#i only had cutting tools for this so it’s a bit rough (and I think I smushed his nose a thousand times lol)

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

You Should Find Another Guiding Light - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Dear Reader Duology: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: With you drunk at Kelce’s party, Rafe has to drive you, his ex, home. Neither of you are over each other and both of you know it, for better or for worse. That doesn’t make things easy. Not at all. Word Count: 3.7k+ TWs/CWs: She/her pronouns used, adult/profane language, descriptions of a party, descriptions of drunkenness, a guy being a weirdo, Rafe being a little bit crazy, angst with the potential for a happy ending, I guess. Note: The title is in fact a Taylor Swift lyric lol. I don’t know, I just wanted to dip my toes in the OBX writing arena and I just had this idea pop into my head and not leave me alone so here it is. I think I might end up doing a part 2 for this just because I don’t want this to be Sad, but we shall see.

Rafe heard the chant of, “Go, go, go, go,” from the other side of the house.

The chant didn’t interest him even remotely. Pretty much nothing about the party did, actually. And if it weren’t at Kelce’s house while his parents were out of town, he wouldn’t have even bothered to come. The high he’d been riding had faded nearly an hour ago, and the drink in his hand was not nearly strong enough. He wasn’t even buzzed anymore, this was boring. All these fucking parties were boring now. Had been since…well, long enough now.

“Rafe,” he heard to his left, while about to bring the cup to his lips. He cut his eyes to the side. It was Topper, a grim look on his face, lips turned firmly downward. Rafe raised an eyebrow, lowering the cup. “Get the fuck out here, I need your help.”

“What?” he asked, huffing as he put down his cup on the nearest surface. Before Topper could answer, though, Rafe noted the ongoing chants from outside. A chant that was exclusively a mixture of his ex’s name—your name, the reason that nothing was enjoyable anymore—and cheers. “Oh fucking hell no.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Topper said dryly. “Me and Kelce just had to stop her from doing a keg stand in a skirt.”

“I swear to God,” Rafe growled. 

Rafe shouldered past him quickly making his way outside. You were dancing. He didn’t inherently have a problem with that. He loved watching you dance, in fact. Especially when you were drunk. But, that wasn’t even half the issue. He was torn between a mixture of fury and concern when he saw you, standing on top of the outdoor bar with some random guy holding your legs and trying to look up your skirt. The skirt that Rafe knew personally you almost never wore anything under. He couldn’t even imagine how drunk you were right now to not be flicking that guy’s hands off of you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Topper advised.

“Shut the fuck up, Top,” Rafe retorted harshly.

He strode forward, landing his hand aggressively on the guy’s shoulder and squeezing it until the man winced and tried to pull away. Then, Rafe only squeezed tighter. The guy shouted in protest to the rough grip, but Rafe didn’t care. The tool still had the nerve to have his fucking hand on your leg. You hadn’t even noticed that Rafe was standing there yet, which was another mark to just how out of it Rafe knew you had to be.

“What the fuck, Cameron?” the guy demanded.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Rafe spat. “And what the fuck do you think that you’re doing?”

The guy, obviously far too stupid for his own good, smirked at Rafe. Actually fucking smirked. Rafe felt his blood pressure rising. Rafe saw, somewhere in his periphery that Topper and Kelce were both coming his way. He didn’t particularly care. He could easily handle this loser himself.

“You two aren’t even together anymore,” the guy said smugly. “So, last I checked she’s a free agent, isn’t she?”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Kelce muttered behind him.

Rafe paid no mind to it, hand moving from the guy’s shoulder to his throat. Rafe smiled at the shock in the guy’s eyes, an angry glint in his eyes. He ignored the other’s weak attempts at dislodging him and instead took a step closer, glaring down at the little fucker.

“Take your hand off her or you won’t have a hand,” he said flatly. Idiot that he was, literally being choked and surrounded by Rafe’s friends, the guy still didn’t move his hand. Rafe let out a harsh laugh, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking more pissed by the second. “We can jump from you losing the hand to me killing you. Your fucking choice.” Starting to go purple in his face, Rafe laughed at the guy again, not loosening his hold. He reached over with his other hand, peeling his grip off of your leg, squeezing hard enough that Rafe was shocked the bones weren’t cracking. “Wasn’t so fucking hard to listen, was it?”

“Rafe,” Topper said sharply.

Rafe glanced back at him and then rolled his eyes. He let go of the guy and threw him away, hard, towards the ground. A good friend as always, Kelce caught the guy, then he and Topper started walking the jackass out to make sure he actually left the party. Yeah, Rafe was going to have to make sure that he never saw that guy again. Or, if he did, that it wasn’t in public like this. Rafe turned his attention back to you and was startled to see you looking down at him already.

“Rafe?” you asked, cocking your head to the side, looking, quite frankly, like a confused puppy.

Clenching his jaw, Rafe reached up, patting the bare skin of your leg, forcing himself to keep it brief and not let his hands linger on the bare skin. “Come on, Princess,” he said firmly.

Your brow furrowed. “Fuck you! I’m having fun,” you slurred.

At that, Rafe let himself roll his eyes. “Yeah. I’m not letting you dance on the bar and do a fucking striptease. You’ll hate yourself tomorrow,” he said sharply. You glared down at him, but Rafe didn’t care, knowing that he was absolutely right. “Get the fuck down.” You didn’t listen, unsurprisingly—you never had—so he physically grabbed you, carefully maneuvering your body off the bar without exposing you to the whole party.

“Rafe,” you whined, “stop it. I don’t want to go with you!”

“Liar,” he said, scoffing before he could stop himself. When you were level with his face, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Stop fucking fighting me before you flash somebody.”

You glared at him. “Who cares if I do?” you asked.

Once again, Rafe rolled his eyes. “I’ll take their fucking eyes out. But, let’s not do this, Princess. I’ve had enough shit today without this added on,” he said through grit teeth, losing the limited patience he’d started with. He helped you off the bar—manhandled you, really—until you were standing on your feet, using his body for support to stay upright. 

“You have no right,” you said, sniffing.

“How much have you even had to drink?” Rafe asked, amusement overcoming his irritation for a second.

“Oh fuck you,” you repeated, pushing weakly at his chest, even though your hand tangled in the bottom of his shirt like it always did when you were utterly sloshed. “I haven’t even had that much!” You then took on a distinctly dizzy look, swaying and Rafe cursed, catching your waist to steady you. “See? I’m fine!”

“Yeah, you’re so fine,” he agreed sarcastically. 

Without waiting for you to say anything else, Rafe started guiding you toward the exit. He nodded at Kelce and Topper as they passed. He ignored the looks on his friends’ faces as best he could. He didn’t need to think about the shit he’d get from them about this in the morning. No, instead, he focused on forcing you into the passenger seat of his truck and making you get buckled up. Only after Rafe got into the car and started it did you seem to register that you weren’t at the party anymore.

“Hey! Where the hell are you taking me? I’m not going home with you!” you slurred, clearly in an argumentative mood.

“No. You’re not. I’m taking you home. To your house,” he replied, patience coming back at least a little bit now that they weren’t in the stupid party crowd.

“Rafael Cameron you fucking suck,” you accused glaring at him.

“Why’s that?” Rafe asked, backing up and then putting the car in drive and practically peeling out of Kelce’s driveway.

You scoff at his question. It would be adorable if it weren’t at his expense, Rafe was sure. “First you fucking break up with me out of nowhere! And give me no explanation at all! And you take half our fucking friends in the end! And then you kill the goddamn vibe the second I try to have fun at a party,” you declare sounding genuinely pissed.

“That’s not—” Rafe began, stopping himself with a sigh when you cut him off.

“No! Shut up!” you demanded, hitting his arm, once, twice, a third time, until Rafe sharply pulled over and turned to glare at you. He was angry now, except his anger was short-lived. The moment he met your eyes and saw that yours were full of tears, he deflated. Your bottom lip trembled and Rafe had to actively count his breaths to keep from not reacting to it. “Why are you ruining parties now? Was my life not enough for you? You have to take the rest of the good things left too?”

