#armoured skeptic

[sistersatan]

#dead #armoured skeptic #YouTube #clown #clowns #sisterdespair #vvibrantddarkness

[unfriendly-aesop]

people were having trouble reading the names + i redid the opportunist's head

DESIGN PROCESS UNDER THE CUT

broken: given the shortest, smallest frame and the smallest wings; he is meant to appear small and delicate. his eyes are sullen but not despairing. his wings are small because he knows he will not fly away. his feathers drape down like a cloak, reminiscent of a priest's robes. he is done in the brightest colours to emulate the tower. his hands are clasped around the blade and held at his chest and throat to display his broken spirit.

hunted: given a scrappy, almost tattered look to give the imagery of a bird who has been caught over, and over again; but never killed. his feathers are dull greens to emulate leaves. there is a second, long feather in his tufts to emulate an ear canal like a rabbit, and he is the only design given none-front facing eyes. he is prey, and he knows it. his hands are covering his heart, protectively.

contrarian: given a rounded, friendly look. his feathers are formed to mimic a jester's cowl and puffy pants. the tufts of white feathers at the tip of his tufts are meant to mimic pompoms. his legs are rounded like a bird's at the ankles to give the impression of jester's shoes. his eyes are large and expressive, and his colours are some of the brightest like his personality. his hands are at his cheeks, almost giddy and giggling.

stubborn: one of the tallest, with squared off and rugged shape language. he has some of the thickest, and longest arms for fighting. his feathers are shaped to mimic a gentleman pugilist. one of his ear tufts is shorter than the other, and the other is tattered. his fists are ready for a fight. he's bulky to mimic the Adversary.

cold: he is small, but not because he is delicate or vulnerable. he has won, and finished his job. he has no wings, nor many visible features; he is very resigned. he mimics the look of plague doctors and ravens the most closely to emulate his association with death. he most closely emulates the Drowned Grey.

paranoid: one of the tallest, and streamlined designs. with white, skeletal patterns to mimic the Nightmare's mask and gloves. his ear tufts are down, and frightened, and his wings are raised to shroud himself away from the world. they are the largest; he wants to flee, and could, easily.

skeptic: his feathers are puffed out, and shaped to be like armour, or an executioner's garb (to parallel the Prisoner); he trusts nothing in the world. his ear tufts are made to mimic the shape of question-marks. his patterns are black-and-white; just like his thoughts on his surroundings. he has several eyes because he has several perspectives.

cheated: his feathers are shaped to be that of a medieval thief. his wings are puffed up and thrown out indignance, along with his hands and expression. his sharp, white feathers are meant to mimic the razor.

smitten: small but with a large personality. his mask is meant to mimic a heart, along with his chest plumage. his colours are some of the warmest, and brightest. his eyes are large and expressive. his ear tufts are meant to mimic the Burning Grey. his wings are large, but not for flight; but for display.

hero: thats you! the baseline

#slay the princess #if blacktabbygames sees this please do not reblog it <3 thank you so much for the game its been such a treat

[captainfern]

love ur work bae<33 I NEEEEED a lake of fire or in bloom inspired one pleasee🫶🫶 LIKE HEAR ME OUTTT

Lake of Fire

Captain John Price x fem!reader

["Lake of Fire" by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - you’re a captain of another taskforce, forced to work with the 141. price isn’t happy about it, and shows you how angry he is lol. • rating - 18+ [mdni] • wordcount - 4.1k • warnings - fem!reader, angry/rough sex, oral [m!receiving], unprotected piv, alludes to age gap, semi-public sex? idk but you're outside, dom!price, light choking, light degradation, a lil praise, strong language, some violence/blood

thank you anon and omg i'm hearing you out fr !!!! i hope this is okay :)

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"You're taking the absolute piss." Price growled at Laswell as you and your taskforce entered the barracks.

You stepped into the room with an air of confidence, thumbs hooked into the bulletproof vest covering your uniform. You offered Price a half-arsed attempt at a smile, and he sneered over at you, arms folded across his chest.

"Long time no see, John." You said, nodding at him, and the members of the 141 looked over at him in various states of confusion.

"Captain," Price corrected with a grunt. "Looks like you haven't changed at all, rookie."

"Captain," it was your turn to correct him, the three members of your taskforce snickering behind you. "And I've changed quite a lot, actually."

Price scoffed, shaking his head. "Aren't you a little too young to be captain?"

"Nah, you're just fucking old." You bit back, and the look on Soap's face behind his captain made you huff out a laugh.

Not letting Price respond, you nodded to Ghost, Soap and Gaz–– Kyle offering you a warm smile. "Good to see you, boys." You returned the smile, before steering your attention to Laswell, who had a manila folder tucked beneath her arm, appraising everyone in the room with a scrutinising stare.

“This arrangement is temporary,” Laswell addressed the room. “The more firepower the better and, the sooner we locate these insurgents, the sooner you get to part ways. Understood?”

You nodded stiffly, flicking your eyes to Price, who was rolling his cigar between his fingers. He made a point to stare at you, eyes narrowed, before getting to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, gesturing to his taskforce.

“Come on then, boys,” He said, Ghost, Soap and Gaz already trailing behind him. “Let’s show these rookies how it’s done.”

•°•

The past week had been the tensest of your entire life.

You and Price were butting heads constantly. He’d give you an order, you’d ignore him. You’d ask for his input, he’d give you a snarky reply. It was a game of tennis, going back and forth with a ball made from anger and spite.

Both taskforce’s were walking on eggshells each time you and Price were in the same room as one another. They’d bristle at the sounds of your voices, waiting for another shouting-match, that would end in Price slamming the door to his office, and you stomping out of the barracks in a huff.

Your taskforce’s were fine with each other— the boys remaining civilised, working together like a well-oiled machine. It’s just that the machine operators were stuck in a seemingly never ending cycle of despising each other.

It was getting annoying for everyone.

“Why d’you hate her so much?” Gaz asked Price, crammed into the back of a hummer.

You and your task force were riding in another armoured car, just a few metres behind.

Price grunted, adjusting the way his hat sat on his head. “She’s just bloody annoying. Gets on my nerves.”

Gaz gave him a skeptical look. “That can’t be all. You clearly have history, don’t you?”

Soap was eagerly listening in on the conversation, leaning across Ghost’s lap so that he could chime in: “Did you two fuck?”

Price shot daggers at the Scotsman. “No. She was in a rookie group I trained before the 141. She was a bloody good shot, hard to beat.”

“So… why do you hate her?” Gaz pressed, and both him and Soap were watching their captain expectantly.

“Just the way things turned out,” Price shrugged. “She took a turn after she was moved to a different faction. Ignored direct orders, started talking back. Hell, she stole an enemy tank against my command. She was just… reckless.”

Gaz hummed thoughtfully as the armoured car continued to rumble through the countryside. “That still doesn’t explain why you despise her.”

“I don’t… okay, despise is a strong word,” Price said, running a hand down his face. “I just… look, I just don’t want her putting any of you in danger.”

“She’s only a danger to herself.” Ghost grunted, still letting Soap lean across his lap to engage in the conversation.

“Nah, the lass is great! Damn funny, too.” Soap said with a smile.

Price ignored him, replying to Ghost. “That’s what I’m worried about. Any more of this disobedience, and she’ll end up bursting into a ball of flames somehow.”

Soap scoffed. “You’re makin’ her sound like the devil.”

Price grumbled. “She might as well be.”

•°•

“Alright, you lot, listen up ‘cause I’m not going to repeat myself,” Price addressed everyone as they clambered out of the hummer’s. “This forest is crawling with insurgents, and we need to get rid of ‘em all. If you find their compound, fucking destroy it.”

He looked around, making sure everyone was listening before he continued. “Ghost, Soap, Gaz— you’ll head west. Cover the left side of the forest. Clear it out, get your hands dirty.”

Then, he turned to your taskforce, flanking you on either side. Price gestured at the three of them, pointing to the right. “You lot’ll take the east, slowly move inwards.”

You nodded, gripping your gun tight. Price shook his head at you. You scowled at him.

“What now?”

“You’re not going with them.”

“Bullshit.” You spat.

“My orders,” Price hissed, jabbing a finger in your direction. “If we want to get this done, you’ll listen to my orders, rookie.”

“Captain,” you corrected, annoyed. “And, I don’t know if you’re going senile, old man, but you’ve failed to realise that this is my task force and I give them orders.”

“Not when you’re working under Laswell’s jurisdiction, you don’t.” Price retorted, nodding to his taskforce to depart. They did.

Your taskforce remained glued to your side, watching Price skeptically. Price nodded firmly at them, gesturing to the east. They didn’t move, waiting for your command.

Price hid a sigh, looking over at you. You glared at him, gun hooked around your shoulder as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I suggest you tell your boys to get moving if they want to be paid.” Price said quietly.

You stared at him for a moment longer, before you dismissed your taskforce with a quick hand signal. Just like that, they vanished into the shadows, leaving you and Price to seethe at one another at the edge of the forest.

You scoffed at him. “Happy now?”

“Very.” Price said.

“What do you expect me to do? Just sit here?” You asked, tossing your arms up in a sign of frustration.

Price grunted, leaning against the body of one of the hummer’s, lighting a cigar. He took a drag, pocketing the lighter, before he responded in a puff of smoke.

“You need to learn some discipline. So, yes, you will just sit here.” He said, greyish smoke lingering around his head.

You cursed, grumbling under your breath. You looked out at the forest, realising that the scenery was at least not bad. The forest was shadowed, leafy and green. The canopy thinned in patches, sunlight filtering through in a golden glow. The ground was all lush grass, clover and wildflowers and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sound of running water. A stream.

You accepted your fate, sitting on the ground, back against the tyre of the hummer. You closed your eyes, and prepared for a long wait.

An hour later, Price had disappeared round the side of the hummer, leaving you standing, clutching your gun, scanning the tree line.

You saw something.

Then, again: a flicker of movement, a light crunch of branches, a flash of something foreign amongst the fauna.

So you cocked your gun, and sprinted into the tree line.

