#i just feel like the marines are combat enough

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 4 ⬅ch. 3

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. forced proximity. blood, war, and death. wc 5.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this one was fun to write!! it's a bit longer than previous chapters too. thank you for all the messages and ideas for this fic, i hope i do it justice! and as usual, feedback is appreciated <3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

...al mazrah…

you sat trembling on board the razor-1, your bag tucked between your legs, wedged nervously between two insanely muscled marines that made you feel minuscule in comparison. ghost stood as the aircraft began to land and soap gave you a reassuring look from across the terminal. 

you undid your seatbelt and you felt your fingertips vibrate as they clung to your tactical vest, all of your adrenaline was starting to make you feel sick. 

“this is capture or kill,” soap had said to you. “but we need him alive.”

“that’s where i come in,” you mumbled under your breath. 

soap nudged you on the shoulder. “don’t worry so much. you’ll hang back while we infiltrate the base hassan is camped up in. then you can swoop in to save the day when i have him bleeding out on the floor.” you rolled your eyes at soap’s confidence. “easy.”

“right,” you mocked, trying to hide the terror that was slowly seeping into your bones. 

ghost began rambling off orders, the aircraft shaking as it made contact with the ground, and you tried to instill it in your brain that you had nothing to be so fearful about; this was just another mission for the guys. they did things like this all the time for the sake of their country. but the fact that you had never been on the frontline before kept niggling your mind. you began to wonder if you were really made for this kind of shit.

it wasn’t that long ago you had wanted nothing more than to join the military to help wounded soldiers when you realized you had nothing left for you back home. after your friend died in combat, an injury that could have been mended if they had enough medics in their arsenal, you decided to put on a brave face and save soldiers just like him. regardless of what you thought about war, you wanted to be a medic, meaning neutral ground. you were there to mend the fallen, it didn’t matter to you what side they were on.

and as much as you didn’t like to brag or be filled with a sense of pride–it always made you uncomfortable–it was just a technicality to say you were at the top of your class. the best of the best , as price had said. 

“keep up,” ghost grunted to you as he turned to exit the craft, walking down the ramp. you shook yourself out of your head-pounding thoughts and quickly followed the group of men out of the ship, leaving team alpha behind. 

you stumbled onto the ground, the strays of your hair that stuck out from under your beanie beneath your helmet fluttered in the wind as the ship took off to take team alpha downrange. 

“razor-1, all bravo deployed. moving to secondary hlz,” the pilot said over the comms for everyone to hear. 

your eyes locked onto soap’s, his gun at the ready. he nodded his head, urging you to follow him. you both made your descent with the rest of bravo, willing your hands not to shake as you held your gun up, your night vision goggles set over your eyes.

“all stations- razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!” the pilot’s anxious voice echoed in your ears. “incoming- flares! flares!”

you watched as the horizon lit up in front of you, hustling to stay beside soap. 

“shit that was close!” another voice spoke. 

and then, an urgent “second missile!”

you tensed, scurrying after the group of men who crept down the small incline. things were picking up fast. you had barely been out of the ship–it was certainly less than two minutes–and explosions and gunfire were already filling the air.

“oh fuck…!”

“razor-1 going down! we’re going down!”

your teeth clenched as you switched into a run, all your gear slowing you down and making you huff your breaths. 

“stay close!” you heard soap yell in your ear. 

you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you. the smell of ash began to fill your senses.

“hold up,” ghost commanded. the team stopped, a small explosion erupting at the bottom of the hill where building 1 was located.

“alpha, what’s your status?”

coughing and wheezing breaths harrowingly echoed on the comms. 

“alpha, how copy…?” ghost said with a bit more urgency. 

“bravo- alpha is immoblie. multiple critical!” a brief pause sounded between the man’s reply. “oh, shit! we’re taking effective fire!”

you clenched your gun. what if you, or soap, or ghost had been assigned alpha? you sucked in a breath of air and tried to calm your racing heart. 

“alpha, we’re moving to building 1. hold tight.” ghost’s voice was so smooth as he spoke like this type of shit was a regular occurrence to him. the same candace as someone who was greeting a friend in a coffee shop. his nonchalance sent shivers up your spine. 

“ghost, we need to secure that crash site now,” soap spoke.

“first, we clear for hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. then we secure the crash site. clear?”

“roger that.”

“let’s move.”

ghost, hustling towards the rocky house, swept into your line of sight. soap turned his head and when he saw you were close behind him, he took off after ghost. 

“force up to the house.” ghost whispered. 

you stumbled over the uneven terrain, the weight of all your gear and the obstruction the goggles caused was making it difficult to see. 

the sound of shuffling pants, boots crunching the pebbled earth, and the slight hum of machinery was the only sound in your ears when no one was speaking. you felt your chest tighten with nerves. 

suddenly, with your body realizing the height of the situation, you began to steady. you were good under pressure. exceptionally good. this is why you were here , you told yourself. you could do this .

you heard an enemy soldier shouting something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out–he must have been speaking arabic.

the group rounded up outside the house and ghost scaled the edge of the building. a man handed him a sledgehammer. “breacher up,” he said faintly before he slammed it into the wooden door. you felt a chill catch along the hairs of your arms as he broke open the door in one swift motion, you could see his muscles taut even through his thick layers of clothes. 

“sweep through,” ghost called. soap was at the doorway and began shooting.

you tried to pay attention to your surroundings as you waited for soap and ghost to clear the way. the blazing fire in the distance sent eerie shadows along the buildings and barren trees. 

“first deck clear! negative on hassan,” a bravo said. 

another replied, “copy that, second deck’s clear!”

“rog,” ghost grunted. 

you slipped into the building behind the men, watching as they scanned their surroundings and made themselves safe behind barriers. 

“contact! building 2!” a voice shouted. 

you stumbled back against a storage cabinet as gunfire ricocheted off the walls. 

“they know we’re here!” ghost shouted. in a startling motion, he turned to you, spying you immediately as you shifted your weight. “stay down!”

you nodded and huddled behind a workbench. the men began shooting rounds at the men in building 2. the sharp metallic clank of a bullet hitting a metal desk off to your right made you jump, the shell clinking on the floor like a fallen coin. you felt your eyes widen slightly. 

“all bravo, move on building 2!” ghost stated, his voice a welcoming sound through your headset. you tried to focus on his voice instead of the shouts of men and blasting echoes of weapons.

ghost and someone from alpha spoke to each other as the men started their way towards building 2. soap appeared beside you and helped you up. “you alright, lass?”

you nodded, “m’good.” you brushed yourself off and followed soap as he led you out of the building and towards another that was roughly 100 feet before your squad. you could see ghost already approaching the second building, his feet shuffling as he stayed out of the line of sight of the open doorway. 

shouts in arabic made you stagger as you walked. gunshots in the distance followed by the occasional explosion filled the otherwise gorgeous night. you slid your goggles up and glanced at the starry sky. if it wasn’t for the bloodshed unfolding before you, you could easily see yourself laying out on one of these hills, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you watched the stars–they were so bright without all the light pollution.

soap slid up to one of the open doors and motioned for you to huddle beside another fellow sergeant. soap was bundled in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, and his night vision goggles on–same as you. you wondered if you looked as intimidating as he did. 

“prep for breach,” ghost said. 

“7-1 moving interior,” soap responded. 

he quickly shot down three enemy soldiers before disappearing inside the building. you followed in pursuit, your heart hurting as you saw slouched bodies pool with blood, even if you knew they were the enemy. you hurried after soap and caught a glimpse of ghost using his knife to slice into a man with barely any effort. blood began to coat his gloves. 

you crept behind soap as he slowly moved up the stairs to the second floor. gunshots repeatedly fired in front of the two of you. 

“i’m hit!” a bravo shouted. 

you dashed up the stairs but soap pulled you back before you reached the top, gripping your utility vest to bring you into him. “hey! wait till i clear it!” 

“okay, then hurry up!” you huffed as soap went ahead of you and leaned around the corner, taking out the men in the other room. 

you used that time to scurry off behind him and out onto the terrace where the injured soldier had crawled in order to get out of firing range. 

you crouched beside him and slung your bag off your shoulder. “here,” you said as you pressed a cloth to his bullet wound. “hold pressure!”

a loud shotgun in the next room made you jump. you turned to look, your hands deep in your bag. you spotted soap and let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn’t him at the end of the barrel. 

you heard soap’s footsteps return out onto the deck. “one’s in the hallway,” the soldier said to soap. 

you worked deftly to pack and wrap the wound as soap slid off down the hall and you heard a strangled cry as he knifed someone. 

“ghost, enemy rockets down,” soap said in your ear. 

“thanks,” the man before you mumbled as his hand replaced yours where he began to hold the bandage. you heard soap speaking in the next room.

“the house is clear. time to go,” ghost muttered in your ear. 

“it just grazed you,” you said to the sergeant. “you should be alright as long as we limit the bleeding.”

soap appeared beside you moments later, helping the man up as he limped. “you good to walk?” 

the man nodded. 

“all bravo circle up outside,” ghost commanded. 

“let’s go,” soap said down to you. 

you ran after soap down the steps and out into the field. you spotted the crash site not too far ahead and you felt your ears ring seeing the formidable tower of flames in the backdrop.

it didn’t take long to approach the ship and you followed soap and ghost as they entered the terminal.

“we got five k.i.a., one wounded. it’s just my gun and i’m low on ammo.” 

you slid past soap and rushed to the man on the ground. the sergeant was knocked out cold and you quickly tried to make a mental note of his vitals. you tried to remember his name, but with everything that was occupying your brain right now, it eluded you.

you knew the others were talking, but you didn’t hear them as you honed in on the man bleeding out before you. 

“get your gun on that tree line,” you finally deciphered through your hazy thoughts as ghost spoke.

you looked over your shoulder as loud explosions went off and shook the craft. 

“fuck, man! fuck,” the alpha said. 

“you called it, lt.!” soap said as he aimed his gun out the ship’s window. 

as you bandaged the man, ghost and soap began firing rapidly. 

“they’re getting close. secure the ramp!”

your heart felt like it was in your throat. another bomb went off and the craft shook violently. you yelped, falling sideways. 

“sergeant!” ghost called. you pushed yourself up and tried to orient yourself. ghost shouted your name when you wouldn’t reply. you looked up at him. “you alright?”

you stared at him before your eyes flickered to soap who was shooting his gun out the window. 

“are you alright?” ghost said more forcefully, his frame bending in half, his face now in your direct line of sight to grab your attention. it hadn’t registered that ghost was talking to you. you were only frazzled from the rocking of the craft, the explosions ringing in your ear, but you were otherwise safe behind ghost and soap, so you weren’t sure why he was so set on making sure you were okay. 

however, ghost seemed to not be able to accept that you were okay until you verbally told him. 

“yes,” you said faintly. ghost turned back to aiming his gun out the window without a second thought.

after another minute of gunfire, there was a lull. 

“we clear?” soap asked. 

“for now…” ghost replied. 

you finished wrapping the arm of the bleeding soldier, and assessed that he had hit his head and had knocked himself out. 

“alpha, you’re with us.” ghost commanded as he took off out of the ship. you and the men followed. you spoke over the comms to let the others know you left a soldier back in the crash site. he was wounded, but would be okay. 

“those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they?” alpha 0-2 said. 

“they’re well supplied and fighting relentlessly. thanks to hassan,” ghost said unhappily. 

soap looked back at you. “keep up. we’re gonna need ya.”

you hustled behind him, your pistol at the ready.

the lot of you ran a wide berth, sprinting towards building 3, hoping hassan was inside. the sharp whistle of a bullet spiraled past you. 

“a.q. sniper on the roof! get down!” ghost shouted to everyone. before you even had a chance to move, ghost was pushing you down into the grass. you gasped as you were squashed beneath him, laid out on the dirt. he held his gun up and aimed at the roof as he lay beside you. 

“soap, take out the shooter. rest o’ ya stay low until we’re all clear!” ghost said, not acknowledging the fact that he had just pressed you flat to the ground, his body half covering yours. 

soap shot a bullet. “sniper down!”

ghost rolled off of you and stood up, giving you a quick hand as he heaved you upright. he didn’t even look at you before he took off running towards building 3. your entire body was tingling.

it looked like a gallant eruption of fireworks above the building as enemy bullets fired toward you. air support lighting up the sky. soap was a few feet behind you and picked off the snipers one by one. you followed close behind the others as you approached the building. 

soap was quick to follow, coming up from behind and going up the stairs and into the decrepit house. “7-1, moving interior,” he said. 

glass exploding rippled in the building and you peeked inside to see soap shooting someone down. 

“check the bodies, we need positive i.d. on hassan,” ghost said as he slid off to go in the right-side entrance. 

you hunched over slightly as you followed behind him, looking down at ghost’s trail of corpses as you did, checking for hassan. 

“anyone have eyes on hassan?” ghost asked after a minute. 

“negative on hassan,” soap replied. 

you tripped over rubble and fell to your knees with a huff. “shit,” you muttered to yourself. your foot was lodged in the concrete chunks. you tried to pull it free but that just shifted the rubble further, a large piece falling over your ankle. it was too heavy for you to move yourself. the house shook.

“sergeant,” ghost said, making you look up. he had backtracked when he realized you were no longer behind him. 

“i can’t get my foot loose,” you said. 

arabic echoed down the hall making your head snap up in alert. ghost began moving faster, squatting down as he approached you and heaving the rubble aside to get your foot out in one easy motion. 

“ow, fuck,” you said, biting your lip to try and muffle your sounds. 

ghost’s eyes flickered to yours before he moved the last piece that set your foot free. 

the rest of bravo had already moved to the antithetical end of the house when the voices began to close the distance. 

“shit,” ghost mumbled, pulling you up. he did so with such force that you collided into him, your hands landing against his chest with a gasp.

the men sounded close and you counted at least four different voices. their candace rose as they edged closer, like they were right around the corner when you were moved by ghost and suddenly faced with darkness. 

“wha–” 

ghost’s hand covered your mouth to silence you, pushing you against a wall. your eyes adjusted and you saw a sliver of light pour in through the slats of the door. ghost had pulled you into a closet. a very tiny closet at that. 

your chest was pressed flesh against ghost’s, the room far too small to hold yourself and ghost–who was already too big to fit in a closet on his own, let alone one with you. 

you could feel his chest move up and down as he steadied his breathing. your hands were on his utility vest. the voices of the men were now right outside the door. your fingers gripped tight on his vest as you tried to be as quiet as possible. he slowly let his hand fall to his side when he could trust you to be silent.

why wasn’t ghost attacking them? you’ve seen him take down trained men in less than two seconds. so why did he decide to hide now? was four too many for him? you doubted it, but you also tried not to think of the logistics because all that swam through your mind was how close ghost was to you. there was almost no space between your bodies, his front flesh against yours as he pushed you against the wall. 

a rectangle of light slid across ghost’s face, illuminating his eyes which were visible now that his goggles were turned up on his helmet, making the brown in them gleam. like he could feel you staring, he looked down at you and you felt your face heat. you shifted your stance, trying to widen the distance between your bodies but your back was already flat against the wall. there was nowhere to go. 

“what’re you doin’?” he said quietly.

you glared at him in response as you continued to slightly shift your body, wanting to at least have it so your side was pressed against him and not your front. you tried to shuffle your feet, wanting to turn, to push him back a bit, but you ended up just rubbing against him instead.

“quit squirming!” he finally hissed, his hands coming out to rest on either side of your head. 

well now you were just stuck in an awkward stance so you tried to move your hips a bit, wanting to pull them away from ghost and back to how you were originally standing, but with the limited space, you were essentially just moving your hips against his own. 

ghost growled in his throat and you stopped moving and let your breathing steady. you felt something hard press against your stomach and your eyes widened as you stared at ghost’s chest. 

oh my god, you thought.

you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes flickered to his own, his eyes already pouring into you. your breath got caught in your throat. “i told ya to quit fuckin’ wiggling ‘round,” he said as if that made things more appropriate. 

a flash of heat ebbed through your core. you told yourself that this was purely a physical thing– men could get turned on by a goddamn gust of wind if it hit them the right way. this had nothing to do with the fact that it was you pressed against him. this kind of bodily response would have happened no matter who it was against him.  

you went to clench your thighs together in nerves and heat but you were stopped by ghost’s thigh. you realized the ceiling in there was too short for him and he had to hunch over, his knees bending and leaning on the wall between your own legs. oh my god , you thought again.

your face went red hot. fuck, of course you were stuck with ghost in the world’s smallest closest.

ghost’s eyes traced your face when he felt your legs press against his own, a sudden flare igniting in them. 

oh no, did he think you were… you quickly worried. you wondered if ghost could tell you had been squeezing your legs together to subdue the quick sweeping sensation of arousal you got–this was not the time or place!

ghost’s head shifted ever so slightly closer to your own and his eyes were now disguised by the shadows of the closet. you could feel his warm breath against your face as he panted through his mask. you were trapped. he had you pinned, his large arms encasing your head, his leg between your own, his face inching closer to yours. 

you felt your breath get lost in your throat, your mind suddenly going blank. 

“ghost! ghost, where are you?” soap’s voice broke through both of your ears. 

ghost halted any and all movement, his eyes flickering between your own. you realized you no longer heard iranian voices and wondered how long the men had been out of range. 

it was as if ghost realized that at the same time you did because he pushed away from you and slid out the door, into the dusty and war-torn living room. now that he was away from you and not clogging your brain, you thought you might have imagined the way he had been edging toward you.

“deck one secure. any i.d. on hassan?” ghost spoke, his voice strained. 

you slid out of the closet behind him. “negative, lt.” soap replied. 

ghost turned to you as you stumbled into him, your ankle giving out at the most opportune time. 

“ shit ,” you grunted. ghost turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing in the flames that brewed inside the building. “sorry,” you muttered. 

“keep close,” he said to you. you felt your chest ignite. you had to control your eyes from shifting to his waist to see what you felt moments earlier. you were surprised your willpower was strong enough. 

ghost led you around the bend and up a set of stairs, soap appearing beside you both. “pushing second deck.”

you slid on your night vision goggles and watched as ghost scurried to the side of a door when he made it to the top of the steps. a man opened it and walked through, ghost grabbing him and slamming him against the wall, the man’s gun pressed to his chest. in two swift motions, ghost shot his abdomen then his head, letting the body sink down. 

jesus . you always knew ghost was a ruthless killer, but that was more so knowledge in theory. it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold before your own eyes. 

you followed the men as they stealthed into the next room. you heard soap’s gun go off, and then ghost’s voice. “clear. hassan’s everywhere…” 

you could hear hassan’s voice as it played in the distance, seemingly from every room. a video on loop of him speaking nonsense sat in the shadows like a horror movie. you felt a chill run down your legs realizing that no matter which way you turned, hassan’s voice was not far off. 