Rafe inhaled shakily. He pinched his nose and tapped his fingers against the wheel and then looked back towards you. “You know you didn’t want someone else touching you,” he said calmly. “You hate when people think they can touch you at parties. You always have.” He took a breath. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Especially when you’re too drunk to think clearly.” You went to retort but Rafe shook his head. “No. Stop. Just listen to me.” You rolled your eyes and looked away. Rafe caught your chin and turned your face so you were looking at him again. “I’m not going to watch some losers take advantage of you. Ever. You think that’d stop?”

“Why do you even care?” you spat, displaying sadness more than the anger he knew you were going for.

“Don’t ask me that,” Rafe warned, shaking his head. “Don’t act like you don’t know already. The dumb act has never worked for you.”

You scoffed. “Oh? So you’re a coward now too on top of everything else? Cool,” you said. “Can’t even talk to me, huh?”

Rafe let go of your face and turned away from you, pulling back on the road and driving faster now towards your house. “You know damn well why I care,” he said through grit teeth.

“Do I?” you challenged.

“Princess,” he said sharply, “don’t do this right now.” He took a deep breath even though he didn’t want to. “You’re drunk.”

“And?” you demanded. “That makes me an idiot?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, groaning in irritation. You swatted at his chest again. And truly, if this were anyone else, he’d have kicked them out of the car. But it was you. “Come on, Princess.” He tapped the steering wheel to manage the anxiety brewing in his chest at the thought. “We can have a conversation about it when you’re sober if you want. But I’m not doing this with you drunk. Fuck that.”

“Fuck you,” you reiterated as if you hadn’t already said it to him a thousand times that night.

Even with that declaration, you were blessedly quiet the rest of the ride. You fiddled with the heat on your side of the truck, getting comfortable, and just stared out of the window. And for the rest of the ride, Rafe could almost pretend that things were normal. The way that they should’ve been. Except that you were leaning on the door and not him. And that both of his hands were on the wheel, instead of one resting on your leg. And your stony silence, even when your favorite songs came on the shared playlist neither of you had gotten around to deleting yet. The silence in the car in general, really.

At your house, Rafe had to nearly throw himself from the car to get to your side before you opened the door and tumbled out. Even doing that, you nearly fell from the truck in an uncoordinated heap, stubbornly not wanting his assistance. He huffed and righted your feet on the ground, holding your waist and looking you over. You leaned into the touch for a second before seemingly realizing it, then you pulled wildly away, nearly falling again until he caught you.

“You can be angry after I get you to your room,” he said firmly.

“Fine,” you muttered, frowning.

Rafe went to move but you wouldn’t move. He tried to force you to move, but you resisted every logical piece of your mind, and every attempt he made. You were firmly stuck to your spot as if trying to grow roots like a tree. So, he picked you up again, carrying you to the door. Graciously, your parents weren’t in town and the house was empty, so no one had to see this disaster unfold. 

He took your key and unlocked the door easily, locking it behind them for the time being. He didn’t really feel like risking someone coming in when he was corralling a drunk you and he couldn’t pay full attention to everything else. Then, he carried you upstairs like it was nothing to him. He dropped you gently on your bed and avoided looking at you as he grabbed a pair of clothes for you to change into. He went into your bathroom and got makeup remover, knowing that you’d be pissed if you woke up with a trace of makeup still on your face still. 

As he walked back into the room, Rafe regretted leaving almost immediately. Your eyes were swimming with tears and a few were spilling down your cheeks. You looked away from him, trying to avoid his gaze, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d noticed. You tried to scrub them away and he sighed almost silently. Rafe put the stuff down on the bed next to you and then knelt down in front of you. He grabbed your hands but didn’t say anything and waited.

“I hate you,” you said weakly, bottom lip wavering.

“I know,” he said, nodding. He cracked a fake grin. “I do too.”

“Fuck you,” you said, shaking your head. You sniffled and Rafe immediately knew that he wasn’t leaving for a while still. He stroked the back of your hands and waited once more. You always cracked. It didn’t take long, only a few breaths. “I love you. I…I fucking hate you.” You leaned heavily toward him and he wrapped his arms around you without hesitation. “I love you. I wish I didn’t.”

“I know,” he repeated. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. He let out a slow breath, deciding that fuck it, it didn’t matter anyway anymore, not if he didn’t think you’d remember this in the morning. “I love you too, Gorgeous. You know that.”

You let out a watery laugh. “No I don’t,” you denied. He frowned at the words. “You left me. I…I hate that you left me. I didn’t do anything!”

Rafe sighed. “We talked about this,” he said quietly.

“Fuck you. You decided. We didn’t talk about anything!” you reminded him.

And that was true. He grabbed your chin again, forcing your eyes to meet yet again. This time though, he leaned your foreheads together. Your bottom lip trembled, but you happily stayed close to him. He took it as the tiny, tiny, minuscule win that was. He moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, thumb tracing a pattern up and down, soothing and slow.

“I need to make sure you’re safe,” he reminded you.

“You’re stupid,” you said, pulling away from him. “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I’m safe. Everyone knows that we were together. Everyone knows that to get to you they’d just have to use me. So I’m not suddenly more safe.”

“Safe from me,” Rafe gruffly corrected. When you open your mouth to retort, eyes alight with anger, he places his hand over your mouth. “Like I said, Gorgeous. We can talk about this later. When you’re not drunk. If you even want to still.”

“Oh? You’ll stop ignoring me then?” you asked from behind his hand. “Act like the adults that we are?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve been giving you space,” he said. He let out a rough sigh, then shook his head, reminding himself that this would have to wait. “I promise we will talk about it if you want to. “Now can I please just help you change and get this stupid fucking makeup off you?”

Miracle of miracles, you didn’t try to fight him on it. So, he helped you change, ignoring the wandering hands and clumsy advances from you with ease. And then he forced you to get all the makeup off and brush your teeth. Then, he made you drink a bottle of water and settle in bed. You were pouting at him, tears still falling from your eyes—he didn’t know if they’d stopped since they started—that he brushed away lazily. Rafe sighed and sat next to you, stroking your cheek. Your hand landed on his knee, the touch almost hard as though you needed to squeeze his leg to remember he really was there. It broke his fucking heart.

“Come on, you gotta stop. We just got more water in you,” he said softly. “You know I can’t leave you when you’re upset like this. Not when you’re alone here.” He nearly winced at his phrasing when you seemed to cry harder for a moment. “Come on, Princess. You gotta stop crying.”

“Then I guess you can’t leave,” you replied shakily.

Rafe bit his lip, looking down at you. Knowing that he was already fucked anyways, he moved, pulling you practically into his lap. He held you tightly, glad that you didn’t even make an attempt at brushing the affection off. No, you leaned into the touch like you’d been starved of love your whole life. You laid your head right over his heart, eyes closed. He felt the way that your hands tapped the rhythm of his heartbeat into his arm. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t want you to doubt that I love you. I don’t want you to doubt that…that our relationship is…was real,” Rafe said. “I do love you. It’s just…hard, Gorgeous.”

You turned your head up to meet his eyes. He watched a flurry of intense emotions—every single one he’d ever experienced…more, maybe—flash through your eyes in a matter of seconds. You reached up and stroked his cheekbone…his nose…his lips. Then, you dropped your hand to lay on his chest, right next to where your head was.

“We’ll talk about it,” you declared. “I want to. We have to.”

“Okay, Princess,” he agreed softly. He knew that there was a chance sober you wouldn’t actually want to talk to him. He could ignore that in the meantime. He could live in this moment. In the false hope of a promised future where you did want to talk to him. “We’ll talk.”