You heard Price shout your name a couple of times, but you didn’t listen. You ran, pumping your legs, leaping over a fallen log as you pursued the flicker of moment. Your heart was hammering, lungs burning, and when you skidded to a stop near a small stream, you spotted an insurgent running between the towering trees.

You aimed your gun, taking a deep breath as you tracked the erratic movements of the insurgent. You counted to three in your head, one eye closed, then pulled the trigger. In the distance, the insurgent’s head exploded in a wet cloud of crimson, painting the trees nearby. He crumpled to the ground, a dull thump amongst the shrubbery, then silence.

You were breathing hard as you lowered your gun, sweat shiny on your skin. Your face was hot, and after catching your breath, you moved to the stream to splash some of the icy water onto your face.

“What the fuck was that?”

You whirled around, droplets rolling down your face as Price broke into the clearing, stomping towards you angrily. You quickly got to your feet, wiping the water from your face as he grabbed the front of your bulletproof vest, balling his fist.

“What made you think you could just run away and ignore my yelling, huh?” He shook you a bit, making you drop your gun. You grabbed hold of his wrist, enclosing your fingers around it in a tight grip.

“There was an insurgent, so I pursued,” you spat, nodding in the direction of the body. “I wasn’t going to just let him get away.”

Price whipped his head to the side, seeing the splatters of blood coating a couple of trees in the distance. He turned back to you, hand still holding you.

“You should have told me. You had a direct order to stay fucking put and you couldn’t even do that, could you?”

You pushed at his chest with your other hand, but he didn’t budge. You squeezed his wrist tighter. “I caught the fucking terrorist, okay? What else do you want from me?”

“I want you to start listening to orders, captain,” he said the rank mockingly. “You’re constantly putting yourself and others in danger ‘cause you don’t want to shut up and listen. Is that what you want, eh? You want your taskforce to get fucking killed?”

You shook your head, and finally managed to push Price away. He stepped back, balling his fists at his sides.

“No, I don’t want them to get killed,” you hissed. “But I also don’t want to listen to someone who treats me like a goddamn kid!”

“Then stop acting like a kid. You’re behaviour is juvenile, rookie.”

“And stop calling me that,” you sighed, more exasperated than annoyed. “I’m not a rookie. I’m a captain. And I’m just as deserving of this rank as you, Price.”

He grunted, unimpressed. “I don’t care if I’m hurting your feelings right now, rookie. What matters is that you need to start listening. Start following simple bloody orders or you’ll get yourself killed.”

You rolled your eyes.

Price scowled at you. “Don’t do that. Stop being difficult.”

“Oh, fuck off! Being difficult? You haven’t seen difficult—”

“Zip it. That’s an order. Can you follow that?”

“I’m sick and tired of—”

“Rookie.”

“—your absolute bullshit—”

“Captain.”

“—Price! Can’t you just—?”

He grabbed the front of your bulletproof vest, and pulled you to him.

He slammed his mouth onto yours, silencing you immediately. His tongue wrenched your lips apart, invading your mouth before you put a hand to his chest and pushed.

He pulled away.

You blinked up at him.

“I’m so angry at you right now.” He hissed, eyes darting across your face.

“Feeling’s fucking mutual.” You replied, and grabbed his face in both hands, dragging his mouth back to yours.

He released the grip on your vest. One hand fell to your hip while the other grabbed the back of your neck, holding you to him. Your hands cupped his facial hair as you kissed him, tongues pushing against one another, teeth clashing.

With a grunt, Price pushed you backwards. Your back hit a tree, still kissing, and he pressed you into it with his body. Your stomach was flipping, heart racing, yet anger still coursed through your veins. But you didn’t seem to care as Price’s mouth moved against yours, hand like a vice on the back of your neck.

“John?” Crackled through Price’s comms, and he disconnected his mouth from yours, still holding the back of your neck.

He used his other hand to press against the comms collar. “Laswell.”

Your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest.

“Where are you?”

Price looked at you, eyes dark. You licked your lips, and he followed the movement.

“Occupied.” He said simply, switching his comms off before slamming his mouth back to yours. You moaned from the back of your throat, placing your hands back on his face to stroke your fingers through his facial hair.

His thigh was quick to nudge your legs apart, lifting against your core through the thick material of your cargo pants. Despite the protective barrier, the pressure from his large thigh made your cunt start to pulse.

He was holding your head to him, consuming your presence as his tongue made you gasp. You moved your hands from his face, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. After a moment, he pulled away, holding your head and forcing you to look at him.

“You’re gonna follow my orders?” He whispered, eyes boring into you.

You felt your stomach flutter. “Depends on the order, captain.”

He grunted. “On your knees.”

He released your neck, letting you sink down onto the foliage. As you did that, he yanked his belt open, unzipping his pants. You held onto his thighs to steady yourself as he pulled his cock out, pumping it a few times just inches from your mouth.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

You did, and he was ruthless in grabbing a fistful of your hair and shoving his cock into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag as you enclosed your mouth around him.

You laved your tongue around his length, feeling the soft veins along the sides. He grunted above you, hand tight in your locks. His other hand shot up to brace against the tree, leaning over you. You looked up at him, eyes watering, as you dragged your mouth along his cock in tandem with his thrusting hips.

“So you can follow orders, eh?” He mumbled, breathing fast as you bobbed your head.

You tried to pull off so you could reply, but he just hardened his grip, pushing you further onto his cock. You gagged again, and he groaned out a dry laugh.

“All I had to do to shut you up was shove my cock down your throat,” He tutted, fucking into the wet heat of your mouth. “Mouthy little slut, aren’t you, love?”

You were literally choking on him— ruddy tip slamming against the back of your throat, soft weight sliding across your tongue, saliva dripping from the corners of your both. You moved one hand from his thigh to grasp the base of his cock; stroking tight and glossing your spit over the flushed skin.

He groaned, hips stuttering, fist balling against the tree. Your jaw was aching as your mouth met the movements of his hips, pre-cum smearing along the back of your tongue as Price grunted above you, noises echoing around the small clearing.

“Fuck, Jesus—” He huffed, pulling at your hair and forcing you away from his rigid cock.

You whined, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of him. You continued to pump him, and he gritted his teeth and tugged at your hair.

“Want my cum down that pretty throat?” He asked, voice thick with pleasure. “So desperate for my cum, eh? Needy… such a needy whore.”

He urged you onto your feet, pinning you up against the tree again. He kissed you, just as aggressive as the first time, making your head spin. You could feel the heat of his hard cock slotting between your parting legs.

With one hand on the back of your head as he kissed you, Price used his other to pop the button of your pants. He then unzipped the fly, shoving your cargos to your knees. You gasped, moaning into his mouth as he hastily pulled your underwear to the side and ran his finger between your folds.

You moaned again, shying out of the kiss. He chuckled under his breath, dragging his mouth to the junction of your jaw and neck.

Simultaneously, he slipped a thick finger into your wet cunt, working it in and out as he lapped at the fragrant skin of your pulse point. You whined beneath him, arching off of the tree. Your cunt pulsed around his finger, an influx of arousal leaking from you. Then, he pulled his finger out.

You opened your mouth to retort, a moan caught in your throat, but he stopped you— shoving his finger into your mouth and holding it down against your tongue, muting you. He let go of your head, moving his hand to peel your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cool forest air.

“Bloody dripping,” Price mumbled, watching as your spread thighs boasted a couple of tiny streams of shiny arousal. “Greedy cunt wants cock that bad, eh?”

You couldn’t speak, tongue immobilised. You whined, lips still wrapped around his finger, as a response. He tutted at you, slowly pulling his finger from your mouth, and wiping the excess fluids across your cheek. With the same hand, he reached down to grip his cock, letting out a humph as he did so.

Then, without warning— or thorough prep, for that matter— he speared his cock inside you, still holding your underwear to the side.

You opened your mouth in a silent gasp, the air ripped from your lungs as you were shunted against the rough bark of the tree. Price enclosed a large hand around the back of your knee, pulling it to wrap around his waist as he thrusted.

Your cunt was like a vice around him, muscles half-tensed. You sighed between moans, trying to relax yourself as your cunt stretched around the girth of him.

Price’s movements were angry and rough: hips slapping into yours, cock abusing the sensitive plug of your womb, hand clenched around the back of your knee. He was making animalistic sounds as well, grunting and huffing with eyes dark as night.

“You make me so angry, love,” he seethed, cock bullying into you and leaving you stunned. “You just have to talk back, don’t you?”

You gripped his back, nails digging into his work shirt. You could feel his muscles rippling under the fabric with each frantic thrust he made.

“Not my fault you—”

Price readjusted his thrusts, slamming into you harder. You moaned loudly, voice bouncing from the trees, sentence vanishing on your tongue.

Price buried his head in the curve of your neck, biting and sucking. He reached your ear, whispering, “Shut your fucking mouth.”

You did, drawing your lips together as he pulled his mouth from you and analysed your face. You focused instead on the heat building shockingly fast in your stomach. Your legs were trembling, thighs tensing as Price fucked you. Your skin felt like it was on fire beneath your uniform, back aching as you were rubbed repeatedly against the bark of the tree.

Price’s cock was hitting that one place inside you that had you keening, burying your face into his shoulder and releasing little breathy moans of his name and rank. You were a whimpering mess, whispering curses as he abused your cunt so roughly that you could hear it. You could hear the lewd, wet squelches that arose from his fat cock slamming repeatedly into your soaked hole.

It would have been embarrassing if you didn’t feel so good right now.

Price laughed. It was a rumbled vibrato from his chest. “Listen to how this pretty cunt talks to me. So mouthy, eh, pretty girl? Just like you.”

He was making fun of you. Mocking you. Using the fact that you were dripping for him as ammunition for his words.

You still couldn’t speak— rendered speechless. You’d never felt like this before. Your stomach tightening, legs shaking, cunt pulsing, arousal creating rivulets down the expanse of your inner thighs. Even your clit was more swollen and sensitive as his pelvis shifted against it, the smallest bit of friction forcing a jolt through your body.

