt? 

Realistically, it would be difficult to accurately re-tell the life story of somebody as secretive as Ai once they are long-dead.

In the world of the Manga though, we are supposed to understand the movie as being at least mostly an accurate representation of Ai’s life, since they have the analytical genius Akane point out it’s ‘90% accurate’.

But when it comes to the topic of Ai’s feelings, it seems significant that both Ruby and Aqua- who sometimes seem to represent the two sides of Ai- interpret her differently.

Throughout the manga, but especially the movie arc, we are seeing two different interpretations of Ai. There is Nino and to an extent Aqua who think Ai was as emotionally invincible as she acted. 

Then there is Ruby and the director (and even Kana) who recognise that there was probably a lot of dark feelings and anger that Ai felt she had to hide. 

Even the Director, who has the tapes of Ai we’re yet to see admits he feels like he never got to see the true Ai, even when she was trying to be honest with him. This further cements the idea that nobody really knows how Ai feels. 

We’ve seen hints about Ai hiding darker emotions throughout the chapter, but Ruby’s interpretation of her seems more extreme. Did Ai have this much hate in her heart? Or is Ruby projecting her own feelings?

In chapter 136 we see the argument between Nino and Ai being acted out by Ruby and Kana.

I think we are meant to take the acted-out argument as being an accurate representation of what actually happened between Nino and Ai.  From Kana’s insights while playing the role, I get the impression that Nino was so upset by Ai not only because she was jealous, but because Ai, someone who she thought of as a friend, seemed indifferent to her. Ai just gave glib responses when Nino was trying to express that she was struggling, and when Nino lashed out and tells Ai that she wishes she was dead, Ai just smiles at her. 

Nino thinks Ai doesn’t care- Nino means so little to her that her hatred can’t hurt her at all. Even years later, Nino still maintains that Ai probably immediately forgot what Nino said to her. 

But I really don’t think Ai was unaffected by Nino’s words. Kana was probably right when she said Nino and Ai used to be friends. Anyone would be hurt if a friend wished them dead. 

We met Ai’s mother a few chapters back, and it’s revealed that she gave up custody of Ai out of jealousy over her beauty (when Ai was 8!?) Having someone else in her life hate her over her looks probably really hurt Ai, and maybe even made her angry . If Kana is right about Nino and Ai being friends, it probably hurt even more to have another person she cares about reject her out of jealousy. 

Why didn’t Ai just tell Nino how upset she was? If Nino saw Ai’s human side it may of lead to them actually making up and deepening their friendship.

Ai had a really troubled upbringing; She was abused and abandoned by her mother and then raised in a children’s home. It isn’t surprising that she had a lot anger in her heart. 

To protect herself, Ai would lie about how she felt and pretend she didn’t have feelings and that nothing could hurt her. Eventually it seems like lying became automatic and Ai didn’t know how to stop, how to express herself truthfully or what the truth even was any more. 

When Ai first meets Ichigo, she uses her traumatic background as a defence mechanism to try and unsettle him and chase him off. She acts tough, saying that she doesn’t care she was put in a children’s home. She protects herself by acting indifferent and making the people around her uncomfortable.

But her reaction when Ichigo gives her some encouragement and tells her she can be an idol and say she loves people ‘until it’s real’ shows she does still want to connect with others, she just doesn’t know how. 

Ai was good at lying. So good that some people started to believe she was as detached as she pretended to be. They saw the ‘invincible persona’ she was projecting instead of the traumatised girl.

I don’t know if Ruby’s interpretation of Ai’s feelings are completely accurate. But I do think that Ai was probably deeply, deeply hurt by Nino. Ai’s dismissive reaction to Nino was probably due to Ai’s lack of social skills rather than true indifference. If Ai hated the world in that moment I wouldn’t be surprised, but I don’t think Ai carried any long-term resentment towards Nino.  

 The Ai we know seemed a bit more socially adept and stable compared to the Ai Ruby portrayed. Ai was probably only around 14 when she had her argument with Nino. I thin as Ai matured she probably realised why Nino lashed out the way she did, but it was too late to repair things.

It’s been mentioned a few times that Ai stopped her ‘catastrophic’ behaviour and matured after her time in theatre troupe, so it will be interesting to see what specifically it was that made her change

I don’t know if the story will ever give us a definite answer on Ai’s actual feelings, or if, just like in real life, we’re left to interpret and guess how a person really felt about something after they’re no longer there to ask.

#oshi no ko #oshi no ko spoilers #oshi no ko analysis #ai hoshino #ruby hoshino #oshi no Ko nino #aqua hoshino #kana arima

[i-heart-hxh]

Hi! I have a question, between the two versions of the anime, which one do you think was more faithful to the manga when it comes to the personalities of Gon and Killua? I've recently finished watching the 99 anime and I really enjoyed it, but idk if this is an unpopular opinion, but sometimes i felt like some of the characters were a little bit ooc, people usually talk about how the Killua of the 99 anime is so different to the Killua from 2011, but I also felt that Gon was really different in both animes, in the 99 version sometimes he was kinda shy or doubtful, like he was too passive, where as in the 2011 anime he seems overall more confident except for the times where he doubts about his self-worth, like after Hisoka didn't take the tag back during the hunter exam, in the 2011 version it also feels like when they are doing something even if the plan wasn't his, like going to Heaven's Arena, Gon is the one taking the lead and deciding how he is going to do things, idk if I'm making sense lol, the point is that he is a little bit more assertive while still being a sweet boy in the 2011 version while in the 99 version he is mostly just a sweet boy at least to me, I'm really interested in getting your thoughts about this topic, sorry for the long post 😅.

Thank you for sending this, it's definitely an interesting thing to discuss and something I've thought about quite a bit myself! Going to go on for a bit right back at you, haha.

Gon and Killua's characterization is actually a major reason for why I have mixed feelings about the 1999 anime. It has some wonderful strengths--like the beautiful cel animation, creative visual direction, more realistic character designs, unique (and darker) atmosphere, some great OPs/EDs, and a lovely soundtrack, among other things. But there are a few different aspects that I'm not a big fan of, and the changes to Gon and Killua's characters are at the top of my list.

First off, I want to say that to an extent I understand why Gon and Killua are characterized differently. Not much of the manga was out when 1999 was made, so the staff could only work with (essentially) the first impressions of the characters, and the anime had to expand into filler/anime-only material to prevent it from catching up with the manga and running out of things to adapt, so to a degree the staff had no choice but to get creative. The artistic liberties they took aren't always a bad thing. I even like some of the additions they made. But I do think some of the choices they made to deviate from the source material--and some of them were definitely not necessary--lead to them being much flatter characters in 1999 than in the manga itself.

This whole paragraph requires some oversimplification so bear with me, but I feel like in 1999, Gon is characterized as too much of a "good boy," while with Killua they lean too much into his "bad boy" side. Leaning into these stereotypes runs counter to what I love about these two, which is that they're both complex and have mixed lighter/darker attributes that feel somewhat "balanced" between them ultimately, and by the end of CAA they have essentially switched positions with regards to their respective light and darkness. They both have strong light sides and strong dark sides contained within them, which is part of why they get along so well even when they're as different as they are. To make Gon more passive and sweet (as you said, which I agree with) and Killua more edgy and bratty makes the relationship feel much more unequal and, to me, uninteresting.

I love Gon's assertiveness, strong-willed nature, and feral and scary sides, and Killua's softer, more vulnerable, and more childish sides, as well as other sides to them we see in canon, so having those toned down makes me sad.

One small example of a change that has always bothered me in 1999 is that they had Gon introduce himself to Killua when they first meet, and Killua even ignores him initially when he tries to introduce himself. While the scene isn't drastically different, I think it's incredibly important in establishing Killua's character that he introduces himself first and is so eager to get to know Gon. He desperately wants a friend! This is a vital basis for his character and motivations! There are a number of decisions in 1999 like this, where some deviation is made to make the characters more straightforward/fitting an archetype, and it would just be a small thing if not for how carefully constructed and extremely intentional Togashi's writing is, and how delicate the balance is with their characterization in the original series.

I'm personally not a fan of how much bigger and older Killua seems in 1999 compared to Gon as well--at times it feels like there must be an age gap of 3-4 years, which is weird to me with two characters where an important aspect of their relationship is that they're the same age. In the early parts of the manga, there was a bigger height gap between them as well (though it gets less and less with time), but even taking that into consideration, the strongly emphasized size difference is odd to me. (I know some people find it cute and that's fine, this is just my own preference!)

That said, I still do enjoy a lot of their scenes in 1999, even some of the added ones! I just don't think the way their characters are portrayed comes off nearly as layered/fascinating/well-balanced as in the manga and therefore in 2011 (which more-or-less closely follows the manga, with some exceptions). I consider 1999 its own alternate canon and any changes/additions only canon within that universe. (Though some of the additions I like can go under "Headcanon accepted!" status for me, LOL.)

2011 does have some small deviations from the manga too, and I do think there are subtle differences in the characterization vs the manga, but 2011 and the manga are much closer to each other overall and the characters are essentially the same at least, with only small exceptions.

So anyway, I definitely agree with what you said about their respective characterizations, and it's something that bugs me, too. There are a lot of aspects I appreciate about 1999, but I'm actually glad I didn't start with it for multiple reasons, and it's a pretty mixed bag for me overall.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #gon #killua #killugon #gonkillu #asks #my posts #anonymous #hxh 1999 #hxh 2011

[iztea]

They still feel off specially the eyes i could feel them about to manifest their own life and run off

Even my linework is ... Idk what's wrong and it's the problem maybe I'm staring too much but I don't think so

Sorry for bothering alot but i loved your last advice ty

i think the main problem with the first picture has to do with the proportions and anatomy of the lower body area aka the neck and shoulders. i'd make the shoulders wider and add some sort of form to the neck so that it looks believable instead of a flat rectangle shape ( maybe make it slimmer a bit too? although that might be just a stylistic choice so you do you). That's the first thing i'd fix because otherwise the head looks too big in comparison to the rest of the body, and it can throw you off

I actually think you did a great job with the eyes, they have a lot of life and that comes from the fact that they are the most rendered part of your piece, which is not a bad thing. The thing is, while it is true that the eyes are the main focal point of a face and portrait in general, that doesn't mean you can neglect the other parts, so i think it is also a consistency issue or not figuring out exactly what sort of style or rendering you want to go with that holds you back (which is totally fine and normal ofc). So let's pick a semi-realistic stylized rendering style for this since this is the vibe i'm getting from this piece.

If that's the style we're going for, then the face should have a bit more form. You have to remember that our facial features ( eyes, nose, lips) are connected with each other via the planes of the face, right? So, for a semirealistic style, revisit your reference and try to idenitify what those planes are and how they connect to those features, and most importantly, where the shadows hit, and just accentuate them more, because at the moment they look like 3rd forms plastered over a 2d surface which is not right, our skin has form as well. Color-wise, don't be afraid to go darker with the shadows, they really make your drawings pop. Without looking at a reference, i'd def add some shadow under the lips, a bit where the lips connect to the nose, under the neck, and in the lower body area.

I'm really trying to avoid the most basic answer which is " practice anatomy !!1! " because everyone can say that however, at the end of the day, this is the main thing the face lacks. And tbvh you don't have to actually know anatomy, you just gotta know some proportions things that make the face look believable enough. I feel like the features are mostly just drawn from the reference without an understanding of the structure behind it. Something tells me that in the reference picture, the person had their head tilted a bit upwards, but here it's kinda flat and the features are just painted without following the motion. Try to draw over your reference picture the vertical and horizontal lines and make up the head shape behind it to figure out the way it is tilting and facing, because the lips, eyes nose, etc will follow that same sort of flow, they're not stationary. I'd also make the eyes a bit smaller, or maybe make the skull bigger bc i think they are touching the outer edge too much now, and also narrow the distance between the nose and lips just a bit. Kinda hard to explain without actually doing it myself. But really, try to play with that, and try getting comfy with drawing 3d forms i know it's easier said than done but..... there really isn't any shortcut unfortunately As for the lineart drawing, yes it's actually pretty solid, i like that duplicate blur thing you did, i'm familiar with that technique and it def has its perks so that's great. Im not an expert on lineart, however here i think there are too many " unnecessary" lines that could easily be omitted (purple). Less is more and all that~ The hair strands at the end feel too stiff and identical (green). If you notice, they all just end in this " V" shape and they rarely overlap thus making the image look flat. Try to break this pattern by introducing more spontaneity aka random hairflies, making the strands overlap, adding more shape variety etc

Make sure that the lines connect properly whenever they meet, and also although you already did it and i think that's great, you can make some lines even thicker, go even further and add even more lineweight. As a general thing, usually, the exterior or contour lines are thicker and whatever it is inside is thinner so experiment with that, you can start from the nose- thicker lines for the nostrils thinner for that nose tip i forgot what it's called and also add thin lines that just hint at the form. Lineart is hardd so i don't blame you, but if you're gonna keep the lineart in, try "shading" with black blocks so to speak, make sure the lineart layer can stand on its own, and pay more attention to the lower part area (neck and shoulders) even if it is less exciting to ink

#ok i lied it's long again #these are pretty fun to do can u blame me #ask iztea #you should also check in with other people don't take my word for everything #but since you asked my personal opinion here u go #sorry for any typos if there are any i'll fix them later #long post

[eveningepiphany]

insatiable | H.S series, part I

eveningepiphany’s 1k special <3

summary: harry is a prince, natalia is a spy for his court. both of them can’t stand one another, but natalia having to take any direct information she learns about the attempt on his life directly to him seems to put the pair in an interesting dynamic.

SERIES warnings: darker topics, murder, death, cults, alcohol, smut, violence, royal au! harry, fem!oc, fantasy and swearing.

a/n: this is something I’ve wanted to write for a long time now. I love reading fantasy, and I think it would be fun to kind of test the waters in writing a proper series myself.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A part of me wishes it was nothing like this.

That I didn’t live in a world where everyone was out to deceive you.

But that’s exactly what you get in Carthion. I’d say it’s all you ever get, but maybe that’s just my outlook on it.

Especially when you consider I’m no better than the rest of them.

You see, when you grow up with parents who did the worst things just to get by, you’re conditioned to it. The expectation that everyone is out to get you.