You leaned up and pressed an incredibly short fleeting kiss to his lips before burying your face in his chest. He closed his eyes and held you tighter, wishing that things were…different.  “Can you just…stay until I fall asleep?” you asked quietly. “I know you won’t stay all night, but…please?”

Rafe’s heart, again, broke for you. And he hated himself for hurting you the way that he was. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. He stroked your arms, soothing. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Princess.” He knew it wouldn’t be long anyhow. Your eyes were already heavy, staying shut longer than they were staying open.

“I miss you, Rafe,” you admit quietly.

“I miss you too,” he said, equally quiet.

You paused. “I love you,” you said.

Rafe inhaled shakily. “I love you too. So much,” he said, voice sounding choked and short.

“Do you promise?” you whispered.

He paused. He had no doubt you heard his heart stutter in his chest. “I promise.”

Your eyes started to drift closed longer and longer while Rafe rubbed a soothing pattern up and down your back until he was sure you were asleep. You were incredibly beautiful in this peaceful sleep, with even breathing and a smile on your face. It was the happiest he’d seen you look in a while. He knew it was his fault. Again, he hated himself for it. It made him sure that he did the right thing even if it killed you both right now.

He had to leave.

He let out a sigh and pressed another kiss to your forehead, then another. He took the time to inhale your scent, memorize the way that you felt in his arms…to be with you again. Then, carefully, he got out of your grasp and stood. Rafe then settled you comfortably on your bed and tucked you in. He pressed a final kiss to your forehead then stood and walked to your bedroom door.

He had to leave. He didn’t want to.

For a beat, Rafe paused in the doorframe. He looked down at your sleeping frame. He longed to just lay down with you and forget the trials of the past two months without you. The hell he went through without you. He shook his head though. You deserved better. He was sure of it. He was almost certain that sober you would agree. Still, as he walked quietly down the hall, locking the door again behind himself, and slipping out back to his truck, he found himself hoping. Hoping that you would call him. Hoping that you would still want to talk.

He had to leave. He didn’t want to. He loved you.

In the quiet of his car, he took the time to look at his phone. Just after two thirty in the morning now. Your smiling face, still his wallpaper, looked back at him. He stared at the image of you, smiling at him like he was the sun, and felt his heart squeeze so tightly it took his breath away. 

He had to leave. He didn’t want to. He loved you. You were everything, even now.

He started the car and started to drive back to his own place now. He tapped at the steering wheel again to avoid chewing at his nails like you hated—even now you kept him from bad habits he had, even if they were the little ones.

Rafe knew he wasn’t strong enough to stay away and he didn’t want to.

Even if it made him selfish, he hoped you called him—he hoped for a second chance.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron one shot #obx x reader #obx x you #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx angst #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #my writing #obx

[graysnetwork]

If you're still taking Keegan requests how about something fluffy pinning for the base's resident medic? Medic is just so soft and gentle and sweet and he can't help but smile every time he has to visit them. Can be headcanons or a little fic, whatever you're in the mood to do. We all just need more Keegan in our life.

My Favorite

Merrick told Keegan to go to the medic to get patched up, and usually Keegan refused to go but this time to Merricks surprise he made no fuss about it. Keegan wasn't injured badly, he wasn't clumsy, he just needed some stitching and bandaging, though his arm and shoulders hurts as they rubbed against the material of his sweater he couldn't be happier to go to your office.

Keegan loved going to your office, all because of you, he thought you were lovely. You were too sweet and when you'd patch him up; you were so gentle with him. He loved the way your soft hands felt on him. And he'd seen you handle Hesh or Logan and how you didn't care if their wounds hurt while patching them up, but with him, you were never rough; always gentle with him, and always asked if his wounds hurt.

At some point even Logan started noticing how you were so gentle with him and would tell him he was "Lucky" because "their always so sweet to you, and they don't even care if my cuts hurt while they do their thing" to which Keegan would chuckle at but, it did keep him up at night thinking if the feeling he had were reciprocated by you.

keegan walked up to your office door and knocked "Who is it!" you shouted, your voice already warming him. like actually though... he started blushing. Luckily the mask covered it up. "Keegan!" he said, and he heard your shoes making there way to your door. You opened the door with a smile greeting Keegan and telling him to come in.

"what do you need Russ?" Russ, he loved it when you called him that. something about the way it came out of your mouth was as smooth as butter, He'd rather have everybody call him Keegan and leave that name to you as a special nickname only you could call him.

"Merrick told me to come down here, I probably just need some bandages" he said showing you his cuts while sitting down in a chair. They were deep, "No, your gonna need some stitching" you said "Alright, your the expert" he said shrugging. You got out your "tools" and began to stitch him up.

He noticed you kept sighing, and making annoyed hums so he asked out what was wrong. "It's nothing, your shirt isn't being the most cooperative though" you told him, laughing it off. he quickly hummed and got a hold of the bottom of his shirt and took it off swiftly. He leaned back into the chair again acting like he didn't do anything. Your mouth was agape, surprised, stunned, astonished. you really couldn't find a word for what you were at the moment.

You were so lucky he was turned away from you, with his back turned to you because your face was getting a bit of a tinted red. Nonetheless you had a job to do and you were not about to get distracted by his, body.

you started to stitch him up again, asking him if anything hurt, he always said no but he liked how you kept checking. Soon you started on the other one, and then another one, suddenly he started talking again "Y/n?" he said, you hummed in response "Why don't you treat Logan or, Hesh like how you treat me?" He asked you. "What do you mean?" you asked back, "you’re always so nice to me-" he said chuckling "and then you don't give a fuck about the others" He finished, you got up from your chair walking over to your drawer giggling at what he said "I guess you’re just my favorite out of all of the team" you told him shrugging your shoulders "And for the record I do give a fuck about them" you protested.

Not long after you finished stitching him up. You walked back to your desk while he put his shirt back on, "I'll see you in about 7 days to take your stitches out?" you told Keegan "Im gone by then" keegan said "Fine then in 5" you reasoned and he nodded, he stared at you for a while longer even once you had turned away from him, he admired you, he always had, loved the way your eyes looked, how beautiful you were, on the inside as well, he admired your existence

he wanted to tell you how much he loved you, it was the perfect moment. You two were alone, in a room, nobody could interrupt you guys, but it didn't feel right for him. "See ya sweetheart" he said opening the door, you turned your attention from putting away your things to him "See ya Russ" you smiled, he walked down the hallway

" ‘Sweetheart’ Thats a new one" you muttered to yourself, Keegan always called you nicknames, but he never said anything like sweetheart, it was so endearing. While Keegan walked down the hall he thought about everything he could've done and talked about with you if he had more time with you.

He kinda wished he had gotten shot to stay with you for a bit longer.

#cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x you #call of duty keegan #keegan russ #cod ghost #logan walker #david hesh walker #ghosts cod #call of duty ghosts #call of duty #imagines #fluff #oneshot #fanfics

[yandere-sins]

Hello! i just came here from your yandere!ghost headcanons excitedlyfkejdje may i request an nsfw headcanon of yandere ghost? and id like to add he definitely seems to be the type to like it *rough* and really dark, probably into knifeplay ifykyk

Hi! Thanks for requesting ♥ I agree with your ideas wholeheartedly!

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content, Violence

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

♡ Keeping you on his lap most of the time gives Ghost plenty of opportunities for sneaky dry humping. He just grinds your hips over his cock while listening to his comrades, pretending to care about their tales. His hands are unyielding even as you try to struggle out of his grasp subtly, only ever getting pulled back right where he wants you above his cock. You can feel him get more aroused with every drag of his length against your sex, humping his shaft between your ass cheeks. He breathes out audibly behind you, and when no one is looking, lifts his mask off his mouth to kiss the back of your neck, adjusting your shirt and hair to nibble the places he wants to while he presses his hips upwards into you. He's in no hurry to cum, and oftentimes he merely uses it as foreplay before whisking you away, thrown over his shoulder, uncaring if other people see the massive bulge in his pants as he tells them that you two are hitting the sack for the night. Not like anyone gets a second of sleep when you two are fucking like animals, keeping the barracks awake with your screams.