You still had your head leaning on his chest, sweat tacky across the back of your neck. You were breathing hard, moaning quietly as he pushed you towards your release.

“So you can follow orders…” Price drawled, pussy-drunk. His eyes watched his cock split your cunt open, flicking to where your face turned away from him at his chest. “I told you to shut your mouth, and you did. Feel’s good being obedient, yeah? This is what it’s like. Good girls get fucked so good, love.”

You whined, barely audible, a dog whistle. You had your eyes screwed shut, pleasure mounting and something hardening in your stomach like a knot. It was poised to snap.

Your wetness was sliding into your cargo pants, which had dropped to your ankles after Price had taken hold of your knee. You didn’t even know it was possible to get this wet, but Price was proving it possible. The way he made you feel, the way he drilled his cock inside you, was driving you clinically insane.

“Fucking cum, love, come on. Can tell you need too,” he panted, pulling you away from his chest. “Cum all over my cock. Needy whore, eh? Cum on my fucking cock—”

You did as you were told.

But it hit you like a tonne of bricks.

You clenched and burst around him. Your cum splashed out of you, making you gasp as you drenched his pelvis. It made you whine, biting your lip as your hole spasmed through the aftermath, constricting around his rigid cock.

“There you go, there you go.” He muttered, not really paying attention to you, but to the sopping mess you left across his pelvis, cock and thighs. You swear you saw a flicker of a smile before it disappeared like a shadow.

He growled, maybe a groan, as he doubled his pace, rutting into you and forcing you further onto the tree. The wet slapping of skin on skin reverberated through the forest, making your ears burn.

Now you were whining and whimpering like a wounded animal— cunt abused and overstimulated, cold from your wetness, yet burning from the stretch of your hole accomodating Price’s rough thrusts.

He moved his hand from his knee to your throat, wrapping his fingers around you.

“Take it, come on. You can take it,” he breathed, his momentum building towards a crescendo. “I know this tight cunt can take it, love. So, be a good girl, shut that pretty mouth of yours, and take it.”

He slammed into you, harder and harder as you moaned loudly one last time before forcing your mouth shut. You where making sounds of utter pleasure behind your lips, wanting to sob as his cockhead speared your gummy walls.

“Ah, fuck, gonna—” he stopped himself with a curse and a short groan. “Gonna cum. Want this slutty cunt to take it all.”

You nodded deliriously, but you knew that Price wasn’t seeking your confirmation. He gripped your throat tighter, a couple of stars flashing momentarily in your vision, as he shoved himself as deep as he could go inside you.

He came with a strangled groan, his warmth flooding your abused cunt, hot and sticky, yet it cooled the burning sensations inside you. Price released your throat, cupping your jaw instead as he breathed hard, pressing his mouth to yours one last time before he pulled away, and pulled his softening cock from your leaking hole.

Both of you began to get changed in silence. You could feel him staring as you tried to wipe the dried arousal off of your thighs, as well as Price’s cum.

“Leave it,” he ordered, hypnotised by the milky substance dripping out of your cunt. “Keep it in you. That’s an order.”

You did as you were told. You collected as much of his spend as you could on two fingers, dragging them along your thighs. Then, while he watched, you shoved them deep into your cunt with a small, pleasured sigh. You pulled your fingers out and readjusted the positioning of your underwear, covering up.

“Good girl.” Price whispered, almost lost in the sounds of the forest as he buckled his belt.

You got dressed, and once you had retrieved your gun, you sidled quietly up to Price, who was about to turn his communication device back on.

“Laswell is not gonna be happy with you.” You said.

He hid a smile. “I know.”

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#call of duty #captain john price #captain john price x female reader #captain price #captain price smut #fem reader #captainfern #price x reader #call of duty mw2 #captain john price smut #captain’snirvana #cod mwii

[river-bottom-nightmare]

au where the batkids just sort of,,,,,,invent a new batkid

it starts fairly innocuously, a cowl for someone’s costume ends up the wrong shape or the wrong colour. dick, having dropped by the cave to hand off some evidence or beg alfred for his new potato recipe (most likely both), sees it and his instant reaction is oh my god did bruce adopt another child vigilante? he’s colour-coding us now? fucking splendid

the confusion is cleared up quickly, but everyone got such a good laugh out of it that they keep the new helmet, insisting it belongs to bruce’s new kid ecurb. their vigilante name is Shadow The Dark Lad Blackwing Moron-With-An-Orange-Helmet Batbird. ever so creative.

(bruce doesn’t want to know.)

they collectively design a new costume for him. they convince oracle to help them get ecurb into the system, though it really doesn’t take much convincing, just a bit of dick’s puppy eyes and the utter ridiculousness of the situation that has her cackling. ecurb’s backstory is that he was part of travelling circus in america when he was kidnapped, held as a hostage, and tortured by the joker, during which he learned of batman’s true identity and also How To Fight Good, then was sent to kill bruce but was adopted by him instead. he’s a little older than damian but a little younger than duke, fights exclusively with brass knuckles, and his costume is black with orange polka dots.

(bruce really doesn’t want to know)

they talk about good old ecurb, or batbird depending on the company, amongst themselves all the time. good old ecurb, the only bat fast enough to get cass in rooftop tag. i heard ecurb took on bane with nothing but a water balloon and an empty laptop case and won. well i heard ecurb can get the gotham’s corrupt politicians to apologize to him. yeah, well i heard ecurb’s secretly a meta whose power is to neutralize other metahumans, and bruce keeps him as the ultimate contingency plan.

they talk about ecurb so much that the justice league believes bruce really did acquire a new child. other superhero teams are a little more skeptical, but after several select appearances in which different batkids donned batbird’s armour and were conveniently caught on camera, even they start to believe it. the titans really want to meet this new vigilante who can actually, consistently get dick to sleep. young justice want to fight him. but ecrub’s always undercover, or on a mission, or recovering because bruce trusts him so much, he’s already putting him in charge of the big stuff.

(bruce really really doesn’t want to know)

there are legends about ecurb. photos of him looking powerful yet mysterious, a carbon copy of batman but with orange polka dots. there are stories of the villains ecurb took on singlehandedly and won. apparently the green lantern corps contacted him and he turned them down. apparently he infiltrated the fortress of solitude and now is the leading expert on kryptonian tech. ecurb doesn’t fall off a cliff, he just changes the altitude of his fight. ecurb crashed a plane into a mountain and the mountain apologized to him.

they fake ecurb’s death as part of a plan to save the world. over a hundred heroes show up at the funeral. clark’s heart aches at bruce’s red-rimmed, watery eyes. bruce is two seconds away from collapsing on the floor in disbelieving laughter. ecurb rises from the dead a couple weeks later, no worse for the wear. his new costume now includes orange and pink polka dots.

the bats swear to take the secret to the grave.

#i have no idea where i was going with this #utter crack i swear #i just want them to joke about a new child bruce adopted #and it just. snowballs #kaahkgkaegarehgahe #scribbles from the swamp #batman #batfam #batfamily #dc #batman headcanon #batfam headcanon #batfamily headcanon #dc headcanon

[our-happygirl500-fan]

Leo is often shown to kind of be more skeptical than his brothers so I find it kind of funny that at least two members of the Hamato Clan are redeemed villains 

Leo: Okay, anyone else think we shouldn’t follow a stranger we just met into who knows what-now?

Big Mama: Draxum? Whatever is a Draxum?

Leo: I’m sorry you’ve never heard of Baron Draxum?

It can be argued that Leo is often shown as more skeptical or arguably less trusting than his brothers which can be seen in the episode Bug Busters, & not only is Leo shown to be arguably more skeptical but when compared with the rest of his family he is also shown to be kind of less comfortable around villains.

Ghostbear: Peekaboo losers!

Mikey, Leo, April & Donnie: Ghost Bear!?

Raph: Oh! Love the new look! Oooh hey, can I get a quick selfie?

Mikey: There he is Todd, the brilliant chef and my personal hero

April: I just can’t quit you Warren Stone

Several villains that the Hamato Clan faces are people that they admire with Raph being a fan of Ghost Bear, Mikey being a fan of Meat Sweats & April being a fan of Warren Stone & they are shown to still be fans of them even when fighting against them. 

Even when going against them, they still admire their skill’s & achievements. In contrast Leo is shown to be less comfortable or at least arguably less willing to help villains than the rest of his family.

Mikey: We haven’t found the armour and we can’t leave him to get eaten

Leo: Oh great, we get to save the guy who once repoed a birthday cake

When it comes to the villains that the Hamato Clan has faced Leo seems to have a harder time trusting or forgiving them as seen by the grudge that he holds against Draxum.

Leo: You threw me off a roof!

Mikey: Isn’t this nice? When’s the last time we all got together like this huh?

Leo: The time Draxum dropped me off a building?

Narrator: Red eared slider’s are peaceful & mostly harmless turtles but they can also be very territorial so don’t mess with their home or they might send you home

Red eared sliders are said to be territorial turtles so Leo’s skepticism or hesitancy to trust villains or former villains could stem from his protective nature of trying to keep his family safe from people who have previously proven themselves a possible threat. Which is why Leo has kind of shown reluctance or even confusion over working with former villains.

Raph: Dad!

Mikey: Draxum!

Donnie: April!

Leo: Foot Recruit?

Which makes the fact that two former villains ended up joining the Hamato Clan kind of funny since even with his skeptical nature, Leo still has to deal with his family adopting former enemies.

If you also take into account that the Rise crew have hinted that Big Mama’s Assistant is one of the Turtle’s missing siblings, if Rise had continued then Leo would have possibly had to deal with a third former villain joining his family.