“everywhere but here,” you mumbled. ghost’s eyes scanned you up and down before trailing on into the next room. you swore every hair on your body stood on its ends. 

“the perpetrators of general ghorbrani’s execution must be sentenced to the death penalty and the world must witness the death of those responsible!” hassan’s iranian accent sang through a crackling radio. 

you and soap poked around, not finding anything of use, apart from soap spotting hassan’s uniform, meaning he had recently been here. 

“so he was here,” you muttered.

“lost him when we secured the crash site,” ghost spoke, looking between you and soap.

“are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” soap asked.

ghost averted his eyes on his next words as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “choices have consequences…” his eyes gazed over to yours, burning holes through his skull mask. you could see the disappointment and guilt that was attached to his statement. you were surprised at how much emotion he was able to exude through just his eyes. you wondered if he knew that. 

“all bravo- we got movement out here,” someone said over the comms. 

ghost reached up to click his receiver, his eyes still on yours, “on the way.”

you followed behind the two men as the continued to speak. as you made it out behind the house, ghost spoke, “what do we got?”

“a warehouse. roll up doors open. heard somethin’ inside.”

ghost spoke with a sense of assuredness, “copy, let’s clear it.”

you trailed the men as they all took off towards the large warehouse, ghost and soap hoping that hassan was nestled inside. 

you rested your back against the building as the men started inside, gunshots and smoke bombs going off as they fought the enemy planted in the warehouse. 

“all alone?” a husky voice with a thick iranian accent spoke. you looked to your right, your hands grabbing your gun, startled, when a man disarmed you in a quick, fluid motion. 

you yelped as his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you forcefully to the exterior wall. you saw static stars begin to spread across your vision. 

shit, shit, shit.

your legs flailed as you tried to kick and squirm your way out of his grip. his hand held you tighter. you swore your feet began to lift off the ground. recalling all the training you had done the last two weeks, you propped your knee up, bending it as much as you could against your chest, then shot it out with all the strength you could manage. the man stumbled, releasing you, as he collapsed onto the ground. 

“eahira” bitch . he scrambled to get up and you panicked, trying to get your knife out of it’s sheath. 

before the man could grab you again, his body just a hair from your own, a bullet pierced his skull. flecks of his blood squirted across your exposed face like red freckles. you stood in complete shock, the man sinking to the ground with a thump.

it was ghost that replaced the dead man, his hands resting on your shoulder, his deep voice saying your name repeatedly. 

you finally looked up at him. “are you okay?” you swear you could see a bit of pride in his eyes as he took you in.

you nodded weakly, wincing as your neck muscles throbbed in pain from the small movement. 

ghost yanked your mask up to look at your neck, already beginning to bruise. 

his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “if that fucker wasn’t already dead, i’d tie him up and rip off his limbs one by one for that.”

you couldn’t help the astonished laugh from escaping your lips at the exorbitant threat. then a pang of heat surfaced when you realized ghost had made no such threats as his other men were picked off. he also didn’t seem to rush to their aid immediately. yet here he was… with you. 

“hassan,” you said meekly. 

ghost’s hands left your shoulders as he straightened. you felt a bit of sadness at the loss of contact. 

“not here. found an arsenal of ballistic missiles. american missiles.”

your eyes widened at the information. “and shepperd…”

“already alerted.”

you nodded. “so that’s it then?” you asked, referring to the war trail you and your men left behind with nothing to show for it. 

ghost gave a nod back. “we’re one step closer. we’ll find him.” 

you don’t know why you took his word with such ease, but you knew he meant what he said. ghost wouldn’t rest until he had hassan in his clutches. 

day broke by the time a humvee arrived to carry you all back to base. the injured men were loaded on one, the rest of bravo and alpha on another. there were significantly fewer men than when you started this hours ago. you felt a heavy feeling swarm your chest. 

you were busy making sure your bag was closed and that you had all your things in it when you looked up and saw ghost step into the back of the vehicle. 

you scurried to catch up, the last one as you climbed into the back. as you went to stand, the humvee took off, making you stumble and lose balance. 

fuck , was the last thought you had as you felt yourself falling backward out of the vehicle. your arms flailed, trying to grab onto something, when a hand gripped your vest, yanking you forward and onto the humvee. 

you looked up in relief to find ghost glaring at you. his hand was still tight around your tactical vest, the other men closest to the back were out of their seats in an effort to grab you. but of course, ghost got there first. 

his eyes bore into your own, an odd wave of spite in them. 

you knew it was your fault for dilly-dallying, but was he really going to be upset at you for almost falling out of the vehicle? it should cause more annoyance than anger, really. 

you gulped and ghost released you, moving back to his seat. you stared after him until you felt soap touch your wrist. “sit,” he mumbled. 

you focused on him instead of your lieutenant and sat in the empty seat beside soap. 

you shifted your bag so it was on your lap, the men around you silent, all of them exhibiting a mix of disappointment in their mission and exhaustion. 

you felt his eyes on you–something that seemed to happen a lot lately. you tried to resist, but you looked in his direction and met his gaze. you thought he’d look away, but he held you in a challenge across the truck. he still had all his gear on when most others had stripped some of theirs off.

he sat a bit forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glared at you. 

you felt your heartbeat race and you felt like you might be sick with all the adrenaline running through you today–it couldn’t be healthy.

you finally coward away and looked down at your bag. a looming feeling coursed through your body. for whatever reason, the moment he pulled you into the truck felt like it was a breaking point for him. he was right back to hating you. despising everything you did. you felt yourself shrink in on yourself.

you never felt his eyes leave you the entire way back. 

chapter 5 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

[glimblshanks]

The Inner Fight recontextualizes so much about Lower Decks season 2 btw.

Like of course Mariner spends basically that whole season losing her absolute shit over Boimler leaving for the Titan. She wasn't actually upset about him abandoning her for a promotion. She was upset because her best friend was suddenly on a combat vessel, and more importantly, a combat vessel captained by one of the same commanding officers who sent Sito to die in Cardassian space (I know Riker himself wasn't super involved in that decision, but I think it's unlikely Mariner was actually given enough details about Sito's death to know that, ya feel me?)

So yeah, no, obviously she was acting unreasonably angry and not communicating about it well. Boimler being on the Titan was probably a living nightmare for her.

And then in Where Pleasant Fountains Lie she intentionally gets Brad reassigned from a dangerous mission because she doesn't think he can handle it. And yeah, maybe she really doesn't think he can handle it, but also he just got back from the Titan, and he's alive, and he's safe on the Cerritos with her again, and then suddenly he's getting assigned to go fight giant, deadly, centipedes??

Of course, she's gonna go behind his back to get him put on the safe, boring, transport mission with her instead. That makes perfect sense knowing what we now know about her trauma.

Like Mariner is truly going through it in season 2 in a way that isn't immediately evident without the context of Sito, and it really does take a rewatch to realize how smart the writing is on that.

#lower decks #star trek #beckett mariner #star trek lower decks #st lwd #lwd #lwd s4 spoilers #lwd spoilers #bradward boimler #marinler #??

[g-xix]

oh my days did u hear about wilbur soot literally physically abusing shelby

YESYESYES I DID!!!

For the girlies that don't know: I was a minecraft girlie in 2021.

And Wilbur Soot was a big part of that MC phase. He was undeniably hot, but he was also quite open ab mental health stuffs + created quite a safe space for minorities whether that be the gay community, mental health talking space... That's all from the top of my head. In short - he's hot and an empath and ppl liked that ab him

He also kinda showed his "quirky loco character" in music vids or just in streams.

Kinda ironic he's now fulfilling the role that character he mockingly made, tho.

What did he do? Well, he was in a relationship w Shelby Shubble and his way of showing "affection" would be to bite her. Kinda understand biting as a way of showing love as long as it's not life threatening, painful, or in aggression... I mean, ChrisMD does that shit all the time to ArthurTV n it seems more endearing than to really do any bads.

Thing is, Wilbur would end up hurting Shelby. Aaaand so Wil said 'hey let's make a safeword for u 2 say when it hurts so that ik and can stop so i don't harm u'.... but when Shelby used that safeword, broski wuld either grind down or go a lil bit harder b4 letting go.

And Shelby's described it as she would oftentimes scream/yell bc it was so hard, and he'd 'smile' afterwards which is mad psycho (term used loosely) imo. Because also, he'd do ts in public??? Yk, with his friendship group around him n Shelby, the lovely jovely couple? Straight out weird negl.

So, there's context.

Lots of varying opinions online which i would soooo love to get into...

BUT DISCLAIMER BEFORE I DO: Realistically, this is abuse, and thus it is a crime. I've talked about this on my page before - cancel culture can be unecessary in minor incidences, and cancel culture can be not-enough in instances whereby people have simply done illegal things.

This is one of those illegal things. So, whilst I do chat about this light-heartedly or for entertainment, gossip-y purposes - do realise that this is a real life problem that has has major issues in many peoples' lives.

Now, continuing with the juicy waffley discussions that ppl like hearing:

So firstly, some of the Twitter memes are fucking hilarious. I do love that under Wilbur's Twitter apology, loads of MCYTers have joined to clown his goofy ahh. And all those memes saying that Bill smelled such a shit apology he returned to twitter after years + the DSMP are like Avengers in Infinity War returning to all fight enemy No1 WILBUR...

But that being said, DREAM REPLYING TOO????

I spoke ab Dream being a groomer around Christmas time + heard loads of ppl out on vouching for Dream or calling him disgusting, dahdahdah... But the fact that sm ppl are turning around and praising Dream for calling out Wilbur's goofiness is acc MAAAD.

Why's everyone forgotten Dream is j as goofy? And an alleged groomer? And just plain? Not even plain something, brodie is just the plainest mf i've ever seen. Ever since he face revealed, his personality j evaporated on out of his body (anyone feel this asw?)

But no, ppl who are now agreeing w Dream to combat Wilbur as if Dream hasn't also committed what is debateably a crime (ik he 'cleared up the rumours' but it's v hard to fight of groomer allegations when you let them sit and marinate for approx 6 months) is fucking WILD shit to me.

Secondly, people are analysing loads of Wilbur's other prev actions too and saying these should've been red flags to Wilbur being an a-hole before we even heard Shubble's solid proof.

And some of these clips of evidence (e.g. Niki saying Wil bites her + threw her, Tommy getting his hand stomped, throwing apple at Techno) feel very valid.

But other bits I do wonder - are they just being over analysed? Yk, like with the clip of Wil shouting at Tommy for streaming + stealing his wallet, i was super sure that was staged as is (j had it confirmed now by the Twitter community note asw lol) and also, whilst Wil's shouting does feel extreme and hurtful from a viewer pov... Having a wallet stolen, place of work broken in to, litr knowing the place where you work to make all income could be taken away from u bc a friend thought it funny to break in n loudly + rowdily stream... i gotta say that some form of anger or upset is valid there. And this isn't to validate Wilbur's assholery, this is just to point out that whilst ppl are throwing clips into the fire and saying "this is more proof Wil was a bad person from the start" - do try see other interpretations of it and form your own line of reasoning - yk - "is this a valid point or is this someone using the drama to get some extra likes and attention to boost their account" (because believe me, ppl would - if ppl would use Techno's death to get more channel views and interactions - ppl would also most definitely use abuse as a means to engage more ppl).

Aaaaaand let's talk about the little Lovejoy band. Ngl i fucken loved their stuff, quite sad to see it go down the drain because 3/4 of them are public targets, now.

So ik we hate Wil for being an abuser. And I've seen that ppl dislike Mark bc he supported Maccies (what did he do fr tho bc i have no clue - did he j eat a McDonalds or what?) And we hate Ash Kabosu for saying it's bad to make fun of those deaths on the submarine...

Controversial opinion but I don't blame Ash allat much??? Now imma explain myself - but pls understand that i don't knoe 100% ab the situation, im v detached from the MCYT sphere of the online community.

But hear me out.

I'm a big believer in cherishing life, life is v important, life is a blessing.... Not from a rly religious pov, moreso in a spiritual way. Because if we only get one life, fuck, it's pretty damn precious. And whilst all those Oceangate memes were haha heehee funny watches, at the end of the day, people did die. And I do find that quite sad.

People say it's fine to laugh and make fun of those who were in there and died bc they were just billionaires who went down there for their own personal entertainment.

Just because they're billionaires doesn't make them any less human than us? Sure, they have a lot more money and are probably a lot more detached from working class issues which the majority of the population faces... But their drowning will have hurt and caused just as much pain to them as it would to us if we were in their situation. And my god, I can't even begin to think about the pain their families must have felt.

Those deaths were a fucking tragedy, realistically - and maybe i'm 'overreacting' here - but c'mon, empathy is literally encoded into our DNA as humans, surely I'm not the only one that can see the heartlessness in just laughing and memeing those deaths?

So Ash Kabosu haterism I don't fully understand, is the conclusion of that sub-rant.

And then I think this is the final little bit I'll discuss considering this is a loooong post:

James Marriott.

Jimbo Mazza, Jimbatron, James Marriott.

Lowkey my big flex, I've been a fan of him since 2020, and I got into his hater-commentary content initially. And ngl, when he transitioned to Minecraft? It was so fkn obvious he was trying to tailor to the MCYT audience to get their approval and entrance into the MCYT community, it made me absolutely cringe - and the blindness of everybody to that fact was insane to me.

Like, he was literally beegggging to be added to SMPs, he'd try and portray this "uncontrollable, quirky" character and would be so "unhinged" that everyone would love him... But ngl, that shit was literal brainrot, and he had you guys (me included tbf, bc i'd watch - just cringing whilst watching) ROTTING your brains with spamming the chat w allat bs that u do on Twitch

Nowadays, I like James tho. I feel like he feels ingrained enough within the community to branch out and not have to play up to the disturbing, disgusting cringefest - and so now he's funnier and having a better time streaming.

I mean, he looks absolutely great too - his tours have him confidence-boosted (rightfully so), because he's in great shape, like, he's genuinely lost noticable fat and put on muscle which has him looking trim as ever - he's grown his hair out into a flattering mullet - Shit, i believe looksmaxxing is the boy-equivalent of the makeup industry profiting off of womens' insecurity....

But the Jimbatron has absolutely looksmaxxed for the best.

That being said however, people saying "I OFFER JIMBO AS A REPLACEMENT FOR WILBUR!!" are fucking weirdos (respectfully but also kinda not)

Bro has just abused people and you're mourning the loss of a content creator and oh no - your favourite band - so you're trying to serve up replacements like a fucking chef that's ran out of a specific ingredient??????????

Yeah, James is less problematic and has 2x the personality Wilbur has- BUT WHY DOES IT TAKE WILBUR COMING OUT AS A FKN ABUSER FOR PPL TO START PROMOTING JAMES????

This is like that whole thing whereby ppl put other girls down to point out to success or beauty of other girls: it takes everyone noticing how bad Wilbur is, to point out the goodness of James.

James litr banned people who wouldn't stfu about Wilbur in his chat in early streams, bc he was sick of ppl following him for Wilbur and who just wanted to talk about Wilbur on James' platform.... I don't think James rly wants to share an identity, or have his platform built from being against Wilbur.

Not proof read this post fully. But take-aways from this: -Yeah Dream is cooking Wilbur on Twitter but don't forget he's an alleged groomer + is deffo using this as a way to get back into the audience's "good books" -RIP Lovejoy but some1 explain what Mark did fully + why ppl think Ash is so abominable for showing empathy to ppl dying -Rmbr that this is acc a serious crime, don't downplay ts -Stop fucking promoting James Marriott thru Wilbur's downfall, it rly discredits James' authenticity and original building of a community -So proud to say that after a few months of getting into MCYT stuff i felt as though Wilbur was icky + just plainout didn't like him/got odd vibes -And lol, acc so jarring how Wil reminds me of this guy in my yr - complete mummy's boy, underestimates and belittles women bc his mum handed everything to him on a plate n so he doesn't empathise w them but rather expects the world from them whilst simultaneously treating them like shit, 'radical', extremely 'woke' about modern situations but is so stubborn and refuses to see two sides of a picture.... Tbh I might j hate the guy in my yr and be projecting that onto Wil

Btw, feel free to argue w me in my inbox ab this but whilst i was quite critical - pls do not be mean to me or criticise me that harshly - if im talking to some1 one on one, i won't be this mean

(ALSO ANON, SORRY BC I WAS QUITE RUDE IN THIS REPLY BC I LOWKEY FORGOT I WAS REPLYING TO U, I WAS IN MY OWN HEAD AB WAFFLING AB SHELBY N WILL, LY AND TY FOR ASKING AB IT THO BC I DEFFO NEEDED TO WAFFLE AB IT SOMEWHERE)

#WAFFLE!! #tw abuse #wilbur soot #dream smp #youtube #shubble #shelby #tommyinnit #niki nihachu #dream #ash kabosu #lovejoy #mark boardman #dreamwastaken #mcyt #arthurtv #chrismd #twitch #minecraft community #twitter #sbi #technoblade

[kit-williams]

Glaubenskraft

The big Black Legion/Luna Wolf story. Because of the dark nature of this story aka the rape and other heavy themes like with other dark themed stories there is no use of you or I. There will be an OC that is going to be sent into the dark depths. I will say this with scensarity. When I write for 40k I do take advantage of the grimdarkness of the far future. You are all probably aware of this if you've read a lot of what I write. This is one of the fics I pushed to the limit. I'm also going to apologize for combat scenes I'm not very good at them.

tw: Rape (dead dove do not eat), Forced Pregnancy, some mind break, stockholm syndrome, Breeding and impregnation talk and kinks, clothed male unclothed female for one part, and please let me know if there is something I have missed

Zhur Painbane

Dolli Quest: purple eyes, prosthetic left leg, prosthetic left hand, scars on her arms, large aquilia tattoo on her back from shoulder to shoulder, red hair

Cadia would fall... it was inevitable really. The crusade would succeed but Zhur Painbane was simply here to cause terror within the Cadian trenches as they push hard. His furred cape was black and sooty still hanging together since the days he was a Luna Wolf... a faded wolf head holding the center red gem on his chest. His golden mask turned upward as the booming crack across the sky as the Maelstrom seemed to lash out against the Imperials.