♡ Ghosts usually makes-do with things he has lying around. Your underwear—or if he's feeling nasty or needs to punish you, his underwear—and a belt are a great gag. Your shirt can be twist around and over your hands, not only keeping them tied together, but also stopping you from using your nails or fingers to do something reckless. Pant legs make it surprisingly easy to tie you to something like the footrest of his bed. But probably the most convincing, escape-preventing tool of them all is... his cock. Once he shoves all of his massive girth's inches into you, you already know you won't be walking for the next few hours after. And when he makes you cum with less than a handful of lazy pumps, you know you're in for a long night. Sometimes he'll put his bullet vest over your naked skin, the weight making sure you couldn't slip of him as he forces you to ride on top while he lays back, while the rough fabric is also stimulating the sensitive spots on your body. Turns out, military uniforms have more use than one might think.

♡ He does, however, undeniably enjoy torturing you. I wouldn't even go as far as to say he only does it when you misbehave. It's just a sick guilty pleasure for him. You should probably trust him to know how to handle a knife, but putting it up to your throat, telling you to work hard so he doesn't sink it into your flesh is a strange way of encouragement. But Ghost swears you always tighten up nicely when you're scared, praising you for indulging his kink so perfectly. Ghost also loves to see a trickle of blood running down your neck and bare chest when you got a bit too close to the sharp point of his knife, making a great deal out of licking it up when you two take a break or after he's done with you (for the moment). He always patches you up when he gets too rough, but he has cut your backside in doggystyle many times before, leaving the bittersweet prickling of a fine cut on your skin, movements tearing your flesh apart while his cock hit the deepest parts inside you, making you whimper and cry. His favorite knives all had their handles inside you (one way or another) for sure, forcing you to cum on them as if your juices are a blessing to his blades.

♡ Consequently, Simon has cut himself on his blades before, too lost in passion as the excitement quickenes his pace. Those cuts are like hickies, and for every one he gets, you get one too. Sometimes he spents his time just copying his recent wounds onto you, even as you scream and cry. It's something that helps him unwind after a day on the battlefield, especially when he sees your tears and hears your pain. It also gets him incredible hard, almost enough so that he can whip out his cock and jizz over your body covered in fresh wounds in an instant. One moment he's calmly cutting up your skin, and the next he has you pinned down, jerking off all over you before sinking his fat tip into your mouth so you can suck his twitching cock empty. It's not the only fluids you are blessed to receive from him though, Ghost offering you his blood on the regularly, wanting the same treatment as he gives you when he licks up yours. If you refuse, he has no shame in licking his own wounds before kissing you, making sure you get a good taste of him to remember. Simon also randomly pushes his thumb between your teeth and reveling in the feeling of you biting down while he spits into your mouth. He's too unpredictable, and you never know what to expect when he asks you to look at him or turns your head to face him. It never bores him to surprise you either.

♡ His hands are huge. Probably only topped by König (who's a very different kind of groper), Ghost frequently uses his hands rather threateningly. There's a sense of warning when he wraps one around your neck, playing with your breath while he enjoys feeling your pulse quicken against his palm. When he guides you somewhere, be it to the side, down or even up, you follow wherever he wants you to go as long as his hands are on your body. Since he doesn't fear you, he doesn't often uses his hands to restrict your limbs, liking your feisty attempts of trying to get on his nerves with scratches or nails digging into his shoulders, arms, and thighs. It excites him. However, when he isn't comfortable with showing his face yet, he'll catch your wrists and pin you down if you try to grab and tear it off him, continuing to angrily plow into you mercilessly. His fingers almost always leave marks, visibly or mentally. The feeling of calloused skin stopping the bloodflow on any part of your body is definitely something to remember him by, and no matter what you do, Simon can always count on his hands to hold on to you. You could try kicking him in the balls, but while he bites his lip so hard he draws blood, you'll be struggling with air to the point of almost passing out. There's no escape from his grasp, and it's what you should be most wary of. The knife might me scary, but his hands are the only thing actually deadly to you if you push him to far.

♡ While Ghost isn't a big sharer, if the chance arises to have someone come and help with your pleasure, he might consider it, though rarely. It's more of a "No, you can't join when you ask outright," but, "Now that you walked in on us, I can see you want to fuck them too, so get over here." It won't be easy to find the space to accomodate another cock next to Simon's inside you, but he assures you they'll find a way and it's good training. He is, strangely enough, someone who gives praise generously in the sheets. But with another person near, his communication skills improve even more, beyond just grunting about his own pleasure and how good you make him feel. Suddenly he also manages to order you around verbally, asking you to take good care of [second person's] cock and take it like the slut you are. But if you work hard, Ghost will praise you for making the third person moan and cum. With a third party present, his favorite position is probably spitroasting you between the two, reminding you to take the other's pleasure seriously whenever you lose yourself in yours. And if you do well, he might just be so pleased with your performance, you'll get the freedom to go wash yourself in the shower and not having to wait until he wants to go too the next morning.

♡ Considering he doesn't necessarily want people to join, he rarely fucks you somewhere that isn't private. However, there have been times, especially on missions, where he couldn't hold back anymore, needing some release before things outside were going to drive him crazy, pulling you into the next best empty car, the confined space available to you between the amenities and Ghost bodies really bringing you two closer together. If you guys had to camp outside, you definitely had to fear attracting something in the darkness as you two did it behind rocks and against trees, not so far away from camp, Simon putting his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams. He also had you jerk him off on the road before, slipping your hand into his pants when the drive was long and boring, keeping your wrist in place until you gave up and rubbed one out for him. He returned the favor, of course.

#ghost cod #yandere ghost #ghost #cod #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #call of duty #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[pansear-doodles]

Hunter Spearcane Concept that's recently released on Patreon. I plan to make more detailed concept stuff in the future. I have recently also posted some designs for Hero, which I cannot reveal publicly yet until these characters make their debut...

You can check the original post in my Patreon but its description is below the cut

Happy Disability Pride Month!

I've been meaning to introduce something for my Anthro Hunter but we're unfortunately not in that time of the current story yet. I've been conceptualizing this (in my head) for quite some time. I figured putting it on my Patreon for early access would be a good introduction to the type of content you'd see here- concepts and such that I'm not as comfortable putting up on my tumblr just yet (because then it would make people think of things that aren't quite there in the story yet and confuse them).

Eventually Hunter would meet a casual death, but NSH introduces to them a peculiar gift: A Spearcane, using materials from their own parts. This tool would be incredibly useful in aiding them, both on the health and combat aspects. It is the next step to Hunter's ongoing arc of them fighting off their illness.

Hunter is initially reluctant and a little embarrassed to use it, not fully grasping its full functionality yet, but it would slowly grow on them.

The sturdy yet light Spearcane has different primary modes:

Full Spear mode - Which is the default mode of the spearcane. On the middle of it is a comfortable grip in the shape of NSH's symbol. This grip area is the centralized part of the spearcane for its other modes as well.

Dual Spear mode - The spearcane is able to divide itself into two shorter spears. It can lock itself back together on command or by manual.

Cane mode - Mostly used for non-combative purposes. After experiencing tremors (which tires out their body) or if Hunter feels withdrawn (or if they wish to traverse rough terrain better), Cane mode is activated to make moving around easier.

Pocket Size mode - The spearcane can retract itself into a much more portable mode. This mode is also activated when it is alerting others or going towards the master, much like a drone.

The Spearcane in cane mode has a wrist strap that is adorned by soft accessories representative of Artificer and their pups. They can use these accessories as stim toys.

The foot of the spearcane is secure and gravitated towards the ground when it detects unusual bodily circumstances in Hunter (mostly for when they are starting to struggle or when they are about to have a tremor). The cane is explosion-proof, so it can be laced in that material and still be intact. The only downside is that it would be on cooldown, so for a while it couldn't be called to, change modes or float.