It kind of feels like Leo is trying to protect his family by being the skeptical one & hesitant to trust anyone who has been shown to be willing to hurt his family & meanwhile his family keep on bringing former villains home.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo hamato #rottmnt #tmnt

[mecchantheotaku]

Slay The Princess: The Damsel and Simplicity

SPOILER WARNING - This is my personal take on the Damsel. Enjoy. Or not.

i see a lot of people criticising or backhandedly complimenting the damsel's route because they looked very heavily into it, but in my opinion i think the fact that they looked so heavily into it is what caused these criticisms in the first place. and that's likely intentional.

the route is a lot less weird if you rescue her without asking questions and don't listen to the narrator, the only really weird bit being right at the end where her simple and joyful nature clashes harshly with the complicated nature of the story as a whole.

because the damsel's character, as a whole, is... simple. a dainty princess waiting to be rescued by her heroic knight in shining armour. if it wasn't for the shifting mound taking her at the end, this would have been a simple "hero saved princess and they lived happily ever after" tale.

however, if you ask her too many questions, that's when it gets weird. you ask her all these questions because you want more than what her character is and it feels weird that she really is as simple as she appears. continuously asking her what she wants causes her to deconstruct even when there's nothing left to see.

and if you kill her, the idealised fairytale takes a dark turn, but even as the grey, her motives are still simple. she's convinced that the cabin drives you to kill her, so she sets it ablaze, taking you with it so you can join her in death. all still with a simple smile on her face.

both of these more unnerving possibilities are the result of you being unsatisfied with her simplicity. and for a lot of people, that's understandable. but for those that embrace her simplicity, it's a heartwarming tale of rescuing a princess (up until the very end that is, which is fitting for the game as a whole, especially if this is your first path).

don't believe me? ask the shifting mound during the fight regarding the two different versions of the damsel vessel.

here's what she says about the deconstructed damsel:

"Love melted into skepticism, and you pulled back layer after layer after layer until all you were left with was the knowledge that you did not know me. You sought the truth then. Will you hide from it now that it is within your grasp?"

now here's what she says about the regular damsel:

"But the stakes meant nothing to you. You had a desire, and you set that desire free, you lifting me and me lifting you, forever and ever and ever. Consumed by true belief, there was nothing that could hold us back."

it can be that simple and heartwarming... if you want it to be. if you don't want that, you get a shell or a shadow of what it could have been.

the voice of the smitten reflects this as well. he is also a simple character. he is motivated by one thing and one thing alone: love. even when presented with the weird parts of the damsel should you choose to explore, he loves her in spite of that. warts and all.

and should you kill her and intentionally make the story dark, he has nothing left to live for and goes mad with grief, putting his simple desires under a dark light. (i will admit the burned grey was painful to go through because of this, seeing such a simple and optimistic character transform like that from sheer sorrow)

in a way, i would say that the damsel and the voice of the smitten are perfect for each other. a bit weird to everyone else, but to each other, nothing but pure and simple happiness.

and if you don't like that? of course you wouldn't like either of those characters. because you want more than that. most people want more than that. i'm personally fine either way.

but yeah, that's my take on the damsel (and by extension the voice of the smitten). a simple character. nothing more. will you embrace her simplicity, try to tear her down to the bone, or twist it into something horrifying?

either way, there are no wrong answers. and that's why i like this route. and this game.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #the damsel #i feel like a lot of people are going to hate me for this lmao #but fuck it might as well weed them out

[zkvry]

Speak, Commander | Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary : Reader is the Commander of the Kingsguard. Prince Aegon takes an interest in you during one of King Viserys' feasts.

Warnings : Aegon himself is a warning i suppose..

Additional Information : > standalone from HOTD storyline (there are no spoilers) > written in third person perspective (she/her) > 1433 words | 11 minutes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Great Hall welcomed noble Lords and Ladies from around the realm. Tonight, King Viserys held one of many feasts. A small one, yet still glamourous. Ever the generous King he was.

She stood at attention, stationing near the steps of the Royal Table where the King was sitting. She wore a suit of armour, the signature white cloak of the Kingsguard draped elegantly on her right shoulder. A hefty sword rests by her hip, a cautious hand hovering over the hilt.

Aegon approaches from behind, making sure to not startle her. He quietly notes her appearance, clearing his throat before he starts to speak. "Commander. May we speak?"

She turns around, looking expectant. She looks around the room before giving him her full attention. "Prince Aegon, do you require something?" She bows curtly.

He bows his head respectfully in her direction. "I simply wish to... compliment you on your fine appearance. I've never seen you in full armour before," His lips quickly turning into a sly smirk.

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Thank you, My Prince. Now do you require my assistance or not?" Her eyes searching his, trying to figure out his intentions.

"No, Commander. I simply wanted to pay a compliment," He shrugs, a roguish grin on his face. "Perhaps I will get to see you in armour again?" He chuckles.

"Most probably. Though I might try my very best to avoid you at all cost. No offence, Prince," She huffs, bored.

"And why's that?" His voice is teasing. He steps closer, close enough to smell her perfume... And to feel her breath against his face. "Is my reputation *that bad*?" He whispers lowly, his violet eyes shining with mischief.

She steps away, stunned by his approach and closeness. She sighs, looking around the room once more for any threats as she is occupied by Prince Aegon. She stand straight, face stoic "Do I have permission to speak freely, Prince?"

"Of course," Aegon smirks at her reaction. "Speak, Commander," He permits her, his grin growing.

At his command, her shoulder slouches carelessly and she juts out her hip. she rests her arms one atop the other on the hilt of her sword. The stoic face was then replaced by a look of pure boredom - the one she tried to conceal. She looked off guard and casual.

"You-" She starts off, voice firm and of disapproval.

"You are sluggish and lazy. You like to drink - and when you drink you get drunk- and when you are drunk..." Her voice trails off, becoming louder with each phrase. She stops to take a breath. Her voice becomes softer yet firm.

"..When you are drunk, your intentions are clouded with lust. You visit brothels. You shame The King's name and you enjoy doing it," She breathes out, barely taking the time to check herself.

After she speaks, her face flashes in panic. She did not mean to nag at the Prince. she waits for his reaction, prepared to be called out for her casualness in speaking.

He blinks. Once, twice. His mouth curls into a lopsided grin.

"...Ahah," Aegon starts laughing, trying to recover from his shock at her boldness, and her accuracy. "I can't exactly deny that..." He grins mischievously. "You have a very... direct way with your words, Commander," He quirks a brow.

She clears her throat, silently relieved that he didn't order to cut off her tongue right then and there.

"I was given permission to speak freely..." she justifies, eyes roaming everywhere but him.

He shrugs. "Of course. Free speech is your right as a citizen of the realm," He chuckles sheepishly.

"I must admit, your words took me off guard. Most don't speak to me so openly... But I don't mind. It's... well.. entertaining, I suppose," He pauses, smiling. "Can you blame me for my ways? Being a Targaryen Prince certainly has it's benefits. So why not enjoy them every once in a while?"

she furrows her eyebrows, clearly disapproving his way of thinking. Her face flashes a look of disappointment that he did not consider her words.

"Whatever The Prince says," she states, huffing with disdain.

That little remark was uncalled for, but she does have a point.

He chuckles and sighs, "but fine. I suppose I could... curb my behaviour. As a gesture of my... appreciation of your honestly," He extends a hand with a smirk, eyes twinkling with humour. "would you care to dance?"

Dance?

Her eyes widen, she stills. Her eyes dart around the room frantically.

"What? You're not afraid of the Prince's dancing, are you? Or are you... afraid of me?" Aegon's eyes twinkle yet again. His grin spreading across his face with amusement.

Her eyebrows furrow again, annoyed. "Scared of you?" she scoffs.

"I simply cannot. I am on duty," She states firmly, looking prideful as ever.

He frowns.

"Oh, please," He chuckles. "Come on now, Commander. Surely you can make a little time for this... Prince?" His voice drops to a murmur as his tone turns flirtatiously.

"You might even learn something," Aegon steps closer to her, "or maybe, I'll learn something about you," He steps even closer, his voice a whisper and his eyes dancing.

She stutters, trying to come up with another excuse.

He steps closer still, his face inches from hers. She can feel his breath against her skin.

"Are you... intimidated?" His voice drops to a whisper.

He puts one hand on her chin and smiles.

"Or is this exciting you?" His eyes dancing darting between hers and her lips. He smirks softly, noting her features in his head.

She steps away quickly, clearing her throat. "Fine. We will dance. Just this once," She says pointedly, failing to quickly come up with another excuse.

Aegon smiles, "perfect, Commander,"

He extends a hand and leads her to the dance floor. He places his left hand on her hip, his right hand holding hers. His eyes twinkling and his voice filled with confidence as he speaks.

"So," Aegon holds up his chin, a proud grin on his face. "How should this dance go? Do you teach me your steps or do I take the lead?"

Her eyes dart around the room as she grows more conscious of the eyes of nobles and ladies in the room. She feels small and uneasy.

"I..." She trails off, not knowing if she should admit it to him.

"I don't know how to dance.." Her voice merely a whisper.

His jaw drops, his smug grin melting into a stunned look. He stares at her and shakes his head.

"You don't?" He laughs quietly and pulls her close. As he starts dancing, his smile still wide and genuine.

"Oh Commander, you are full of surprises," He chuckles. "I'll teach you how, but you must do your best to follow my lead, alright? Is that a deal? No excuses," He smiles.

she finally looks at him, face still reluctant. She nods her head briefly.

He smiles, leading her into his steps, gently but purposefully, guiding her in the dance.

"There. Not that hard is it?" He chuckles and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The two of them begin dancing. Aegon's confidence clear in both his face and his movements. He lowers his head to look at her.

She tried her best to follow his lead, the white cloak of her armour swaying elegantly with their movements. She huffs, anxious at the attention they have of the room. All eyes are on them.

"Pay them no mind, Commander. It is just you and me here," Aegon's voice is soft, delicate. It was completely out of character. His gentleness and focus on her caught them both by surprise. Aegon never knew he was capable of chivalry quite like this. His eyes never left hers. His hold strong and unwavering.

She finds her confidence once more, her steps more precise and swift. Her eyes look up into his, she couldn't help but observe his features. The indicative violet orbs staring right back at her.

The music seemed to die down as she feels his breath on her. She swore she could hear his heart thumping in his chest. The distance between them was almost non-existent.

Applause.