And of course, the things they did weren’t just steal some bread and fruit from the night market to get a feed, or maybe pickpocket a passerby or two bad. The kind of stuff that would have you killed if it was unearthed.

But how I grew up is realistically how I got here.

I’ve been a spy— which is really just a justified way of saying I’m a deceitful murderer— “professionally” for only three years now.

But I’d been really doing it since I was 13. Sounds young, I know. It was young.

The thing was, I was small, smaller than my dad. I could squeeze into little places, move faster, quieter.

And who would suspect a 13 year old to be the one who’d shot a gang leader in an alleyway.

Not a soul apparently.

My father accompanied me on these little “missions” for the first, maybe, forty times? Until little by little he stopped.

He’d just tell me quietly what I needed to do in the dark of our small kitchen. And I’d be off.

Previously, my mother did a similar business. But she broke her leg on an outing when I was around 9. It left her much less physically able then she used to be, leaving her to stay home with me and my elder brother, Theodore. Making small knit items and pottery to sell at the markets— while dad was out.

I’d often catch myself falling into a daydream of where I’d be if I didn’t have the upbringing that I did. If I’d be a married woman yet, or maybe a guard for one of the royal courts if I had the same amount of drive.

But all of that is rather a waste of time, i reason with myself often. I’m busy enough as it is. And it’s about to get a whole lot more hectic.

I’m not conditioned to walk in heeled shoes. Nor am I proper enough to be in the dress that’s currently hugging my frame.

But when business with Royals arises, it’s what I can only assume is a must.

The guard, who bought me in is a few steps infront of me— awful move if I was an intruder— seems to know exactly where he’s taking me.

The corridors are lined with the families crest, large cream pillars with golden accents.

A single brick from this place is probably worth more than my life.

We’d been twisting and turning through the corridors until suddenly I’m greeted with large double doors, ones that would tower above any regularly sized one..

Another 2 burly men are positioned outside of them, gesturing a quick nod to whoever led me here.

A curt knock and a few beats of silence pass. I feel a little sick, I can’t lie.

A posh feminine voice sounds on the other side of the doors, undoubtedly Queen Annabelle herself.

“Come in!”

The doors get swung open, and I’m surprised to see that at first glance, this room is only a business or lounge room. It’s large enough to be a dining hall.

My gaze snaps back over to her as she begins to greet me, something I probably should’ve done first instead of marvelling at the room were standing in.

“Natalia, dear, hello.” My eyes switch between her and her unexpected guest, who— if this room weren’t so large— is tall enough he would’ve been the first thing I seen upon entering.

I’m positive it’s her son. The Prince.

Im unsure what exactly to say even though I practiced this in my head a million times.

I drop into a quick curtesy, “Hello, Your highness.”

I falter momentarily, hesitating to greet the Prince as well.

A extend my greeting to him, after a quiet intake of breath, “and to you too, Prince Harry.”

He has a scowl on his face, hardly giving me a me nod of his head.

I’ve only ever worked with people of a medium prestige. And only ever to silently cover up their dirty work. But I’m hardly surprised to see his distaste towards me.

If I am a minor disgust to the higher class, to the royals like Prince Harry, I must be the equivalent of skum on freshly polished shoes.

“Please, come sit with us. We have much to discuss.” She strides across the room, flowing ivory dress complimenting the green rug that takes up a large chunk of the floor.

She takes to a chair at the head of the table, it’s like a mock-throne, green fabric and deep wooden accents around its frame and arms.

The Prince reluctantly seats in the chair first to her right.

Despite the fact I’ve been allowed in this room, I feel terribly out of place.

I carefully take the chair thats two down from the queen, folding my hands neatly atop the rich wooden table which has a map in the centre of it.

I almost let out a sigh of gratefulness as Queen Annabelle begins talking, and isn’t expecting me to begin.

“Alright. You know the parameters in which you are here in, yes?” She raises her sharp brows.

“I do, for the most part. From the letters I’d received. I’m aware of what business you want me for.”

The Prince scoffs at the word business, and the Queen shoots him a glare.

“There are obviously some details left out. We need to smooth those out, before you can make your pledges.”

I nod, but sense that she’s not done talking.

“You acknowledge that this is going ahead yes? All that is left to do is get it in motion.”

“I do. I have a few questions regarding this job, but they can be covered at a later time if you’d like.” I try to keep my tone steady, formal.

I’m satisfied in her reaction to my words. She wasn’t expecting me to be so put together.

I had worked hard when I was younger to achieve this. My intellect is a strong point— and it makes me appear less rough around the edges.

It’s also that of a weapon, one you can carry everywhere with you, undetected. And it’s just as dangerous as the blade of a dagger.

“Of course. As of now, I’d like to discuss the raw details.”

She gestures towards her son, “My son, here, is a key part of this job. I believe in your letters you were ran down on an attempted assassination within our family. Since it’s now certain you’ll be taking the job, and you’ll be working closely with the both of us, I figure you should know he was the target.”

He’s frowning still as a lock eyes with him. And I connected those dots the second I realised he was in the room.

I have never met him. But from the great vine I’d heard mixed opinions on his person.

“Aside from myself and our head of counsel, he will be whom you take any learned information to.”

She lets out a sigh, “I would like him to be excluded from this process, however, it was made clear it wouldn’t go ahead without his involvement.”

I ponder a moment on how he is allowed a choice in the matter, seeing she’s the Queen and all.

She looks to me for agreement, “Understood.”

“Perfect. Im aware we have little information on who has committed this crime. That is why you’re here. I fear that they will come back and finish what they started.” I steal a glance at the prince again, who looks relatively unbothered considering we’re discussing the details of his near death experience, “I expect you to prevent this from happening.”

High expectations come with exhausting hours of work. But I nod anyways.

“My head of counsel, Tyrone will also need to receive a pledge from you and then he will run you down on the smaller details I have no business in. But other than that, your work will begin after our pledges.”

A lot of damn pledges, too.

This was the worst part of working with people of such a title, the expectance of you to lay yourself down for them, to swear your life and loyalty to them. A pledge knows no time, and can only be withdrawn by the one it’s given too. So the more pledges, the more you’re shackled to. To outright break a pledge would send you straight to exile— so it’s rare to hear of it. It’s like a fucking cult out there, in the barren of the north where the exiles call home.

She prattles on over some more details, that I take as much mental note on as possible, before standing from her chair, “Harry, will you please leave the room while she makes her pledge to me.”

I thank the stars for the this shred of dignity shes allowing me, but i catch the shock on Prince Harry’s face at his removal.

“But—“ he begins and she silences him, “Out.”

He sighs outwardly, sending another glower my way as he walks out the door.

I awkwardly rise from my chair, nerves bubbling through me, trying to prepare myself on what to say.

Theres no script, its all dependent on the situation, so you must say the right things and leave no room for misconception in your words. Mistake and gaps can easily be used against you.

It’s dodgy absolutely, but a risk that must be taken for this business.

“Natalia, is this your first time making a pledge?” She asks from where she stands a few feet away from me.

“No.” It was my third, but she doesn’t need to know that.

It’s not many, especially since in what I do, some people rack them up like it’s a competition.

“Have you been let go of all your previous pledges?”

“Yes.” I nod, which was almost true, all but one.

A risky game I’m playing, lying already, but no risk no reward I suppose is what they say.

Answering no raises to many questions on her end that I hardly feel mentally prepared to answer.

I take initiative to kneel at her feet, ready for her go ahead.

“Very well.”

“Queen Annabelle the fifth, I kneel below you as I vow to uphold my loyalty to you, for as long as it may be needed. I am aware that your life must come before mine at all times, and that I’m never to withhold information that could be of detriment to you or your family.”

I draw in a breath, “All information that I learn in my time working under you will be taken to those of your request, and nothing will be kept to myself that could endanger anybody in your circle. Outside of those im working with, all that I find out is kept to myself. Gossip is for the lowly courts, and I do not wish to start it.”

I pray that ive covered the basis, and begin to close off the pledge, “My name is Natalia Atalanta Finley, and I pledge myself to you, Queen Annabelle the fifth.”

A shudder passes through me as my middle name breaches the tip of my tongue.

This is how the pledges are set in stone. Your second name is to be kept close to your heart; it can be easily used against you. Hence why business using them is unfavourable.

I had held her eye contact, and watched as she nodded. Her face was netrual, not showing whether she was pleased or not.

“Thank you. I will send Harry in for you now.” She sounded calm. Of course she was. Considering she wasn’t the one now down a point.

I only can nod.

Carefully standing, despite the fact I’m going to be kneeling again in a few moments, I brush my hands down the waist of my satin dress.

She heads out the doors, I strain to hear a few muffled whispers that are presumably exchanged between her and her son. Then the door is opening again.

I fight the urge to look away. I am not about to appear shy, or like I am now certainly below them. He strides in, and I finally get a good look at him in the full.

He’s in a black kind of overcoat, and a smooth white blouse-like shirt. The tattoos on his collarbones, which im not sure what they are yet, visible through the material.

I make note of his black trousers and my eyes make their way back to the hair on his head. Its mid length, unruly and curly is the best way to describe it.

He looks smug, yet somehow still inconvenienced by my presence, “kneel, wont you?”

These are the first words he’s said to me directly, and I already want to jam my elbow into his stomach. Terrific.

I take a few steps towards him, and slowly sink back down onto my knees, feet tucked under myself as I hold eye contact with him.

“Your highness,” I begin, but theres an unmistakable edge to my voice.

“Sound like you mean it at least.” He hums.

With a passive aggressive clear of my throat I start again, “Your highness,”

“This y’first time making a pledge?” He quirks a brow almost assuming.

“No.” You frown.

“No need to get your back up.” He laughs briefly, but it’s laced with an audacious tone, one lacking in kindness.

“Continue on, then.”

His gaze is back to burning into me as I pretty much recite what I said to his mother only minutes ago, sticking to the same promises as to not get any misconstrusions on their behalf.

The golden hour light is seeping through the cream coloured curtains that line the windows, it’s casting a glow on his sculpted face. I begin to close off my pledge to him, but he interrupts.

“Remind me again who is in charge of you?” He knows there’s hardly any need for this, considering im on my knees basically promising him my obedience, but he’s doing it to just get a rise out of me.

Which all though he doesn’t get it verbally, he can see the disdain on my face.

“You, Prince Harry.” I say, carefully.

“And you will not do anything without my go ahead first, correct?”

“Within reason, yes.” My job is too impulsive to say yes to that and it not backfire on me.

“Within reason? Elaborate, will you.”

“I must make impulsive decisions. I cannot promise you will always be debriefed on them when its an in-the-moment choice, or if you are possibly a few hundred miles away.”

His gaze narrows, “Within reason it shall be then.”

I close it off, earning a small raise of his eyebrows as he hears my full name.

“Good girl. You may rise.” He says it with a smirk, and with an air of power of me, which of course he now feels he has after my pledge.

“Do not call me that.” I state, pulling at any shred of dignity I have left as I stand up.

“What else would you prefer then?” It’s asked, however it’s clear to me he doesn’t care.

“My name.” I scoff.

“Alright then, Natalia.” He rolls his eyes.

He stares at me a moment, looking ready to leave,“I will see you, unfortunately, tomorrow then.”

I shoot him an unkind look, but keep my lips sealed.

“Anything else to say, sugar?” He teases, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Natalia.” I correct, “No, there is not.”

I decide to be the one to exit the room, uncaring if that is rude. I’ve already sworn him my life, and despite him acting like I’m of no use to him, I know I am— more then he’s leading on anyway.

I open the doors myself, and the guards are quick to check on the prince.

“Are you ok, Sir?” One of them tentatively asked, like as if I’ve hurt him.

“Just fine.” He brushes them off, eyes trailing me as I walk down the hallway despite no sense of where I’m going.

One of the guards hurries behind me,

“Ma’am, where are you going?”

He reaches my side and I glance to him, “Take me to the head of counsel, please.”

I figure I get the last pledge out of the way, and any other debriefing so I can just get out of here for tonight. Worry about it all later, in the earlier hours of tomorrow morning when I have to wake up.

The guard nods, and takes the lead while I try to memorise the twists and turns were making around the palace.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tyrone is a fucking asshole.

If I had thought Prince Harry was rude or demeaning, I was in for a shock.

He hardly greeted me as I’d came into what I can only assume is his office. It was dark and unwelcoming, the wood was stained to the colour of black coffee, and nothing about it was homely.

He’d had me making this pledge for what felt like an hour. Running over detail upon detail.

Harshly demanding for more information, more promising.

By the time I’d closed it off— which at the rate we were going I thought was never going to happen— he made me stay for another hour going over what he wanted me to do, so I could start first thing tomorrow morning.

He basically gave me the caseload and then kicked me out.

I was mentally muddled as I left his office, and the halls were now completely dark aside from the warm casting of light from the candles, which sat in candelabras coming out of the walls.

I just wanted to go back to Mabel’s. Get this dress off and back into the confines of her cupboard and sleep.

However was almost caught off guard as someone was at the end of the hallway.

“Natalia.” I heard the deep voice regard me, walking up closer to me.

It surprised me in all honestly, I hadn’t seen them when I first walked out, “Yes?”

“I’m here to take you to your room.”

I was immediately confused.

“My room?”

“Yes. There’s a room made up for you in the western-wing of the palace.”

“I didn’t request a room.” I frown, and no one had told me I’d be staying here.

“All I know is Her Majesty had a room made up for you to stay in while you’re here. Allow me to lead you there.”

I nodded cautiously, but I knew what this was, it was to keep me under watch and control. It seems like a lovely customary gift in exchange for my work, but realistically it’s to stop me from interacting with anyone outside of the palace when I don’t need to.

I contemplate refusing to go, but figured that would just add unnecessary suspicion on my behalf.

I reluctantly followed the bulky man halfway across the palace, and everything started looking the same in the dark until we stopped outside a room. And i nodded a ‘thank you’ as I went through the again, abnormally tall doors.

The room itself was bigger than any whole house I’d ever lived in.

There was a large bed placed in the centre of it, perfectly made of course. And I noticed a closet on my left that took up majority of where the wall would’ve been.

There were a multitude of things hanging in there, ranging from gowns to things only someone like me would wear around here, like cargo pants and plain long sleeves.