Now since the spearcane is precious, Hunter doesn't want it to be on the wrong hands, so NSH created a function that shocks the holder upon a certain command "It's Mine!"- a jolt that is comparable to a baby centipede. It's significant that the spearcane doesn't shock when its simply held by anyone other than Hunter, since Hunter would be comfortable allowing their family and friends to use it. (and this would lead to funny shenanigans)

While it is powerful and not that easy to lose as it can be summoned by a simple whistle, the spearcane can still potentially be lost- to allude to the idea that it is imperfect even still- and a bit limiting. The spearcane, while its able to lay Hunter down more easily upon a tremor, life can be a bit unpredictable- and ofc it won't pull out a full-on-mattress. I just feel that's a bit excessive at that point considering everything else it has.

I had research and consultation with cane users. I even saw some users earlier today in the grocery as I was looking for bell peppers haha. Retractable canes are a thing in real life and I really did utilize that and Rain World's technological aspects (while in the acknowledgement that most technologies in the current timeline setting is tarnished and limited) to its full service. Artificer has mementos that remind them of their family, and so shall Hunter- in the form of little objects attached to an object with the primary function of supporting them.

I wonder if summoning canes that can fly about and alert nearby assistants would be practical and possible in the real world...

#patreon only #rain world #rainworld #fanart #slugcat #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour #my anthro au #hunter

[bestjeanistmonster]

How did dc au sonic and shadow meet? Was it like Harley Quinn where they met while sonic was Nicky in Arkham? Where Harley was one of the only nice people there to ivy . Or was it like animated series where they just knew of each other due to reputation?

It was a mix of both!

Sonic and Shadow met like they did in the original batman animated series

Sonic had screwed up and gotten kicked out by Eggy onto the streets, leaving him to fend for himself so out of spite he goes on a solo heist to steal the ‘harlequin diamond’ from a museum

Telling himself that he’s doing it for himself and no one else but he’s doing it to like prove himself to Eggy (even though he technically ‘out’ he’s still very much brainwashed and doesn’t really have a purpose or sense of self besides serving Eggy in, so even though he was kicked out Eggman knows that when he calls he’ll just come running back)

Sonic was real stealthy, dodging laser sensors, security cameras and then using as tool to carve a circle in the glass case that had the diamond in it and he’s so close-

Then the alarm starts blaring like crazy and a black and red hedgehog slides into the room holding onto something and runs through all the laser sensors

And Sonic’s like wtf????

Then he's just like, "fuck it", breaks the glass steals the diamond and runs in the same direction as the guy with the security guards after them and he hears police sirens already from outside

He finds a hiding place and then he's face to face with the guy that tripped the alarm

"Nice job tripping the alarm, why don't ya turn on the bat-signal while you're at it?!"

"You think i wanted to get caught?!!"

"Coulda fooled me!"

They have a mini fight before security show up and they’re forced to work together to evade capture, they escape off into the night on Shadow bike (the only reason Shadow didn’t leave him behind was cuz he didn’t want this guy tattling on him if he got arrested)

They get to a temp base of shadow’s and catch their breath, Shadow recognises Sonic as Eggman's right hand and is immediately on edge but Sonic is like, "me and the Doc are kinda having a rough time at the moment, so im kinda on my own rn, im sure it’ll blow over though.” He said with a nervous smile

Now when they had physically fought earlier Shadow was surprised to see that this clown actually posed a bit of a challenge for him. Shadow usually didn’t care what people thought about themselves or others, but with Sonic being the only person he’s met to actually give him a good fight and to hear him talk so low of himself actually came off as an indirect insult towards Shadow and he would not stand for slander

So Shadow ends up saying smthn like, "Look imma be honest but you’re a bit of a doormat and squandering your potential so much that it's pissing me off a lil bit." Then takes him with him on a city wide rampage to kinda build up that self esteem and give the guy a bit of independence

And from there the rest is history

Nicky and Shadow met during the internship

The first was when Nicky had to ask him some questions about eggman cuz he was in group therapy with Eggman until Eggy killed the psychiatrist and wanted to know if there was something, anything that he could further ask Eggman about so he could use it to get Eggman open up more during their interviews

To get him to go away Shadow told him the little he knew

Then Nicky returned a week and a half later thank him

Nicky: Dr Eggman fessed up, thanks to you

Shadow: I didn’t do anything.

Nicky: (raises eyebrow) you told me about his grandfather

Shadow: that was barely information. I wouldn’t have even told you about it if you were going to be so smug about it

Nicky: (shrugs) eh like it or not you helped me (slips plant cutting into the food delivery box) everyone needs help sometime, and since you wanna wipe humans from the face of the earth…

Shadow: (picks up clipping) so what? You cut a *plant* for me? I could kill you with this.

Nicky: (smiles and walks away from cell) yeah. I guess you could.

Shadow:…

Nicky had read his file before talking to him and in the notes it said that Shadow felt more comfortable around plants due to the nature of his biology and abilities

Shadow has a cell in Arkham with zero plants around just in case he got out of that power restricting collar they made all of the inmates wear and raised hell

So Nicky giving Shadow that plant cutting was him doing Shadow a solid for helping him out with this even though there is a risk of that collar coming off and him breaking out, cuz if he didn’t manage to get it off Nicky supposed that he’d still feel more at ease in his cell with a plant around

Shadow didn’t realise they were the same person till prison roll call

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonadow harlivy au #jeanist answers

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Ok! I’m the one that made the siren request! When I said hunting I meant like, giant whales and sharks

so reader brings the characters whales and sharks now that they are officially together

-Ask anyone about hunting and they will answer with things like deer, elk, moose, and ducks to name a few, that’s what (Love) thought about when someone asked him about what to hunt.

-When you started given him shells and other gifts, courting him, and after he accepted, you discussed hunting with him, as potential mates and partners would hunt for each other, to show that they are a provider.

-This made sense to him, finding it logical, as one wouldn’t want to be stuck with someone who didn’t provide or do anything to contribute to the relationship and you both agreed to go hunting and he would treat you to something called barbeque. You didn’t know what it was, but you saw the way his eyes lit up, so you knew it had to be something special.

-So that meant that you had to find him something super special!!

-When (Love) arrived at the beach and began to prepare a bonfire for the barbeque, dragging a buck behind him, he could only drop everything, gawking as you were beaming brightly, draped over the body of a massive, as in 16-foot-long, great white shark, the results of your own hunting trip.

-He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, approaching and you had bright sparkly eyes, seeing the buck, as you wanted to see what those strange things coming out of its head was.

-(Love) couldn’t help but laugh as he dragged the buck over and you both got to inspect each other’s kills, he looked in the mouth of the shark, seeing all the teeth, in awe, while you were stroking the antlers, finding them rough and they felt like nothing you had ever felt before!

-(Love) hesitated, not wanting to offend you, before asking about siren hunting, curious about the things that you normally hunted.

-You beamed brightly, telling him that your preferred prey items were crustaceans, as you loved crabs, and you liked larger fish with more meat, like tuna. However, there were certain things you didn’t hunt, dolphins, who actually were like dogs to you as dogs are to normal humans, and they help you hunt and turtles, because their taste wasn’t good, but you did scavenge, when the turtles passed away, their shells, as they were very beautiful and useful tools, and you did something similar to whales, scavenging for their bones, as they made strong weapons and tools.

-You made (Love) laugh when he asked if you ate whale meat and you made a face before you explained, “Whale meat is very fatty, as it’s very cold where they are. Most of their meat has a very thick layer of blubber over the top and if you cut that away, all that’s left is thin muscular meat that is very hard to chew, unless if you’re a shark.”

-He started the barbeque and you started breaking down your shark, pulling back the skin and getting to the meat as he told you about things that he hunted, like the buck and you were amazed at the diversity of game on the surface, to you at least since you were used to everything in the ocean, which was mundane to you but amazing to (Love).