She heard hands clapping as Aegon brings them to a slow stop. The music must have ended. How long had it been? She could not remember.

Aegon's eyes grow soft, a small smile on his lips. He feels her pull away, feeling the lack of warmth from her body so close to his. He yearns to feel it again. This time, he is determined.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #fem!reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd x reader #house of dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd fic #game of thrones #got

[syeren]

WORKAHOLIC.

Gepard didn’t realize how much of an impact you made on him.

Being the Silvermane Captain, he had a reputation to keep up and a demeanor to maintain. However, that all changed when he spotted you in his peripheral vision.

You, the leading officer of Belobog’s Judiciary department and first person to ever achieve such a high role next to the Supreme Guardian — in such a short period of time — encaptured the attention of the entire nation. After the fall of the former Supreme Guardian, Cocolia, Bronya took the lead and appointed you to be part of the nation’s main officers. Unfortunately for Gepard, he could only stay in the shadow of your fame, washed out as he continued his daily duties. He was satisfied with his achievements, and he was pleased to be in the role he worked for; he had worked that hard for it anyway. Though, a pang of jealousy reeked within him. Gepard was a slight perfectionist and an obvious hard worker, and the notion of a formidable coworker that rose up the ranks faster than he ever did plagued his mind feverishly. Was he doing something wrong? Surely not. But, his overthinking did more than just be lingering, negative, and obsessive thoughts — you enchanted him. And he surely didn’t expect his legs to be moving on their own toward your figure.

With a stack of files in your right hand, you discussed the further construction of transportation between the Overworld and Underworld with Bronya. The subtle change within the air blew through Qlipoth as Gepard made his way towards you in striding steps. Heavy armour clanked against the cool tiles of the office as he closed the gap between the two of you. A gulp made its way to your throat.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?” he inquired, a twitch in his eyebrow motioned towards the hallway. It was a bit skeptical that a Silvermane Guard spoke to you, and you immediately thought if anything went wrong on the front lines. You gave Bronya a soft smile and a nod, then placed your attention on the male in front.

“I can spare some time, lead the way officer.”

The hallway was dead compared to the bustle of the main street. You peered at the Everwinter Monument that stood tall in the middle of the busy area, glistening in the light.

You cleared your throat. “Well, if you could state the meaning of my appearance here, that would be lovely,” you questioned and matched your eyes with the light blue ones ahead of you. Gepard played with his fingertips before speaking.

“Ahh yes. Well, I was just thinking if the Supreme Guardian has any means of… Letting my rank falter. It seems that my usual capabilities to serve her aren’t the same as they used to be rather— too easy? Might I add,” Gepard replied, tone drifting off in thought. You pondered the fact if Bronya truly felt the need to let him go. Before you got placed in the high-ranking position, Gepard handled the job in a concise and efficient manner. Needless to say, he should’ve been the one in your shoes and you felt a wave of anxiety rush through your body.

You’ve admired his work ethic; his perseverance to keep going forth and setting his goals straight. It’s no wonder as to why he gained such a fanbase and large amount of support — and not to mention, him being your role model towards this job in the first place. Dampness secreted from your palms as you hastily wiped it down onto your sleeves, you crossed your arms together and eyed Gepard.

“I believe not, Mr. Landau,” you continued, “the Supreme Guardian wouldn’t let her most reputable and reliable guard to be put to waste.”

His eyebrows subtly moved upwards at your words, seemingly soothed the worries from his mind.

“I am honoured to hear that,” he replied, relief gracing his tongue.

“And no need for formalities, I am younger than you by a year. Plus, position hierarchy doesn’t apply much to me when it comes to you.”

A joyous chuckle left his lips. “Well then, care to explain?”

“I envy you, Mr. Landau, you should be the one in my position at this point,” you teased and a smile appeared on your face. Gepard noticed and coughed slightly into the side of his wrist, a hue of a faint pink dusted his cheekbones.

“I may have a proposal to solve both of our issues—” you sauntered and fiddled with the ends of your garments, “—if you are up to it, that is.”

A curious gaze befell on his face as he matched the stature of your body.

“Go on.”

An affirmative hum left your lips. “It is not that I dislike my job, I thoroughly enjoy my work. However, the chances of gaining a favourable vacation are out of my reach currently… One that I should have been granted beforehand. The workload I have been assigned isn’t fit for just one person— and I could easily finish it, but I need some time to regain my mental stability back.”

Right. With newcomers sweeping Qlipoth from the Underworld to seek higher-ranked careers, the remaining individuals received a lessened workload compared to the rest. It was a plausible explanation as to why the guards hasn't done their duties as often as before. Gepard dazed into the comforting afternoon sun that draped down Belobog, the bluebells dancing within the air caught his attention.

His stare lingered onto the flowers as he spoke, “so all you are requesting is for settled time off? And to grant that, you must finish the remaining workload you currently have now? Do correct me if I am wrong.”

“Yes, that is correct,” you replied, following his gaze to the flower shop just below the window.

“I’ll grant you that request.”

You whiplashed your head to face him straight on.

“That quickly? I do not mind waiting for a proper answer—“ Gepard stopped you and let out a breathy chuckle.

“That proposal does indeed solve both of our issues... You need time off while I need some more time on," he agreed with a small smile gracing his face. "May I ask one more request on my side?"

You nodded your head curtly and watched him angle towards you, the orange hue from the setting sun basked Gepard in a warm, heavenly aura compared to the iciness of the horrific snowstorms in the distance. Never once had a man bestowed such an ethereal appearance on you, but looking at Gepard in such a quiet and intimate state caused a thump in your heart.

"Allow me to take you on a date once you have been granted some free time, think of it as a 'please' and a 'thank you.'"

#honkai star rail #gepard #gepard honkai #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard x y/n #gepard x gender neutral reader #gepard x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr gepard

[d-es-per-a-do]

abbott elementary characters if they played minecraft (part 1???)

melissa schemmenti

would relentlessly bully jacob for enjoying it

(then go play it on her phone)

skeptical until jacob shows it to her

kills ABSOLUTELY everything including herself, sets fire to her world and engulfs it in flame

there will be no survivors.

dont get me started on when she discovers herobrine

has to put on reading glasses just to see the screen

jacob hill

die hard minecraft fan

launches into a speech on how it improves spatial awareness and taught him important life skills (not to eat raw potatoes)

a vegan (solely in minecraft), would never so much as hurt a chicken

wears leather armour because it's cute

forever on peaceful (he retains childhood trauma from a creeper murdering his villager friend)

doesn't go mining even on peaceful because it's way too frightening (he also retains childhood trauma from cave noises)

overly ethical mob farms

i.e. a handful of cows that he never kills

petrified of herobrine

"dont even UTTER his name"

plays with every single cheat on

barbara howard

no fucking clue what is going on

seriously PERPLEXED

would accidentally dig herself into a hole and remain there for eternity ('Now who took that picture of meeee' - esque)

horrified by all the monsters and how devilish they are

(oh god dont even show her the nether, literal HELL)

would quit within 2 minutes

#abbott elementary #barbara howard #jacob hill #abbott #abott elementary #melissa schemmenti

[sistersatan]

#politics #armoured skeptic #armouredskeptic #money #banks #lies #you’ve been lied to #evil #😈 #federal reserve #Fort Knox #economy #youtube #sister satan #sistersatan

[barn-anon]

Your Gaius was ready to snap. The two of you were out late and ran into a lone World Eater. This World Eater was the kind you're more familiar with, blood red and brass armor with those weird horn-fin things on the helmet. Your World Eater had shoved you behind him and heated aggressive gothic words are exchanged. You try to peer around him but he is quick to block you, hiding you behind his white and blue bulky form.

It was a tense few minutes before the other World Eater left. Gaius wraps an arm around you as he steers you away from the place. He shushed you and hurries you towards the heart of the city where your apartment was. When you tried to sneak a look behind you, you spot the faint dark silhouettes of other World Eaters move into the shadows.

Things weren't easy once you got back to the busy heart of the city. You don't recognize the white armoured Space Marine that had stopped you and Gaius but he clearly was skeptical of your World Eater. It was only how you clung to your World Eater that would convince the Space Marine to let the two of you go further in.

The door slams shut and you hear the locks click into place. A loud clunk, Gaius's helmet lay on the living room floor. He pulls you into his arms. With your minimal grasp of the language, you ask your World Eater why does everyone seem to mistreat him. He shakes his head,

"it doesn't matter".

He sighs, the knowledge of what had? Would? become of both his Primarch and his legion weighs heavily on his mind. Even before he was transported to this strange world, back when he was still among his fellow World Eaters, he had some semblance of hope that maybe his Primarch would get better and his fellow brothers would too rise above the brutality they've become known for.

It seems that even here, that dark reputation has followed him. Except now it seems every other World Eater he meets are ones that had fallen to Chaos. He's never felt more alone. He looks down at his human that's starting to snuggle up to him. At least he has her, it's a small consolation but it's one he has come to cherish. She's slowly but surely picking up high Gothic, he's so proud of her. He'll sooner die than see anything happen to her.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts

#Gaius the World Eater #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer 30k

[earako]

Actually hang on I like library uncle and actually have an idea now hang on

-/-

Ballister was by no means a fighter. But life on the streets, living in the lower castes, it taught him how to scrap when needed. It wasn't elegant or show boaty but it kept him alive.

And now it looked like he needed to unleash his street urchin ubringing for the sake of the child who burst into his library crying for help.

He barked out an order for the patrons to get the kid behind his desk. Meanwhile, Ballister grabbed the metal baseball bat he kept stashed under his desk, lept over it, and just managed to clock what seemed like the leading man in the group that was chasing the poor child.

Again, Ballister was not a proper fighter. He was observant though.

Over the years Ballister analyzed the different ways he saw people defend themselves. He swung his bat like a sword while still utilizing kicks, punches, and headbutts, a bastardization of the institutes fighting style mixed with what Ballister saw in street brawls. And as messy as it was, it was effective.

The group after the kid eventually gave up and ran out of the library, cursing Ballister and threatening to burn the library down.