They were trying to surround him. How cute. He thought as they shot at him with heavy munition.

"Dolli call artillery!" He heard someone shout. As his head whips to the soon to be dead Cadian shooting him in his head!

"Yes Sir!" She shouts as she forces Zhur to snarl and reel back slightly to avoid a shot in the eye lens. You're going to die slowly little rabbit. Though he might have fun with that one... he enjoys the shape of her face... the strong jaw and the vibrant amethyst eyes that practically glow. Zhur wants to see that face of hers look hopeless.

He began the quick slaughter as he watched her run down a section of the trench, hopping over holes and dead bodies. When she got far enough... he shot a few rounds and rushed after her.

Dolli got the radio warning of the Chaos Space Marine on her tail. She unloaded a few hand grenades feeling them blow up behind her and causing a chain reaction with unexploded ordinance behind her or grenades. Even the heat of that behind her kept her going as she knew he would be right there. She slid herself to the vox. "This is Vox Alfa 4 fire on our position. We have a Charlie Sierra Mike running through the trench. Emperor Protect our souls."

"Emperor Protects." Was all she got on the other end of the line.

The heavy and chunky thud of her rifle bought her a few seconds as he rushed down upon her. She pressed the barrel of her gun to his throat and pulled the trigger several times. His head jerking back as she barely missed his vocal cords and spinal cord. Snarling as those black and gold fingers dug into the blood filled mud as she overcharged her las and burned several holes into his arm. She kept him on his toes as he played with his food... Dolli knew he was playing with her... she just had to be enough fun.

Zhur heard the whistling and tackled her into the bunker nearby as the earth shaking rounds threw dirt into the air. He was snarling as he could feel his organs shutter. He ground his sharp teeth looking at the body under him. He wasn't a dedicated slannshi to fuck a warm corpse. His fingers cupped her chin as he looked at her, nose and ears bleeding from the explosions and most likely ruptured her organs.

He turned away and walked toward the entrance. She would have made a fine subject to his experiment... a refinement to Honsou's design. Honsou was onto something but he did it wrong... the human body is already capable of flushing out the rejects naturally. Zhur was on the cusp of success... just the last female he had went insane and had died outside of his control but she gave birth to what was essentially a space marine.

Dolli pulled out her knife as she looked at the space marine just standing there. She was going to die... she accepted this... but if she could be the reason this traitor dies she could be happy with it.

Zhur snarled as the knife buried itself into his side and he heard the mechanics of a priming grenade. His honey brown eyes flicked to his side seeing Dolli there with her hand on the knife and the grenade in her hand. She was making a reach to try and tangle herself against his armor.

Dolli doesn't know what happened exactly in that moment as she had stabbed him and was ready to meet the Emperor. The next moment the grenade was out of her hand and her breath was knocked out of her as she felt herself being cradled. Had a loyalist space marine come and saved her? No... it was still black and gold armor against her... NO... NO NO NO NO NO. Dolli began to thrash as nothing good ever came of being saved by a Black Legionary.

He snarled over his vox down at her as she realized her hand holding the grenade was gone and she didn't feel the way he just cut the metal off. "You little bitch. Thought you could get the drop on me?" He snarled as he began to rip the leather and thick cloth of her trousers, crushing the metal and the armor plates on them.

She kicks and tried to slam her prosthetic leg into him trying to get it to go beyond what it was suppose to do. She could hope it would decide to kick a hole in his chest but so far that wasn't happening. "Die in a hole you filthy traitorous scum!" She spits and snarls at him. Dolli had a dreaded feeling of what was going to happen she tries to grab her knife but he throws it away. Its a horror of the battlefield no one talks about... well when one of the enemy's entire perversion is sex... she remembers being warned as a little girl what could happen. She remembers how many of her friends couldn't stomach the idea... it wasn't guaranteed that it might happen... most likely you'd be blown apart but... the thought that you could be an unlucky victim. Dolli never thought it would be her.

Agent Quest?

"Behave!" Snarled Zhur as he grabbed her organic leg and threatened to snap it.

"No!" She screamed back as Zhur pressed his hand down on her stomach as he pushed himself between her legs and pulled his cock out. Zhur would play nicer after this... if she survived.

For Dolli she gritted her teeth as she could feel the cockhead pressing hard against her entrance. She couldn't even kill herself to save herself from this... either it would be a slow painful death via internal bleeding or she would be found later... discharged and always given pitied looks as if there was some sign around her neck that everyone could notice that she had been defiled by a traitorous and tainted space marine.

Zhur watches her face... he expects that fire to go out... to see that delicious helplessness... the begging and pleading for mercy where it wouldn't be found. Instead he found a fire... warp fire in her amethyst eyes. How she was still snarling at him... she looked like one of the corpse emperors living saints right now... the way her eyes glow with righteous anger... the paleness of her skin smeared with dirt and blood... how her hair is splayed out making a halo a dirty halo full of dirt, blood, sweat, and soot. Zhur snarls as he pushes into the unwilling cunt.

Tears prick the corner of her eyes as she could feel it all and the pained cry as he forced himself into her dry. She hissed with pain as he bobbed his hips working each painful inch deeper into her sex.

Mattis go get the others she's having an episode.

Mom?

Mattis go!

Mum please... wake up.

Zhur felt himself bottom out and moaned. He let her cunt spaz about him as blood, his pre cum, her piss, and her own forced arousal helped get him this far. He leaned his head back and savored the feeling of her around him. She glared up at him with wet eyes still looking like a fallen saint. Zhur was hardly a word bearer but perhaps he had found someone who was chosen by the corpse... he grins at the thought of stealing her away from him.

"Oh I think I'm going to do more than just fuck you till I feel better... there will still be that." He moved his hand to her throat as he had to be gentle given he was still fully armored as she was at an awkward angle. "I'm still mad at you little mortal... I didn't appreciate the headshots and nearly taking out an eye." He chuckled as she replied with a snarl.

"You are going to be part of something much more than yourself."

"Fuck you! The Emperor protects me and I will never join Chaos!" She screamed causing him to laugh.

"Silly mortal. I'm currently fucking you and who says I need you to join. Oh what will be happening to you... please do pray. Pray to him and let him see what will happen to you." He purred as he was kind enough to let her adjust to him as he enjoyed the feeling between her thighs.

Dolli refused to scream... refused to cry as she just glared up at the grunting marine above her. She tried to focus on the distant gun shots and explosions instead of the lurid wet squelches that was starting to happen. The wet fapping noise as she felt herself become aroused. Remembering the woman from that class explain that it could happen... its nothing about want... sometimes the body is like a machine and when something goes in there it reacts like how it is suppose to.

For Zhur he was panting and grunting and growling above her jerking her hips to his over and over again...

What's going on?

Mum is having an episode.

Mama's done so well... what triggered it?

I don't know Zekyr!

Calm down Naxos.

... it felt like heaven between her thighs. Oh yes he was going to keep her. Zhur felt so warm inside of his armor as he started to jerk her hips faster. Oh yes he was bringing her back. Zhur groaned as he pulled her tightly against him and spilled inside of her.

For Dolli she didn't know what to expect next... she couldn't stop her thrashing as he grabbed her head and slammed it down. Making everything go dark.

However there was no throne to greet her in the dark. Just a whisper... I'm sorry. The weight of those words sat like a stone in her stomach as she knew she was still alive. Her eyes opened for brief moments... all she could see was black and gold... profane shapes that hurt her eyes... twisted individuals draped in skin... someone touching her face and grabbing at her aquilia before she saw them turn to red paste as the space marine holding her snarled something in a foul tongue.

Dolli felt sore... there was a throbbing in her face... the throbbing between her legs... she wasn't on a shitty medical cot. Dolli was on a soft bed... she opened her eyes she was naked save for her aquilia... her leg prosthetic was missing as was the reminder of her forearm prosthetic. She had been cleaned and that feeling made her feel sick as she had an idea who... seeing hickies blooming on her thigh and one of her breasts.

"Ah welcome back." A clear voice purred to her. Honey brown eyes looked at her from a face that seemed to have some 5 o'clock shadow growing in with short neat black hair shaved to a military standard. His canines were long and so was his tongue but he was dressed in a black compression shirt and some shorts. Dolli was confused... she would have mistaken him for an Ultramarine or even a Blood Angel if it was not for the star of chaos on the door. "So Dolli, that is your name if I remember right. I'm going to tell you what is going to happen."

She looked at him unimpressed, "I assume rape me again and twist me to Chaos?" She said before spitting at him.

Zhur liked his little wife clean. Her hair was a deep red that looked better clean... oh he was eager to see it long and see it pool under her head like a blood pool. "Oh perhaps if you continue to resist it will be rape. But no... in fact I want you to try to resist... I want you to cling to the Emperor as long as you can as I think I like your fire. But no... you're going to help me make more space marines." He said running his tongue over his teeth looking at her on his bed.

Zhur quickly realized when he became a Luna wolf all those years ago that he felt a deep longing for something... he should have been like his brother... having a wife on his hip to come home to... he wanted that. He didn't know why he did and perhaps if everything had succeeded and the Astartes were no longer needed he would have settled down, probably several times given his life span, and had his own wife on his hip. He couldn't explain the deep covetous need it bloomed into and seeing Dolli clean and laying on his bed once again triggered that need.

Lucky for him... she would be the first test of what was his final plan for an improved demoncubula. Though less demons involved and a lot more dark mechanicus involvement and flesh shaping psykers. "No snide comment on that?" Zhur says tilting his head to the side before continuing, "You see I realized that getting pregnant was hard as was staying pregnant... the human body is very good at detecting genetic defects and reabsorbs the fetus'... oh look at me explaining your biology to you." He coos softly as he walks closer, "You are going to be my little wife. " He grabs her chin as she looks at him with wide eyes, "And we're going to make a happy little family."

"You're insane." She hisses softly.

"Perhaps but that is what happens when you want something so badly you are forced to make it yourself. Your womb will be modified and you will be given an organ called a progenoid that will feed into your modified womb. You will give birth to Astartes whom all they need to do is grow up and get the remainder of their organs with no fear of rejection. You," He cups her face, "Will be my reward."

"What."

"Oh yes I already proved that it worked. But I want to make sure it works for multiple babies..." He crawls on the bed and watches her try to crawl away but he holds her in place, "You will also be modified in a few ways to handle my... hmmm tender affections?" He chuckles softly at his own joke. "A wife must be able to handle her husband isn't that right my little wife?" He groans and Dolli watches as he gets hard.

She pushes against his head but he runs his tongue along the valley of her breasts as he grinds against her, "Oh my little wife I shouldn't... you'll be having surgery soon enough... but I'm so excited." Dolli scratches at him as he pushes his ring finger inside of her this time to try and work her. "See darling I can be nice I'll make you feel good." He pants with perverse pleasure, "You'll make such a good mommy for our boys. Won't you? Yes... say yes... you'll be such a good-"

"Mommy?" Dolli finally blinks as she looks up at pair of bright purple eyes, belonging to her eldest Thallos. She looks around seeing three other concerned looking pairs.

"B-boys. What." She looks down at the railing she is holding onto with a white knuckle grip.

"You were thinking about Da- um Zhur again weren't you?" Thallos says.

"You can still call him Daddy, Da, Dada, Dad, or Father if you want I know you all still hold affection for him." She says with a sigh as they look guilty at that fact. They look like a mashup between Horus and their father with a few features from her. She was happy they all had her eyes... "Boys don't feel guilty for what your father did." She no longer flinches when calling him that... she hardly realizes she calls Zhur their father.

Dolli Quest was now an inquisition member along with her four boys... Thallos Quest, Naxos Quest, Zekyr Quest, and Mattis Quest. They were an unidentified 4 man astartes group that just would affectionately refer to their inquisition liaison as mother sometimes. That was the cover the Inquisitor gave her... she couldn't help herself as they were her boys. Zhur gave her four little angels that she loved so much... they were a happy little family.

Dolli knew something in her broke during her time with Zhur... she never fell to chaos even during what eventually turned out to be century with him. But, she was the one who wanted Mattis... she seduced him to give her one more little boy. She was scared that they would have to leave Mattis behind given how close he was to his father when Thallos wanted to help her escape.

She pulled Thallos close before opening her other arm and feeling her boys get close. "I love you four so much... don't ever think I don't... I love you all from the tops of your heads to the bottom of your toes... to the sky above... and the earth below... to the stars beyond... and forever and ever after." She whispered to them kissing their cheeks or foreheads as she let tears fall. Dolli broke... because she couldn't find it in her heart to hate Zhur anymore.

However, she wouldn't go back... she was a loyal Imperial citizen! She wiped her face and straightened up, "Alright boys we've got a mission!"

------

Mattis was a good boy... all of his sons were good boys in his eyes. But Mattis could not keep anything hidden from his father. It is how he learned about Thallos' plan to steal his mother away. Only reason Zhur allowed it and in fact helped it succeed was because he was going on a long deployment and had a feeling someone was going to try to kill his precious little wife. The last kiss he gave her still warmed his lips... the uncertainty in her eyes... nearly giving up the ghost herself it would seem.

Zhur smiled as he watched on the screen as he could see his Dolli! She walked with her retinue and their sons. Zhur keeps telling himself that he allowed this... he allowed all of this... but really the separation was killing him now. He wanted his boys back... he wanted his wife back. He inhales hard and calms his eager voice as he connects to the private family vox channel and purrs out, "Daddy's home"

Thallos: Mommy

Naxos: Mum

Zekyr: Mama

Mattis: Mom

#tw: rape #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced pregnancy #dead dove do not eat #warhammer 40k #tw: yandere #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Space Marine #Yandere Black Legion #Black Legion #stockhom syndrome #smut #tw: smut

[good--merits-accumulated]

do you take requests🧍‍♀️

LMAO I don't know if I would write full versions of these, but I can do some short snippets of each!

I. writer! Todd and vampire! Neil neighbours

Nicolas bared his teeth – and they were not just flashing white as Andrea had seen, but long and pointed, and curved like the canines of wolves. And they were no longer white, but slick and dark with blood. Of course. What a fool he had been. Nicolas moved closer and put one hand on Andrea’s throat, one cold relentless hand, so that they could both feel his pulse jumping between them. Behind him, pinned to the metal wall, Clara’s stake lay clenched in his hand. 

“No, no, no,” said Neil cheerily across the space between their balconies, “you’ve forgotten that Andrea wears that necklace.”

If it had been six months ago, Todd would have – and had – turned red, snatched his laptop off the flimsy table, and scuttled away into the sanctity of his own apartment, imposing a state of self-exile from the balcony for several more weeks. Fortunately it was not. He twisted around in the chair, shot a half-despairing glance at Neil’s grinning face, and asked, “Have you never heard of privacy once in your entire life?”

“I have many times heard of l’intimité,” said Neil, grinning wider, “and of einkalíf, and even yǐnsī. Privacy, however. That’s a new one. Pri-var-see. Is that how you say it?” 

He was incorrigible. Todd had discovered quite early on in their friendship that Neil had had some huge measure of life experiences which allowed him to come up with a rebuttal to every situation, and even earlier on that allowing him to run his mouth in French was a dangerous thing to do to himself. He was best humoured. “You’re in a boasting mood,” he said, pulling the laptop towards him. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong with his necklace?” 

“You’re the one writing with your screen brightness all the way up on an open balcony,” said Neil mildly, but acquiesced when Todd shot him a threatening look. “Sorry. Lips sewn. Anyway – whatever gory hand-to-hand combat scene you’re working on there can’t go if he’s got the necklace on.”

“Well, why not?”

“It’s a fish,” said Neil, with some measure of surprise. 

Todd fixed him with a look. “Neil, Andrea is a marine biologist.”

“A marine biologist wearing an ancient symbol of Christ around his neck,” said Neil. “Nicolas – he’s the vampire, yes? – he wouldn’t be very partial to that, I imagine.”

“A fish?” said Todd, surprised. “Well, it's not exactly a cross.”

“Hurts just as bad,” said Neil, making a face. “I mean, I would reckon. You know the ichthys actually predates the cross by two centuries? Bit more power to it, wouldn’t there be?”

He squinted and turned around fully. In the faint light spilling from his flat – the light from his flat was always faint – Neil looked loose-limbed and relaxed, draped over his balcony with his customary easy smile on his face, and his perpetual air of someone who knew more than he was letting on. Infuriatingly, the air was alluring at the best of times. But there was no hint of a lie or a joke on his face. “How on earth do you know that?”

“I’ve got time,” said Neil, “I read.” Then, with a shrug affecting casualness, “Could come over to yours and explain it more to you, if you want.”

“Well,” said Todd, and then, “well.” It had been six months they had known each other. He supposed that was enough time. But it had not happened before. For a moment a terrible feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him – something prickled over the back of his head like a hood, and a cloud crossed the moon, so that for half a second all was plunged into darkness. He shuddered. But then the clouds cleared and a ray of light struck Neil’s face, and illuminated it for him; he looked a little bit sheepish and a little bit pale, with nervousness perhaps. His hands twisted, one after the other, on the railing of the balcony. He was looking determinedly down. “I suppose it’d be helpful,” he said, and Neil looked up with a smile, suddenly blinding. 

“Really?” he said. 

“Well, don’t make me recant the offer.”

“Of course. Invite me in?”

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door, standing up. “No,” said Neil, in a voice that was soft but carried nevertheless, and filled with laughter. “I’d like to hear you say it.” He was full of odd little idiosyncrasies like that, and despite himself, they were all endearing.

“You – are – ridiculous,” he said, punctuating each word with a movement; standing up, shutting the laptop, tucking the chair in behind him. “Are you recording that, or something? Come on over to the door. Of course you can come in.” He left Neil’s smile and the laptop behind him and slipped back into his flat, to stack the cushions back onto the sofa and check his hair in the mirror. 

It did not occur to him until much later the point that should have been obvious from the start – that their balconies were much too far apart to see well, and that his screen brightness, despite Neil’s insistence, had not been turned up all that much at all. But by that point, he could no longer quite bring himself to care.