The bedside antique lamps were on, casting an also warm glow to the space. The light to the bathroom was also turned on. And when I walked in there, the bath was run, with a set of silk pajamas folded on the large vanity.

It was too much. Wayyy too much for me.

Bribery at its finest.

Poor girl having to do the worst of the worst kind of business because it’s all she knows, suddenly spoiled with the kind of riches the royals had to offer.

I know just how far these kinds of people will go to earn your trust.

However, i still cave when it comes to the bath. I manage— with a slight struggle— to unzip the back of my dress and get fully undressed and into the bath.

It was perfectly warm, small petals floating atop the water.

I keep in the forefront of my mind just how well materialistic bribery like this work because god, it is nice. That’s the whole point.

I don’t know how long i stay in there, trying to soak off the grievances of the day.

But when I finally get out and slip the silky pyjamas on I’m too warm.

I pad out of the bathroom, and find myself at the balcony door.

The cooler air hits me as i step outside. I examine the surroundings. Part out of habit and other out of curiosity.

The ground is not that far away, a survivable jump at least. And if the railing would hold me up I definitely would be able to scale up onto the roof.

I’m mid-inspection when I hear another door open nearby, and my head whips to find the source of the noise.

I drop into a crouch keeping my eyes searching through the gaps in the wooden railing. My eyes fall on a room just across the small courtyard from me.

I spot the tall figure leaning against their own balcony and I realise with a sink of my heart that it was the Prince.

Why his quarters were so close to mine I could only guess. To keep tabs on me?

I stay deathly still as I watch his figure, it’s facing the direction of me, and from his angle he could probably only see the warm lamps and the light streaming out of the bathroom door.

A shake of his head, a spin of his heel and he’s returned into the confines of his own quarters.

I take a breath and am careful to keep my self low as I slip back into my room. Standing to my full height once inside and away from the window.

It is now that I need to fully accept he is going to be a terror to deal with.

I flick the bathroom and bedside lights off, and slide under the covers of the bed.

Head plagued with thoughts, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck I’ve gotten myself into this.

And how exactly it’s all going to pan out.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you again for reading this. your support means the world to me. stay tuned for future parts, and feel free to reply or send me an ask saying you want to be added to my taglist if you do, since I’ve had a few people ask to be on them!

asks & requests, here.

taglist:

@straightontilmornin @hs-tpwkrry

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #insatiable #fantasy #enemies to lovers #enemy harry styles #harry styles x oc #Harry styles x fem!oc #etl #fanfic #royal au #royal! harry #royal harry styles

[jadedrrose]

Hello dear, I hope I'm doing this right, it's my first request. I also read your rules, so I'm really sorry if I forgot something, pls tell me then 🙈 If it's too specific or you are uncomfortable with something, pls write as you like and are comfortable with it. It should be fun for you and not exhausting. Thank you very much in advance 🥰🩷💗

Can I request a (AU )scenario where Law and reader know each other because they share the same course of studies (in medical field) only that Law almost finished and reader just started, so he really helps reader out a lot and studies with her because he secretly likes her and wants her to be successful and knows how hard it is. Reader and Law share the same age, she just started later.

Poorly Executed Study Session

The way you were so right… this was VERY fun to write, and I kinda got carried away with making it more suggestive lol. Thank you sm for the request!!!

Warnings: fem reader, sexually suggestive comments and implications, but nothing happens. Also note I’m literally skipping college (no money lol) so this is all loosely based on what my friends have told me… so I hope it’s realistic lol 💀

The tall man with tattoos and a darker fashion sense always intrigued you whenever you’d see him passing by on the campus.

Most of the medical students you’d seen up until then had fit stereotypes; “normal” girls that had certainly fallen into the popular group of high schoolers, your average “good values” family men who were certain to become the most average, do the bare minimum husbands. They all had that specific look about them, but there were still the “nerds” amongst the students. But then there was him.

You’d figured out his name was Law, through some low-stooping investigating (you really wanted to know, okay?!). He was in his final year of studying to become a surgeon, though he was the same age as you. That alone was impressive, but physically, he was entirely stunning.

His dark, unruly hair, the many tattoos you’d caught glimpses of, the double piercings on each ear, down to the goatee. He looked like a bad boy, but from what you could tell, he was nothing short of your dream man- a quiet, nice guy… with a good fashion sense.

Months went by before you’d ever spoken to him. You’d been studying in the library, very late into the night. There was an exam early the next day, and you started to panic as the hours grew later and you still felt stuck. That was until your emo Prince Charming had come to save you.

Law was in the library, searching for some sort of comic book, which you’d figured out based on how he’d emerged from that section with a few volumes in hand. He’d noticed you, approaching you to presumably help out. You must’ve seemed incredibly stressed out.

You’d noticed how he poorly hid the comics behind him, before standing beside where you sat. “You appear stressed,” he stated. “Need help?”

Honestly, it had taken you rather too long to respond to him, as you were utterly infatuated, frozen in place, staring at him. “H-huh? Oh, yeah…” 

Law took a seat beside you, sliding your notebook away from you and looking it over. He asked you a few questions before helping you with the particular issue you were having, and before you knew it…. That had become a weekly thing.

— 

It progressed into Law coming over to your apartment or you going to his, which happened less often, due to his… obnoxious roommates. The first couple times he’d hung out with you, they had tortured him all evening afterwards, interrogating him to no end over what exactly their “nerdy virgin” Law was doing with a “girl like that” so late into the day. 

And of course they quickly figured out that even if the two of you were just studying together, Law indeed had feelings for you. He knew he’d choke on his words and his ears would go red whenever they’d tease him. It was especially bad when they tried to suggest more sexual things, throwing many innuendos at Law just so that his face would become flushed and then he’d be their joke of the evening. 

As time progressed, Law found it harder and harder to be around you without thinking about all those things his friends had said, and tonight, it was particularly difficult… 

After all, who would be able to face their crush so easily after having a wet dream about them?

—

It was eight-o’-clock at night, and you were currently leaving Law’s apartment building, him by your side, actually. The two of you had attempted to study there, but his friends, Shachi and Penguin, simply couldn’t leave the two of you alone, dropping in his room randomly to bother you two about when you’d finally get together, or say things like “so when’s the wedding, Law?!”. Law had yelled at them for a moment before asking to go to your apartment. 

He opened the door to his car for you before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in. “I’m sorry about them,” he apologized. “They just can’t get over me having a girlfrie-  friend who happens to be a girl!” He hastily added the last part, his face becoming red. 

You found it adorable, but couldn’t speak on it. The last thing you wanted was for Law to figure out you had feelings for him, when he clearly wanted to focus on nothing but becoming a surgeon. You’d only get in his way.

“It’s alright,” you decided to say, “my friends are the same way, they just don’t live with me and don’t get as many chances to be asses about it.”

Law let out a chuckle before starting to drive out of the parking lot, starting the short journey over to your apartment. You lived within walking distance of him, but Law really didn’t feel like walking after a long day. 

“I just wanna see you be successful, y/n-ya. I don’t need any weirdos getting in your way.” He told you, referring to Shachi and Penguin.

The two of you quickly arrived at your apartment complex, getting inside with haste as it had started to rain during the ride over. 

As you locked the door behind you, you let out a groan of annoyance as now all your papers were wet. “Dammit,” you cursed, before turning to Law, who was soaked. “Sorry… you can dry off in the bathroom, there’s extra towels… though I don’t have any clothes for you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Law brushed off your concerns. “I’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, turning to go set your things down. “I guess we’ll have to leave pairs of clothing at each other’s place in the future, huh?”

Law nervously chuckled at that, but you assumed you’d misheard it that way. There was no way he was flustered by that.

—

Studying with you became even more difficult now, given the circumstances. Due to the rain, Law had to toss his tee shirt into your bathtub and blow dry his jeans before coming out of your bathroom. You’d changed into a cropped tank top and sweatpants, hair up in a ponytail as you sat at the table. 

You’d been rewriting your notes when Law sat beside you. Your eyes flashed over to him for a second, before you froze in spot, side-eyeing his shirtless upper body not-so-discreetly. 

That only made Law’s circumstances worse. First the dream about you, now the way you could keep your damn eyes off of him? You had him feeling sick, making him entirely too nervous as it dawned on him that you were bothered by his halfway unclothed body. 

“Uh, so… I rewrote everything… I think we were… here?” You asked, pointing at the spot in your textbook with your pen.

Law nodded, biting down on his lip as he looked over at you. Your tank top was thin and didn’t hide much. He couldn’t look at the notes sitting in front of you without looking at your chest, too.  “Mhm… so, what I was saying earlier, was…”

He began trying to explain whatever it had been to you, but things weren’t going his way, or your way either. The both of you were becoming too distracted by each other, making this study session quickly fail.

Law hadn’t even noticed his hand gripping his thigh underneath the table, how he suddenly felt hot and feverish, or how there was a certain tightness in his jeans…

You kept stuttering, forgetting things he’d told you minutes prior, and just overall not paying attention as your mind clearly went elsewhere. You’d been biting on the pen, a habit Law found terrible except for when you did it. It only drove him crazy further, intensifying his need for you.

Eventually… you both gave up on studying altogether. You’d tried reciting things to Law, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focused on the way your lips moved, or how you anxiously shifted in your seat, still taking (not so) secret glances as his toned and tattooed chest.

“And, th-then, there’s the,” you gulped, desperately trying to remember the next part. But you couldn’t. All you could do was think about Law. “The… Law, fuck, I need you…” you desperately whined, letting your head fall into your notes on the table. You hadn’t meant to say it, but you couldn’t do or think of anything else at the moment. Just your body’s overwhelming need for him.

Law let out a hitched breath, tensing up beside you. You felt his hand on the side of your head, as it started rubbing through your ponytail. “Shit, y/n. Should’ve just said so two hours ago,” he breathed out.  

At his sign of reciprocating your feelings, your head shot away from the table and your hands flew to his bare shoulders, holding onto him. 

In an unspoken request, Law accepted it and brought you closer to him, letting his lips connect with yours. He let the hand that had been on his leg move to hold your waist, the other one still on your head. The kiss was awkward at first, clearly something neither of you had done before. But it was intoxicating, both of your bodies silently begging for more. You deepened the kiss, letting one of your hands move into Law’s messy black hair, gently tugging at it as you whimpered into his mouth. 

As soon as it had started, Law pulled away for air, the saliva exchanged between you two stringing together as your mouths hang open, panting in sync. 

“What… do you think about,” Law huffed, licking his lips. “We continue studying… tomorrow?” He suggested.

Deciding your actions would speak louder than words, you smashed your face back into his, kissing him with need in a silent “yes”.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #law x reader #law x female reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x female reader

[masterofengene]

Enhypen's reaction to you having insomnia.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

heeseung

You stress him out.

Totally stressed

He knows it isn't your fault, he just wishes he could help

He has seen you not sleep for days on end, it saddens him

He makes you herbal tea (if you like tea)

Puts on piano covers for you

He even pulls you in for cuddles just to help you relax, he knows you may not even fall asleep but he just wants to try.

Jay

A literal angel

He always tries to stay up with you on the nights your insomnia is really bad. He couldn't stand the thought of falling asleep next to you while your body wouldn't let you.

(He does fall asleep)

He would try to convince you to go to the doctor and get medicine sorted out.

He helps put ice to your eye bags on days that they are really prominent, reminds you how beautiful you are

Sunghoon

He researches natural home remedies, non harmful ways to get you to fall asleep.

He cuddles you, rubs your back and hums a quiet tune to you.

He will smile so warmly if he notices your breathing even out. Even if you aren't sleeping at least your relaxed.

He knows he has a hectic schedule, so he jokes that he is happy you're always awake when he gets home.

Jake

Poor baby didn't realize it for a hot minute. For about 4 months actually.

It wasn't until he realized you always text him back no matter what time it was, "do you even sleep?" It was a joke it wasn't until you were like "half the time, no."

Oh no no no

He calls your mom to find out ways to help, see what helped you when you were younger

He listens to your sleep deprived rants before he pulls you down to watch a movie.

If you have medicine for it, you best believe he is gonna hype you up so you take it

Sunoo

He notices things. He's very attentive, especially to you.

Eventually he noticed that your eye bags never seem to fade even a little bit. Sure some days they were darker, but they were always there.

He didn't ask either, it was like one day he just knew. He buys vitamins that help with stress, and relaxation for you.

Buys things to help with eye bags and swelling (if you want him to)

"Come on, your eye bags are Gucci let's take care of them."

He would say that lovingly of course, of course he would do the night time routine with you.

He would massage your back until you fell asleep, even if you would wake up after five minutes.

He cares so much, he feels so bad when he knows you haven't slept in a while.

Jungwon

He knows that realistically not much can help besides going to the doctor.

He asks you at least once a week to go to the doctor.

He just wants you to be okay, he's already stressed. He worries about you.

He has seen you struggle to put words together from not being able to sleep.

When he knows you haven't slept in days he won't let you leave his room. He's gonna keep you in the room and cuddle you until you st least relax.

A nap, power nap, full blown sleep.

You won't leave his arms until some variation of sleep happens.

Niki

He's just so-

He buys you those vitamins. You know the ones, I know you do.

He would probably buy insense and essential oil, natural sleep inducers.

Everything he does he does it passionately, that includes loving you and taking care of you.

When you start spending the night with him he is gonna accommodate his room to you and change the lighting, anything to help you sleep easier

Has about 4 pillows just for you, even if he is your favorite pillow.

Asks his hyungs for help on nights you can't seem to get your brain to stop

#enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen reactions

[tobybestupid]

nsfw alphabet thing is so hot, can I ask for one with Tommy or Vince? :3

Omg yes ofc!

Vince Neil nsfw alphabet!

TW: smut smut smutty smut, mentions public sex, mentions high drunk sex, masterbation, bodily fluids, mention small death,

A = Aftercare

I feel like he'd be a little lazy at it, clean you off depending on his mood.

B = Body part

His favorite part of you is your chest, mostly cause he can cum on there easily. And your face, loves watching the faces you make as he pounds into you :3

C = cum

He loves to cum on your chest as before said, and on your face. Anywhere really works for him though!!

D = Dirty secret

Wants to rail you in the studio, and most definitely wants somebody to walk in on you two.