From the corner of his eye Ballister noticed phones recording. Good. He might need those recordings later.

Okay, now that the immediate danger was taken care of best to make sure the kid's alright. He leaned his bat against one of the shelves and slowly walked up to the kid, crouching infront of them.

Wait.

Ah, figures. From the clothes alone Ballister could tell the kid was a noble. He motioned to the phone he kept behind his desk. "Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?" The kid just stared at Ballister, silent for a few moments before a large grin formed on their face.

"That was awesome!" The kid cried, and where those stars in their eyes? "That was so cool! You were all bamp! wham! And-and then you kicked their legs and there were three of them on you and mister are you a knight?!?!"

Ballister stifled a laugh into his hand. Him? A knight? Oh that's just adorable.

"No, no," Ballister said through small laughs, "I'm just a librarian who grew up in a tough area." The kid eyed Ballister with what looked like skepticism. "...Are you sure you're not an undercover knight?"

"No, I assure you, just a one armed librarian," Ballister said while waving at the kid with his prosthetic. Before the kid could get excited over that, Ballister asked again if there was a number the kid could call.

"We can also wave down-" as if summoned, a knight came bursting into the library. Ballister frowned, first the kidnappers now the knights?

"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from damaging my doors any further," Ballister said, arms crossed and not quite glaring at the knights though his expression was more....reserved than usual.

The knight that had kicked down his door scoffed and went to advance onto Ballister when an arm was held across his chest to stop him. "You are a knight, not a school yard jock. Act like it, Sureblade" hissed a knight in golden armour-hang on.

Golden armour.

Bleach blonde hair.

The crest on his armour.

This was Ambrosius Goldenloin.

Hm. So the Golden boy wasn't afraid to do the dirty work.

Now, Ballister didn't quite dislike Sir Goldenloin, he just seemed mor of the type who would rather spend their time starring in advertisements, or prancing around a stadium while adoring fans chanted his name was over and over and over again.

"Sir Goldenloin!" Ballister's attention snapped back to the child...who seemed to be attempting an imitation of Ballister when he leapt over the desk. The child tripped and would have fallen flat on their face had Ballister not quickly caught them, clutching the child against his chest as his heart raced.

"How about we keep our legs on the ground, hm?"

"But you did it earlier!" The child protested. Ballister sighed and placed the child down. The kid wasn't one of his regulars, really it wasn't his place to scold them....

"Did what?" Sir Goldenloin asked, stepping closer to where Ballister and the kid stood. The other knights made to follow but Sir Goldenoin held out an arm again, probably signalling them to stay back and to let Sir Goldenloin handle the situation.

"Oh! Oh you shoulda seen the mister, Sir Goldenloin!"

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

"Hey now-there's no need-"

"The men who took me-mister librarian jumped over the desk and used the baseball bat to fight-"

"It's less impressive than it sounds-"

"And he was swinging and kicking and three guys were on him-" All Ballister could do was bury his face in his hands as the child gushed over his supposedly 'heroic' actions.

Ballister's skin tone may be on the darker side but he was certain his blush could be seen through his hands.

"Well, that sounds like quite the ordeal. Why don't you head back with the other knights while I talk to Mr.Librarian here?" Ballister's head shot up. Right, the knights probably needed him to report the kidnapping. He briefly glanced at the security cameras and wondered if they'd be enough. Maybe he could ask for some of the phone recordings too...

"Bye Mr.Librarian" The child yelled as they headed back to the knights. Ballister smiled and waved back. "Take care now, and be careful next time!" He called after the child and the knights.

The kid was lucky this time...Ballister shuddered to think of what could've been. If the kid hadn't thought to duck into the library....

"So...do you actually have a name, Mr.Librarian?

"Oh, right! Apologies. Ballister Blackheart." Sir Goldenloins brow furrowed at Ballister's last name.

"Rather odd surname." Ballister frowned. If he had less self-preservation he'd have made a comment about Sir Goldenloin's own name...he couldn't afford to aggrevate the knights.

After all, he was just a commoner.

Right, time to give Goldie what he's looking for. " I can give a description of the group who kidnapped the kid along with video surveillance footage. I also saw some phones recording, I can ask them for footage as well. I assume I'll also be asked to file a kidnapping report, I have the files ready to download and can fill them out now if you'd like."

Sir Goldenloin blinked at Ballister. "You...seem very well prepared for these sort of situations."

"It's sadly not uncommon for people to flee here for safety," Ballister sighed. "It's...well, I'm just glad no one got hurt."

"Right, right. I'd like to see those tapes? And interview you if thats alright?"

Hm...Sir Goldenloin was certainly...different from the other knights.

He was stating everything as a question rather than an order. Then again, Sir Goldenloins knighting ceremony was only just this month. Maybe it's because he's still fairly new.

"Sure. If you'll follow me this way." The golden knight trailed after Ballister and leaned over his shoulder as he filled out the reports and retrieved the video surveillance footage.

He had to stop himself from being distracted by the scent of lavender.

This was just business.

It didn't mean anything.

#Nimona #j says stuff #Librarian!Ballister au #nother au folks lets see if I actually wrote more for this- #also owwwww why did I decide to write this entirely on mobile-

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

marks of love like blooming orchids on your skin

elriel month prompt eight: veil

Light NSFW.

Elain was sliding her arms into the sleeves of her black dress, having just finished the final touches to her makeup, when she noticed the shadows in the corner of the room thickening and stretching, warping the light around it. 

Tendrils of soft shadow curled about like water rolling in a gentle boil before he materialized, and Azriel stepped out of the realm of his shadows.

His face was passive, as if he belonged there, as if striding into her rooms was the most natural thing in the world. Elain mirrored his expression, not succumbing to her surprise at his appearance in here, now.

He didn’t usually appear directly in her rooms at the river house unless it was one of their predetermined private meetings, and they had not discussed a meeting of any sort for now. Of all times, now was definitely not the time. 

Elain quietly wondered why he would come to her just before their Solstice visit to the Hewn City. They had all decided to meet in the foyer of the river manor when they were ready.

Curious. 

She tuned back to her vanity, the corners of lips rebelling against her wishes and lifting into a small smile. Her eyes narrowed in thought, remembering his apprehension upon hearing about the proposed plan when Feyre had come to them. He must be concerned then. Mother hen.

Flicking her eyes to him through the mirror at her dressing table she stated of the obvious. 

“Everyone will be ready in a minute.” 

She needed the reminder just as much as he did. Because if they started anything, gave in to their base urges and got carried away, they would surely be found, and it was almost time to go. It was imperative they not be late. Not tonight. Tonight’s mission was too important.

His eyes flashed, taking a step closer to her, his gaze not wavering from hers in the reflection.

“I just came from the House and Cassian and Nesta were still…busy. Rhys, no doubt, will still be primping.”

She huffed in amusement, eyeing him skeptically.

“And Mor?” she challenged. She was only a few doors down the hall, after all.

Azriel’s lip curled into a smirk. “Mor is even worse than Rhys.”

Elain chuckled, angling herself to maintain eye contact with him through the mirror as he moved closer to her. He loomed over her, his powerful wings peeking over the tops of his shoulders.

Already dressed in his full Illyrian armour, he was a menacing force, ready to deal the loathsome inhabitants of the Hewn City their reckoning— should it be found necessary. 

Truth Teller was tucked at his hip and a long blade sheathed down his spine. Every step he took was deliberate as he stalked towards her, his eyes never wavering from hers as he edged ever closer. The heat he radiated warmed her bare back as if she were standing before a roaring fire, its warmth hungrily lapping at her exposed skin.

The scales of his armour gleamed in the low light, his cobalt siphons polished to perfection, the dazzling blue striking against the midnight black. Even his talons at the tips of his wings appeared sharper, more menacing, as they glinted in the dim faelights. She drank him in greedily, her eyes gobbling up the sight of him.

Azriel’s head tilted to the side, his hair sliding across his forehead with the movement as he observed her inspection of him. 

The unextraordinary black dress they had chosen for her to wear tonight hung loosely off her form, the gown still unbuttoned up her spine, causing the tulle to hang low across her back. Azriel drew a hand up to her neck, his fingers grazing her skin and tucked his fingers beneath the black material. Heavy lidded eyes drank in her smooth skin greedily as he pushed the sleeve back down her arm, exposing her shoulder. She shuddered beneath his featherlight touch.

Elain had been styling her hair when Azriel appeared, sweeping half of it up with two combs of pearl, the remainder of her hair cascading around her shoulders. Azriel scooped up the rest of her loose curls with deft fingers, twisting the golden tresses around his mottled fist and held it up, away from her neck.

Hazel eyes roved over the expanse of her bare back and neck as the fingers of his other hand swept across the smooth stretch of her shoulder blade, down her arm, tracing the few scattered beauty spots across her skin and down the knobs of her spine.

He tucked his face into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent and Elain shuddered again, the caress of his warm breath igniting her senses. His lips fluttered across her skin, leaving a light, tender kiss on each dip along her vertebrae. 

Lavishing the creamy skin of her neck thoroughly, he traced his lips along the elegant trail of her spine, reverently worshiping every tiny piece she allowed him to take.

He went down, inch by inch. Lower. Until he was on his knees, kneeling on those brilliant blue siphons behind her. His thumbs pressed into the dimples in her lower back, just above her backside, as his fingers curled around her waist, her dress gaping on either side, open and inviting him to touch.

“Az... we’ll need to go soon,” she bleated submissively, her voice breathy and weaker than intended. Her words not at all sounding convincing, even to her own ears.

“Mmhmm,” he simply hummed against the skin at the dip in her back, ignoring her flimsy objections. 

Elain bit her lip, her fingers clutching the table of her vanity to stabilise herself as Azriel’s lips continued mapping every dip and freckle of her back. His exploratory hands kneaded and squeezed their way over to her hips, hugging at her curves greedily before he abruptly spun her around.

She wasn’t sure if it was the hurried movement or Azriel’s hands and lips trailing across her body, but her head was swimming in the most delicious of ways, heightening all the small touches and grazes Azriel was raking across her burning skin.