II. vampires! Todd and Neil forced to plan museum heists

Languages tended to blend into one another these days; they evolved so much over these many hundreds of years that dialects, once sisters, became distant cousins, and then ceased being on speaking terms altogether. It was awfully difficult to keep up, at least without looking like a fool or a grandfather. Despite that, some languages had, throughout the years, impressed themselves onto certain parts of Todd’s moods. Corsican when he was feeling playful, Old Norse when he had just woken up or was particularly vulnerable – English for almost everything else, except in those rare cases where he felt something unimaginably distressing had happened, or that some unforeseen calamity was tearing at the bounds of his reality, demanding to be given voice and a few more vowels. In those cases it was invariably French.

“Merde,” he said, staring in dismay at the display case, “oh, merde.” 

“Fill de puta,” agreed Neil gloomily. 

Staring back at him was five sheets of stained paper, covered densely from margin to margin in a scribbling hand he knew very well, seeing as it was attached to his wrist. They had been arranged with the utmost care on a transparent support, and although he had not read the contents of the label next to it, he could, very clearly, see its proud, bolded title: The Met Museum presents – “His sweet mouth”: Love Letters Through Time.

“Fill de puta,” Neil repeated. This time with a touch more horror. 

“That must have been one of your letters,” said Todd faintly. 

“The first time I used the phrase,” he rejoined, “le Roi Soleil was already dead.” He gestured at the line before them that read 15th century, exact date unknown. “That was you. Remember?” 

He remembered, unfortunately, in excruciating detail. That had been a particularly thrilling night – a young man, one of Borso’s hanger-ons – a moonlit chase through the Castello Estense – him and Neil had been younger then, and had spilled more blood than was strictly necessary in the process. But it had been wonderfully romantic, and shortly afterwards, when Neil had gone off to Venice to do something with alum and Todd had remained in Ferrara, he had sat at his desk and remembered the moment; their hands and mouths meeting in that dim corridor of the Castello, the soft chimes of their laughter, the taste of the courtier’s sweet blood lingering still on his tongue. Enamoured, and in a mood much more befitting to a youth, he had written the letter and sent it off with a kiss. 

It had been well received at the time; Neil had come back from Ferrara early and they had gone off for a third honeymoon in Milan, and stayed until the whole business with Galeazzo Maria had forced a quick escape. When asked where the letter had gone Neil had only assured him that he had kept it, with the kind of dashing prince’s bow he had favoured at the time. Looking at him now, both of them were remembering it. 

He looked a little closer, just making out a particular line of Italian which had not been fit for public company in 1469 and was certainly not more so now, under hundreds of thousands of visitors’ eyes. “You said – ”

“I may,” said Neil, a little shamefacedly, “have lost it.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and added ruefully, “1844.”

He put a hand over his eyes. “The Oregon Trail?”

“It was quite windy.”

He pointed accusingly at the letter, and Neil winced. “Not windy enough to destroy the damn thing.”

“Well, it could be worse.”

“Worse!” One or two people looked over; he pulled Neil with him into the corner of the room, away from the damning glass display cases. “Neil, not only has our property been stolen – ”

“Lost.”

“Yes, because you lost it. Not only that, but now thousands of people are looking at it under this – damn – ” Lost for words, he pointed at the sign above them as they had walked into this particular exhibition room, reading, quite damningly, Eroticism and Sensuality, 1300-1550. He took one deep breath and compressed all the forcefulness and anger into a single, low, “Merde!”

“It was quite a good letter,” Neil offered. “I was flattered. Particularly the passage about my – ”

“There’s nothing for it,” Todd decided, firmly cutting him off. “Does Charlie still have all of his equipment from the ‘60s?”

“Good God,” said Neil smilingly. The good thing about having known each other for over a thousand years was that, at this point, they could have been the same person; he had not surprised Neil in quite some time with his actions. “You don’t mean to break into the Met?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Neil blinked at him slowly, and pulled him a little closer, so that they were pressed close enough together to be mistaken for young lovers. A middle-aged woman pushing a stroller shot them a smile as she walked by, and Todd smiled back, close-lipped. “I certainly haven’t been arrested in quite some time,” Neil mused.

“And you can’t be hung for it any more,” Todd pointed out, putting his head on his shoulder. “The stakes are exceedingly low. Neil, I really do want that letter back.”

When he looked up at him again he was smiling; the wide flashing smile which exposed all his teeth and the fangs jutting sharp onto his bottom lip. The light in his eyes had long since died but in the reflected glow of the spotlights they looked almost alive again, and dancing with mischief. “Well, if you wish it,” he said. “Then I can’t say no.” 

Notes:

I: languages Neil uses in succession: French, then Icelandic, then Chinese. Take all the stuff about the icthys with large grains of salt - I did like 3 seconds of research for this and it was all on Wikipedia! Also I do think Andrea wears specifically the icthys, and not just any old fish.

II: Todd is of course using French, but Neil uses Catalan. Maybe I've been reading too much Aubrey-Maturin. The Borso mentioned is Borso d'Este - highly recommend reading more about him if you like Quattrocento things. Similarly Galeazzo Maria is of course the real Sforza who was assassinated in 1476!

#sorry about the delay i was sleeping + debating the merits of consuming jesus' stigmata with some friends. you know how it is #anderperry #dead poets society #anderperry fic #tristan writes #thanks for (sort of) requesting! it was nice to stretch these particular writing muscles #tristan stop bringing everything back to Quattrocento courtly dynamics challenge. failed #ask

[xylianasblog]

Training day.

Pairings: Recom Miles Quaritch x Fem Recom reader

Summary: Training with the colonel is never easy, especially when his type of training gets dangerous and risky.

Warnings: MDNI, knife kink, mentions of blood, sparring, bits of praise.

A/n: I hope this one is good I’ve never done a fighting scene or training scene of any sorts so I tried my best.

♥ 18+ ♥ no minors! ♥ 18+ ♥ no minors! ♥ 18+ ♥ no minors! ♥ 18+ ♥

“C‘mon Buttercup, we got training to do and you’re late.” You heard the sound of his voice before you saw him.

Your yellow-green eyes found his once he stopped before you, a frown on his face. He wore a black tank top, camo pants, and combat boots. You rolled your eyes at this he and the other recoms never seem to dress down or in relaxing clothing unlike you, maybe that’s because you weren’t a marine, you were only brought back to help them with their mission.

Setting down your book you adjusted your baggy T-shirt and sweats. A shiver ran down your spine as your feet touched the cold tile of the base. You set your book aside making a mental note of where you’ll be leaving it.

“That’s how ya gonna stay buttercup? Don’t wanna change? We’ll be training with weapons today.” Quaritch informed.

You simply shrugged after stretching out your body, the few cracks had you releasing a satisfied groan. “Mhm.. they’ll get messed up and I’ll just go find more.” You mumbled as you followed after his tall form.

You weren’t small by any means as an avatar but Quaritch made you feel small and you had yet to determine if that was something you enjoyed or not. After walking for a few moments you both finally arrived at the gym, he pushed open the doors letting you walk inside first.

You noticed it was empty and turned to him with a questioning gaze, your tail stiff before relaxing behind you.

“You hate training with the others so I ordered everyone out for the next few hours. Figured ya get some good training in if you could focus better sweetheart.” He shrugged it off as if he’d do things like this for just anyone. You hummed softly. Making your way over to the knives, you picked up one with intricate designs of swirls that felt best suited for you. Getting a feel of the handle you nodded to yourself feeling content and confident with how it felt.

“Alright kid, we’ll be practicing attack forms and moves. What are the best places to hit? Get in your stance.” He ordered to which you obeyed. Crouching down in a fighting stance you held the knife low in front of you waiting and watching as he got into position in front of you. You both circled each other you being light on your feet, silent ad you moved around the mat, your ears twitched at the subtle sounds of his boots hitting the floor.

Without a moment of hesitation, you lunged forward knife barely grazing at his chest, but you weren’t quick enough. With his stealth and agility with his new very flexible body, he was able to grab your hand, his blade pressed against your neck before he dropped you to the ground with a kick. You fell with an ‘oof’ landing on your back as you stared up at him.

“First things first sweetheart..” he dropped down on top of you, letting the knife drag along your baggy T-shirt. “Watch all angles and areas of your opponent especially when they have a weapon.”

You squirmed underneath him, lifting your hands to throw a few punches only to miss much to your dismay. Her grabbed onto your wrist with one of his hands, forcing your hands above your head as he pressed the knife into your throat. “You aren’t thinkin' much buttercup. Acting on emotion alone will get ya killed.”

The tip of the blade pressed against your throat had you flinching away, ears flat against your head as you tried to fight off the immediate wave of arousal you felt. Being held down knowing he could easily kill you had you holding back small little whimpers. The thought alone had your panties becoming damp. You had to close your eyes tilting your head back, making sure you were careful. It didn’t do you much good as he pressed the knife closer nicking the skin of your neck lightly.

His ears perked up tail swaying lazily behind him as he finally got a whiff of your scent. A smirk took over his expression as he stared down at you and without saying a word he flipped over the knife, letting the blade tear into your shirt exposing your pert breasts that weren’t covered by a bra. You squirmed and thrashed around, bucking your hips up in an attempt to throw him off.

Your jerky movements came to a halt at the feeling of the blade barely ghosting over your navel as he slowly trailed it back up, over the valley of your breast you whined softly back arching up into the knife a bit. You nicked your skin slightly and he groaned watching bits of blood push through the small cut. “Ah ah.. stop moving sweetheart.. wouldn’t want to mark ya up too badly. Yer way too pretty f’that.”

You watched as he moved from on top of your thighs to between your thighs, he set the knife to the side so he could hook his fingers into your sweats and panties. Making sure he had a secure grip he pulled them both off with a swiftness that had you squeaking. Throwing your bottoms off to the side he placed his hands on your thighs pushing your legs apart. His eyes narrowed in on your slick-covered cunt.

“Look at that.. who knew you were such a little slut for knives.” He murmured. “Maybe we should train like this more often.”

With your hands now free you gripped at your torn shirt, pulling it over your breast as you stared at him. He tilted his head down still staring at your fluttering pussy. The smirk only grew as he grabbed the knife once more placing the tip against your inner thigh. Dragging it along your skin as his free hand found your clit, rubbing his fingers between your folds before pressing down on your clit. You groaned soflty body flinching causing another cut this one running down your inner thigh.

He tsked at the smell of your blood which only made more slick drip from your still fluttering cunt. He applied more pressure to your clit rubbing it in circles as he turned the knife around. The hand of the knife teasing your entrance a few times, he covered it in your slick coating it nicely before he pushed it inside of you teasingly.

This thumb still assaulted your clit as his teasing thrust of the knife became steadier, he kept that slow thrusting speed. Watching as you let yourself succumb to the pleasure of being fucking into by the knife.

Your hands tightened around your shirt, body shuddering as he continued to tease your clit and fuck your needy sopping wet cunt. Your walls gripping onto the handle in such a needy manner you were whining and mewling quietly as while raising your hips to rock against the handle. The feeling only added to the pleasure especially with how intently he was watching you fuck yourself. Watching as you began to come undone.

“That’s it.. fuck yourself on the handle.. make yourself come like the good slut you are.” He praised.

His praise, the feeling of being of knowing you were doing good by doing such a filthy act had you rocking your hips faster. His thump rubbed harder. You threw your head back as you came without warning, body shuddering as your juices squirted out, spraying his hand and the handle of the knife.

His finger on your clit circling faster and faster as he forced the rest of your orgasm from your body. You dropped down into the mat in a sweat panting mess, chest heaving breathing heavily. Eyes closed tightly, small tremors racked over your body as your high soon came down.

“Training tomorrow 0800. Don’t be late.”

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @hiddensnow1 @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @cinetrix @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @strongheartneteyam @blue-slxt @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @justcaptiannoodles @neteyamyawne

#avatar twow #avatar #atwow smut #avatar smut #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch smut #lunaskinktober2023

[leslie057]

17a and 3b?

hii, thank you for the prompt!

prompt game posted here

17a + 3b = the semantics are totally outdated + but they can’t talk

word count: 3.4k | pairing: jonathan x nancy

but i can't live by those stakes, the semantics are totally outdated -sam fender, last to make it home

Her summer, china shop. Lowe and Holloway…two biggest, most aggressive bulls a matador could wish for.

And even that is such an undeserved accreditation, that semblance of animal majesty and dominance and punch, since her china’s literally in mint condition. She’s doing just fine, the guys don’t scare her. They’re not capable.

Her issue isn’t fear, it’s rage. More rage than Jonathan knows what to do with at times. The flush of red on her face, the urge to choke in her hands, the hair-pulling (his hair, not hers) and the pacing, all too wayward in his pen, burning up each of the four corners at once. Not that he’s much of a firefighter—pretty clear that he likes for a girl to take everything out on him, as long as her methods are nonverbal. He’s not gonna smother a flame when he could just let the flame smother him. He loves a good path of least resistance.

Things are different between them, inside the Hawkins Post. She can see him struggling with that, with meanings lost and rules rewritten, her amendments unfairly implicit as she switches up on him, forcing her sweet mariner into the Atlantic with his map of the Pacific. No, his map of the Wabash River. She doesn’t mean to respond differently to him, it’s just that she has to be careful with the way she carries herself here because no one wants to take her seriously. There aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl in this building, and there really aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl who lets her boyfriend dote on her in this building. The pep talk thing, the passive pity, the hey come here you’re okay after any negative reaction she has…he’s making it worse without realizing.

She’s making it worse, too, though. In her own way.

Keeps getting them in trouble, for example.

Today they're in trouble because of what she convinced him to do yesterday. Apparently, leaving work ten minutes early is really a no-no. Her bad. (She needed out, Lover’s Lake was calling to her. They don’t go much, but when it’s raining? When it’s raining that lake belongs to them. No other couple in town is weird enough to go in thunder and lightning, it is their thing, they own it. Privacy is a guarantee. Never mind that inducing the feeling of drowning has been a secret placation of her survivor's guilt lately, a quiet way to exhaust herself and surrender to nature's embrace for a while, to let it take her over, knocking her down a peg as it comes down in heavy sheets. It should have been her on that diving board two years ago, it really should have.) She never said their date habits were healthy. Oh, except the splashing, the splishing. That’s a normal couple thing. Very healthy.

They’ve been given different punishments for slipping out; he’s meant to be folding all the newspapers, she’s supposed to be stapling reports. It’s 4:45, and they just started. They usually use this time to clean up, but whatever doesn’t get done before five is unpaid work.

So that’s fun.

In the main room they serve their silent sentence, each stationed at opposite ends, less than consumed by their tasks. There’s an early golden hour effect outside; she can tell with the warm glow that’s seeping in between the window blinds, teasing her, testing her, tempting her to just walk out again. Despite her best efforts to focus on work and keep her distance from Jonathan, she does think about him a lot under this roof. And other roofs. And every roof. Like now, she’s thinking about how he’s staring at her and how strange it is that she knows he’s staring at her even with her eyes cast down.

I can feel that.

She combats the softness of the sentiment with a hard press on the stapler. Loud click is overly loud. Obnoxious. Swiping the heavy thing across the desk, she lets it clunk against the lamp’s square base. If he wants to daydream about her, he’ll have to romanticize her inclination towards inanimate object abuse. (Imagine the emotional release in banging that ashtray on this typewriter. Personally, she’s imagining it.)

She tips her head up to check on him. Okay, he is romanticizing how pissed off she is. Blinks at her like she’s some unusual celestial something at the end of a telescope, pretty and rare. He brightens up over there as he realizes that he got her attention, making a small posture adjustment, leaning her way. Still slouchy, of course. She wants to glare, she does, but the edges of her gaze are being anonymously softened and all that’s left behind is a tender, conflicted expression. What do you want from me, it says. This is intern detention after all. Not social hour.

With a gentle glance he offers her some support, devoid of any pressure or demands. Nothing, Nancy.

She ducks her head and goes back to her report stack. But as quickly as she dives back into the task, she comes out again. He has something to tell her—she can feel it. When she looks up, he's tapping his thumb at the base of his throat, which is kind of weird even for him. His hand hovers near his collar before he motions to her, a silent prompt. She takes the signal and touches the same spot on her neck, brows knit together. Your necklace, he’s trying to say, miming the action of spinning it around, repositioning the clasp and extender so that they’re at the back and hidden away. Your necklace is backwards. She fixes it accordingly, embarrassed by nothing in particular it’s just…yeah, Bruce Lowe definitely doesn’t need to be provided with any joke bait below her neckline.

Bonus points for the ever attentive boyfriend. Just this once, his tendency to space out and stare at her has gotten them somewhere. Good boy.

She busies herself with the stapler, determined to get them out of this place sooner rather than later. Count, separate, slide, straighten. Staple, stack, repeat. Repeat repeat repeat. She wishes she had someone to compete with, to race against. Her brother, maybe, because Jonathan isn’t competitive. Then this would go faster. In the warm office, heat sprawls on top of her, slowing her movements. Sweat has already pooled at the small of her back, gathered behind her ears, formed a light sheen along her jaw. So much for box fans.

Her mind strays away from the chatter around her, a few abrupt fantasies now steering her thoughts. Hormonal thoughts. She’d ignore the love rush if she could, but it’s on her, on her like a sticky lotion in June weather, soaking slowly into her skin. Being seventeen is—yeah. Difficult.

Crazy difficult, once you factor in the need to be a professional mini-adult and not associate with the person you take to bed.

There’s just…it’s her, and Jonathan, and the necklace, and she’s taken off the necklace, held it taut against his neck, not choking him per se, no, but softly sawing at him with the chain until there are faint red lines impressed in sensitive flesh. Who knows where this came from; she’s never done anything like it. Doesn’t typically play so rough with him that there’s physical evidence more severe than your average hickeys or scratch marks. This job is turning her into a hazard.

She indulges for a couple seconds longer in the dumb image that had momentarily eclipsed her reality. He’s not looking at her when she looks up at him, but somehow it feels like their telepathic dialogue is still going, born from shared frustrations.

I want to be done here.

I know, we’ll be done soon. We’re fine, keep stapling.

And maybe she wouldn’t have to take off the necklace. Because he has his tie, his not-so-nice tie. Okay, without sugarcoating, it’s ugly. The one that’s currently loose, gray with diagonal brown stripes, pencil-thin stripes; it would be way more fun to pull across his throat compared to her necklace. Of course, she wouldn’t lead with that, she’d be counteracting with the super soft services of a needy mouth, settling on the kindest way to release her anger and affection in one fell swoop. (Why is it that the uglier the tie design, the bigger her heart? She’s wanting him bad this afternoon.)