-You were more elated to be gifted the antlers rather than the barbequed meat, holding them up and (Love) roared with laughter when he showed you that they floated, which would make them a little difficult to take down to your own home.

-You were both in awe of your different catches, the buck was lean but so flavorful, so unlike anything you had ever had before, “It’s a bit chewy but so juicy!” and he nodded, biting into a piece of grilled shark, “It looked fatty so I thought it was going to be greasy- but it’s not greasy at all- it’s almost like lean salmon!”

-The two of you enjoyed your meals, laughing and spending time with each other, having proved that you are both providers and it made you smile, thinking about what kind of father he would be in the future, but you weren’t going to rush anytime soon, at least just yet.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader

[honeywitchers]

Awful Plan, Great Result

A/N:  This is from another one of my blogs that I decided to seperate my Witcher content from.  I plan on deleting the original from that blog so if you have seen this before under a different name I promise I didn’t steal the story!  This piece was inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Content and Warnings:  Strong language, love sick Geralt, foggy brained Geralt just wanting to be loved, guy in an all green outfit thinking he can take on a witcher, violence because Geralt has had enough, soaking wet Geralt, love confessions, if you squint during the fight scene it might morph into Fiona fighting off the bandits in Shrek, wee bit of blood because bitches get stitches

Word Count:  2,934

Summary:  Geralt of Rivia finds himself to be hopelessly in love with a soft spirited cottage dwelling woman.  How does he confess his true feelings for her when he doesn’t even fully understand his own emotions?  In quite possibly the strangest, yet most fitting way he could.

She was beauty.  She was not just beautiful, she was the very definition of it.  Even her breathing was filled with elegance.  Her smooth skin mimicked the finest of silks that only royalty could ever imagine to afford.  The way her hair complimented the tones within her face was almost unreal.  Her features appeared cheerful almost always, no matter the situation, positivity leaking from each and every pore…..so why and how was it possible that a man like Geralt of Rivia could fall for her?  He was the complete and utter opposite; rugged, rough skinned, quiet, constantly thinking of the dangers that fill the Continent, often dirty, and skilled in combat.  Yet, despite all of this, she was the very sun in his sky, the stars to his moon, the flower to his soil, the…..you get the idea.  The problem with this, however, was that she had not a single clue that he felt this way for her, completely oblivious to his undying love for her.  All they seemed to be at this point were oblivious, emotionally constipated, and…….idiots.  Complete idiots.  Any onlooker could see that this was not a simply platonic relationship.  Come on, the two were living together!  And they had been for almost a year now!  So anyways, here we are.  The ever so odd tale of Geralt of Rivia and his……roommate.

The spotless wooden dining table Geralt had taken a seat at within Y/N’s cottage kitchen was almost buckling underneath his mass and the weight of his bulky armor.  The dirt covering his arms and legs were surely destroying the cleanliness of it.  He had just returned from a hunt that turned out to be a large group of villagers playing a trick just so they could get a chance at seeing the witcher in action.  Geralt quickly realized this but not before he lost his footing and tripped over a partially buried root in the forest, rolling down a long and bumpy hill.  Way to add insult to injury, universe.  

Quietly grumbling curses under his breath, he did his best not to disturb the cheerful humming of Y/N, who was chopping up carrots for a stew she planned to make.  Or more so attempting.  The blade on the knife was terribly dull.  Her cooking escapades had clearly taken a toll on the tool.  It was all she had, so she had to make it work.  Although, Geralt couldn’t help but find the sight amusing.  Geralt’s eyes blinked rapidly and his posture straightened as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head.  That’s it!  He knows how he will profess his love!  This is quite possibly the most romantic action a witcher could do!  He suddenly stood from the table with determination, almost a little too fast, startling Y/N.

“Where are you going?  You just got back.”  Y/N questioned Geralt as he made his way to the door.

“I uh….need to go into town.  I….forgot something.”  He pathetically tried to come up with an excuse to hide his true intentions.  

Before another word can leave Y/N’s mouth, Geralt was out the door and on his way to who knows where.  She shrugged her shoulders and continued to shred—cut the vegetables on her cutting board.  

Geralt loved and hated the fact that her cottage was practically in the middle of nowhere.  It left them unbothered and with privacy but he still found himself annoyed that he had to trek through a grove and winding dirt paths just to get into town.  He chuckled lightly as he came across a root hiding in the ground of his walking path.

“Hmm….not this time.”

Less than ten minutes later, Geralt began to approach a river.  He was getting close.  

“Thank the gods it’s not raining.”  He said to himself.

The universe, being the absolute pain in Geralt’s ass, decided that sunshine and no rain was much too easy for the dear witcher.  Why not throw a……minor?  Yes, minor inconvenience his way, instead of allowing him to just walk his way into town and back smoothly.  No, no, that would not do.  

“Behold, witcher man!  For I am Wulfgar, and I am here to take your coin!”  A loud, high pitched male voice yelled out.

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed and he turned around in the direction of the voice.  What he sees is not what he was expecting.  Standing ten feet before him stood a short statured man donning a green tunic and matching pants that were just a smidge too tight.  A green pointed hat sat upon his bowl cut hair.  A fashion expert, honestly.

Pointed towards Geralt was his embarrassingly small silver dagger.  Confidence somehow oozed out of the mysterious bandit as he chose to lunge forward without strategy or thought.  Because of the overwhelming bewilderment the witcher was experiencing, he jumped backwards just a hair too slow, resulting in the coin pouch at his hip being slashed open.  Just as luck would have it, half of his coins were dumped into the river.  Geralt grunted and unsheathed his sword, four times the size of the measly dagger Wulfgar wielded.  

“Back off.”  Geralt warned.

“Uh, uh….I…..I mean no harm, witcher.  It’s….just a tough time, you know?  So um…anyway…..please don’t um…..KILL ME!!!!!!!!”  Wulfgar stammered and ran away.

“I uh….okay.”  Geralt rolled his eyes and put his sword back into its holder.  “Fuck!”  He reached down to his coin pouch, coins were still slowly spilling out onto the ground.  Like a beggar, he scoured the ground to pick up and salvage every last one.

Geralt considered turning back but brushed the thought off, knowing he couldn’t show up back at the cottage empty handed after he told Y/N he was going out.  That wouldn’t make sense and it would only lead to more questions that he wasn’t currently prepared to answer.  Instead, he began to think about how much of an idiot he was for believing this could work.  Of course Y/N would never love him.  He couldn’t even do this one self appointed task.  Useless.  

“Fuck.”  Having a way with words, he cursed and treaded forward, feeling light raindrops begin to hit his skin and dampen his hair.  What else could go wrong?

A short time later a now drenched Geralt waltzes into town square.  The place is growing more and more quiet as he notices people rushing inside and merchants packing up the items at their stalls to avoid the increasing rain.  Fearing that he missed his chance to come up with anything, he sprints towards the last remaining merchant.  

“Wait!”  He shouted.  

The merchant looked up to him, eyes widening at his appearance.  “Sorry, the rain is bringing all of us in for the day.  Come back tomorrow.”  The merchant went to turn away and continue packing without giving Geralt a second thought.

“Please, just….show me what you have.”  Geralt pleaded with the man, hoping there is at least one item that even remotely resembled what he was looking for.

The merchant’s eyes narrowed and he stared in silence for a moment.  “Witchers pay double.”  He crossed his arms and stood firm.

Of course, because that’s exactly what he needed to hear after losing half of his wealth to the murky fast flowing waters of the river.

“Fine.”  Geralt gritted his teeth, ready for the excursion to be over.