E = Experience

Meh, kinda. Doesn't treat you like a groupie or anything so that's good!

F = Favorite position

Doggystyle, or mating press, all time favorite of his though is cowgirl. Likes watching your face as he goes to pound town on you :P

G = Goofy

Serious about pleasing you, which he does...in a non serious way. He's just a silly dumb blonde :3

H = Hair

He's not groomed too well, I mean he likes to keep his hair short. He does however have a small happy trail.

I = Intimacy

He's rather rough with you, but if you want him to be gentle he will. If he's drunk/high, he probably won't be able to manage how rough he's going.

J = Jack off

He whacks off quite frequently, well...when he's not with you. He likes you to jack him off, he loves it so much.

K = Kink

(realistically he probably has a piss kink...that's besides the point!!) Ngl, he probably has a humiliation kink, likes to humiliate you :3

L = Location

He likes to rail you practically anywhere, but the bedroom is his favorite place, most comfortable!

M = Motivation

You talking to him dirty, loves it. Gets him hard, oh a miniskirts!? God, falls for them, would be on his knees.

N = No

Will not do any stuff to do with other disgusting bodily fluids, also won't hurt you...too badly. (Jk)

O = oral

He loves receiving, but prefers giving. He loves watching you tug at his hair and moan his name. Loves it, it's his favorite thing.

P = Pace

If he could go forever, he would. But he can't, so he'll only go for about 3-4 rounds, if he can. He is also rather rough with you.

Q = Quickie

He likes quickies before shoes, never in general.

R = Risk

He loves risking it, if he could fuck you in Nikki's bed, he would. (And make Nikki watch.)

S = Stamina

He can go about 3-4 rounds, can't go super rough for only about 2 rounds, gas to slow down after that.

T = Toys

Used to have a Fleshlight...why have that when he now has you? :0

U = Unfair

Teases you so much, but hates when you tease him, becomes super whiny.

V = Volume

He's a whiner when submissive and whimpers, when dominant he groans loudly and whimpers.

W = wildcard

Wants to have a kid with you, he's just scared bc of what happened with Skyler (r.i.p Skyler.)

X = X-ray

Alright let's see what he's got going on. He's got a rather thick cock, maybe 5 inches long though. He's not too hairy, just a small happy trail. Oh and he's got a pretty veiny cock, and the tip is a little darker than the rest. Drapes match the carpets, just a tad bit darker.

Y = Yearning

He can last a little, 3-4 rounds.

Z = Zzz

He does fall asleep pretty quick, but cleans you off quickly.

============================

#x reader #mick mars #80s rock #nikki sixx #mötley crüe #vince neil #tommy lee #vince neil x reader

[magicaldragons]

the writers know how they're portraying ryu shi-oh

i love grey characters, if not only for the psycho-analyzing potential. love them. so having a character like ryu shi-oh, especially with his tragic past, makes him very intriguing already.

at the same time, i did defend nam-soon & hee-sik to my friends for the entirety of the first three episodes, and i still try to give them a chance when they're on screen. it's a very comfortable ship, for sure.

but the writers MUST know what they are doing everytime they show us how badly ryu shi-oh wants to be free from his situation. especially seeing as to how he's started actively trying to break away from the mafia – notably, after he's begun to think he has a chance at friendship/love

darker, twisted relationships are present throughout several places in media and widely accepted and loved by those interested in the genre, and what shi-oh feels for nam-soon is a prime example that ticks off many additional tropes.

if they wanted the audience to root for nam-soon & hee-sik, there were SO many opportunities the writers had to really enhance their relationship, especially when hee-sik was at the funeral & nam-soon's brother was in the hospital – all we got was a phone call, which is realistically understandable, but artistically, it was a solid chance to have them support each other through hard times.

▪︎ in fact, the only times we've got them together in one room it's either been:

contribution to the main drug plotline

one of them is asleep

jokes about how they'll have to have a child quickly (personally, i don't really like how there's so much emphasis on this, especially when they depict it like it's a romantic thing)

hee-sik jealous of si-oh's closeness with nam-soon

that one scene where hee-sik loved nam-soon's cooking, unlike the rest of his team, which was also edited and directed like a cute joke, rather than something sentimental – they weren't in the same room for this one, lmao, but still:

i would've really been pulled in if there had been more lead up to a confession — from a technical standpoint, they have no key moments that made me root for them, other than "he's a good person", which isn't very compelling to me, personally

the writers are definitely aware of how they are portraying things and dividing up the screen time, and i do think they're going to have to villainize ryu shi-oh irretrievably for the current majority to switch over and consider nam-soon x hee-sik to be the best possible ship, but right now that's not true.

they might redeem ryu shi-oh, which will satisfy most of us, but it will still leave nam-soon x hee-sik a bit unconvincing unless they set up a very significant plot line with hee-sik which can convince us of their chemistry, and that will be pretty tough if they give shi-oh positive growth & character development.

#a very technical post #the writers know what they're doing to us #if they hurt si-oh you'll find me screaming into the void #strong girl nam soon #ryu shi oh #byeon woo seok #gang namsoon #lee yoo mi #kdrama

[sokkastyles]

ATLA Live Action Ep 1 Thoughts:

When the writers meant they wanted it to be like game of thrones, clearly they meant "we want the battles to happen in complete darkness so nobody can see what is going on," and not, you know, the sex stuff.

Idk why this never occurred to me until now but ostrich horse is chocobo.

They are clearly going for a darker, more grittier feel here, but it clashes with the attempt to keep things true to the animated origin. Like, the earth kingdom OC looks straight out of some more realistic Adult fantasy show, whereas Sozin's character design makes him look like evil Santa.

So firebenders are able to do that to bodies, which I appreciate from a fanfic perspective and also confirms what people have been theorizing about the agni kai, that Ozai put his hand on his son's face. Not sure it was necessary to see it, though. The original does a good job of horrifying us with implied violence and the adults already get it, while showing it makes it less accessible to a younger audience. This is hardly a problem unique to this show, though.

Air nomads actually riding sky bison!

I like having more background with the air nomads and Aang's actor is great but front-loading the flashbacks doesn't work great for the pacing.

One thing I do really like is the emphasis on how the war damaged the harmony of the nations in more than just a spiritual way. No one has friends from other nations now. Zuko comes seeking "someone who does not belong" with the (false) promise that no one will get hurt if everyone keeps to themselves, keeps the status quo. The air nomads are a complete anomaly in a world of division. We are introduced to Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Zuko, and all are isolated in their own way by the war at the beginning of the story.

Overall there is something just weird about the pacing. Characters keep pausing at vital moments of action to deliver exposition or meaningful monologues. It just feels off.

Zuko so desperate for "glory" that he accepts Sokka's proposal to fight one on one (nice foil to the final agni kai by the way). Then his surprise when Aang shows himself reveals that Zuko himself did not know whether he would really find the Avatar in this village he's suddenly shown up to terrorize. God, it just emphasizes how low Zuko is at this point. This is probably his first real high stakes fight and he might have killed Sokka over absolutely nothing out of a false sense that he had something to prove. It's just...sad.

The scene at the Southern Air Temple looked great and had me in tears. I actually saw some criticism of this to the effect of them "ruining Aang's arc" because he comes out of the Avatar state himself, but first of all, let's be real and admit that if mastering the Avatar State was Aang's arc, he never completed it. Second, just because he could bring himself out does not mean he can control it, and he's still letting his emotions control him which is a learning curve for handling that power, it's just that he was able to control his anger in that moment by remembering the people he loved. Which is not that different from how the scene plays out in the original, only he isn't using Katara as a crutch. Which is a good thing, actually. It's much more fitting and poignant that he thinks about Gyatso here.

I don't think there was any mention of Katara wanting to go north. She has a few lines about wanting to help more and Aang teaches her about balance so she can bend now, apparently, but where is her drive? It feels like they're attributing her accomplishments to Aang and that bothers me. Maybe it'll be mentioned in the next episode, since they haven't talked about Aang learning waterbending yet, either. But I do miss the Katara who was ready to banish herself from the village the moment she met Aang not just because it was the right thing to do, but because of her own desire for independence and autonomy.

Liked the scene between Aang and Iroh. It gives us a glimpse of an Iroh who is stuck as to what to do and so he just gives Aang the Zuko treatment by offering him tea. I'd be excited if this means we get to see more development for Iroh.

#atla live action #atla la thoughts #atla la ep1

[whiskeynwriting]

The way you write ghost is so genuine and realistic, he actually seems like a real person that i can clearly imagine in real life, i love ghost x bones!!

Would you ever write heartbreaking whump/angst for them? Literally bring me to tears, i’m ready for it

Love @sanfransolomitatm (that’s me) 🤍

Challenge accepted.

Also, thank you so much for the compliments, oh my goodness. The fact that he feels like a genuine person is so flattering to me, and I'm so glad he can be portrayed that way 🥹 I am also beyond thrilled to know that you love Ghost x Bones 🥰🥰🥰

Love Is a Sin (Part Two)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC "Bones"

◆

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Lord… there’s a lot. Mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy tests, loss/death, injury/gore, battle, use of weaponry, angst, mentions of past abuse, mentions/discussions of funeral details, PTSD and therapy, brain injury, major grief. 

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A/N: Here’s part two! As promised, it’s much darker. My goal here was to pull emotions out of you guys, let me know how I did (;

Read part one here 🥰

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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“Alright,” Price booms, stomping into the room. “Let’s circle up. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

Already, he hates this. The entire atmosphere has shifted from light and lazy to dark and perilous. Simon can feel his heart rate increasing, his breaths deep and dragging. The mere thought of you in the field makes him want to jump up and wrap you in his arms, drag you away and hide you somewhere safe. What he hates even more than the possibility of that happening is the fact that he allowed it, he’s allowed this to happen. It wasn’t exactly his call to make, but he would’ve made it, and he didn't. 

He’s made his bed, and this time, he’s got to lay in it. 

So, without much choice, he watches his men regroup in front of him, with his partner sitting up to join in. Price tosses out the maps, Gaz whips out the compass, and Johnny’s already pulling out snacks. Tugging down his mask, Simon releases a harsh sigh, nothing that really draws anyone’s attention, though. He’s pretty much always cranky, and with you here, that trait has grown tenfold. 

When Simon reaches for your hand on the couch, your eyes widen. What the hell is he doing? But before you can react, and before anyone else has a chance to see, Johnny tosses a protein bar at the lieutenant. 

“Johnny, what the fuck?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Johnny scolds outwardly, scowling at his closest friend. 

Price can feel something lingering in the air, an awkward silence, a secret. But he pushes it away. Glancing between his teammates, he clasps his hands together. 

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

Here we go.

“No man’s land.” Price’s raspy voice begins, finger pressing into the map. “Are we ready for that?”

Easily, the boys respond. Gaz’s simple yes, Johnny’s hell yes, and Ghost’s ‘course we are. And with a contented smirk, Price then turns in your direction.

“Are you?”

You can’t deny the feeling of anxiety surrounding this entire mission. Every time the plans are detailed and discussed, a sort of nervous bile rises in your throat. But you’re here for a reason, and you can’t let the rest of them down. You won’t.

“Yes.” 

“Good lass. Gaz, what’ve you got?”

Kyle had performed aerial surveillance before the mission began on foot, scouting the area for more details.What he discovered wasn’t easy to stomach, but was to be expected.

“Casualties by the dozens all throughout. The cadavers are mostly soldiers, troops that had gone in before us. Some had been taken hostage, maybe two or three, but the rest didn’t survive.”

“Bones,”

Instantly, your head shoots up, looking into the blue eyes of your captain. “You stay focused on us, alright? The five of us, that means yourself, too. There’s no bother in saving any of those dead men; am I clear?” 

Swallowing, you nod. Though his words are harsh, he means well, and he’s right. Any body on that field is just that, a body, an unfortunate result of war. You have to focus on who’s alive, and keeping them alive. 

“Yes, sir.”

More than ever before, Simon wants to hold you. The muscles in his hand twitch slightly, wanting to curl his palm around your thigh in a comforting squeeze. He knows this won’t be easy for you. While you’ve seen battle before, you’ve never gone into the field as a medic. Years ago, you focused on killing. It’s a whole different ball game when you switch gears to saving.

“The reason they all died,” Kyle continues, “Is because they didn’t have you.”

Looking his way, you find a reassuring grin. Returning his encouraging words is your simple nod, a small sense of pride shifting in your features. Your team believes in you. 

“When we get across to the building, and that is a when,” The captain clarifies, “Bones will find coverage. She will not be infiltrating with us. In hiding, she’ll wait for our radio. Once we’ve confirmed our kill count, we’ll leave the building… completely empty of souls.”

And when he adds that last little tidbit, the boys around you hum, a certain excitement flowing through their veins. But Simon’s adrenaline rush is also coupled with anxiety. Outside alone? He questions, it’ll be far too easy for them to reach her. But your captain is confident you’ll be able to hold your own, and Ghost needs to try his hand in having faith in that. 

*

*

*

“You need to be careful with her.”

“And you need to watch yourself!” Ghost scoffs in return, inching away from his friend. “I can’t take a piss in private?”

Johnny shrugs, “Needed to piss, too.”

With a heavy groan, Simon rolls his eyes, redirecting himself to the task at hand, literally.

“What do you mean, anyways?”

“You’ve gone soft.”

“For her.” He mumbles, and Johnny’s brows raise.

“Holy shite.”

“Shut it, Johnny. There’s nothing wrong with it.” It’s not just Soap he’s trying to convince. 

“But there’s something wrong with you.” The sergeant snaps back. “You’re never like this on missions.”

Now, he doesn’t respond. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know what to say; Johnny’s right. He’s too far in his own head to focus on anything else, the details of this mission fleeting tidbits in his brain.

“You need to get your head on straight before you get yourself hurt.”

Again, he’s right. Acting like this is dangerous. You’re an incredible distraction for him, you have been since day one. But this isn’t something he can fight. Last night was… something else. It was different, dare he even say special. It was the most intimate moment you’ve shared. There’s no denying it, Simon feels tied to you. 

“Simon,” He then says, truly drawing Ghost’s attention. “I’m happy for you, I really am. I’ve never seen you take such a liking to a person… aside from me.” With that, he nudges his shoulder, grinning.