He gazed up at her, the look on his face reverent, awed, as if he was on his knees praying to a sacred goddess for salvation, rather than kneeling before her with no doubt much more debauched thoughts than what may cross one’s minds during prayer.

Unfurling his legs from his position at her feet, he stood before her once more, his imposing figure obstructing her view. He filled her vision. There was nothing but Azriel before her, he flooded her mind. His warriors’ frame crowding her sight, sheltering her from reality. 

Wordlessly, he reached for the neckline of her dress, slowly prying it off her. He dragged it down her shoulders, her arms, her chest, her stomach. Unhurriedly pulling it away until it was merely a cloud of black lace and tulle pooled at her feet.

Leaning away from her just slightly, he took her all in as his eyes raked down her bare body. Every inch of her unmarked, alabaster skin gleamed at him in the faelight.

“You are exquisite,” he rasped. He grazed his knuckles along the line of her waist, his touch only intending to tease, causing tingles to erupt across her skin.

His pupils had all but swallowed his irises as they volleyed hungrily along her naked form. The fingers of his other hand twitched at his sides, aching to touch her too. 

Elain had painted her lips in a deep berry red colour, and it was now the only thing she wore as she stood before him. The plump pillows of those deep red lips parted as her breathing grew shallow from the intensity of those keen eyes, rendering her to feel more exposed, more seen, than her current nakedness. 

Sidling up to her, he ever so gently tilted her face up toward his with a finger and thumb at her chin, her eyes dragging up his broad chest, his strong throat, and ultimately landing on his mouth. Elain drew a hand up, resting it on the scales of his armour, right above his heart, the heat from his skin radiating through the cool leathers and warming her palm. He kept his heavy-lidded gaze locked on hers as he tipped towards her, pressing the faintest of kisses to her bottom lip, her lip-colour staining his own just slightly before he descended on her neck.

He groaned; a deep, wanton thing born from his belly. A hungry beast roaring to take, taste, devour. A flush erupted across her skin at the sound of his need, her blood vibrating in answer to his call just beneath the surface of her skin.

“Look how you blush for me, Elain.”

His lips ghosted her throat as he spoke, tickling her thundering pulse as he whispered the words into her burning skin. 

“Like a flawless, cream canvas. Ready for me to mark however I choose.”

His breath skittered across her burning skin, Elain deciding she would be willing to be reduced to ash if it only meant he could consume her entirely. She would allow Azriel to take and take and take if it meant they could stay like this.

Sinful. It was so sinful.

Elain was ready to beg for mercy, beg for more, for him. All of him. He needn’t do anything but whisper those illicit thoughts of his. His wicked words truly were her weakness. Her need clawed at her insides, consumed her mind, willed her to give in. Risk it all, for him.

Scarred fingers grazed up her arm and retreated down her back, his touch teasing and leaving goosebumps pebbling in its wake.

Elain’s breath hitched; her eyes fluttering closed as her internal thoughts warred against one another. Duty and pleasure. Nightmares and dreams. Honour and disgrace. It was wrong, ill-timed, but… she could never stop. Didn’t want to. Not with Azriel. She’d damn herself for the eternal afterlife if it meant she could keep him now.

“Yes,” she breathed.

And that was all the permission Azriel needed before his sinful lips latched onto the delicate skin behind her ear, just hidden beneath the sheet of her thick golden hair.

He sucked at her flesh, his tongue greedily licking and tasting her. Her head lolled heavily to the side, giving Azriel more access, the anxieties of the looming mission they were about to head into melting away with his wicked mouth.

He pulled away and his eyes blazed at his hedonistic creation, the purple mark he had left on her alabaster skin already darkening. He seemed to relish in the imprints he left blooming just beneath her skin.

“So pretty,” he purred.

He dropped to his knees before her once more, his hands following the same path along her body. Those scarred hands caressed the soft curves of her belly, his fingers lazily tracing the contours of her stomach, her slim waist.

Eyeing her like a hungry wolf might observe its prey, he sunk his face into her abdomen, his tongue darting out to lick a wet trail from her navel all the way down to the top of her sensitive slit. He paused just before he reached where she longed to have him, lips lingering at the top of her delicate folds. 

His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thighs as he kissed and licked his way back up, finding tonight’s desired target just below her protruding hipbone. His mouth latched onto the place adjacent to the where her hip met her thigh, his tongue lapping and sucking the pale, sensitive skin there.

A breathy moan escaped her lips as Azriel sucked at the tender spot, his teeth grazing her skin and causing her arousal to shoot through her veins like comets hurtling through space. He pressed his lips and teeth more firmly against her hip, the pleasure he was wringing from her deliberately bleeding into pain and he pulled at her skin with renewed fervour. 

Elain bit her lip harshly as he continued laving at her, her hair tumbling down her bare back as her head rolled back in ecstasy. He knew how to balance her on that edge, expertly swinging the pendulum between the ache of want and the sweet relief of gratification in ways she never knew she would come to desire.

Dragging his mouth away with one last flick of his tongue Azriel blinked open his eyes and gazed hungrily upon his handiwork.

A scared thumb traced the moist patch of bruised skin with a reverence she didn’t know he possessed. His eyes addled with lust, he groaned at the sight, the sound shooting straight to her throbbing core.

“So pretty. Just like your flowers,” he murmured, his fingers trailing across her raw skin.

Elain sunk her fingers into his thick hair, not caring if she mussed it, and peered down at her stomach. A lilac bruise was forming where his mouth had been, three small marks in a little cluster, slowly blooming across her hip in various shades of pink and blues.

Elain bit her lip at the sight, stifling a moan. It wasn’t enough that Azriel was on his knees before her, dressed in his Night Court black armour, hair dishevelled, and lips swollen. But the marks he had left on that very intimate part of her body, the smile that crept across his face at the love bites he had left there... It was almost enough for her to throw caution to the wind and beg him to take her now, Court of Nightmares and Eris be damned! Let him fuck her into oblivion instead. Let him leave an entire valley of bruised flowers across her flesh.

Her knees wobbled as she clenched the muscles of that needy place between her thighs.

Elain inhaled a shuddering breath, tracing the marks with a finger as Azriel’s eyes hungrily followed their path. 

“If anyone sees these—” Elain began.

“Who would possibly see them?” Azriel’s eyes glimmered as he responded.

Elain felt the pads of his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs with a hint of possessiveness, jealousy flashing across his features.

“Well, if the plan with Eris really backfires tonight…” Elain teased, before smirking down at the Shadowsinger still crouched at her feet. 

A growl loosed from his throat as he buried his face in the soft skin of her stomach again, his hands each gripping the swell of her hips to keep her in place as he smothered himself in her curves. He licked a stripe from the top of her slit right to her navel. Elain’s fingers tightened their hold in his hair as she shuddered with pleasure above him.

“Wicked woman,” he uttered darkly into her sensitive skin before nipping a spot at her belly lightly between his teeth.

“Possessive male,” she shot back.

Her lip lifted at the side as she fought to stifle a smile, staring imperiously down at him. His lips left her skin, and she immediately regretted the loss of contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply didn’t want you to miss the flowers when we are down in the Hewn City tonight.”

She snorted delicately, seeing through his sarcasm. “Of course. It had nothing to do with you knowing your love bites would be blooming across my skin, just hidden beneath my clothes the entire time.”

A roughish grin spread across his face, a dimple appearing in his tanned cheek. “Not at all.”

“Scoundrel.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes gleaming in the low light of her room.

“Something to remember me by, then. When Eris falls at your feet, begging for your hand in marriage and whisks you off to the Autumn Palace.”

Elain didn’t let her disdain at that idea show, playing into Azriel’s game instead. “Hmm… as much as I love to see powerful males on their knees before me, he would never look as good as you do down there.”

Something akin to a purr rumbled from his chest at the veneration. “And don’t you forget it.”

Pressing one last, lingering kiss to her navel, Azriel unfurled himself from his position before her, capturing her red lips with his on his way up before helping her back into the drab black dress she was to wear into the Court of Nightmares.

If their efforts were to be successful, Eris would overlook the middle Archeron sister completely. Even though it was impossible for Elain to appear as anything but utterly beautiful, Azriel silently prayed to any deity that would hear him that the glamours Rhys would weave around her would do their job tonight. He loathed the idea of any of them being used to bait Eris in this way, but both Elain and Nesta were adamant to go through with the High Lord’s plan.

Azriel finished helping her with the row of buttons that trailed all the way up her back and pressed a single kiss to the budding bruise he had gifted her behind her ear. 

“Don’t let anyone uncover your secrets tonight, Lady,” he murmured hotly into her neck.

Shaking her hair so it flowed freely down her back, she locked eyes with him in the mirror before her, allowing a pretty blush to creep up her cheeks. The picture of virtuous innocence. 

“Never.”

*******

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#elriel month 2023 #t writes #elriel #acotar #elriel month #acotar fanfiction #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #elriel fic #elriel smut #prompt eight: veil

[illmetkismet]

I don't know why, but I felt the need to write a missing scene in the mines where Luis gives Leon a sweater:

----

"Feeling better?" Luis asks, flipping his lighter open and closed, lighting it, making the little flame dance between his fingers, hoping it doesn't give away how unnerving it had been to see Leon like that, black veins creeping up his arms and his neck, spidering up the sides of his jaw.

Leon is looking down at his hand, mindlessly flexing his fingers when he says, "Yeah, seems like it worked."

Leon should be overjoyed, Luis thinks, to be pulled back from that brink, but his voice sounds small and a strange sort of hollow, not helped by the echo that the mineshaft makes of his words. The lighter weaves between Luis' fingers, practiced motions that help take the edge off the reality of the situation. A Little trick. A show. Only Leon's not looking.

As Luis starts to explain - "Bad news?" - Leon picks up the remaining suppressant injector, staring down at it and then away, some kind of unreachable emptiness playing across his face. Undeterred, Luis goes on speaking, probably to himself. "All we've done is buy you some time. The suppressant's effects will wear off all too soon."