The merchant moved aside so Geralt could look at what his options were.  His eyes examined the items laid out in front of him.  There were four rolls of twine, a mysterious piece of cloth that appeared to have been white at some point during its existence, two cabbage heads that had been massacred by the wind and rain, rendering them inedible, and…..a knife!  Just what he was looking for!  A perfect kitchen knife to aid his one true love with her cooking!  She shall never fret or strain her wrist again!  He would wrap it in the softest of cloths and bend on one knee, hand stretched out, ready to release all of his pent up emotions and—

He realized it was in fact not a kitchen knife, but a dagger.  A deep sigh escaped the witcher.  It was a slightly rusted short dagger that was surely made for simple combat.  A.k.a not something he originally planned on giving his soft ray of sunshine back at home to help her cook.

“How much coin for this?”  Geralt held up the so-called weapon.

The merchant eyes his torn coin pouch.  “Whatever you’ve got left.”

And so goes the last of his coin.

On his way back to Y/N’s cottage, Geralt is in a constant battle with his thoughts, telling himself over and over that he should not have gone out, how he wasn’t worthy of her love, how she could do so much better than him.  How could he think it was a good idea to bring her a dagger that she didn’t need or even ask for?  Especially one in a not so tip top shape condition.  

Naturally, his one person conversation is interrupted by none other than…..Wulfgar.

“Now, witcher!”  Wulfgar shouted.  “I’ve got friends this time!  And they have bigger swords than I!  You will come to regret the last hour, mutant.  You should have simply given me your coin!”  

Three of the humans making up Wulfgar’s makeshift army came up behind Geralt in an attempted sneak attack and managed to snag the one sword he brought along with him, having left the other behind to be sharpened later on in the day.  The witcher positioned himself into a defensive stance, looking at his surroundings.  He counted six men in the group, all funnily enough sporting the same puke green outfits like they were part of some wannabe cult.  The only thing left that he had besides his fists and signs to defend himself against the five swords and Wulfgar’s short stub was…..the dagger.  

First, he fought off the three men who took his sword, one jumping on his back and immediately being thrown onto the ground, the second being knocked unconscious with a single punch.  He took out the third using the Aard sign, knocking him against a tree.  Two more men came running at him, swinging their swords haphazardly through the air, praying that one of them would draw blood from the witcher.  The men however were very much unaware of their….lacking skills and were disarmed easily and knocked out.  

Geralt then turned to Wulfgar, the last man standing.  He was practically shaking in his boots, having just watched all of his friends fail miserably at taking down the witcher.  After a moment, he bends down and picks up two of the swords left on the ground.  He lunged forward again and this time nicked Geralt’s face, also slicing off a thin piece of leather covering his shoulder for extra protection.  He looked to the side at his ruined shoulder piece and looked back at Wulfgar.  He stepped forward slowly with an intimidating aura bouncing off of him.  Wulfgar was stopped dead in his tracks in disbelief that he just made contact with the witcher.  With one swift motion, Geralt swipes the sword out of the bandit’s hand, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto the ground.  

“Uh….uh….uh Mr. Witcher, please.”  Wulfgar started to stammer.

“You will stay away.  Or I will kill you where you stand.”  Geralt warned, bearing his teeth.

Wulfgar was left in shock, eyes wide and not blinking as he watched Geralt start to walk away.  Somewhere in his tiny little brain, the idea of trying one last time to win overtook rational thought.  He pulled out a small throwing knife that had been hidden in his pant leg, aimed, and threw it at Geralt.  Just as how the rest of the day had gone for him, the knife sticks in his shoulder directly in the spot where his leather had been cut away.  All Wulfgar hears is a short grunt from him and before he knows it, Geralt grabbed the dagger he purchased and sunk it into his thigh.  

“FUCK YOU, WITCHER!!!  YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!!!  YOU AND YOUR…..YOUR STUPID HAIR WILL REGRET THIS!!!”  Wulfgar screamed and was attempting to army crawl away.  “AND….AND YOU KNOW WHAT?!?  YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE!!!”

Geralt rolled his eyes at the empty insult attempts and once again continued his journey back to Y/N’s cottage, bloody dagger in hand.  Oh man, he fucked up.

Once outside her cottage, he stopped and took a deep breath.  What the hell just happened?  He started off his day sitting at her kitchen table waiting for dinner and then boom, he’s wielding a dagger he bought for her and used it to stab someone after he beat up six people.  Ah, yes, the unpredictable life of a witcher.  

Finally, he opened the door to Y/N’s cottage.

“Geralt!  Where have you been?  I thought you were just going to market?  Did you take shelter from the rain?  And did you–”  Y/N cut off her own string of questions.  “Is that a cut on your face?”  She stopped cooking the food she was still attempting to make and ran over to him.

“Oh….yeah….”  Geralt responded, still standing in front of the door.

“What happened?!?”  She reached up to touch his face but his head jerked away on instinct, causing her to pull her hand back.  “Geralt….where did you go?”

“I….went to town square.”

“Yes, but…..Geralt.  Your face is cut, you have no supplies from any stall, your coin pouch is gone,”  Y/N pointed to his hip where the pouch once was.  “and….your pocket is….bleeding.”

“Oh…..yeah…..that’s probably from…..this.”  Geralt said quietly, slowly pulling out the dagger he bought for her.

At this point, Y/N has no idea what to say to him.  He said he was going to market, then came back with nothing but a bloody dagger and blood on his skin?  What happened to his coin???  A hundred questions ran through her mind as she stood there in silence, eyes locked onto the dagger in his hands.  

“I….got it for your cooking.”  Geralt broke the silence.

“My….cooking?”  She repeated.

“Yes.  Earlier you looked like you were having….issues cutting the food for your stew and I was just watching you struggle sitting there thinking about what I could do to fix it and how I could make you have an easier time and—”

“Geralt.”

“What?”

“What are you talking about?”  Y/N asked, still dumbfounded.

Geralt stayed silent for a minute, trying to rake over his options.  Should he tell her not to worry about it and walk away for the night?  Should he brush it off as just trying to help with her cooking?  No.  That wouldn’t explain why he had no coin and was decorated with blood.  He started to ponder whether he was ready to risk it all or not…….it was time.

“Y/N…..please accept this gift as a token of my love…..”  His eyes darted off to the side.  “For….uh….you.”  

As if the situation couldn’t get anymore confusing or awkward, Geralt reached out to hand her the dagger laid out on both of his palms.  She wrapped her hands in her sleeve and took it out of his hands.  A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as the two stared at each other.

“Geralt, this is a dagger.”  Y/N said firmly.  “And it….it has blood on it.”

Geralt stood there speechless, fully taking in that he just confessed to someone with a bloody dagger that neither of them needed or wanted.

“Listen, I tried to get you something you could use every day and help you but this fool of a man made me lose half my coin and then it started raining so the merchants started to leave and I saw that and figured it was close enough to a kitchen knife so I bought it but then on my way back I ran into the same dumbass but he brought friends this time and—”

In the middle of his rambling, Y/N had set the dagger on a nearby surface.  She then cut off his borderline incoherent thoughts by grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his, creating an intense first kiss between them.  She eventually pulled away to examine the face of the confused as heck Geralt.  That….was the last thing he expected to actually happen.  Did….did his dumbass plan work?

“You’ve felt for me all this time?”  Y/N asked, hands still cupping Geralt’s face.

“Mhm.”

A huge grin spread across her face.  “You fought off a gang of men, almost got killed, trudged through the cold rain, lost all your coin, and came home covered in blood…..just to get me something that might help me a few times a day?”

Geralt ran a hand through his hair and laughed at himself, listening to Y/N sum up all of his day’s fuckery.  She was correct.  He did all of that just to bring home the wrong thing.  

“I guess….I just love you.”  

“You guess?”  Y/N prodded.

Geralt’s face softened.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, Geralt.  Now, kiss me again.”  

“My pleasure.”  The witcher smiled and kissed her once again.

It was a terrible, stupid, horrible, foolish plan………and it worked.