In a moment of distracted clumsiness, she knocks over her box of staples, several of the refill strips breaking apart on the ground, their clatter piercing through whatever awful discussion was being had by these overpaid husbands and fathers.

“Wuh-oh,” Bruce interjects before carrying his conversation on. Not as big of a deal as when she fumbles a lunch order, but bad nonetheless; she’s on her knees in a dress, catching everyone’s double takes. A sideshow act to glance at intermittently between unrelated one-offs and cigarette drags.

Jonathan’s soon kneeling by her, ready to lend his assistance. Yeah, absolutely not.

The more he helps her, the more of a girl she is. Her eyes plead with him, begging him to remember that any perceived dependence on him will undermine the tiny shred of social authority she has here.

I love you, but get away from me.

Pouting, he backs off, an achy longing lingering between them. He chooses instead to go tend to the coffee grounds she’d yet to throw out.

Despite the distance enforced by circumstance, and her annoyance, she remains fixated on him, finding some solace in that mental landscape. When they leave this place within the hour, everything will go back to the way it was, and she can go back to speaking in a language they both understand.

She scoops up the staples and tidies the desk. Resumes her work without a second thought, waiting for the embarrassment to bleed out of her.

--

By five after five, they’ve almost finished up their punishment tasks. The office is more peaceful than before, hushed and dreamy, as their older colleagues file out, letting paper cups and gum wrappers fall into trash cans whose bags she and her boyfriend replaced an hour ago.

Tom switches off a couple lamps, touches his watch (with that bizarre air of supremacy and boredom). On his way out, he claps her chair on the back. “Keep up the good work,” he says. “No more sneaking out early.”

At least she’s getting credit for something. For leading the rebellion.

She watches Fallon, the receptionist, push in her desk chair and begin to pull at the hem of her skirt. As she passes by Jonathan, she carelessly drops a keyring into his lap, instructing him to lock up when they go. She also calls him Jordan. Not a thought in her head.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, “have a good night.”

They’re left all alone when the last footsteps fade away, and she shifts in her spinny chair. For possibly the first time today, she takes a deep breath in, a deep breath out. This is good. This is better.

It’s sort of warm and sweet and spongy—cakelike, she’d say—the growing sense of comfort she has in the privacy that’s been laid upon them. That, or she’s hungry. They should pick up a cupcake from the bakery downtown. Key lime, lemon, one of their seasonal flavors. No, wait, the bakery closed a few minutes ago. Not that they get much business anymore. (If they shut down and the mall ruins her and Jonathan’s cupcake sharing thing, she might choke someone. She might kill.)

Though her gaze is locked on him, he keeps his head slanted down, not acknowledging her or their privacy.

She taps the desk, slides her tongue behind her teeth, resentment creeping in amid neglect. This is the part where their tension falls away, right? The part where he apologizes for overdoing the boyfriend thing, and then gives her his undivided attention until one or two in the morning, thus overdoing the boyfriend thing, but in the right place at the right time. Trying to make up for the shittiness of their internship, trying to help her bubble wrap all the china in her china shop before morning comes around again.

He’s slumped down over there, sleeves cuffed, collar half-popped, movements slow as he calmly creases his final papers. The box fan’s soft currents delicately ruffle through his hair, and at first glance, he doesn’t have a care in the world. At second, though, he’s wearing a bit of a frown, moodily refusing to acknowledge anything but himself and his newspapers.

And yet. She can’t deny the magnetic pull drawing her that way. With a defiant flip of her hair, she sets out to close the big gap between them and put an end to the ridiculousness. They shouldn’t be ignoring each other upon being given total privacy, not even for a second. Reaching his space, she stops in front of his chair, leaning back on the edge of the desk. She’s the wall between him and his paper stack.

He sighs, eyes cast up to her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she parrots.

“You’re done?”

“Pretty much.”

“Me too.”

He’s still in that place of self-minimization, that corrective headspace following the staple incident. He’s stuck on being quiet and invisible and adult and the absolute opposite of lovey and dovey. It’s no longer necessary.

She fidgets with her ring blindly, an anticipatory energy working itself up inside her, right under her ribcage. He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it quickly. Guarded, he averts his gaze.

“You’re allowed to correct her, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Fallon. You don’t have to let your name be whatever she decides.”

The silence stretches between them, a tight wire, trembling faintly, a few touches away from snapping. She’s unsure if he’s playing a game here or if he simply doesn’t feel like talking. You never know with him (but she does).

“We’re allowed to talk now, you know,” she adds.

A beat.

“Your dress is messed up,” he says, to himself more than her.

“What?”

“The hooks on your dress. You accidentally skipped the first one.”

“I—” she starts. Her jaw hangs. Curious, she feels for the mismatched hook and eye clasps below the frilly collar of her dress, and she finds that the bottom one did get skipped over. This is what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, wake up late, and have to dress yourself in sixty seconds. She huffs. “Well come fix it?"

Because he has to want to. He likes this dress a lot, he’s never said anything, but he does. It’s white and yellow, not any yellow, but like a buttercup yellow, semi-sheer with an open ruffly collar and wide sleeves. He would want the excuse to touch it. He would want that sense of purpose, that delegation of mess-fixing. She’s so rarely a mess when there are no monsters to slaughter. He’s usually the one with the inside out shirt, the smudge of lipstick on his face. This is his one chance.

His bottom lip curls, and his shoulders shrug. “Thought you wanted to pretend like we don’t know each other.”

“Jonathan…please come fix it.”

She reaches out, and without a word he holds her hand, standing up. He bites down on his tongue, presses it against the side of his mouth, looking like he knows how cliché this is but is too sad to complain. He moves closer, his hands gentle as he begins unfastening those top four hooks so he can fasten that fifth one, the one she’d skipped before she also skipped breakfast. Her eyelids sink, wispy bangs brushing the tops of her eyes as the fan’s whisper of a breeze plays over her.

He’s still working with the clasps when her hands find his neck, tickling their way to the ends of his hair, curled by humidity.

To her surprise, he doesn’t flinch when she sneak attacks him, stealing a kiss off his mouth. Just makes a huffy sound afterward, all judgy eyes and short breaths and pinked skin. “Does that mean you like me again—”

She guides the slipping of their lips, a soft sensation of stickiness lingering in the inbetween. “Shut up,” she murmurs, “I never stopped.”

“Yes, you did.”

Plush lip tissue gives way between her careful teeth as she nibbles, trying to draw out a whimper or a groan or some other noise of desperate compliance. She thinks she hears an ow, and if she did, that’s good. His ow isn’t code for hey that hurts, his ow is like a regular boy’s don’t stop, I need more.

“I did not,” she argues.

“You did, you said so.”

“When?”

“With your face.”

She tightens her grip on the back of his collar and pulls. Seeking a diversion, she peppers his mouth, the tip of her tongue relaxed, impressively subtle. A muffled squeak leaves him as the collar tightens around his throat, and she lets go, releasing him. Maybe she does feel a little bad. “Don’t be so sensitive,” she says, but her words lack conviction, and her heart’s not in the dig. “I know I’ve been acting weird. It’s not about you.”

He rests his forehead on hers. “It’s only about them?”

“Duh, it’s about them.”

They put the conversation on hold among their shared prioritization of making this into more of a makeout than just a way to argue. Kissing mainly because it feels good to kiss, and bad to not. Their age demands this, pushes them. (They’ll grow out of the phase someday…she assumes. If she ever learns how to control herself. Perhaps.) She noses her way to his jaw while getting wrapped up in a hug, the gleam of sweat under her lips pleasantly salty. “So sweaty,” she teases (though she’s burning up, too). His breath hitches, and he doesn’t start the banter back up, doesn’t say what’s on his mind which is probably: I didn’t ask you to come over here and lick me like a cat.

Eventually they do separate a few inches, significantly more satisfied than before, significantly more pink in the face. Her head tips, and her tired eyes follow the path of daylight pouring in through the window, casting long shadows across the office floor as he distractedly massages her shoulder.

“Not that I’m complaining…” he begins, and her lashes flutter, her ears tune in, “but you are sending me mixed signals here.”

He’s right. Her professionalism has come at the price of his trust and certainty. She’s still adjusting to the job, getting used to the fact that she’s not particularly needed, wanted, or respected here. Jonathan doesn’t get it, and a Jordan wouldn’t get it, or a Josh, or anyone else who has never been on the receiving end of that coffee maker too tricky for you, sweetheart?

His concern is being obedient, being good, getting paid, keeping to himself, not making a fuss. It makes sense that he’d want to pep talk her out of her anguish, but it’s not healthy for her reputation. She thinks he owes it to her to roll with the punches for a little while.

“I know. I’m still figuring all this out. You’re gonna have to buckle up and settle in for now.”

“Do you think I could have a…handbook, or something?”

“A handbook?”

“I want the dos and don’ts. I want to know what you think makes you look bad and what doesn’t.”

She laughs softly. “That could be arranged. I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

--

After they’ve hesitantly split up and attended to closing tasks, she takes pride in the fact that they’ve only had to do twenty minutes of unpaid work this evening.

The remaining lights get switched off, and they gather their things, ambling to a door whose glass promises the return to a nicer world, a return to wide prospects—night drives and music, dinner and shared showers, lakeside commitments and homemade cupcakes.

“Hey,” she murmurs, hand curling around a few of his fingers, “just so you know, about that handbook: I haven’t forgotten about the darkroom.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, I just mean that I don’t think any of the rules would have to apply to the darkroom. It’s private, it’s safe, it’s…rule-free, isn’t it?”

“Umm…”

"You can pick up as many staples for me as you want in there."

--

creds to @musicalchaos07 for helping me come up with this idea, and creds to @wanderleave for picking his tie color for me

#*fic #jancy fic #stranger things #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jonathan x nancy #prompt fill #*ask #fanfiction #st fanfic #lyrics #songs #they lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship #faithfulcat111

[tvckerwash]

thoughts on ct's fighting style and her position in pfl because I can (utc bc it's long lol):

okay so I like to jokingly refer to myself as THE wash meta/analysis guy, but I also absolutely love ct if anyone wasn't aware (she's my 2nd fav character behind wash if you couldn't tell lol), but as much as I love her it's honestly pretty difficult to write any sort of 'objective' meta or analysis posts about her because we don't know shit about her. so while this is meant to be a companion piece of sorts to this wash post, I just wanted to make it clear that a lot of this post is going to be based around my personal interpretation of ct (though I will try and be as objective as possible where I can be).

so much like wash, I think ct is also fairly unique among the freelancers for a few different reasons. one of them is that she's one of the few freelancers to wear a unique set of armor instead of the usual mark iv, and I think that ct's armor can actually tell us quite a bit about her skill set and what kind of role she possibly held. ct wears the eod helmet and chest which is primarily designed for protection from explosives, but when it comes to ct the more important information is that the eod armor was designed with less available grabbing surface than other armor variants. she also wears the scout shoulders, which is a variant that is focused on stealth capabilities.

from this information, we can easily deduce that ct's skill set primarily revolves around be slippery and sneaky, and when paired with what we see in the show it's pretty clear that ct is an intelligence operative. I think that ct is specifically a cyber operations specialist, and that prior to being recruited for freelancer she worked in ONI's section one (the actual intelligence gathering sector of ONI that is used by other UNSC branches).

another unique aspect about ct is that she is the only freelancer to consistently arm herself very lightly, with her primary weapon(s) of choice being two M6G magnums, and her other weapon(s) being two combat knives. this goes inline with what I've said above, and due to how lightly she arms herself I believe that ct generally isn't involved in any heavy combat scenarios. this point is supported by team b's failure to retrieve the briefcase with the access code during the heist in s9 (seriously, who tf thought it was a good idea to put 2 snipers and an intelligence operative all together as one team for a smash and grab retrieval mission??).

now to actually break down the whole 1.5 fights ct has in s10, I think that she probably somewhat shares wash's more grounded and pragmatic approach to combat as a whole, with the exception of her preference for duel wielding (which I personally headcanon is a thing she chooses to do because it makes her feel like an action/spy movie protagonist).

in both of her fight scenes ct seems to rely very heavily on her ability to plan ahead and get the jump on her opponents to take them by surprise (dropping from the ceiling to take out the two marines when she met up with the innie leader in the scrap yard, and using her armor enhancement to conceal her real position which allowed her to pin tex's arm behind her back), and I think it's safe to say that she probably isn't the kind of cqc fighter than can mow people down left and right like carolina can.

as mentioned above, I think ct's main goal is to take her opponents out in the quickest, quietest, and most efficient ways possible, much like a spy or an assassin, and while her loadout is great when she is in ideal circumstances where she's able to sneak around and avoid unnecessary combat, I don't think it's very good when it comes to drawn out encounters. we see this in her fight against tex and carolina, as while she handled herself pretty well it seemed like the longer the fight lasted the sloppier ct ended up getting, and eventually she made enough minor mistakes that carolina was able to knock her off her feet and disarm her in a single move, and tex, who was now aware of ct's armor enhancement, was able to cut her down.

#mine #rvb #red vs blue #agent connecticut #a lot of ppl like to make the women of rvb hyper competent and portray them as if they're on a completely different level than the dudes but #but i think it's important to ct's character to acknowledge her failures and the fact that she makes mistakes #she has cringe fail loser girl energy (affectionate) and the idea of her looking into pfl for petty reasons only to discover something so #much bigger than herself and choosing to /do something/ about it is so important!!! choice is a massive theme of her character and its so #important to her for people to have a choice that she gave her data to tex (a woman who was brought back from the dead and had no choice in #her existence) so that tex could make a choice for herself

[blackmaylovesfries]

Wild line - New plans

Words: 1169

Sinopse: Seventeen Hybrid AU - After everything that happened in your house, all of you need more reassurement.

Notices: Not so good English, the word suicide.

Solo stories’ destiny

Masterpost

Previous / Next

The days following the invasion of your house, you and your hybrids had to move temporarily to a safe house near the city. It was smaller than your mansion but it was enough for you all to live comfortably. You were confined to the bed for at least 3 months until your worst injuries were okay enough for you to move freely.

The medical team of the center were so busy with you and your family that there was little time for you to talk alone with the boys. You could see that some of them had just gone back to the state you had found them, without trusting humans or really, really frightened. The four boys that weren’t in the house that day also felt the jab, feeling guilty that their brothers had to go through something like that.

Today, there were no doctors in your room. No noise,nothing. You were getting bored and especially worried that you weren't able to see any of the boys yet. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.

“Yes? Come in.” You try to sit better in the bed, without much success, while your door is opened. You lifted your eyes and was really surprised to see The8 leading a group of hybrids into the room. “Oh, guys! Do you need something? I haven't seen you in ages, how is everyone? I’m so sorry!” It was hard to not say sorry… They had trusted you and your home but you broke it and put all of them at risk…

“Relax, Y/n. We’re all alive.” Dino was the last to enter the room. He closed the door while you studied the faces of those who surrounded your bed. Jihoon went straight to your side, being careful to not disturb your injuries but still near enough so you could be sure he wasn’t avoiding you. Seungcheol and Mingyu sat near yours foot while Chan and Minghao sat on the armchairs near the bed.

They all had some scratches and small bruises across their faces and arms, except The8, who was with the biggest dark circles under his eyes. There was no hybrid without traces of the traumatic event. You were usually a strong lady but their state made your eyes blurry with tears. You could only whisper again how sorry you were.

“Y/n.” Seungcheol’s voice was stern, making you flinch a little and locking eyes with him. “We do not blame you for what happened. None of us do.” To confirm his words, Jihoon grabbed your not broken hand and gave it a squeeze. You opened your month but the bear hybrid wasn’t finished. “Stop it, I mean it. We can be broken and still quite damaged by it but we know who to blame and who to be grateful to.”

“That doesn’t mean we will just stay quiet and trust everything to your organization again tho.” The8’s tone was one of challenge. He was massaging his temple as his eyes glared at your immobilized leg. “We came here to discuss what we’ll do while you heal from your almost suicide.” Let’s just say that although he still didn’t like you, he was still pissed that you tried to defend the house alone.

“That’s fair, I guess…” JayB had come to you with some of the hybrids’ requests. “From what I heard you guys want to start to train in the center with the strike team, not just hand in hand combat but also guns and other weapons and styles.” Your voice trembled a little. “Guys, I can see why y’all think this is necessary but…”

“But we need to feel secure again, human.” The8’s acid calling made you low your eyes in shame. You had failed in keeping them safe and now they were right in wanting to learn how to defend themselves.

“Easy, Minghao.” Mingyu kicked his friend. “What we’re saying, Y/n, is that we don’t want to feel as helpless as this time. We want to help you and be able to defend what is important to us, just like you do.” The marine hybrid smiled at you. “We want your help and permission to protect our family when you can’t or when you need help, because you’re still just a person, Y/n, you’re not invincible.”

“I… I get it, Mingyu…” You sighed to regulate your own emotions about the subject. “Ok… What did you guys think?”

“The domestic hybrids are terrified to be alone without training, so we thought about creating teams. Each one would have at least one wild hybrid, so we can do something even with instincts alone. As the training goes, we can do rounds in the house, so we are certain about all of our security systems.” Jihoon explained to you.

“Besides, we can adapt these teams and our training schedule to better adjust our natural abilities and preferences.” Dino completed. “We need you to help us with practical strategy, Y/n. We have little experience in real life combat as a group and…” His voice disappeared as he blushed.

“And we want to show how we still love you, Y/n, and how we don’t blame you but want to become strong for you.” Seungcheol smiled as he rested a hand on your good leg.

Your tired and defeated sigh didn’t escape the hybrids’ ears. They knew why you were so against them learning how to deal with real guns. This big family wasn’t easy to be formed and most of them had even harder pasts with weapons and violence. Even The8 understood and agreed that in an ideal world, none of his new brothers would ever have to pick up any gun.

But… The wild hybrids had come to you right after talking with the others and they knew how truly terrified all 13 of them were when their home was wrecked and you were in dire danger without any of them being actually capable of doing something to help. These days without your constant presence permitted them to think and discuss a lot.

“I understand.” Your voice just proved to the five boys that their initiative of taking the lead and becoming stronger with their brothers was the right decision. They would finally stop being victims of destiny and would face the world with an open chest. “I’ll talk with Youngjae to run some tests and we can plan your training.”