Still Leon doesn't look up, his fingers curling around the injector like it's something precious.

Luis watches him, takes in the purpling nailbeds of his blunt fingers, the gooseflesh prickling up his arms. His shirt is clinging to him in a way that seems moist and uncomfortable, body armour velcroed tightly against it. The straps of his elbow pads have rubbed red raw patches into the insides of his arms. His neck had felt clammy and cool when Luis injected the suppressant there earlier.

Leon doesn't seem to have noticed that Luis stopped talking, or the way he's looking him up and down, brows knit together.

So Luis says, "But I have something else for you," with a click of his tongue, as though he just remembered, as though he hasn't been thinking of it the whole way here, to this cold and dusty subterranean place.

Leon does look up at that, expression turning quizzical. It makes Luis breathe out a little wisp of relief, this show of life on Leon's face, and he hums a bit tunelessly as he pushes off the girder he's been leaning against, picking up an old moth-eaten sweater, trying to discreetly shake as much filth out of it as he can before holding it up by the shoulders and announcing, "Ta-da!"

Leon looks skeptical.

"It's wool," Luis offers encouragingly. "Should keep you warm and dry. Well, warmer and dryer than that soaked through shirt of yours has been managing."

Leon continues to look skeptical, but only for a few seconds longer, and then he's reaching for the sweater with one hand, the other hand already busy undoing the fastenings of his body armour and then the too-tight straps of his chafing elbow pads.

"Itchy," he complains as he pulls it over his head, but Luis catches the grateful shudder that goes through him as the sweater covers some of the pale-cold-damp expanse of him. "Where'd you get this?"

It's a plain dark grey thing, the kind the fishermen of Valdelobos wore, with the high neck and the loose sleeves. Of course, the sleeves aren't loose around the muscle of Leon's arms - a fact that isn't lost on Luis and his not-so-furtive glances.

He tries not to look overlong. Says instead, "In the village."

Leon makes a thoughtful face as he straps all of his soggy gear back on over the sweater. "Guess no one's gonna be needing it anymore."

His comment is followed by silence, the only sounds between them the rustling and sliding of straps being adjusted. Luis doesn't think he means to be callous or cruel, but his usual easy smile falters all the same at the remark, and when Leon's gaze lifts back up to his face what he finds there makes his mouth tighten with something that might be the precursor to an apology.

"I suppose you are right," Luis is quick to offer, summoning up a lopsided smile, careful not to scare Leon off, not to offend with his own dangerous brush with offence. "The dead have no use for such things."

"Well. Thanks," Leon rasps out. "Lucky that you picked it up."

Yes, lucky, Luis thinks. Doesn't think about how, up close, back at the cabin, the corners of Leon's mouth looked tinged with blue. How his fist, where it brushed against the exposed skin of his chest when he pinned him back against the wall, felt ice cold. Doesn't think about Leon shivering, after - something he only caught out the corner of his eye, before Leon tightened his jaw and drew up his shoulders and breathed in slow through his nose to stop the involuntary motion.

It had been a risky search for the sweater, but Luis doesn't think about that either.

He just says, "Yes, lucky."

Leon shoots him a weak smile, and Luis' own answering smile feels a bit too lukewarm for his liking, the cold and the damp creeping into his bones. The blue tinge is still there at the corners of Leon's mouth-- Why is he looking at his mouth?

Leon looks like he's about to say something more, but Luis is already asking, "You ready to go?", anxious to get moving again, to break the chill of this moment.

He fixes Leon with one last appraising look, and Leon thins his bloodless lips for a second before he says, "Don't worry about me. Ashley is the priority." He punctuates his words with a distracted shake of his head, as though it's unthinkable that anyone should worry about him at all, and it makes something stir in Luis' chest, a writhing sort of ache he tries to ignore.

So he grins at Leon instead, taking the cue to shift focus to Ashley and away from whatever it had just been, says, "In that case, we know what we have to do," reaching for the pipe that is not a lance, reaching for a fiction, and off they go.

#serennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy #resident evil #my fic #kinda?

[momojedi]

CHAPTER 2 :: ARC Troopers

Type: SAFE HAVEN; GN! Reader Character(s): Shaak Ti, Tipoca City Notes: I have finally come around to continuing this story !

“We’ve been preparing your arrival for the past few rotations.”

Shaak Ti, as she had introduced herself, had immediately caught you under her spell with her soft-spoken words and warm eyes. She was tall, like most Togruta women, and your cheeks quickly reddened from embarrassment when you realised how intensely you were staring at her.

After Omega had left to return to Nala Se, Shaak Ti had kindly introduced herself to you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder that quickly left you feeling safe and sound in her presence. “Come along,” she had said, guiding you down the corridor, “we have lots to discuss, young padawan.”

And that’s where you had ended up now, standing next to your new master and curiously eyeing the two troopers that had already been waiting for you near the shooting ranges. Tipoca City was still recovering from the recent Separatist attack and the place was roamed by maintenance droids and clone troopers fixing chassis and carrying crates filled with construction materials. Considering that, when you first set your eyes on the two clones, they didn’t seem out of the ordinary. That was until you noticed the recognisable ARC trooper armour.

“CT-5555 and CT-1409,” Shaak Ti introduced them to you, reassuringly nodding at them, “they are part of the Advanced Recon Commandos and were only recently stationed on Kamino. You’ll mostly be working with them for now.” You glanced between her and them, a slight hint of shyness lingering in your gaze. Despite their helmets, you could practically feel the curious eyes set on you. “Er - it’s good to have you here, Commander,” one of them, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint who, stated politely. Commander. You bit your lip unsurely - this would definitely take some time to get used to.

"General," another trooper chimed in, saluting Shaak Ti, "the Governor is requesting your presence." Your master acknowledged the information with a simple nod. "Thank you, trooper," she then redirected her attention to you, offering an apologetic smile, "I'll need to attend to this matter. However, I believe these two can handle things in my absence." The ARC troopers swiftly confirmed that with a clear "yes, sir!", making you flinch at the sudden volume change. In a mild attempt at covering up your surprise, you cleared your throat and looked up at Shaak Ti. "That's fine by me," you hesitated before smiling softly, "master." She flashed you a gentle simper and left.

"So," one of the two ARC troopers started as you turned back to them, "your General Ti's Padawan? We always thought she didn't have any - ouch!" The other trooper gently smacked the back of his bucket. "Fives! You can't say that!" You couldn't help but chuckle. It was refreshing that these two weren't as tense and apprehensive in your presence as many of the clones tended to be. The thought of everyone constantly walking on eggshells around you made you skeptical about being able to work effectively in such an environment. "Fives, huh?" The bickering duo stopped in their tracks, their buckets staring straight at you. "Yup! That's me." Fives proudly pointed at himself, "and this bucketbrain over here, that's Echo."

#STAR WARS #THE BAD BATCH #TBB #STAR WARS THE CLONE WARS #STAR WARS THE BAD BATCH #THE CLONE WARS #CLONE WARS #BAD BATCH #STAR WARS CLONE WARS #CLONE WARS X READER #STAR WARS X READER #X READER #CLONE WARS X GN READER #READER INSERT #KAMINO #BAD BATCH X READER #BAD BATCH X YOU #THE CLONES #CLONEWARS #CLONE TROOPER #CLONES #SWTCW #SW TCW #SW TCW FANFIC #JEDI READER #X YOU #STAR WARS FANFICTION #STAR WARS FANFIC #WIP TAG

[alexcors]

Well, I got some time on vacation, so I translated another chapter. I hope you enjoy it)))

Damian ran up the stairs into the house, no longer trying to convince himself that he was in a hurry to start sketching. And who did he really want to deceive, even if the Titans were whispering behind their backs, but carefully averted their eyes, pretending to believe in the "friendship" between Robin and Raven?

The bedroom greeted him with the smell of wood polish and crisp-fresh sheets, finally weathering the putrid smell of the cave. The coming dusk crept across the room like shadows, one of which fluttered weightlessly towards him, hugging his torso and breathing raggedly into his neck.

— Worried about me? — Damian smiled into the girl's hair.

— Not at all, — Raven replied calmly, her heart pounding frantically against his chest through layers of clothing and armor. — After tasting Kori's cooking, I'm pretty sure you're immortal.

— Why did you remind me? — The assassin groaned, releasing the demoness from his embrace.

—You smell... something similar," she lowered her eyes in embarrassment and took a half step back. — This is… Is it okay?

— That's fine with me, — Damian replied, knowing full well that Raven wasn't referring to the smell. — And you?

— I'm still getting used to it. It's unusual to give free rein to your own feelings. I'm not even sure I know how to express them properly. I've never had to be someone's... girlfriend before.

— So you haven't been with anyone in these two years...? — came out of his mouth before the assassin had time to think.

Damn, he wasn't going to ask about it, and if there was something, he didn't want to know!

— With my father's incessant voice in my head and unabated feelings for you? Raven raised an eyebrow skeptically, but Damian's scowl said he was waiting for a direct answer. And a short "No" swept through his body in a wave of relief.

— I didn't even think about it, — the girl added. — And you?

— I didn't go on dates with anyone, — the young man hastened to assure. — Looks like we're both new to this.

— Is there really something that Damian Wayne doesn't understand at the creator's level? — The demoness chuckled.

— Don't mock me, habibti, or I'll start practicing right now and we'll both smell like Kori's cooking, — an armoured glove tightened around her waist. — Maybe there are some rules?

— The rules of an ideal relationship? Raven snuggled closer. — I don't think there are such people.

— So we'll come up with our own, — he quickly kissed the girl on the forehead. — And we will bring it to perfection.

— Mh, are we going to have kisses on schedule?

—With tea breaks, — Damian nodded.

The mischievous lilac gaze caught the laughing green one, after which the bedroom was filled with laughter. The young man touched his lips to her hair once more, mentally thanking those unknown forces that brought Raven back to him, because, gods see, how he missed her!

#damirae #demonbirds #damian wayne #damian al ghul #raven #damian x raven #raven dc