“Get on with it, Johnny.” But beneath the mask, he’s smiling, too.

“I think you’d be an idiot to lose this, her.” He states, accent just as strong as his candid nature. “And anywhere else, it’d be a great thing. But not here, not now.”

At this, Simon turns his head toward his friend, eyeing him beneath the forest’s dimness. It’s grown dark out, the trees hiding the cabin well enough to be comfortable for another night. And he knows once he goes back inside, he’ll cozy up next to you.

“She’s a teammate out here.” Johnny says, ending his ramble. “Nothing more.” And with that, Johnny’s zipping himself up to head back inside.

That last statement rings throughout Simon’s head, barreling through any sentimental thought. He’s close with his teammates, would do almost anything for them. But for you, he’s wondering what he wouldn’t do. Johnny’s words were true, but it doesn’t really help his situation. He can’t shove down his feelings for you. Sure, he can restrain himself from being outwardly affectionate. But keeping you safe? That was a priority for him. 

Back inside, everyone’s picked a spot in the living room. A few blankets had been dragged out from the bedroom, one for each of you to lay on. And with your Mylar thermal blankets, you were more than warm enough for the night. Simon can see you huddled up beneath the shiny material in the far corner of the living area, right beside the couch. Your back is up against the wall and Simon can already see that you’ve laid a blanket out for him right next to you. 

Sometimes, your relationship feels like a school-age crush. Saving a seat for each other at the lunch table, pulling out chairs for the other, giving and trading snacks, all nonverbal gestures that are just… sweet, considerate. Evidence of an unspoken connection. 

“Thanks, love.” Simon mumbles, grunting as he lays down on the tattered fabric.

“No problem.” You’re laying on your side, already smiling at him.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Settling on his left side, he faces you with his back toward the group. 

“Why? Are you blushing?” Teasingly, you grin, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling. And you’d give anything to see it. 

“Shut up.” The roll of his eyes is such a tell-tale sign for him; he could never be annoyed with you, not truly. 

Turning slightly, Simon settles on his back. Within the cabin’s darkness, you scooch a little closer, nuzzling into his side. His bulking body hides you, too, his insides burning bright with affection when your lips press against his covered bicep, wet from the snowfall during his earlier outdoor excursion. But you don’t mind. You’re not as close as you were last night, or the night previous in your little tent, but this will do. You’ll take what you can, because you always sleep so soundly next to him. 

Simon can tell you’re sleeping well, your snores are evidence of that. And in the darkness of night, he almost feels comfortable again. There isn’t a single worry in his mind regarding the lads, he’d even grown the confidence to wiggle his arm beneath your head, pulling you into him. However, there were many worries brewing in his head about you. More than ever before, he feels a need to preserve this, to keep your relationship intact. He loathes the fact that this happened here, your expression of love for him. If anything, he wishes it’d happened back at base, somewhere truly safe and private. 

Guiding him away from such anxious contemplation is your soft, sleepy moan, and the movement of your hand. Lifting your palm, it slides up and over his side, resting on his chest. But you don’t stop there. Sleepy digits move around the neckline of his shirt, searching for something. And then he realizes - his dog tags. Once found, you cling to them, body curling into his side even more than before. Jesus, do you pull every ounce of sweetness from him. The simple motion makes him sigh, eyes closing as he revels in this. He hopes he never loses this. 

It was an action you’d done a few times before, something that’s almost become routine. Every other night, it seems, you like to play with them. Awake or asleep, you find some sense of comfort with the small, metal plates. They represent him, his existence, the man that he is. 

*

*

*

For some reason, you thought this would be… louder, scarier, more intense than it is. Although, it’s just the approach, just the simple shuffle of feet through the woods. Maybe you expected the enemy to be ready, to pounce on you once you were a foot outside the cabin. But it seems Price was successful with his planning. You’re going to surprise them.

With weapons up and at the ready, you move slowly, steadily, scanning the area as you approach. The air is still, a small chill moving through the woods. It holds you captive, steals your breath and haunts your bones. Something is coming.

Each of you are spaced a bit from the other, a few yards in between each of your teammate’s movements. With your rifles up and aimed, you wonder, what are you aiming for? Any man? A possible vehicle? Movement throughout the slightly rocky terrain? Jesus, it’s been years since you’d been at this. But you’re ready, you can feel it. 

Raising a fist, Price signals your halt. Each of your steps still, your breaths held while your hearts pound. What does he see?

As soon as you all stop, Ghost is looking to his right, assessing you. Your gun’s safety is off, you’re holding it properly, and your stance is right on. The sight makes him proud.

That’s my girl.

Through the comms, Soap’s voice comes through. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Five men, weapons in hand and flanking right.”

“Approaching?” Ghost’s gruff voice inquires, eyes narrowing.

“Not yet; they’re flanking to opposite sides of the building, crouching. They’re ready for us, lads.”

So much for the element of surprise.

“We’re crouching. Continue approach, and watch yer heads.”

“Sir.” Johnny responds, his voice firm. 

In unison, your group moves forward, scopes searching for this small group of men. Movement to the left of the building calls for your attention, and you wonder…

“Are we shooting?” Whispering into the comms, you keep your eye on a rustling bit of brush, the top of a man’s head clearly visible.

“Not yet. Stay out of their line of fire.” Price returns, stern with his command. 

Irritation courses through you, as you now have a clear visual of the enemy’s head. Still, you return with gritted teeth, “Aye.” 

“Boys, line up.” He then decides, “Left to right, we’re each taking a man. Bones, keep eyes on your current target, and wait for my go ahead.”

“Yes, sir.” 

With Ghost on your left, Price is directly to your right, and then Gaz and Soap. Each man walks on until they find their target within the group, sounding off into the comms once this first step is done. 

“We drop ‘em together, swift and silent.” 

“Aye.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

And then, your turn. “On your signal, Price.” He can tell you’re getting agitated, and it humors him. 

Looking off to his left, Price can see you through the brush with his own eyes. Returning his gaze, you witness his amused smirk, an expression that aggravates you further. He’s such a father figure, holding you back before you make a wrong move, guiding you toward the correct path.

“Shoot.”

Just as he predicted, your targets drop in unison. A single bullet zips through each man’s head, penetrating their skulls and knocking them dead. On your own target, a spurt of blood shoots from his skin as he drops, the firm thud of his body heard even from your position. 

“Advance.”

Shuffling your feet, you roll your shoulders, breaths steady as you walk toward the building. The surrounding cover of forest you’d been using is starting to wear thin; when you’re on unmarked land, there’ll be close to nothing keeping you from getting hit. 

“Halt.” The word isn’t rushed or frantic, but demanding as all hell.. 

No man’s land is only a few yards away from where you stand, the bodies of dead men scattering the dusty earth. From the angle you’re at, you’re unable to see their wounds directly. But that’s just fine, the sight would only distract you. 

“Landmines.”

“Where?” Immediately, Ghost is speaking, having to actively stop his feet from moving closer to you.

“Surrounding the perimeter.” Price clarifies, heavy breaths coming through the radio’s static. “Retrieve your GPR’s.”

While the Ground Penetrating Radars in your packs aren’t exactly ideal, they’re still useful. Though smaller than the usual model, they can detect the electrical current of the explosive. However, it can also confuse any type of metal with a mine, too. Being that many, if not all of these bodies have dog tags around their necks, this could be difficult. 

As you continue on, you hear the occasional notification, the small sound from one of your teammate’s readings. And at first, it’s terrifying. Every time you hear a machine go off, you expect an explosion. But these aren’t rookies you’re dealing with; they have decades of expert experience. You thought that’d make this a piece of cake.

Propelled through the air, your body is flung into a pit. The shrill ring in your ears prevents you from accurately hearing the shouts of your team, eyes blinking widely as you regain your bearings. What… happened? Who set one off?

Before you can hear the words of your comrades, the quick zip of lead rushes through the air. The ringing in your head only heightens now, your first instinct being to duck. Shoving yourself further into the pit, your bruised body rolls down the multiple mounds of dirt, finally landing at the bottom. 

Cocking your gun, you almost can’t seem to get air in fast enough. You’re already bleeding from the side of your head, nothing extreme but it will definitely have to be looked at. For now, though, you need to come back down. Looking to your left, you’re relieved to see that you aren’t alone. That is, until you identify them. 

William Anderson

John Davis

Henry Miller

You don’t know any of them.

Eyes scanning the surrounding figures, they widen, breaths now coming all too quick. It’s like you’re seeing zombies; some eyes are open, black and bloodied and staring into your soul. Others are closed, having embraced the sweet release of death. Limbs have been blown off, flesh rotting as it mixes with the dirt. Legs and arms are twisted, distorted in otherworldly ways. Torn pieces of their uniforms, dog tags that have yet to be collected. Hair muddled and out of code, jaws open and broken. 

But the medic in you comes to. Regardless of the injury on your head, and the fresh bruises on your limbs, you move. Whipping out a pair of latex gloves, you scramble toward the dead men. Reaching for their necks, your fingers curl around the circular metals to grab and tear them from their chains. Blood smears across your covered fingers, flesh moving as you dig through clothes to find some of the identification. Hurriedly, you stash them away, using the inner compartment of your jacket. They deserve to be remembered. 

“Bones!”

“Copy.” Your voice is rushed, panting on the other end as you collect what remains of the lives now lying dead.

“Get to Gaz.”

“Location?”

“East of the building, along the treeline.”

Shit. Right now, you’re on the opposite end. Regardless, your response is, “Copy.”

Now that you’ve given yourself a moment, you can fully hear the surrounding commotion. You can also hear the way Ghost has been frantically calling your name through your personal comms. 

“Bones? Bones?! Fucking Christ, please.”

“Ghost, I’m here.”

And that scares you more than anything. You’ve never heard him so distressed.

“Where are you?”

As soon as you were out of sight, Simon was an absolute fucking mess. It took everything in him not to leap after you into that trench, doing his best to remind himself that you've done this before. You’re good at your job and you can take care of yourself but he needs to take care of you.

The field has never felt so chaotic before. And he usually loves this, the thrill is just too addicting. But right now, he can’t get his head on straight, not until he hears your voice.

“In a pit.” Replying quietly, you gain the courage to glance over the edge. From here, you can see the far east side of the building. That’s where you need to be. 

“Still?!” Simon replies, ducking behind a boulder before reaching over and taking a few shots. “You need to move!” 

“Heading for the building’s east side.”

Simon was still in the forest when the landmine went off, far enough away to not get hit with the explosion or any of its remnants. But he saw how hard you took the hit, and immediately wished it was him. 

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,  ba - Ghost. I’m fine.” Your correction makes him chuckle, even within this bedlam. 

“Ghost!” Soap screams his way, “Ya cannae just stand there!” 

Dumbly, Ghost blinks at him.

“Move!”

Taking his own advice, and that of his closest friend, Ghost switches his position. Johnny watches as he pushes forward, following his eyeline only to find you on the end of it. And concern fills the pit of his stomach. Clearly, Ghost isn’t advancing toward the building; he’s watching your six perfectly. 

Another group of enemies leak from the building, evidenced by the collective thud of their feet. But peeking out over the edge again might as well be your demise, as you’re immediately targeted by two men. 

Eyes widening, you duck back down, head running rampant with ideas. You can’t stay here, you don’t have any chance of survival in this pit. They have the advantage, higher ground. And you need to at least be level with them. 

Reaching for your gun, you’re suddenly hit with the realization that your rifle is gone. Head whipping in every direction, you’re unable to find it in your frantic search. It must’ve flung from your body when you were hit. Onto option number two, your pistol. But retrieving it from the holster does nothing for you; a large piece of shrapnel has blown right through it.

“Motherfucker.”

Frustration doesn’t come close to what you’re feeling, but you need to push that aside and find new cover. Scrambling up the side of the ditch, you aim for the forest, which is unfortunately even further away from Gaz. But as soon as you’re up, you’re turning, the two men now only yards away. Ducking away from two shots, you feel yourself stumble backwards a bit. Sweat drips down into the wound on your head, down your neck and chest. Reaching back, your hand finds a tree to rest on briefly, readying yourself for this fight. But then, seemingly out of thin air, one of them drops. 

“I’ve got your six.” You knew he did.

Your fixed blade has now become your best friend, quickly gravitating to your hand. They, on the other hand, choose to handle this with fists. The man isn’t much larger than you, allowing you to keep your footing as he swings. Your feet plant firmly in the earth, one further behind to keep your balance. A quick slice across his face surprises him, giving you the opportunity for a stab to the upper chest. The blade sinks into his skin, tearing through muscle to reach his most vital organ. Among all the adrenaline in your veins, you bare your teeth, raising your fists to break his jaw with your hand. Kicking him in the groin knocks him to his knees, allowing you to shift your stance. Standing behind his crumpled form, you grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up and back. Tugging the knife from his chest, you slide it smoothly across his neck, spilling a warm redness down his front before inevitably tossing him to the dirt.

“Damn.” 

Turning, you rush into the forest, doing your best to evade the current chaos. Ducking through the brush, you make your way back to the start point, searching for Gaz. He must be wounded, and in turn, hiding.

“Bones,” Crackling through your comm link is his voice, a big ragged. “Three yards ahead.”

Once you’ve followed his instructions, you find him lying behind a fallen tree. He’s used a good amount of brush to cover himself, which he pushes away once you’re close enough. 

“Can you just patch it up?”

In the moment, you almost breathe out your inner words, oh shit. But you don’t want to frighten him. The sight is gruesome, though, genuinely gorey. His left leg is mangled, three pieces of shrapnel in his stomach and two in his chest. Truthfully, you’ve never seen such torn, wet flesh on a living man. It’s hanging off the bone, tendons visible as they cling to what muscle they can. The shrapnel in his midsection oozes blood but not too much, and probably won’t fully spill until the metal is removed. However, you still retrieve your quickest blood clotting agent for the wounds. Gaz hisses through his teeth at the burn of it, the sensation sizzling through his body. Lastly, applying a good coat of saline to his lower leg will aid in reducing infection, as well as wrapping it entirely.

“Can you move?”

“Not anymore.” His voice is low, strained.

“Where is Price? Did he get hit?”