“Thank you, Y/n.” Jihoon squeezed your hand again, before opening a big smile. “Now, can we cuddle a bit?” The Lynx hybrid was so cute you had to laugh.

“I guess we can as long as we are careful.” Most of them didn’t even wait until you were finished and got comfortable around you. “You can go if you want to, The8 and Chan.” You were surprised to see both of the hybrids who would avoid much daily contact with you taking books out and also getting comfortable in their armchairs, with zero intention of leaving.

Previous / Next

Hello everyone! How are you?? I wanted to thank all the cute and lovely messages on the forms <3 Tags: @mimisxs​​​ ; @moonmin-miya​​​ ; @naminalati​​​ ; @woohoney​​​ ; @patriciaar ; @amber-thumbs​​​ ; @skylions-den​​​ ; @snowballbear​​​ ; @restless-nights-thoughts​​​ ; @haoareu ; @killcomet​​​ ; @unravellyn ; @honeyylin​​​ ; @blizzardfluffykpop​​​ ; @luminaaz​​​ ; @m00njhn  ; @cuzyourmyflower​​ ; @readers-posts ; @calixxreads​​ ; @hosh1kwon​​ ; @minhui896​​ - If you want to be tagged, answer the first link at the beggining of this post.

#Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen hybrid au #kpop #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop hybrid au #hybrid au #imagine #seungcheol #s.coups #woozi #Lee Jihoon #mingyu #kim mingyu #lee chan #dino #the8 #xu minghao

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I miss my mirtazipine pills for sleeping.

Might as well put my time to good use

Headcanons. Being the girlfriend of the Colonel for the sake of the Navi.

While "dating" him or whatever it is, the Colonel would give you orders

He would knock on your room door to wake you up for gym work out.

You hated waking up early. You would follow him to the cold gym.

And he would make you do lifts. It hurt like hell. He would yell as if he was drill sergeant. Why does he want to train you? You thought he just listed after you.

The Colonel would call you mean names. Like weak and pathetic. You couldn't help it. You tried your best.

It was not good enough. Lyle watched you in pity.

"sir, not all women are capable of this. She is just different from you."

The Colonel said nothing and gave Lyle a pointed look.

The Colonel wanted you to train so you can defend yourself. Being perhaps the most beautiful lady alive, he assumed you might get raped when he is not around to protect you.

He has seen the way men ogle.

He quit training you. But he still woke you up to watch him work out. You would fall asleep in the gym.

The Colonel was always busy and rarely had time for himself. So he wanted to squeeze you and gym time all at once. He wants to make time to fuck you at night after his shift.

The colonel would glance at your napping form

It was cute.

He would secretly smile and continue punching the boxing bag

He assigned female soldiers and sometimes Lyle to watch over for your safety since you are talentless in combat

He remembered the first time he made you do boxing with him.

"Colonel, this is too hard."

"stop complaining, brat. This is for your own good "

You were sweating and panting. As if you and him just had sex. His cock hardened at the pretty glistening sight of you.

Soon you fell on your ass and was huffing and puffing for breath. Quaritch rolled his eyes. He gave up on you.

He picked you from the boxing ring and made you sit in the bench. "Never mind. You're hopeless "

That hurt your feelings. You tried to keep up. But it was unfair not everyone can be perfect in everything

You did try your best.

Then there was the incident. Selfridge would yell at you and your science friends whenever he is in a bad mood.

Before the Colonel.

Today, you were quiet as the head boss continued abusing you. You nodded and submitted to his name calling. The Colonel showed up and stood up for you.

It was scary when the Colonel put Selfridge back in check. Lyle and a couple of Marines were surrounding Quaritch as if to back him up.

What if the Colonel would hit you?

You looked at Grace.

You tried to avoid Quaritch the whole day but of course he saw you after his shift.

The colonel noticed. He knew you already feared him. But he felt annoyance when you wouldn't look at him.

He forced you to meet his eyes. He loved your big beautiful exotic eye colored eyes and your naturally long and thick eyelashes. More better than those fake ass eyebrows.

He tried to make you love him. Perhaps if he gave you some cheesy romance you will. You are brand new adult. So...maybe that is why you are nervous to having a relationship with any man.

He stopped waking you up to watch him train. He let you sleep in. He then would send you gifts. Flowers from the jungle and then he found an animal cub close to a kitten from earth.

"aw. Thank you Colonel, it's so cute!"" You gushed. You kissed his side head. The one with the scars.

The Colonel hid a smile but nodded instead

The ice was beginning to melt.

You would tend to the new kitten creature. You loved feeding it milk the best. So eager to drink. It was cute. Like a baby.

The Colonel would stare. He imagined the lousy kitten to be a baby. His baby. The thought of your breast feeding his child. It gave him a boner.

Sadly the kitten was fucking annoying and clingy. He would whine and you begged him to let it stay in their shared room

That's right. After a week of dating, the Colonel ordered you to move in with him.

The damn kitten would stare as he fucked you. It was awkward. But you would try to distract him by stroking his face lovingly and touching his abs.

A smart thing you were. Cunning. Like a spoiled daughter.

The entire base knew who you belonged to. The men stopped flirting with you out of fear. They avoided you which was nice. No more harassment.

Some people were grateful. The science lab got more equipment. The Marine soldiers were glad the Colonel would usually be in a good mood.

But too bad a new recruiter named Jake Sully came and later changed the relationship between you and Quaritch.

Damn Sully

#yandere miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #dark miles quaritch #yandere miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #avatar #avatar 2009

[rahxe-things]

One Piece (Live Action)

No spoilers

Listen, I didn't have high hopes for this, but to sum up all 8 episodes in an easy little sentence; it was pretty damn good.

Granted there were a number of creative liberties taken to make the Romance Dawn arc fit and flow more fluidly into these 1hr long 8 episodes, but I feel like they didn't take away from it at all.

But I really want to talk about the casting. Cause they did fucking fabulous! Because never would I think I'd say that my favourite casting would be for Buggy the Clown. The man is probably the best actor in the whole show. A close second imo would be Shanks, and it's not just because these actors are spitting images of their characters, but they captured and carried their characters so well, that during their scenes I almost forgot they were based off anime characters.

As for character resemblances; I'm limiting the list to characters that are relevant to the series as a whole.

Shanks looks exactly like I always imagined IRL Shanks would look like. As a huge fan of Shank's character, I'm really glad they found someone who pulled it off.

I'm convinced they just pulled Mihawk right out of the manga/anime. I don't think they could have found someone who looks more like him AND play his character as well as he did. He didn't have many scenes, but it was enough to leave an impression.

Koby. I bet you didn't expect him to make the list. But when he's first shown on screen, he is so unmistakably Koby. The timid, uncertain kid who wants to be a Marine was castled perfectly imo.

Alvida! Another one I bet you think wouldn't have been mentioned. But here she is. But not because she's an accurate representation, but because I think they made the correct choice of casting. In the anime/manga, Alvida is known as the most beautiful in the East Blue but is actually drawn quite ugly. We are supposed to assume that her reputation comes from her brutally forcing people to spread the rumour, but this Live Adaptation allows the reputation to spread from something concrete, hiding her secret brutality. Because omg that woman is gorgeous! <3

Zoro: I think he was going to be difficult to cast, but the actor they chose makes for a fantastic Zoro. I think my only real grief about his casting is that the actor just doesn't have that gruff tone of voice that Zoro's voice actor has for the anime. His combat choreography more than makes up for it though. I'd have to say, he has the best choreography out of everyone. (I don't know if this was because of the directing, or the actor himself, but I loved it.)

Continuing with the fight scenes choreography...

First of all, most of it is (predictably) cheesy. Anime fight scenes are notoriously difficult to adapt to live action. THAT BEING SAID, I think they did really well. There are moments where movements are really strange, but they're actually far and few between, and typically only show up where someone does one of those in-human jumps or really long leaps from across a room. And Luffy's stretchiness. Granted I'm sure they did what they could, but I still feel like they did better in the Fantastic Four movies from the early 2000s.

The Snails

Sweet Baby Jesus, those things are going to be in my nightmares. That is all.

All in all, even if it's not a perfect adaptation of the Romance Dawn arc, I still think over all it was done splendidly. As I said before, I didn't have high hopes for an anime to live action show, but I finished off the episodes overwhelmingly positive. (Bonus point for someone finally deciding on a TV show instead of a movie.) I do feel like they could have planned for a 12 episode season (much like anime), if they paced a bit differently by incorporating some minor interactions that ultimately didn't make it in, but I'm still definitely looking forward to the possibility of a season 2... and 3, and 4, and so on. Especially if they get the funding to improve of the fighting choreography and CGI. There's so many characters that I want to see make it into the live action universe, that I'm genuinely hoping for this show's success. Also, someone correct me if I'm wrong, but did I see Cavendish on the wanted poster wall? I though he didn't start pirating until after Loguetown...?

#one piece #live action #one piece live action #live action one piece #my review #no spoilers #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #usopp #one piece usopp #god usopp #going merry #straw hat pirates #straw hat luffy #straw hat crew #red haired shanks #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #koby one piece #alvida #monkey d garp #romance dawn #one piece romance dawn #romance dawn arc

[e-dubbc11]

Ericca, you sweet, amazing and lovely lady! Congratulations on your milestone! That is so fantastic and you really deserve it ❤️

You've always been so kind to me and such a good friend. I'm thankful I found you, the Beth to my Rip 😆❤️

You know I'm a fluffball, so of course I'd send an ask. I'm also indecisive, so... two prompts for our Billy boy? 😅🙈

“don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine.”

"Nothing makes me more happy than making you smile."

Your Billy will forever be my favorite ❤️

My sweet Sofie, thank you and thank you for sending these in, I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to finally get to this one but I really hope you like it! I love you to pieces and I’ll always be the Beth to your Rip ❤️

What Makes You Beautiful

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: couple of swear words, self doubt, reader feeling insecure about her body, fluff

Word Count: a little over 2K

Summary: Billy and reader are married and have a new baby. Reader is feeling insecure about her post baby body, he reassures her she is the only one for him.

A/N: This ask kinda got away from me, what was supposed to be around 1K words, turned into a little over 2K words so I figured I’d just make it a whole thing complete with moodboard. And thank you Sofie for helping me with the title, I was having a hell of a time. ❤️

Nothing was more picture perfect than the sight in front of you. The sight of your handsome husband asleep on the couch holding your precious baby daughter on his chest, also asleep, was something you were still getting used to.

Billy Russo was a marine, a CEO, a combat veteran, and now, a father. You never thought you would ever see the day where Billy would be content holding a baby. He was nervous at first when you told him he was going to be a father.

He had so many questions, one of them being “Do you think I’ll be a good dad, y/n?” The worried look on his face broke your heart, you could see he was scared, but did your best to put his worries to rest. “Well we’re going to find out, aren’t we. I’ll be right here with you, Billy. I’m scared too, but we can learn together.”

Billy never knew what real love was, he had never been shown, but he eventually learned sometimes the hard way but he did learn. He learned it so well in fact that when he asked you to marry him, it was a complete surprise.

You had never talked about it and weren’t sure if he would ever be ready to get married. Shock and awe are the only two words you could use to describe what you felt that day, tears were shed by both of you but there wasn’t any hesitation in your answer. Of course you would marry him.

That was three years ago, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows but he was the love of your life and you would work hard at keeping what you fought so hard to attain—true love. And he would try his hardest to do the same.

And now the two of you were parents, to the sweet little angel asleep on her father’s chest. With each rise and fall of Billy’s chest, you watched her entire body move up and down, her tiny fist balled up next to her face, and her ink like hair that matched her father’s sticking straight up off of her little head. She was so beautiful, your little Ruby—Ruby Faye Russo.

Being new parents, it was difficult to find time to be with just one another but it was important that you and Billy still did things together just the two of you. It was getting easier to leave Ruby while you went out.

Your parents were always very eager to look after their granddaughter and the Castle family could not come over fast enough if Billy asked them if they could babysit for a few hours while the two of you went out to dinner.

It had been six months since Ruby was born, things were going as well as could be expected with two brand new parents. Ups and downs, good days, not so good days but you had settled into a routine and had managed to make time for you and Billy to go out on dates with each other twice a month.

But there was one thing that had been bothering you, especially for the past couple of months. You still couldn’t fit into your pre-baby clothes and even though Ruby was six months old now, your emotions continued to move in roller coaster fashion about it.

You were constantly questioning yourself. “Does he still find me attractive? What if I can’t lose the weight? Will he leave me for someone else?” Stupid hormones and they finally got the best of you while you were getting ready for a dinner date with Billy one night.

He said he was taking you somewhere nice, made arrangements for Maria, Frank, and the kids to come over to take care of Ruby, and Billy also took care of the baby so you could get ready for the evening.

Wanting to look your best, you went all out. You curled your hair, added a pretty red flower to the side, exaggerated your winged eyeliner, and put on red lipstick. But when it came time to put the dress on that you had picked out, that’s when it all fell apart. It still didn’t fit.

Billy walked into the bedroom after you put your dressing robe back on. “Look who finally fell asleep.” You smiled looking at Ruby asleep on her father’s shoulder. Billy placed a soft kiss on the top of the baby’s head and said “I’m gonna go put her down so I can get ready, I’ll be right back, beautiful.”

Beautiful. The way that term of endearment rolled off of his tongue, he loved you so much. But it was hard to get out of your own head sometimes, and before you knew what was happening, tears had welled up in your eyes about to spill over when he came back into the bedroom.

“Do you think I should wear the gray or the black su—? Hey, hey baby, what’s wrong?” Billy asked. Immediately pulling a tissue from the box on your vanity, he started to catch the fresh tears that fell from your eyes.

“It doesn’t fit.” You said with a hitch in your voice.

Billy’s dark eyes, like two pieces of onyx, gazed at you full of love and concern.

“What doesn’t fit, sweet girl?” He asked and glanced quickly at the dress on the bed. “The dress?”

You nodded. “I still don’t have a lot that fits me right now, Billy. And I keep thinking what if I can’t get back into those clothes?”

He caught a couple stray tears that ran down your cheek.

“Why are you sayin’ things like that? I need to you tell me what you’re feelin’, y/n.” He said.

Billy Russo was a lot of things and great communicator was not one of them but today you were the one that was having trouble getting your words out.

“I—I don’t feel very pretty right now, Billy. And I’m afraid if I can’t lose the baby weight that—that you won’t find me pretty anymore either.” You voice was strained, trying as hard as you could to keep from completely breaking down.

A slight smile crept across Billy’s face. “That’s what’s botherin’ you? Come with me, beautiful.” He took your hand and led you out of the bedroom into Ruby’s room.

When you found out you were having a baby girl, pink was not an option, that’s not what you envisioned. Black and white with accents of red decorated her room with her name painted in red above her crib.

You took a minimalist approach to decorating her nursery, but there was an obvious theme of red hearts and bows. You remembered how you cried after you finished painting her name above her crib because you just could not wait to meet her.

Billy ushered you over to Ruby’s crib, she was fast asleep on her back with her hands above her head, and the two of you staring down at the little angel you brought into the world.

“Look at her, y/n.” He whispered.

Shifting your eyes from his, you gazed down at Ruby sleeping so peacefully. Moments like this were so…perfect.

“Look at what you’ve given me. You gave me something I never thought I would ever have or even want. We’re a family and I love you endlessly. You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me because you make me laugh, you taught me how to love, you accept me for who I am and because you gave me my little girl down there. Not because you can fit into some stupid dress.”

You stood there in silence as he poured his heart out to you, still catching your tears in the tissue and trying to not smudge your makeup.

“I love you too, Billy. So much.” You said.

He cupped your face in both of his hands and smiled warmly at you. “Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine. It’s always going to tell you that you’re beautiful, my love. Always.”

Billy leaned in to kiss you, his kisses peppered your forehead, to your cheeks and finally to your lips. He didn’t care that he had red lipstick on his lips now and you didn’t mind that he had smudged it, it could be fixed. His long arms wrapped tightly around you and he hugged you with such force that all of the air had escaped your lungs.

Little Ruby stirred in her crib but quickly fell back to sleep while you and Billy quietly slipped out of her room and back to your bedroom.

“So can I still take my wife out to dinner tonight? I’ll take you to get a new dress on the way if you want, just say the word, baby.” He said with that perfect smile splashed across his face.

Finally after the tears, you let out a little laugh. “Yes Billy, I’d love to go out to dinner with you. But you don’t have to buy me a new dress, I’m pretty sure I have something else I can wear.”

Of course he was finished getting ready before you, all he had to do was throw on his suit and he was ready so he went to wait for you in the living room while you finished. After fixing your makeup, you found the perfect outfit. A red pencil skirt and a slim fit black top, they both fit and more importantly, the outfit made you feel beautiful.

You were confident as you walked out to greet your husband.

“Hey there, handsome.” You said batting your eyelashes at him, playfully.

Billy looked up from scrolling on his phone. “Holy shit…baby, you look—you look perfect.”

The desire in his eyes as he jumped up to meet you as you walked towards him was all you needed to see to know how he felt about you.

He brushed your cheek with his knuckles as he looked down at you, wanting to kiss you but you stopped him. “Don’t mess up my lipstick again, Mr. Russo or we’re never going to get out of here.” You said.

His eyes roamed all over you from head to toe and then stopped right at your chest. “Actually Mrs. Russo, I was thinking about how great your tits look in this, my god.”

You weren’t expecting his comment so a burst of laughter came from deep down in your stomach but quickly stopped when you remembered Ruby was asleep in her room.

Playfully slapping him on the shoulder, you whisper yelled “Billy, you can’t make me laugh like that when the baby is sleeping!” You slapped his shoulder one more time.

He pulled you into an embrace and just held you for a brief moment. “Nothing makes me happier, than making you smile, sweet girl.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope our little girl has your laugh, she already has your sass.”

You pulled away and narrowed your eyes at him. “She does not!”

Billy raised his eyebrows at you. “Oh did you forget that she pulled the nurses hair right after she was born?”

You shied away from him a little bit but also you bit back a smile because you did remember, how could you forget? As soon as she was born, the nurse took her from you and little Ruby grabbed hold of that nurse’s hair and would not let go. “She’s got my hair! She’s got my hair!” She yelled. It was a memory you and Billy would always remember and it would always put a smile on your face.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on your door and Frank’s voice boomed from the other side. “Open up Russo’s, we wanna hold that baby!!”

“Well, I think Uncle Frank is here.” You said sarcastically.