Nodding, Gaz applies a bit of pressure to his biggest wound. “Nah, he moved on.”

“He didn’t have any injuries?”

“He was too far ahead of the blast.

“Jesus.” No wonder Kyle is so badly mangled, he’s the only one that got hit.  

Glancing around, you begin to witness the small creep of fog covering the area. The nighttime air turns thick, and thunder rolls gently overhead. And you can’t see anyone else, the rest of your team is fighting. 

“We need to move you.”

“I have enough cover here. You couldn’t even find me.”

“Gaz,”

“Please just go,” Head lying back on the moss, he sighs. “Finish the mission, bring me home when you’re done.”

With a defeated and aggravated sigh, you concede. “Are you still armed?”

“To the teeth.” He confirms, now realizing your lack of weaponry. “Where’s your rifle?”

“Blown off when your dumbass decided to step on a landmine.” And the snarky remark makes him smile. “And my pistol was hit by some shrapnel.”

“Take mine.”

“Don’t be dumb.”

“I have my pistol, you haven't got shit.”

“Kyle.”

“You need it. Go.”

“Bones, cover me at the forest’s east edge.”

“Copy.” Giving Gaz one last judgmental glare, you snatch his rifle, heading off toward your captain.

Crouching low, you begin to crawl when you hear heavy fire again. Price is taking shots from behind a fallen tree’s trunk, watching you inch over to his side.

“How’s Gaz?”

“Alive.” Shrugging, you try to calm your breaths. Looking into John’s blue eyes does well in accomplishing that. “What’s the plan?”

Lifting a shoulder, he speaks into the comms while holding your gaze. “Ghost and Soap take the right. Bones and I will flank the left.”

“We’ve lost our GPR’s.” Soap’s Scottish accent shines through the static. 

“Bloody fuckin’ -  how?”

“Dropped mine during Gaz’s hit.”

“And Ghost?”

“Lost it in a fight.”

Price scoffs, shaking his head with a whisper of, “Children.” 

“Sir?”

“Just get it done. Use your knowledge, your experience, and tread lightly.”

When Price finishes his sentence, you feel an internal pull to your right. Turning your head, you’re met with a pair of strikingly dark eyes. Yards away, beneath the cover of shrubs, Simon’s stare penetrates your heart. 

“Are you hurt?” He whispers into your ear, stare holding firm.

All you do is shake your head, and he nods. “Good.”

“Let’s move.” Price then commands, moving toward the building’s right.

Creeping backwards, you swallow. You don’t want to lose sight of him, but you have a job to do. As you turn, you witness Ghost stand, his form towering over the dark green foliage. By the way he moves, you can tell he’s about to follow Johnny. But he stops to take one more look at you, before he grunts.

Sharply, the left side of his body jerks backward, feet staggering a bit. Eyes widening, you lean forward, watching the bullet go right through Ghost’s upper chest. The gasp that leaves your lungs is too loud for your liking, but before you can do much more than that, Ghost is pulling out another gun. With a loud grunt, he aims and fires, dropping a man not too far from you. And with rage now lighting up his insides, he steps forward, reholstering his pistol so he can grab his rifle again. Marching on, you watch as he shoots down five more men, clearing a path straight for the building. With genuine amazement, you watch him, peering over the edge of the fallen log to see every man now narrow their sights to him. But he’s a freight train of a man, listening to the men’s shouts and their weapons, ducking behind anything he can before reappearing with vengeance. Ultimately, though, it’s a dumb move. It’s left him out in the open. 

Going against Price’s orders, you set your rifle atop the fallen wood, watching his back. Aiming for the roof, you eliminate the targets up top while Ghost focuses on those surrounding him. And then Soap is appearing, stepping out from the treeline with his pistol out and ready. The way he stomps forward, the way his biceps bulge when he pulls the trigger, the look in his eye while he protects his teammate… it’s inspiring. 

“Did I tell you to stay here?!” Yanking you backward by the straps of your vest, Price hauls you off with him.

Like a bumbling baby, you stumble backward, finding your footing just as Price lets you go. Together, you advance toward the building’s right side. You can already see an area for coverage, a large cluster of rocks off the side of a steep hill. It’ll give you enough space to hide while waiting for the boys to get inside. 

For some reason, Simon expected you to stay back when he started mowing down a path through these men. He knows Price gave you an order, but in the back of his head, he thought you’d see that he had this handled. There wasn’t anything more you needed to do, he could do this for you. And that’s exactly why you stayed back for a moment, for as long as you could before Price pulled you back into battle, distracting Simon once again.

Head snapping to his right, he witnesses your eager lurch from the forest. You and the captain are ready for this attention, though, weapons drawn as you appear on the field. And it all seems to be going to plan now. Gaz is safe and handled for the moment, Ghost has an injury and so do you, but ultimately, you’re moving; you’re advancing, you’re winning.

Small trickles begin to drip from the sky, the product of the thunder you’d heard not so long ago. And for some reason, the moment freezes. You look up, witnessing the rain as it now freely falls; a moment of peace before your life’s most damaging event. 

Another explosion.

Ever the father figure, Price’s fingers once again curl around your vest. He’s tossing you around like a ragdoll today, and right now, it’s because you lunged forward into combat. Flopping to the ground with a huff, your breaths escape your lungs, the wind completely knocked from your chest. And still, you crawl forward, hyperventilating while your eyes search. 

At this point, even John is a little frazzled, neither one of you speaking until you hear the shouts of your sergeant. 

“Bones!” He’s screaming, voice full of emotion because, well… he never thought this would happen. “Get to Ghost! Get to Ghost!”

And now, your stomach drops into your fucking ass. They didn’t hit a landmine, Simon did.

This time, Price can’t do anything to stop you. You’re scrambling forward, eyes darting around the field until Johnny whispers breathily into the comms, “In that ditch.”

A few yards ahead, Johnny steps in front of you, guarding your body from the men approaching. Price does the same, knowing it’s just the two of them now. 

Dirt mixes to mud and smears across your hands, thick clumps sticking to the edges of your jacket. The wetness soaks through your knees to the entirety of your pants, the gentle drip now turning into a torrential downpour. Above your head, lightning strikes, thunder shaking the ground so fiercely that you end up slipping over the edge of the ditch. Falling headfirst into the crater, you land beside Simon’s motionless body. 

“Si -” With heaving breaths, you crawl over to him. Swallowing, you lay a hand on his chest. “Simon.”

This is different than before, different than when you dealt with Gaz. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you could almost throw up from nerves. So far, you’ve done well at putting your emotions aside during situations like this, but not now. Not when it’s the man you love.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it just doesn’t make sense. Not with your team’s experience and expertise, their strength and comradery; how did you find yourselves here? Each member was chosen for a specific reason, the best Price could get. Is that true? Have you really done your best? 

Lifting his head slightly, Simon looks in your direction. And what you see is haunting. One eye swollen, the other filling with red. His left arm is distorted, both legs twisted in ways that aren’t human. There’s barely anything left of his right thigh, but that’s not where the biggest injury is. Looking up, you see that it’s on his head.

“Simon.” Shuffling forward, your eyes widen, hands immediately reaching for his head. 

Crimson warmth soaks the side of his mask, a small indent visible. He has definite brain damage, and your heart sinks at that fact. What will he be like after this?

“Let me help.” You’re whispering to yourself, mainly, because you assumed he’d let you. But he protests. 

“No,” His voice is still low and gruff, trying to continue being the brave man he knows he can be. 

“I have gauze, and blood clotting agents.” Turning you shuffle through your pack, retrieving a fresh pair of latex gloves. 

Immediately, you’re dousing him in a cool saline solution, watching his body writhe softly from it. But before wrapping any of his wounds, you focus on his head first. Leaning forward, your hands swipe across the hard skull covering his face, sloppily wiping away the blood and dirt. But your actions become frantic, fingers sliding over your lover’s face in an attempt to see him again, to look into his eyes despite this misfortune. Simon listens to your gasps and pants, emotional huffs spilling from your lips. In your panicked state, the gloves break. And in any other setting, you'd care about this cross-contamination. But you don’t even hesitate. The mud sticks to your fingers, Simon’s blood caking beneath your nails as you continue to clean him. Seeing him laid out like this, body free of any movement, any sort of intention, it’s pulling at your soul. It’s not him, he’s leaving you. 

“I need to see.”

He just ignores you, right hand reaching down toward his belt. It’s the only limb that hasn’t been mutilated, and he uses it to detach his mags. Moving as best he can, he hands them to you, round after round of bullets without a single word leaving his lips. And what really breaks you, what finally does you in, is the sound of him gurgling quietly on his own liquid insides. It’s now that every emotion breaks free, every single feeling you’d been bottling up and pushing aside, each one obliterates the firm dam of your determination and pride. 

“Here.” He grunts, “Ammo.”

“Stop.” It’s all you can say because if you speak any more, you’re sure you’ll just embarrass yourself. 

“Bones.” He states firmly, the eye not swollen shut staring up at you with… something. He’s thinking. 

“Stop, Simon.”

“Please.” He pleads with you quietly, watching the first tear roll down your face.

“Simon… let me see, let me help.” Reaching forward again, you watch the rise and fall of his chest, you watch as it slows. He was right, the lungs give everything away. 

Squirming, his head turns to the side. “Simon, please. I need to - I need to take off your mask.”

The pain he’s experiencing is at a level he’s not felt in quite some time. His insides burn, feeling stiff around the shrapnel penetrating his muscle. And the injury to his head is making him feel fuzzy. Every time he looks up at you, you are surrounded by a black fog. His vision is leaving him, but he still sees you. 

A burst of memory overcomes him when he turns back in your direction, forcing breath after painful breath into his lungs. Replacing you is the vision of his mother, beautiful brown curls and dark brown eyes, the very eyes she’d given to him. The child in him wants to reach out, only to see her pull away. In her stead is now his father, fist slamming into him. Her neglect, her absence, while his father abused him like this, it’s all he can really remember. Trauma is funny like that, deciding which memories to banish and which ones to keep. It’s similar to the way he remembers school, the bullying, the loneliness that always seemed to chase his very being. Life was never something to be enjoyed, just motions to move through. 

But then he met you, and you made life exciting. Exciting in a way that wasn’t dangerous, exciting in a way that made him feel at home, at peace. Your love, your memories, are what’s most important to him now. The first time you met, the first intimate moment you shared. Smoking together, sleeping together, caring for and protecting each other. Simon can remember a specific moment now, one of his favorites. 

“It’s kinda funny,” He’d quirked a brow at you beneath the covering, listening to you continue. “I know you better than your own government documents.”

He’d laughed at this, because you were right. 

“Don’t get cocky about it, now.” Simon chastised lightly, eyes crinkling ever so slightly with a hidden smile. 

“I wish there was more, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“You do so much, so many important things. There should be more record of you, more details about your life, babe. You’re an impressive man, people should know about that.”

And while your words made his pride swell a little larger, he only sighed. “That’s part of the job, sweets. Anonymity.” 

Smiling, you leaned forward, slinking your arms around his neck. “Maybe, but not to me.” Kissing the tip of his nose, you whispered, “You’ll always be important to me.”

Simon never planned on being remembered. There was no one he was willing to give that burden to. But, selfishly, he wants to be remembered by you. 

“Baby,” When your voice cracks, Simon blinks, those dark eyes watching the flow of your silent tears. “Please let me.”

And he thinks, how is she going to remember me like this? A man without a face? And so, he decides to give this to you. There’s nothing left to lose. He knows you’re taking it off to help him, but he’s allowing it for different reasons; call it a parting gift. 

When he doesn’t respond this time, your fingers find the edge of his mask. With a great amount of hesitancy, they curl beneath the dampened fabric, lifting it slowly. One by one, each feature is revealed. His chin and jawline, his lips, all traits you’ve seen and openly admired many times before. But then there’s his nose, something you’ve never seen in its entirety. There’s a deep scar running right across the bridge of it, cutting down into his cheek. And as you continue on, you can barely handle the violent thump of your heart’s beat. 

Finally, the fabric falls from his head, revealing to you his identity, Simon’s true self. 

Surprisingly, you smile. His hair is blonde, straight and not too long. Absentmindedly, you lift a hand, fingers stroking carefully through the messy strands. A laugh leaves you, some sort of twisted happiness found in this moment. And then your eyes lower, finding his steadfast gaze. Languidly, he blinks, blonde lashes fanning over his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” He admits, coughing. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, seeing me.”

“You’re so perfect.” Leaning further in, your hands cup his face. He doesn’t even mind the tears that drip down onto his skin. “Simon.”

“Just know that I do…” Trailing off, Simon shakes his head, releasing an emotional breath. “Love you.”

“I love you,” Releasing any sense of restraint, you express, “I love you more than anything.” 

You’re choosing not to look at his head because you know it's bad, you know it. And there’s nothing you can do for him with what you have. He needs more than saline and wraps for this. 

“So,” Grunting, he again lifts his right hand. “Think you’ll be needing this.”

With a harsh yank, he rips one of the circular metals from the chain around his neck. And your heart sinks, pulse thumping in your ears. As best he can, he reaches across his body, holding it out for you.

“Give it to Price.”

“That’s not how this is going to end.”

“And then,” Continuing about his task, Simon sets the silver coin on your lap. “You can keep the other.” 

“Simon.”

“It’s not much but, if you want to remember me…”

“Simon Riley.” You want him to stop talking like this, you’d do anything to stop this. 

Barely, he nods, a single shift of his head as he tells you gruffly, “Yours.” 

His eyes stay open until the life seemingly leaves, stare going blank mere seconds after that promise. Without thinking, your fingers curl around the identification sitting in your lap, your other hand still holding his handsome face. But it then leaves, nails digging into the mask lying beside him as your head drops, hanging loosely over your chest. A guttural sob is then released, your insides tearing you open and leaving you emotionally defenseless. Sucking in a thick gulp of air, you know what you need to do. Preserving Simon’s dignity and anonymity, you slide the mask over him again, hiding his face from the enemy. And from you, once again. 

*

*

*

Simon,

I still wear your dog tags tag, I never take it off. It stays beneath my shirt when I sleep, when I go to work. It’s cold, like your mask. I still don’t know where that is, Price won’t tell me. But I stole your cologne, they didn’t get that. I think that would make you laugh. You used to make me laugh. 

I don’t know what to do now, or where to go. I just think of you. 

Strangely, it helps. You know he’ll never write back, but that’s not really the point. This is about you, and it does help… sometimes. Although, Simon never believed in an afterlife, you’re not writing to anyone. This was just something a therapist on base suggested, an exercise to help with your grief. Words you’ve begged life itself to say to him, to be able to speak to him again. 

At times, you’re angry. With yourself and with him. You were a distraction, Johnny knew it, Price probably knew it. You did this to him. And at the same time, your extended mourning is his doing, too. He didn’t give you anything, not a burial site to visit, no ashes to keep. Nothing that allows you to visit him, or at least visit his memory. Simon always wanted to be cremated, have his ashes scattered who knows where. Nowhere important, somewhere to forget. He didn’t get the chance to change these plans after meeting you, though, and he’d regret that. 

The funeral was small, smaller than it should have been considering he died in battle and with honors. There was no way of avoiding a celebration, though, no matter how much he’d protested to it in life. But if there was one thing Simon definitely wanted, it was to be as far away from Manchester as possible; he never wanted to go back there. And with each of you carrying his casket on your shoulders, you made sure of that. He was honored on the training field back at base, body tucked away in a coffin before being cremated. The ceremonial move of the reversed arms was performed, your heads bowed in respect. It was only the four of you with him, the closest thing to family he’d ever really known. The Union Flag covered the finished pine, and you thought, how many more layers of fabric would keep you from seeing him?

Taking your newest letter, you get to your designated Jeep and drive. Every time, you go back to your secret little spot, the place where you’d connected so many times. You even sit in the backseat, the one behind the driver’s side. That’s where you always sat with him.

The stare you give this hand-written note might as well burn holes into it, the edge of your cigarette threatening to do so if your eyes don’t. Packs of nicotine laced joints have found their way to you quite often since Simon’s death, more and more every day. It tastes like him, his lips.

Sometimes, late at night, the boys still hear you cry. You try to do most of it in the shower, drowning out your tears with the louder noise. Throughout the day, you’ll keep it inside, and they’ve all noticed. You’re blank, rendered nearly emotionless as you move through the motions of each day. 

But what’s more important during the night, is him. If you drink enough, you can see him - you swear it. His eyes staring down at you, blinking, body laying beside you on the bed. He holds you. He’ll kiss the back of your neck, tell you I do, I love you. His palm presses to your own, fingers intertwining before he pulls it to him, covered lips moving to the back of your hand. Everything is a memory, but you refuse this. Simon loves you, he comes back just to tell you. You’ll always be thankful you told Simon that you love him.

Johnny takes a sudden special interest in you. For weeks, he hesitates to approach your door when he hears you cry. But he finally caves when he passes by the washrooms one night, a night where the boys have gone for a drink and the base is all but empty. 

Initially, he thought you were hurt. With how hard you were sobbing, breaths tight and airy, he was sure you were injured. Bursting through the doors, he found you on the ground of one of the shower stalls. 

“Lass, wha - ” 

But there was nothing, no blood, no broken glass or anything that could have brought you harm. And then, he sees it, the pile of your personal belongings. Your shower bag and towel are sitting on the closest bench, with a few items scattered on the floor. And Johnny doesn’t know much about pregnancy, but he knows a test when he sees one.

“Bones…”

“He’s fucking gone,” Your voice is hoarse from your wailing, form crumpled and laying on the wet tile while water sprays over you. “Why couldn’t he have left me something? Anything?!”

It’s negative.

In a last attempt to save something, to preserve any part of him, you’d taken the test. Several, actually. But it’s futile; there’s truly nothing left of him. 

How could you feel so fucking empty? So lost? What was the meaning of life now? What was the meaning before you met him? There was nothing before him. 

Johnny picked you up off the floor that night, leaning in to first turn off the shower before bending at the knees to wrap you in your towel. You let him carry you; with the break in your heart you didn’t really have much strength left in you. So, you leaned on him, walking with his steps as he guided you back to your room. And he dried you, dressed you, and then he held you. 

Nothing was discussed, you didn’t speak about it, him. He just sat there on your bed with you, arms wrapped tight around your body, heaving chests pressed against each other as Soap’s eyes spilled over with tears, too. He let you bury your face into his neck, fingers pulling at the edges of his mohawk. It overtakes you, the grief. The all consuming power of it floods your body, greedy in its conquest as it watches you crumble in defeat. 

Johnny made this promise weeks ago, not exactly sure when but he knows it’ll hold true. He’s made a silent vow to Simon; he’ll take care of you. 

For a while, you refuse to let Johnny sleep in your room. He had nowhere to rest but your bed and that extra space was for Simon. But then he offered to sleep on the floor one night, admitting quietly that it wasn’t just for you. It was for him, too. So, you let him keep you company, opening up and giving in to your collective misery. 

Johnny watched the way you curled up with your pillows, watched your face scrunch as you twisted and turned, trying to find some form of sleep. It only came when your hand found your chest, clutching Simon’s last bit of identification. 

Your sergeant found comfort in reading, in literature and even poetry. Some written by war veterans and forever-changed soldiers. One poem in particular spoke to him, and he wanted to give it to you. And for some reason, it offered you incredible solace; it so deeply reminds you of Simon. 

If I should die, think only this of me:

      That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

      In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

      Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

      Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

      A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

            Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

      And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

            In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

Waking up is difficult, but getting out of bed is actually pretty easy. It’s only because you've been running on auto-pilot, relying on your routines to keep you moving. Johnny said it’s good for you, consistency, and he’s right. He’s really helped keep you together these past few months. At times, Simon helps, but there’s only so much he can do. 

The nightmares come and go, and so do the terrors. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating with tears running down your face and neck. But more often than not, it’s pure psychological torture. The nightmares occur far more often, and you know what? The meaning behind them is true. Some awful creature sitting on your chest, pressing down onto your body so you’re unable to breathe properly, staring at your face as its intentions wriggles inside your head, creating hellscapes you never otherwise could have imagined. That’s exactly what it feels like, it’s exactly what you go through.

Psychologists define it as post-traumatic stress, and you’ve come to accept that. At first, you’d tell them every detail, every new event. The occurrence of you taking a pregnancy test, that’s a new predicament, a new attempt at preserving him. Maybe one day, it’ll be positive. Nevertheless, you don’t tell them as much anymore. It’s all the same, anyway. 

There have been some changes recently, mainly toward the medical rooms. Courtesy of Captain Price, you’ve been given a private office. The room you’d been in originally, the one that overlooked the training yard, is now solely used for training-related events. Sprains and torn muscles, extra ice packs and wraps, water bottles and energy packs. Quick things for the boys to grab. 

Where do the injured men and women go?

Now, you have a full infirmary. One hall with several beds and then four private rooms for those with longer stays, too. That’s where you’re headed today, room number three, specifically. 

Tying your hair back and washing your face gives you the appearance of alertness, something you desperately need. Quite often, you find yourself lacking sleep. It also helps to not have sticky, tear-stained cheeks. You’re not sure when that will subside, but you’re not expecting it to happen anytime soon. Overwhelming emotions find you even when in his company. 

After breakfast and an entire bottle of water, you make your way to the hospital wing, readying yourself for the day’s work. It shouldn’t be too difficult, though; things are looking up. But before leaving the mess hall, you grab an extra orange. Simon always loved those. 

It’s quiet here, something you really love. It gives everyone the opportunity to focus on rest. Which is exactly why you open the door so quietly, peaking in to make sure you didn’t wake him. But he’s already up.

“Bones,”

“Hi, baby.”

The fruit in your hand is quickly made known, Simon’s reflexes ever-present. His right hand catches it with ease, setting it down on his lap so he can lift his mask.

“I can help, you know.”

“Uh-uh,” Already, he’s lifting it to his mouth and biting into the skin with his teeth. Using this method, he peels it.

“Savage.”

“Inventive.” He corrects, “That’s what you mean.”

It’s early still, and you’re the only one making rounds to him. You’ve given the remaining tasks in the hospital wing to your employees - you’re here for him. And so, you swing your chair over to his bedside, sitting and leaning forward to rest your arms and head beside him.

The hospital bedding has been shifted upward, allowing him to sit up as he eats. He’s shirtless, in nothing but boxers and his mask, with two dog tags on his chest.

“How are you?”

“Hungry as hell.” 

“They didn’t feed you?!” Sitting up, you immediately become appalled and enraged. 

“Sit down, soldier.” Simon laughs, shaking his head. “They fed me.”

“And you’re still hungry?” With a smirk, you raise a brow at him as he just shrugs. A sigh then leaves your shaking head. “Growing boy.”

“Yeah, thanks to all this.” He’s still grumpy about it, how could he not be? “Have to regrow an entire damn body.”

He’s being dramatic, but… not really.

Quietly, you admire him, allowing your love to eat in silence. You’re both used to it, the peaceful calm surrounding your interactions. It was something you always agreed on; why have meaningless conversation when you can just enjoy each other’s presence? 

His arm is wrapped, and both legs. The best surgeons the military could find enabled him to keep all four limbs, a true godsend. He hasn’t been able to move them much, though, as he’s only just started physical therapy. Easy movements for now, just wiggling fingers and toes. There’s also the task of his cognitive therapy, mainly exercises for focus and short-term memory. It’s been difficult, to say the least, but you’ve been with him through it, been to every appointment and therapy session. 

“You’re quiet.” He notes, still snacking. 

Timidly, you nod, not searching for his gaze. And at this he sighs, notes of sympathy in his breath. He knows what’s bothering you.

“More dreams?” Simon asks quietly, staring down at the woman he loves. 

Simply, you nod, tears welling in your eyes all over again. 

Simon’s recovery has been difficult, and for everyone involved. It took quite a few weeks of convincing both Price and your doctors that you were fit to care for him. Your mental state was just… shattered. And you’re still picking up the pieces. 

“Baby,” The way he says it makes your heart jolt with emotion, with an incredible sense of longing. It’s spoken so softly, so sweetly, that deep voice rumbling kindly. And just like always, it’s successful in requesting your attention. “What happened?”

Wiping his hand on the bedsheets (he knows they’ll be changed anyway), he reaches for you. Just like before, in the painful memory of your dreams, his fingers intertwine with yours, palm pressing to your own while dragging it up to his lips. And then he presses them to the back of your hand, eyes focusing on you.

“Talk to me.”

“You died,” Finally giving in, you speak. You’ve done this many times, and it’s never easy. But Simon insists that talking about these dreams will help. “Again.”

“Hm.” He nods, humming thoughtfully, giving you room to speak.

“Your funeral, ya know, the basics.” Rolling your eyes, you groan. These nightmares are everything you despise, everything you fear. “Johnny was there, too. I smoked a lot, just to remind myself of you. Wore your dog tag, held it at night. And that’s when you’d visit me; I had visions of you, Si. Laying in my bed, holding me, telling me you love me.”

“I do.”

“I know you do.” Lifting your head, your genuine smile is displayed to him. “I, um… I took a pregnancy test in this one.”

“That’s new.” 

“I know. It was negative though, and it was so heartbreaking. I just… wanted to preserve any part of you.”

The way your voice wavers forces his muscles to tighten, discomfort wreaking havoc on his body. Seeing you like this fucking breaks him. That mission should’ve never even happened, but at least it was successful in the end.

“I’m here, though, love. I’m still here.”

He knows not sleeping next to each other has been one of the biggest issues for you. Feeling his weight, it was a comforting thing that easily lulled you to sleep. And his absence often brought on these terrifying dreams. 

“I know, baby.” Nodding, you sniffle, doing your best to not release your silent weeps. He’s right, he’s here. Everything is alright, you’re both healing and you’re together. That’s all that matters now. 

Contemplating his next decision, Simon grunts, sitting up straighter on his bed. Releasing your hand, he then reaches for your chin. Your lips bloom into a smile as he tilts your head up toward him, his lips, jawline, and chin visible to you. And Christ, how you wish you could see more. You can vaguely remember his face, the features he showed you before what he was sure was certain death. But it’s traumatic to recall it, and he’s refused to show himself  to you ever since. The injury to his brain has made him… insecure, in a way. He hasn’t even kissed you since all of it.

“Have a surprise for ya.” He then reveals, smacking his lips while swallowing the last bit of fruit available to him.

“Really?” Doubt laces your tone. What could he have possibly done for you in this condition? 

“C’mup here.” Simon grins, pulling you in. Standing, you shift your position, now sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“What is it?” Giggling, you eye him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” 

Clearing his throat, Simon looks down, taking his hand away as he grabs the edges of his mask. You assume he’s going to pull it back down, now that he’s finished eating his morning snack. But you’re wrong, eyes widening as he does the exact opposite of that. 

Jaw dropping entirely, you stare in awe as he removes the soft skull, slowly sliding the black fabric from his head. It brushes through his hair, eyelids lowered as he refuses to meet your gaze for the briefest second. He knows he looks different than before, hair still trying to grow back in the spot of his injury. There’s a new cut that runs down his face, too, the upper left side of his temple. But he should know you don’t care about any of that, he’s hoping you don’t, anyway. 

And when he looks back up into your eyes, he can see a profound sense of love. Love and adoration, determination, true friendship and connection. 

“Miss me?” The cheeky bastard, lips pulled into a grin with his blonde hair disheveled and looking cute as all hell. But more importantly, his hair is clean, so much cleaner than the first time you’d seen him, no longer stained red and pink.

“You fucker,” Shaking your head, you lean in, holding his face and pressing your forehead to his. 

Simon audibly winces when his arms move, small grunts of frustration spilling from him. His right arm easily wraps around your body, firmly pulling you in. But his left barely budges, and it’s so embarrassing to him. But his struggles pause when you shift, lips pressing to his and melting away every single unpleasant sensation. It’s a distraction, you’re a fucking distraction. But it’s a good thing this time. 

“You know I did.”

The moment is broken when a knock sounds at the door, and you can’t hop off his bed fast enough. Moments later, Price walks in, a stack of documents in his hand. 

“Captain.” You greet, standing straight for him and trying not to look suspicious. 

Unmoving on the bed, Ghost just nods. “Price.”

“Good,” John steps forward, “You’re both here. Give these a look for me.”