Billy looked in the direction of the door and back to you. “Sure sounds that way, you ready for dinner, my love?”

“I am ready, baby. I love you.” You said with a smile. “You better let Frank in before he breaks the door down.”

He smiled and winked back at you. “I love you too, beautiful.” Frank continued to knock, never letting up. “I’m gonna kill him.”

With a furrowed brow and lips pressed firmly together because of the incessant knocking, Billy turned and headed for the door.

“I’m coming, Frankie! Hold ON!”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fluff #billy russo imagine #billy russo #ben barnes #ericca’s 200 follower celebration

[phantasyhalation]

i can't say i enjoy playing persona 3. it's a rough, experimental game with poor pacing and some extremely questionable combat design questions. that said: it is incredibly thematically consistent. the 'modern persona formula' is loosely adapting P3's narrative structure and mechanics to a new setting. everything new atlus tried in P3 was a direct result of hashino being a madman who cared about thematic integration. take the AI party, for example—crazed decision, rarely repeated in turn-based games since—done for theme. "oh, it's because SEES aren't really friends and the protagonist isn't their leader—" no, it was done so that every character could have a fixed personality in gameplay. to only influence them through the tactics menu replicates real relationships, and their independence is an exercise in trust-building. "The game's theme and scenario come first. No matter what kind of game it is, you can't make it in any other fashion."

anyway, given that he left the series after 5, i take it he's not involved in P3R. i imagine some good will come out of this—i don't think AI party members as they were implemented were impactful enough to make up for the marin karin horrors. that said, i'm already feeling the loss in just the visual design. it's lost its grime. tatsumi port island is extremely small compared to even most other Atlus RPGs on the PS2—it's a developer city, and not a thriving one at that. there's little to do, and not much of a youth culture. all its sleek aesthetics slip away the moment you go indoors: it's a rather unimpressive place to live for how much money must have gone into it.

i wouldn't want to live there. the other modern games get at alienation, or at least gesture to it, but inaba and tokyo are incredibly lively places: the former's communal, with good-hearted people everywhere, and tokyo's full of possibility, intrigue, and more than enough other weirdos who won't judge the protagonist on rumour. in P3, most social links start as tenuous connections made on chance, often with extremely high barriers to entry. most of your partners are not just normal people, but extremely mediocre ones. more often than not, you learn about their problems before you learn about their better qualities. failing businesses, failing health, failing families—everything's in decline. nothing the protagonist says or does while forming a friendship with kenji suggests they like him more than they like the company. he's really kind of a shitty kid, but he's one of the first to give our weirdo a chance. and then there's tanaka. they're not all revolutionary friendships, but there's some real range between them. getting to know them all adds up.

P3 is still very young adult, but the way it goes about relationship-building never has much to do with the power of friendship (it actually offers minimal benefits!). the protagonist starts out with awful social stats because he's an unsociable friendless loser with nothing tethering him to the world around him. he tends to be dismissive and passive in conversation in most of the early links, and he doesn't even register on almost anyone's radar without a chance encounter or some player-directed excellence. you can say mitsuru is superficial for her Sapio Factor, and you're really not wrong—but she's got a lot going on, as the main narrative constantly hammers in. it makes sense that the maladjusted loner in her dorm wouldn't register as a friendship candidate. it's very possible you never even get to know her well. it's not so standard a friendship fantasy in that sense, i think—although the mandatory romance is certainly a feature.

cumulatively, i think the range of mundane experiences adds up. everyone's got their own small world with little crossover and nothing of mechanical value to sway the player one way or another. befriend a dying man. skip studying to hang out with a wretched alcoholic. get addicted to a dying MMO. it's all time, and it's only whatever you make of it. you'll go further if you put in an effort, though, with yourself and your relationships. as far as Teen High School Games go, i think you could do worse for nuance.

i've played P3 quite a few times. not my favourite game. unsure if i'll go through this remake (the sleekness of everything isn't selling me). but if you want to know my read: before all else P3 is about becoming a human being. your character is never going to have a perfect year, even if you do everything—but he can end up with a far richer life than the one he started with. it's never too late to start.

#persona #persona 3 #long post #this is ramblings. i have way way more precise and sustained takes on this game but they don't suit the informal mode of this blog #maybe it's high time i publish that p3 article. except now i have to complain about how p5'ing its aesthetic hurts the setting. ugh. #latency.txt

[doom-nerdo-666]

"Deconstructing" the Dark Lord

There's a lot of things to be said about this character.

The most i usually say is "it's a mix of things that could have been seperate" and there's a good reason: He's a character almost made special by the ingredients combined that define him.

And each idea that represents him lead to fans expect anything but the final result and i believe even id themselves have second thoughts about this character (You've probably heard the idea that he was supposed to have a dragon phase).

So this post of mine is both me explaining why some fans didn't like the Dark Lord, while also thinking out ideas that could've worked or appealed more to fans.

Even if some of these ideas don't make a lot of sense or "contradict lore", it's more about Doom "being epic" and how some concepts rank in a "cool factor" for a series like Doom (At least considering some fans).

MAJOR SPOILERS, even if this is Doom.

"EVIL DOOMGUY"

People expected a 1v1 style duel where you fight a "mirror/copy" of Doomguy and not a "retouched Marauder" (This specifically feels wrong in the era of the series where lore matters a bit more and there's a special focus around Doomguy's current state as the ultimate demon killer).

The explenation of him looking like Doomguy may not help: I forgot but i think it's a weird context that means Doomguy IS the actual copy even if not intentional (To fans, Doomguy's appeal is that he was a random guy that got into a whole mess and wasn't always special).

And i guess how Doomguy's face isn't faithfull enough in 3D yet, but i mentioned that in a previous post of mine.

Ideally, "Evil Doomguy" could be like this:

Make the armor like the Immora/Skullface/Cultist skins where it's a demonic version of the Praetor suit.

Give him an arsenal of different weapons that are bound to phases.

The phase weapon system means he could start with a weak pistol and shotgun, like he's growing his arsenal by phases.

His weapons (Shotguns, chaingun, rifle, rocket launcher, plasma rifle, Gauss/Ballista equivalent etc) would have somewhat unique/different alt fires/mods even if their primary fires are the same as the player's.

At the last phase, he'd obviously have a BFG9000 and a Crucible with its own melee attacks.

Even his Chainsaw has melee attacks.

He can also double jump and dash, while also having his own equipment launcher cannon.

He can glory kill nearby fodder enemies for resources: THIS right here is his weakness, because he can run out of resources and has to fight for them like Doomguy does, so it's like a window of opportunity to hit him back.

His health bar has his own animated face on the HUD, just to show how much of a Doomguy clone he is.

At some point, his helmet falls during combat and he shows his face.

Lore: Make him a creation by Hell that exists as a mix of both fear and hatred Hell has toward Doomguy.

Alt lore idea: Remember Doomguy's boss that was mentioned in the D1 manual? Maybe he ended up going through his own journey through Hell and became an "Anti-Slayer" (And then his shoulder equip launcher is like a snake creature).

Stage? Maybe something like a "deathmatch arena" you'd expect out of Quake 3 or something, since a simple large circular area won't be good enough.

The idea of a rival for Doomguy seems special when you consider factors like how the Marauder still had a limited arsenal, when D3 has a boss that was Doomguy's boss turned into a monster with the BFG9000, zombie soldiers always carrying familiar/ingame weapons etc.

Plus, "evil version of the protagonist" is popular in some other games as well, so it's like Doom lied about its own version of it.

(Scythe 2 screenshot taken from Doomwiki, since the wad includes an "evil marine" that the player faces; Speaking of which, Colorfull Hell had a boss called "Player 9" that replaces the Zombieman and it's a fake deathmatch player invading your game)

Also, remember “voodoo dolls” from the Doom engine? Imagine if Doomguy saw these strange copies of him before facing an “anti-Doomguy” and the player even had to avoid shooting these Doomguy clones because they’d cost Doomguy’s health as well (Because that’s technically why they’re called “voodoo dolls” to begin with and are how some WADs get to do weird things not even id themselves considered).

THE "DEVIL" OF DOOM

Because if it's not the Icon of Sin, maybe "the Devil" could have been a bigger creature, almost like planet size or even "Hell itself" if you assume that an infinite, reality defying, evil dimension can be its own living entity.

A “planet sized demon” could easily be Doom’s version of Junji Ito’s Remina, like something as a follow up to “Doomguy shoots the BFG10K on Mars to make a hole” and even a nod to TNT Revilution’s first skybox, but with for example an Icon of Sin head attached to Jupiter or something.

So depending on how "eldritch" and giant the "CEO of Hell" would be implied to be, i thought of a boss fight where you're "inside the beast" and combines level puzzle elements with combat.

Visually, it has a weird surreal aesthetic like all the weirdest parts of Hell combined and some new weird elements.

But there's a variety of weak points (Some shootable, others punchable, even some where you jump on top of them like that "Jumpable" enemy idea i wrote before) where the Player fights the beast they're inside in, while avoiding hazards and traps to stay alive.

Maybe there's special artifacts or items (Some unique to this fight) to keep the player closer to their goal.

In general, this idea is inspired by stuff like the classic IOS and Quake's Chthon and Shub fights where the level design is part of defeating the boss (Along with D2RPG having the VIOS or something).

Then there's the seemingly unused "6 archdemons".

Maybe we could even go with the idea that Hell has a lot more "dark lords" because humans will never truly comprehend who rules Hell, as if it was meant to confuse humans.

Meanwhile, John Romero's SIGIL ending text had the phrase "Baphomet was only doing Satan's bidding" and the episode made use of Christopher Lovell's pre-existing "Satanic" artwork.

Also, the “real Devil of Doom” could involve a “ultimate endgame” style level where reality is falling apart and you see different assets of Hell/Earth/Mars/Sentinel Prime/Urdak/etc fused and mixed, while the level has non-euclidean geometry and gravity attached to different surfaces and even the skybox shows different backgrounds fused, to indicate Hell messing up with reality.

ALSO GOD

I think people were already fine with The Father, even if not with the twist of him also being VEGA.

But to think Doomguy technically "kills God" because him and "Satan" were the same thing seems odd.

Maybe this also depends on how people feel about Urdak and whether or not Doom is getting "less Christian" even if the series never tapped that much into "accurate" Biblical references.

THE MECH SUIT

It's something that could have been a super heavy enemy at best, like if Immora's army had mech guys or even if 2016's Hell Guard made a comeback with a tech aesthetic (Yet again, something i wrote in a previous post).

Davoth wearing this armor doesn't really give the idea of being "on pair" with Doomguy.

It's weird because the mech itself makes him bigger than Doomguy but he only has few attacks.

THE NAME "DAVOTH"

The use of the name “Davoth” and one of the concept art knight designs of the Dark Lord could inspire a tall humanoid Immoran knight that references Goliath; So imagine if Immora had a 12 feet tall knight named Davoth and he could be a miniboss or something.

The name itself isn't bad and neither is that "metal heart" thing on his chest, even if it sounds like i'm talking about reusing them for something else.

CHARACTER AND MOTIVATION

Might be getting it wrong, but wasn't he mad that he didn't found immortality or something and that lead to him being betrayed by his own servants?

Because when you think of the idea of Hell, you'd think he could have been "Evil for the sake of it".

May seem weird for a series whose appeal is "badass space marine destroys the ultimate place of evil".

IMMORA

Also something i talked about before but:

The idea of "Hell's heart" being a city with humans seems weird for, again, the place of evil where bad people go where they die.

And the sci-fi aesthetic seems weird, not just because "they painted Urdak red" but because the original games already had an idea of "Hell tech".

(Again, flesh walls with stabbing metal pipes and giant skull with computers inside the sockets)

When you think about it, it's as if Hell only ever had technology just to mock humans; Something in a "God creates, Satan imitates" way.

Even the Cultist Base aesthetic could've worked to suit the "evil technology" idea.

It's part of why i thought 2016 making it that the UAC created cybernetic demons is weird: It might weaken Hell a bit and take away the weirdness that the classic games already presented.

Because even if Hell had armies and stuff that almost put them on the same level as UAC/Sentinel soldiers, it should still have a touch of "evil magic" or as if something was created from a spiteful nature.

Indicating that Hell has a 100% evil "personality" that cannot be reasoned with.

And also, like i said: D2016's multiplayer had cooler demonic armor sets and the Reaper weapon was done dirty when used by the Demonic Troopers.

I thought Immora would work more if it was a "paradise for sinners" where its soldiers were sinners and evil former humans that were more competent than other former humans because they were "rewarded".

Maybe a legit Satanic cult paradise, where its humans are those that betrayed mankind?

And the fact that there's "humans" in Immora could justify them as "evil copies/parodies", so you could make demons that look "humanoid" but are still weird.

WHAT ELSE

It's easy to see that The Ancient Gods shouldn't have been made under a year one season pass release contract.

But i wonder if even without those limitations, things would change that much.

Because Doom was never a "lore bound" series, which is why i think there's an "easy" solution to "bad lore ideas": Just having a new game do things differently, even if they "break lore".

Perhaps the fact we even think of "how to fix the Dark Lord" means there's a somewhat positive impact on the DL existing in general: A reminder that Doom is fun to reinterpret.

Whether it's for fun or because some fans weren't happy with certain things.

One can also see thing as "fans making Doom more epic than it actually is", even if it's not new/caused by new fans when older fans were always doing that too.

"What about the dragon idea?" Maybe make that a seperate monster/boss, even with some homage to the D3 Maledict or even Quake and Hexen or something.

FooSarr did an interesting video about a demonic Wintherin, but i already posted it before.

And semi-related but Bethesda artist Jonah Lobe drew a "demonic" version of the Doomslayer.

Perhaps a criticism is that it factors too much into certain D2016 aspects that made the demons "even more alien than in D3", though this is a prespective worth mentioning in a different post.

Honestly, it feels like there's a lot of ways you can go with "evil Doomguy"; Again, me talking about Doom's "true versatility" even if it's too easy to talk about it than anything actually being made.

At least the idea of Doomguy being put to rest after defeating the main bad guy isn't so bad and i guess his theme song wasn't bad either.

Could have said something about the "final fight" starring the Sentinel army and how Doomguy needed to go to Earth to use the gate to Divum or something but maybe for another post.

#doom #id software #opinions #spoilers #dark lord #immora #hell #doom eternal #doomguy #long post #idea #redesign

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Went to Egypt last year and looking at the pictures made me wonder how odd it must be for them to essentially travel back in time. No pictures truly compare to how it feels standing before the Pyramid of Khufu itself. You really do feel small before it. If you have knee or back pain, I don't suggest going inside to the King's Chamber.

You stand in the hot sun, your umbrella and fan doesn't do much to shield you from the dry heat. Around you are tourists that move around trying to find the perfect photo spot. Behind you, you hear the sound of hooves on road as one of the locals ferries tourists in a horse drawn carriage. The Great Pyramid stands before you, what must it be like to watch it be constructed. Your Space Marine was out of armour, he had opted out of even bringing his armor with him the moment he realized the itinerary involved going a lot of sandy places. You remember how he had cursed in Gothic when you once went to a beach with him and he realized the sand had gotten everywhere.

Your backpack is lifted off your back and he nudges you towards the pyramid. The queue into it was smaller now, he can hear more buses pulling up at the carpark. If you waited any longer you'll have to wait even longer to go in. You reluctantly leave your Space Marine. Originally you had wanted to go in with your Space Marine but when you tried to buy entry for two, the guy had firmly stated that only humans are allowed.

To be honest you're happy enough that you're able to bring him with you on holiday. A few airlines now cater to humans and their Space Marines. They're expensive (because of course they'll milk being the few that accommodate Space Marines.) but the price was worth every penny to you. As you make the steep, humid and hot climb in the the pyramid itself, you have to stop when someone ahead pauses to take a picture in the narrow passageway. Oh you can see now why they don't let Space Marines in, there's barely enough space for humans going up and down.

As soon as you reach the King's Chamber, you swiftly snap pictures of the empty granite sarcophagus in the hot and humid room before making the long way out. Spotting an unarmoured Space Marine in the crowd of tourists and locals was easy given how he quite literally stands out. Humans give him a wide berth, while most people are enchanted by Space Marines, some part of them still tells them not to flock or crowd one. As you made your way from the pyramid to him, you wonder what your Space Marine thinks of all this. He's clearly from a place far more advanced. Does he see your own house, the city you live in the same way you see the Pyramids or the temples of ancient Egypt?

Kinda one I don't have much to add too

He fidgets as his eyes narrow in on threats having easily scared off some pickpocketers from you. He doesn't like being in crowded places not many space marines do as combat wise it makes it harder to move quickly lest you trample an innocent underfoot. However, sometimes that has to happen lest more innocents die.

He could spy other Astarte nearby but he didn't want to move not until you came back out. And when you did he picked you right up and walked over to the other astartes.

You shook your head just telling him, "If you wanted to socalize you could have walked over there I would have found you."

He huffs down at your words and sets you down as the gothic flows between them as you look over your pictures of the both of you, his very picturesque frown and soft smiles when he didn't notice you.

You look to the side and see him holding a treat for you and you blink, "Where did..." The astartes he was chatting with nods grinning as you realize he's standing next to a stall of some kind but there is a sign written in what you can assume to be gothic.

You take a lick, its sweet and bitter and somehow sour and really strongly flavored making you pucker as your astarte laughs before eating as you both sit down as he enjoys his treat, you resting your feet, and of course you steal a bite of his treat every now and then.

#warhammer 40k #barn anon #Tales from the Barn #space marine husbandry #Space Marine Husbandry Sentience

[buttermykolchek]

Scouts honor. Part 1

[J. Kolchek x Fem! Reader]

This is my first try writing a fic, let me know what you think!

Italics means thoughts/flashbacks

Tw: blood, violence, swearing, cringe (probably)

Tags: @kassiekolchek22

Iraq, 2003.

Camp slayer 0800 hours.

Your tan combat boots hit the floor in a rhythm as you made your way to Rachel’s office. You had just received word that Colonel Eric King was assigned to lead the team. Rachel’s team. You’d known about their previous relationship and you knew it was extremely complicated. As Rachel’s best friend, you’d gotten caught in the crossfire several times. What I fucking headache. She’s going to loose her shit ice she hears about this. You took a deep breath before knocking firmly on her office door, clutching the paperwork in your left hand. You were standing with your hands behind your back. Your long (y/h/c) locks were pulled into a tight bun, you had on a dark green tshirt, which was tucked into your uniform pants, which were tucked into your combat boots. the typical uncomfortable marine uniform crap.

You heard a bit of shuffling around and giggling before rachel answered the door, stepping aside so nick could leave the room. her hair was messy, and nicks hat was clearly crooked. What the hell? Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw a fresh hickey on his neck. Nick nodded at you and kept on down the hall, and Rachel sighed at the look on your face. “It’s not what it looks like, y/l/n.” She almost whispered as you stepped inside, You waited until she closed the door to have a mini freak out. “Not what it looks like?! Rach! Are you serious right now? He’s your subordinate!” You we’re whisper yelling. Praying nobody like merwin or Joey were walking by, they’d definitely make a big stink out of this.

She sighed and leaned on her desk, biting her thumb nail. “I know..” she mumbled, looking at the floor. “I just, I don’t know.. With all the bullshit with Eric I think I just wanted to feel something else, you know?” You looked at her with raised eyebrows, your hands on your hips. “No Rachel, I don’t ‘know’.” You said, using your fingers as quotation marks. “Please, enlighten me. Tell me. How do you think Eric is going to react when he gets here?!”

Your breath caught in your throat as Rachel’s head snapped to your direction. “Excuse me?” She stood, raising her voice a little. You ran a hand down your face in stress. “He’s going to be here within the hour. Christ, rach.” You groaned, pacing around the room. She was already fixing her hair in a hurry. “Straighten up, don’t say a fucking word about any of this, I mean it. We’ve got enough bullshit floating around this camp. The last thing anybody needs is your and nicks affair getting out and about.” You pointed a finger at her, before turning and leaving the room. Slamming the door shut. She may have been your superior, but she knew you were right. You had every reason to be mad. Nicks your best friend, you don’t want his heart getting broken, nor do you want either of them to be reprimanded if word got out.

You walked very hurriedly to your shared bunk room with nick and Jason. The tips of your ears were red with anger. You threw the door open, quickly slamming it shut behind you the second you were through. The first person you saw was nick. Perfect. “Hey scout” nick flashed a soft smile, he was lacing up his boots, sitting on the edge of his bunk bed. “Just the guy I wanted to see” you said through gritted teeth. Smacking him on the back of his head. “Ow! What the hell y/n!” He shouted. Rubbing his head “what the hell were you thinking? Nick, her husband is going to be our new CO. If he finds out, your ass is grass.” You sighed. “And I’ve heard he’s a real dickbag. So, lucky you.” By now You we’re pacing again. Chewing on your bottom lip, not looking at nick. “I’m sorry, y/n. You gotta understand, after the checkpoint-“ he shook his head. Looking at the floor.

You looked over at him, softening your eyes and moving to sit next to him. You, nick and Jason had just been involved in a shooting a few weeks back. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to think about the blood. “I get it.. I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Rubbing his back. Before you could say anything else, the door had swung open. It was Jason, he looked almost.. scared? “Guys, pull your shit together and get out here. Our new CO just landed” he panted, before running off down the hall. You giggled a little at how discombobulated he seemed. Jason always had his shit together, but apparently not today. You and nick shared a soft smile before standing up, heading out the door and towards the briefing room.

Briefing room, 0830 hours.

You were leaning against a desk, listening to colonel king give his presentation. Nick and Jason were on either side of you, listening close. Your eyes were trained on the floor tiles, arms crossed, not really paying attention too much. You were nervous about this mission, maybe even more nervous that Jason’s arm kept brushing against yours. ‘Stop it, he’s your boss, idiot’ you thought to yourself. Jason’s always been your best friend alongside Nick, but lately you’ve been getting mixed signals from him. One day he’d treat you like one of the guys, punching your arm and talking about guy stuff. Then the next day you’d catch him stealing glances at you from across the room, defending you from merwin and his gross jokes, and making sure you were taking care of yourself.

You mentally kicked yourself for thinking about him in such a way. He’s your friend, y/n. He doesn’t see you like that. He’s just a nice guy. You repeated that to yourself until you heard Jason speak up. “Boys are just eager to catch a break, sir. No harm meant.” ‘Did I miss something?’ You thought. Looking up at him and nudging his arm a little. A confused look on your face. Jason tilted his head down, leaning his head to the side and whispering “fill you in later.”. You nodded. Still listening, but keeping to yourself.

After Eric was finished with his presentation, you made your way over to Joey. He was talking to Eric with a concerned look on his face. As you approached, you cued in on their conversation. “Bet the farm on this. I have a good feeling we're gonna clear up." Said Eric. “I wish I shared your optimism, Colonel." Joey spoke, the colonel turned his heels and made his way over to Rachel, as you leaned on the table next to joey. “Hey, you okay?” You looked at him with a soft expression. Joey was always like a big brother to you, ever since you joined the team he and you would always get into trouble together. He sighed. “I’m okay, just a little worried is all” Joey shrugged

“Hey, don’t be. Nothings gonna happen to any of us, not if I can help it.” You smiled a little, tilting your head. “What if you can’t help it, scout? What if I can’t help you or, or merwin or-“ “hey” you interrupted “will you stop that. We’re gonna be okay. Promise” you stuck out your pinky, which made him smile a little, before wrapping his pinky around yours. “See? Everything is going to be A-O-K” you stood up straight. Knocking on his helmet playfully before walking off, on your way to get ready for the mission.

Tunnels, 1100 hours, 63ft

“Y/n! Get down!” You heard Joey scream, it sounded almost like an echo. What the fuck? “Joey?” You groaned. Everything hurt. You felt like shit. You tried to sit up, only to gasp at the sharp pain in your shoulder. Your eyes snapped open, only to see it was dark all around you, besides the circle of light around you, which came from the giant hole in the ceiling above.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You winced, rolling onto your side. Your vision was blurry for a second, before everything came clear. The pain in your shoulder was burning like a white flame. You clutched it, only to find that it felt wet. “Ah, shit” you hissed. Pulling your hand back into the sunlight. Your hand was covered in blood. “Fan-fucking-tastic” you whispered, looking around to observe your surroundings as you stood up. You couldn’t really tell where you were exactly, other than it was a tunnel of some sort. “Joey? Jason?” You whisper/called. Careful incase there were enemies nearby. “What the fuck” you whispered, again and again. It’s the only thought you really had, as you looked for your weapons. other than finding your team and patching up your shoulder, of course. You assumed it was a bullet hole, giving the fact you were just in combat. ‘Oh, shit.’ You thought. The memories flooding back.

You stood up straight, checking your clip. Thank god it was full. You took a couple steps towards the dark tunnel, raising your weapon. Turning your headlight on. You could barely see, the path was so narrow. You clicked the intercom button on your earpiece “Scout to mailman 3, Nicky? Where are you?” You spoke just above a whisper. Your new call sign made you smile a little. Jason had given it to you a few days ago, saying something about how you’re like a girl scout.

As you approached you realized the three figures were Nick, Jason and clarice. Nick and Jason were saying something about needing to find you, and You heard merwin groan in pain. “found her” he managed to get out, making them all turn around “fancy meeting you here” you joked lightheartedly, grabbing your knife and starting to cut the wires. “How did you- what? Where did you come from?” Jason said in disbelief. “I honestly don’t know, jase” you said softly. Glancing at him for just a second, before continuing to Concentrate on not injuring you or merwin any more. Finally, you cut the right wire that sent merwin to the ground.

As you all surrounded him, he started screaming again. “oh fuck he’s so fucked” you heard Jason say breathlessly. “You don’t think I can- hear you” merwin gasped between breaths. He really was fucked. Blood and guts never really bothered you, but this was just awful. His skin was torn to shreds, pieces of barbed wire still mauling his flesh. You had to do something to get it out. “Hey, hey, look at me” you said softly. Putting a hand on merwins helmet. You were trying to comfort him. He may have been a dick, but that didn’t mean you needed to be one. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna patch you up best I can, and then we’ll get out of here. Everything is going to be just fine.” “There’s morphine in my pack! Get it!” You heard Nick yell, “Jesus, who the hell loaded these packs” Jason grumbled. as you turned your head to look at them, clarice was yanked into the darkness.

“What the fuck?” You whispered in disbelief. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Jason stepped towards where clarice had disappeared. “Clarice?” Jason called softly, only to be answered by a menacing shrieking. Jason and Nick jumped back, meanwhile you had already grabbed merwins pack straps, ready to start moving him. “The fuck was that?” Merwin winced. Jason and Nick each grabbed one of merwins arms. “Move! Now!” He shouted, dragging the man behind the 3 of you. The trail of blood following.

“Nick he’s bleeding out, we have to take care of this” you insisted, dragging him into a corner. Hoping whatever was out there wouldn’t find you. You kept pressure on merwins wounds while Jason scoped out the area. “How is it?” Merwin winced. “You want the good version or the bad version?” You couldn’t look at him, knowing he was fucked either way. “Just give it to me straight.” He groaned. Nick shook his head, “I’m not gonna lie man, it’s pretty fuckin’ bad”. The shrieking was getting louder as you moved to start patching him up, he was bleeding out too quickly. “Whatever’s out there, he’s drawing them down on us!” Jason said in a panicked tone. You’ve never seen him this scared. “He won’t hold still jase, you need to get the morphine in him.” You turned your head. He was like a deer in headlights. “Now kolchek!” You demanded, he was a good soldier, they called him the best of the best. You knew he’d follow an order rather than a plea.

In a second Jason was digging the morphine out, as Nick kept his hand over merwins mouth to keep him quiet. you kept bandaging up several of merwins wounds, Joey had been giving you medicine training but it wasn’t enough.. wait, where’s Joey?you thought. Nick started to say something, but couldn’t hear what He was saying over the intense shrieking coming from down the hall. By the time you and Jason looked up, it was too late. “Nick, you’re choking him!” You slapped his hand away. Jason moved to check his pulse.

“Can’t find a pulse, I can’t find a fucking pulse” he said in a panicky tone. You looked over at Nick. “It can’t be! I- I didn’t mean to-“ he stuttered “he’s gone Nick, merwin is dead” Jason spoke just above a whisper. Your heart sank. You fell back into your heels, looking down at your blood soaked hands. Nick looked at you both in sheer regret. “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean, fuck” he nearly shrieked. Standing up with his hands on his head “Nick it’s okay” you sighed. “It was an accident ” You stood up, ignoring the pain in your left shoulder and side. Jason stood beside you. Your heart jumped when you saw him out of the corner of your eye. Fuck. Why did he have to stand so damn close? Normally you’d be annoyed that someone’s up your ass, but Jason being close made you feel.. safe? Not the kind of safe Nicky made you feel. Nick always said he had to protected you, but you wanted jason to protect you, to hold you. Jesus, this ain’t the time.

“We gotta move guys, they’re coming.” You turned, and jason grabbed your left arm “hey we need to-“ You let out a yelp, Jason immediately released his hold. He had grabbed your bad arm. As the adrenaline wore off, you remembered that you were shot. “Fuck” you seethed as you clutched it. Him twisting your arm made it start to bleed again. “Y/n? What the fuck happened to you?” Jason moved closer. Grabbing your shoulder to examine you. “Ow, ow jason, be careful would you?” You whimpered, The shrieking from whatever was chasing you seemed to have subsided. “Christ, you got hit” he sighed, applying pressure. “Good news is, the bullet went clean through” he spoke softly as he started to put bandages on each side. “Bad news?” You seethed, Clenching his shirt tightly. “We’re out of morphine” he chuckled. Making you smile a little “awesome” you turned your head to look at him.

He seemed so focused. his eyes were narrow on your wound, cursing as he fumbled with the last bandage. You never noticed how attractive he really was until now. His face and arms were covered in dirt, he had a cuts and scrapes all over him. He brought his eyes to meet yours and you immediately felt your face heat up, looking away and at nick. He was looking at the floor, clearly upset. “Nick-“ “Let’s move” Nick said sorrowfully, breezing past you and Jason, and down the cave corridor. You looked up at Jason, who was already looking at you. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” You whispered as you both started to walk, careful not to let Nick hear. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine” Jason spoke as if he was trying to convince himself, rather than you.

Suddenly, you hear some sort of clicking noise behind you. You turn, shining your headlight towards the noise. Your heart stopped. There was some sort of.. creature crawling towards you. It was winged,and massive. “Oh my god” you gasped. Jumping back. The creature shrieked, standing on two legs and bellowing an inhuman scream. “Fuck, fuck! We gotta move!” You heard Jason yell, in an instant your tiny group was racing down the corridor, being chased by whatever the hell that was. You rounded a corner, seeing collapsed debris over a small staircase, and a clear bath right next to it. “We gotta go through it!” Nick shouted. “The other ways safer, she can’t make it through-“ You cut Jason off irritably. “I don’t need my damn shoulder to jump.” You hissed, immediately hurdling over the collapsed pieces of structure. You didn’t mean to sound like a bitch, but now was not the time to be careful.

The boys followed close behind as you ran into a semi open area. Before you could even look around, something smashed into your side, knocking you to the ground. “Y/n!” You heard Nick shout as your back hit the floor. The winged creature was ontop of you, clawing at your face. You shielded yourself and tried to kick it off as best you could but to no avail, you pulled out your knife and started stabbing it in the chest. “Get it off!” You shrieked as Nick and Jason started shooting at it. the thing ran off, giving you time to scramble to your feet. You clutched your side in agony. “God I hate this place” you groaned, continuing to run down the tunnel. You ran as fast as you could, praying to whatever god was listening that there weren’t more ahead of you. You came to a corner. Stopping and pointing your weapon behind you down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?!” Nick shouted. “I don’t know man, it was not supposed to play out like this” Jason spoke shakily. “How the hell are we going to get out of-“ you were cut off by a voice over your earpiece. “Any call signs this is king, contact contact! Taking fire! Does anyone cope over!” You turned to look at Jason. “That’s Rachel!” Nick cried. “King, this is mailman 2-1 actual say again, over.” Jason said, holding his earpiece. No response. “king this is mailman 2-1 actual. How copy, over?!” Nothing. “Damn it!” He hissed, turning around and leading down the tunnel.

A little bit of time had passed, and all three of you had been walking for a while, in silence. Nick was the first to speak up. “I killed him” he choked out, “I fucking killed merwin” he let out a shaken breath. “It was an accident.” You and Jason said nearly in unisons. “Just like the woman at the checkpoint” he shook his head. “Don’t make shit weirder than it already is, clear your fucking mind!” Jason hollered. Making you jump a little.

“We need to find someplace to chill out for a second. Figure out a plan” you grumbled, turning a corner and seeing Eric, sobbing near a cliff. You felt so dizzy that you really didn’t care about Eric’s state of being. “Go see what’s up with him, I’ll keep watch” you said to Jason, who nodded and approached the colonel with Nick. You could hear Eric crying, but couldn’t make out any of the words. Everything hurt, your head was pounding, your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your side was in excruciating pain. The creature that took you down must have broken a rib, or at the very least bruised one. You were still worried about Joey, hoping he was topside and safe.

“Rachel!” You jumped and ran towards your teammates at the sound of Nick yelling. “What the hell happened?” You said, looking between the three men. All of them were staring over the cliff. “No..” you stepped back. Shaking your head in disbelief, tears brimming your eyes. How could she be gone? You felt sick. “We gotta move, colonel we’re sitting ducks! We need to fall back, now.” Jason hollered. “Over there” Nick pointed towards what seemed to be a separate room, with huge doors. “Let’s go” you sighed, following Jason & nick. Eric was behind you.

“Scout, you’re bleeding” Eric exclaimed. Rushing to your side. “I’m fine, really, kolchek patched me up” you gave him a weak smile. “No, I mean you’re bleeding through the bandages.” “What?” You looked down, your shirt drenched in fresh blood. “Son of a bitch” you hissed, applying pressure. “Scout you don’t look so good..” Nick said warningly, walking closer to you with Jason beside him. “Gee, thanks sergeant, you really know how to make a girl feel special” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. You knew you’d eventually loose enough blood to weaken you, but you didn’t think it’d happen this quickly.

“Y/n seriously. Look at me.” Jason spoke up, and you did. “Jesus Christ” he breathed. Instantly putting your good arm over his shoulders. You tried to resist, but you were too tired. “Jason I’m fine, I can keep going.” You pleaded. You didn’t want to be dead weight. “Bullshit.” He grumbled. Picking you up and carrying you through the door. Everything faded to black.

-

Flashback

-

“Scout, hey! Um, hello? Earth to y/n?” You heard, picking your head up from your sketch pad to see Jason. “Oh hey kolchek. What’s up?” You were sitting on your bunk, relaxing after a long day of paperwork. “I said, Whatcha drawing there?” He chuckled. Sitting across from you. “I- um- nothing.” You said hurriedly, attempting to close your sketchbook, but he snatched it up to take a peek. “Jason!” You whined, trying to get it back. “No no! Let me see!” He laughed. Standing up and backing away so he could take a better look. “Well, we’ll miss y/l/n, something you need to tell me?” He teased. Holding it up and pointing at the half finished drawing of himself. He was standing in the briefing room, infront of a beautiful arched doorway. “I- no. What? No. I draw all of you I just- fuck this is awkward” you groaned. Covering your face with your hands. “Well?” He teased, raising his eyebrows with a grin on his face. “Jesus, Jason, I-“ you sighed. “I just like to draw you guys, that’s all” you looked up at him, praying he wouldn’t flip a page and see the one of him shirtless on the previous page. “I’m just teasin’, I think it’s pretty cool” he smiled, handing the sketch pad back. “Thanks” you smiled, taking the pad and setting it on your cot. “Next time though, you should draw one of us” he gulped, realizing what he just said. “You know, all of us” he said a little too quickly, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “Well well, mr kolchek, something you wanna tell me?” You teased, mocking him. You stood up, walking closer to him. The tension was growing thicker every second. “I-“ he was cut off by Joey coming into the room “guys, Merwin and Nick are gonna- woah. Am I interrupting something?” He said in shock, seeing you and Jason nearly chest-to-chest “nope, not at all, Cmon lieutenant” you hummed, following Joey out of your room. Jason just stood there, flustered and confused.

#dark pictures house of ashes #eric king #hoa #house of ashes #jason kolchek #joey gomez #nathan merwin #nick kay #rachel king #clarice stokes #the curator #incorrect house of ashes #salim othman #jason kolchek x reader