Watching him drop the papers onto your desk, you frown. “What are those?”

“HR documents,” He begins, staring at the stack before turning his attention to both of you. “For workplace relationships.”

Your face couldn’t feel hotter.

He then points a finger at the pair of you, stating firmly, “Sign ‘em.” Before turning to leave. 

Well, there’s no hiding it now.

#Simon Riley #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Call of Duty #Call of Duty mw2 #Call of Duty fanfiction

[sygni]

colouring tutorial from sygni aka sima

DISCLAIMER 1. eng is not my native language 2. i am using techniques of a realistic art so it's not for everyone! but you may find some tips interesting tho

big text screamer

so obv 1. making our sketch (and after lineart if you're using it bc im not) 2. filling up background, then character. think about what atmosphere you want to create in result, try to use different background colours for your characters for diff effects in result. i've had a small post with a little explaining for choosing colours, you can use that too! i suppose i can make a post about emotional effects of different colours if someone interested bc that's really a HUGE part of final effect on viever. actually i can tell and explain in art so much feel free to send questions <:D so like that! (tbx i changed it like 3 times so it's okay to change your colouring desigions mid-drawing if you're feeling something feels off)

3. time to get some basic shading going! don't skip that step i swear to god you can think bruh sima for what do you they added overlays that i can use after i finish the art? are you a caveman or what please just trust me it'll add so much charm in your art so how to do it: 1. choose where your light sourse is. on my art it's in front of griande 2. use a CONTRASTING colour for each big part of a character (hair, clothes, face etc) and make shades with that. REMEMBER dark colours going next to light ones, light to dark. please don't use black for shades for god's sake. also shades are cold coloured most of the time thats important too ig 3. if you're confused where you shall place shades then find a ref or make a photo of yourself OR use a mirror (preferable!) and this things can help you understand face shading better too \/

don't feel not good enough that you need to study sth or use refs it's fully okay every good artist using that!

so i know this looks like mess BUT what did i do (guys trust the process): 1. desided i want a face to be a centre of viewer's attention so made everything else darker 2. put a light on a face, the most light shade on the parts which are closer to light sourse - at my art it's nose and a bit of forehead. and exact same thing but backwards with eyes remember face isn't flat! so even if forehead is in the light, it slowly goes back, so it won't be light all the way (you can see it on previous photo of the gypseous head)

then the longest part goes: we're using semitones (colour which are simmilar to base shade) to connect shades to light parts, to add volume to the art make sure your brush moves according to .. ehh.. face shape? just take someone and weirdly touch their face to understand how it goes and with your brush cope that example (look closely to the strokes):

so i've did something

i know this looks like "let's add some details" type of thing but: i've added semitones to the shadows to correct their forms -> to suit the relief of the face added a contrasting (to pink of the base) orange as blush, a dark blue to show the farthest spots from light added a basic reflects on the sides of the noce (orange spots), chin (peach). reflections on things are sooo important and add so much life in your art! yet it's easily done: you just create a little light blended line on the bottom of your shade. if next to thing you're making a reflection on is the diff-coloured thing, then pick a colour from it and mix them. example \/

made an edge on a forehead (dark-red line) yet i'd make it more accurate later, and will add it on the chin and sides of the nose to highlight them and separate from other parts of the face. actually this edges are just the darkest spots between the light of the item and reflection on the bottom of it. i like to make it noticible, yet someone tend to blend shades in. if you're just studying how to shade i'd reccomend starting without using blending yet you can notice how colours going more dull from forehead to chin to make her look like she's angling her head forward, i guess i'll make it more noticible later

AND i'm going to sleep but i have more to tell + i need to finish the work later anyway so put some feedback for part 2

#my art #sima talks #art tips #art tutorial

[goldenempyrean]

Fevered Love

〚 Prompt - “what is (name) going to say when she sees you like this?” 〛

〚 Pairing - WandaNat (with some added platonic Carol) 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2225 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“I’m really sorry love, you can’t come on this mission baby. You need to rest.” Nat sighed softly as she looked the the red nosed sniffly witch sitting stubbornly in the Quinjet dressed in her suit ready to fight. 

“I’ll be fine Natty, just let me-“ Wanda began to whimper out her plead but paused and sneezed loudly into her arm earning a small sympathetic ‘bless you’ from her girlfriend, “Just let me come.  I want to help.” 

“Baby we’ve been over this, you just can’t come on a mission with this cold sweetheart, you just need to go back, get into bed and rest. Sleep till your heart's desire.” The redhead whispered, slowly running a gentle hand through the witch’s slightly sweaty hair. 

Wanda whimpered again, her energy and will to continue arguing her point quickly dwindling, “I want to fight.” 

Realistically though she was in no way shape or form well enough to fight. Not only that, her frequent irrepressible sneezes were bound to reveal her location, and that was a major problem. They both knew this. 

“No sweetheart, you are well enough to fight, you need to sleep.” Natasha sighed again and this time Steve stepped forward as he finished packing up the rest of the equipment. 

He definitely wasn’t about to let this sick little witch on a dangerous mission with a pretty stern talking too he finally got Wanda, albeit reluctantly, to agree to stay behind.  

Unfortunately for her, Nat wasn’t able to stay behind with her however. The Widow’s hand to hand, close combat style was key to the whole success of the mission. 

So, with much reluctance, Nat kissed her sniffly girlfriend deeply and they said their goodbyes. The mission was only meant to last a couple of days, not long. Thats all they’d need. 

Nat boarded the Quinjet, her heart heavy with worry for Wanda. She knew that her absence would be hard on both of them, but duty called. The mission was crucial, and the fate of innocent lives depended on its success. 

As the Quinjet soared through the night sky, Nat couldn't help but replay their farewell in her mind. She longed to be by Wanda's side, to be able to look after her but there was no other choice. She had a job to do. She was an Avenger afterall. 

She did feel a little better however knowing her girlfriend wasn’t completely alone. Carol, who was a little less vital to the mission, offered to stay behind to keep an eye on the sniffling sickie. 

“Come on you.” Carol began as the two of them waved the team off, “Let’s get you laying down. Important decision incoming here, sofa or bed? You choose.” 

"Sofa will do just fine, thanks," she replied, her voice slightly hoarse from her persistent cold. Carol gently guided her towards the living area, making sure she was comfortable on the sofa. 

As Wanda settled in, Carol disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray filled with a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of herbal tea. "Thought you might need some nourishment," she said with a warm smile, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of Wanda. 

Wanda felt grateful for her presence and care. She knew she would be in good hands while Nat was away. "Thank you, Carol. I really appreciate this," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “Thanks for offering to stay with me.” 

Carol shrugged, taking a seat beside Wanda. "We're a team, right? We look out for each other. Besides, it's not every day I get a chance to spend quality time with the infamous Scarlet Witch," she teased gently, trying to lift her spirits. 

Numerous movies and naps helped the day to move along, the sky had grown a little darker outside and the once clear coffee table was now beyond littered with tissue and cough drop wrappers. 

The sniffling brunette glanced at the mess infront of her and let out a tired mumble, “Sorry about all the mess. I’ll clean it all up when I feel better.” She finished with a yawn, rubbing her eyes sleepily. 

Carol chucked and waved her hand dismissively, “It’s alright there’s no need to apologise we’ve all been there. You should probably head up to bed though, Nat told me not to let you stay up past your bedtime.” She winked, earning a slight scoff which turned into a series of raspy coughs. 

Wanda mustered up a weak smile despite the coughing and pulled herself up and off the sofa, “I’ll head to bed then.” 

“If you need anything just call me, okay? Or get FRIDAY to alert me. I’ll probably be in my room or down here if you need me. Make sure you keep drinking water.” Carol offered out an unopened bottle of water as Wanda yawned again. She nodded understandably, saying her final sleepy goodnights before wandering off in the direction of her room. 

The next morning, Wanda woke up feeling even worse than the day before. Her head throbbed, and her body felt heavy with fatigue. However, her determination pushed her to get out of bed and face the day. The room span around her as the feverish Witch forced herself out from the safety of the bed and she shivered as the cool air hit her sensitive skin. 

She stumbled into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and looked over herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and exhausted and the bags sitting beneath glassy eyes were obvious. She looked awful. But that didn’t matter, she had to train. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda made her way to the training room. She couldn't afford to let her powers weaken, especially with the threats they faced. She hoped that pushing herself through the training session would help her shake off the illness. Maybe that last part only sounded realistic to her fever clouded brain though. 

As she entered the training room, the weight of her fever and exhaustion became even more apparent. Every step felt heavier, and her movements were sluggish. She tried to summon her magic, but her powers felt distant, as if hiding behind a thick, dense fog. 

Wanda forced herself to start with some basic exercises, focusing on her physical strength. She pushed through a few sets of push-ups and squats, but her weakened body protested with every movement. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and her temperature rose further sending her into a spiral of dizziness. 

Ignoring her body's pleas for rest, she moved on to honing her telekinetic abilities. She lifted weights with her mind, struggling to maintain her concentration. The objects wobbled and dropped more frequently than usual, frustrating her. 

After what felt like an eternity, Wanda collapsed to her knees, panting heavily. Her body shook with exhaustion, and her vision blurred. She knew she couldn't push herself any further as she coughed and spluttered for every breath. 

Somehow, she managed to drag herself into the showers attached to the main female changing room. The hot steamy water helped with her congestion a little, sending her into a flurry on desperate sneezes, but for that fever?  

The poor woman could hardly stand by the time the water cut off and she stumbled out and weakly draped a thin towel around herself trying to rid herself of the body wrecking shivers brought on by the cold air on the changing rooms, before sitting down weakly onto one of the benches. 

It was just as Wanda was beginning to give into her exhaustion when Carol came scurrying into the room, apparently, she’d be alerted by FRIDAY to her friend’s condition. 

“Oh Wanda, what are you doing here sweet girl?”  Carol sighed as she found the shivering witch cradling herself in the corner of the changing room, “I thought you were meant to be resting, that’s the whole reason you didn’t go on this mission. What’s Nat going to say when she sees you like this? 

Wanda couldn’t reply, only muffling an exhausted sounding sneeze into the flimsy towel which covered her soaking wet body. 

Wanda weakly nodded, appreciative of Carol's concern. She mustered the little strength she had left and managed to dry herself off, although her limbs felt heavy and her head throbbed with every movement. She changed into a pair of loose sweatpants and a thin, baggy t-shirt (one that belonged to Nat) that Carol had brought down from her room. 

As she settled on the bench, Carol returned with a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine. "Here, take this. It should help with the fever and ease your symptoms," she said, handing the medicine to Wanda as she raised her hand to check her temperature again, “You’re still really burning up.”. 

The brunette forced herself to sit up straight and swallowed the bitter-tasting liquid, hoping that it would provide some relief. The medication left a soothing sensation as it travelled down her throat, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. While she was beyond grateful for the caring and love being shown to her by her teammate, all she wanted right now was Natasha. Her Natasha. Her Natasha who would wrap her up in her arms and hold her tight, telling her everything would be okay. 

“Alright.” Carol began, startling the witch out of her racing, fevered thoughts, “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Nat’s mission is due to come home tonight, when you wake up tomorrow, she’s gonna be right there beside you. And while you’re laying down, I’m gonna go fetch you some of those gel fever patches” 

The witch nodded, the drowsiness of the medicine finally taking effect. She allowed herself to lean on the older blonde as she assisted her back to the comfort and safety of Wanda’s room. She felt herself being surrounded by the warmth and softness of her comforter; the duvet being pulled over her as she settled into the mattress. Not long after she welcomed the deep cooling sensation meeting her forehead as Carol gently laid one of the fever patches over her forehead. She whimpered a little as it touched it. It felt so amazing and it wasn’t long before Wanda felt herself being slowly lulled away by the call of sleep. 

Hours later, the sound of the main door opening and hushed voices reached Wanda's ears. She stirred from her slumber and, in her half-awake state, registered the familiar voice she longed to hear. Natasha was home. 

Wanda's heart leaped with joy as she heard Natasha's footsteps approaching the bedroom. The door creaked open, and there stood Natasha, her face a mix of concern and relief. Their eyes met, and in that moment, all the worry and pain melted away. 

Natasha rushed to Wanda's side, kneeling beside the bed and taking her hand in hers. "Hey, sweetheart. I'm here now," she whispered, her voice filled with love and tenderness. 

Wanda's eyes filled with tears, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness. She managed a weak smile, squeezing Natasha's hand gently. "I missed you," she whispered back, her painful, raspy voice barely above a whisper. 

Natasha leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Wanda's forehead. "I missed you too, my love. Now, you need to focus on getting better. Carol told me I should change out this fever patch for you and I have some more medicine that you need to take sweetheart.” 

Wanda nodded and she felt herself curling into the soft loving touch of Nat as she placed a fresh, cooling patch over her forehead to replace the old one. She also rubbed her achy back too when it came time to swallow down another dose as medicine. 

Natasha's eyes filled with empathy as she brushed a strand of hair away from Wanda's face. "I'm so sorry I had to leave you alone," she said, her voice filled with remorse. "I never should have left you, especially when you were already unwell." 

Wanda gave Natasha's hand a small squeeze. "It's not your fault. You had to go on that mission. Besides, I knew you would come back to me." 

Natasha's gaze held a mixture of gratitude and love. "I promised I would, didn't I? And I always keep my promises." 

Wanda's eyes fluttered with weariness, but she fought to stay awake a little longer, not wanting to miss a single moment with Natasha. "Tell me about your mission," she requested, her curiosity evident despite her sleet, tired state. 

Natasha settled into a chair beside the bed, never letting go of Wanda's hand. She recounted the details of her mission, carefully choosing words that wouldn't overwhelm Wanda's fragile condition. She spoke of danger faced and victories achieved, all the while ensuring that her love and concern for Wanda shone through. 

As Natasha spoke, Wanda's eyelids grew heavy once again, the exhaustion pulling her toward the solace of sleep. She could feel Natasha's presence, the unwavering support that radiated from her every word and touch. It gave her strength, knowing she wasn't alone in her battle. 

"I love you, Natasha," Wanda whispered, her voice barely audible. 

Nat leaned closer; her voice filled with tenderness. "I love you too, Wanda. Rest now, and I'll be right here when you wake up." 

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