#the witcher #witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt fic #witcher imagine #witcher fic

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed after fp2, bahrain - february 29, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, great to see you. It looks, from the time sheets, as a really positive day. Did it feel like that behind the wheel?" Lewis: "Yeah. This has been a crazy Friday. I was late this morning and… Yeah, P1, we were surprised. It was very, very windy this morning, so it was a really difficult session, I think, for everyone. The track was so different compared to practice last week. But yeah, otherwise it was feeling okay, but we didn't really know where we stood on the C2 tire, and then in this session, yeah, the car… We made some ipmrovements over the session. Again, I don't understand… It's a shock to see us where we are, but we'll take it for now. But we can't get ahead of ourselves. We need to keep our heads down, keep working on the setup and try and extract more. I think our long run pace is nowhere near the Red Bulls, for example, and I think we're all a lot closer, so we've got some work to do there." Interviewer: "Are you feeling more comfortable, say, in the car, just generally? Are you feeling like you can extract a little bit more? I know we've only done a couple sessions of practice, but given how bad last year was at times, can you kind of see that difference?" Lewis: "Yeah, I'm much happier with the car this year. My seat position is finally further rearwards. I've got a better feel for the car, approaching the corners. But there are other areas that have been fixed and improved and it just makes it feel… It feels like a racecar, for once, and the last two cars didn't feel like that, so it's a really good platform for us to work on and we've just got to keep our heads down and keep on chasing." Interviewer: "I know you said the long runs didn't feel quite as good, maybe, as the Red Bulls. Do you know kind of where you might want to try and work on overnight, just to try and shut that gap for the rest of the weekend?" Lewis: "I do. In terms of achieving it, I don't know how, necessarily, with the new car… Like with a new car, you have all new tools. Everything's been redesigned, and so all the previous numbers and names for things are completely shifted, so you're learning a whole new vocabulary when it comes to the car setup. And we've tested some of them, but not all of them, 'cause we only had a day and a half. But yeah, we'll have to see. I hope that we can make a step. I got a bit of an idea, but I don't know how to achieve that yet, currently, with the setup changes without effecting the other side of things-so a single lap, lightweight-so we'll see." Interviewer: "If you find all the right direction, do you think you can be in the mix this weekend for the podium?" Lewis: "I think we're gonna be in the mix. I think it's a bit too early to say, but I think we're there or thereabouts with Ferrari and maybe Aston and McLaren. I don't know exactly where we lay with those guys, but we're around those, so it's gonna be a nice battle with us. I think if Max is in the front he will be rough, as he has done for the last couple of years."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #bahrain gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #bahrain #bahrain 2024 #bahrain 2024 thursday #tw max

[thedizzydinosaur]

March 24 Dance: hands, lead/follow, pattens.

"Are you sure about this?" Ethari scanned the pattens that the young man had pushed into his hands, scanning over the simple, but elegant design of the horn cuffs, render in seay to follow but still exquisite details.

"Very." The young skywing elf wrung his hands in what had to be nervousness. "She's my world, and, well, I.. "

"You want the best for her." Ethari smiled softly at the boy, and oh, he was just a boy, no older than 18 perhaps?"

Ah, he was that young once, dancing around his feelings over a certain someone who was currently chasing some guard recruits around the forest.

"So, do you want to get started on this? My schedule is pretty clear this afternoon, and i doubt you want to keep your sweet heart waiting..."

-

The boy, as it turned out, was a pretty good student.

He was attentive, absorbing every bit of information Ethari sent his way as he led him step by step through the prosses of silver-smithing.

First was heating up the bar of metal slightly, then feeding it through a set of rollers to flatten it to a nice even thickness

"Now we need to trace the patten on with a scribe"

The two halves of the first cuff were traced out onto the metal, along with some careful markings to show where the raised, petal like patten was to be added, before ethari took over again to cut the sides out.

"It's not that I don't trust you, lad, but the shears are sharp, and even I've nearly lost fingers to them."

Ethari didn't miss the way the boy's hands almost instantly vanished into his coat pockets when he said that.

Funny thing was that the boys hands seemed to have a fuzzy edge to them. Like they were slightly behind frosted glass.

Ethari shook his head.

A trick of the light.

-

They worked right into the evening, resulting in the completion of rough shapes of two horn cuffs, ready for refinement and decorating, before Ethari had to down tools to start dinner

The boy, who's name seemed to consistently slip Ethari’s mind, was staying just outside the village, as the inn was full.

Ethari did extend the offer to stay over in the guest room but was met with a polite refusal.

He left for his camp just before Runaan returned, cussing out a particularly mouthy recruit who had the gall to call him old.

"You are only 42, love," Ethari hummed, pulling his beloved, grumpy husband into a slow dance in the kitchen as they waited for dinner to finish cooking. "Hardly old."

"40." Runaan corrected with a grumble.

"I refuse to let you miss out on two years, darling~" Ethari crooned, lifting Runaan up into a twirl.

"And you said that you had nothing scheduled this afternoon." Runaan was smiling now. "So who was your supprise walk in?"

"One half of a pair of lovers" Ethari replied. "Looking for the perfect gift for his heart"

"Oh?"

"Yes. A pair of custom horn cuffs."

The timer at the stove dinged, and the two of them broke from there dance.

-

The skwing lad was back bright and early the next day.

Callum, as he reminded Ethari with a wry smile, picked up the art of engraving quickly, and it did not take long for him to start gushing over the young lady who held his heart in her hands.

Bold, sweet, brave, tender and sassy. You'd think she'd been sent by the moon herself the way callum spoke of her.

He was so in love, and that love was translated into each and every line engraved as the day went on.

Ethari had to wonder if the protective brambles carefully coiled under the moon lilies and roses meant anything in particular.

-

There was muttering in the village that a ghost had been spotted slinking around the village boundaries.

No one would mention the name of exactly who it was, but the village guards were getting twitchy, which was never a good sign.

Callum assured Ethari that he'd be OK as he slipped away into the growing twilight, precious cargo stashed away safely in his bag.

Ethari still watched on from his workshops doors, eyes following the skywing picked his way through the market and out past the boundary stones, just to make sure.

-

Callum dipped though the underbrush, keeping one ear out for the smallest sounds of village guards, assassins (trainee or otherwise) or anyone else that might try to follow him as he left the village, and made for the meeting point.

The adoraburr meadow was dark as dusk settled in, aside for the lightning bugs that drifted on the breeze.

With a sigh, he finally let the illustration he'd been living under for the last couple of days.

He flexed all 5 fingers as his skin regained its pink hew and the horns melted away into moon dust.

"Say, stranger, have I seen you before"

Callum sighed before turning and smiling up at the beautiful moon nymph that was sitting on a nearby bolder, the cheesiest smile in existence on her face.

"I'm not sure if I've ever met a goddess before." Callum zinged back as Rayla hopped down from her perch to greet him with a hug.

"I got you something." Callum returned the hug in full force.

"And I got you something ~"

"Dare I ask?"

Rayla grinned, and scooted out of his grip.

"Not telling~" she sung "not yet, at least"

Callum rolled his eyes just a little. He grabbed his bag, and started to follow her out of the meadow.

"Your uncles are doing well, by the way." He told her as they disappeared into the treeline. "But I noticed a 'no unattended Jr assassins' sign next to the door?

"Oh... yeh.... that might be my fault...."

#the dragon prince #tdpprism2024

[heckinconfusedparade]

The time Tails went on a walk and didn’t tell anyone

It’s a beautiful day outside.. birds are singing, flowers are blooming.. on days like these, kids like Tails.. should be going on a walk.

And that’s what he did!

Tails slips on his shoes and marches out the front door and begins his midday stroll through the town of Green Hills. He had spent the first half of his day hunched over at his desk sketching up new ideas for inventions. Engaging in shrimp posture was hurting his back, so he decided to go out and stretch his legs.

Tails wonders what he will find on his walk. Will he see something new? Find the meaning of life?

He feels like he’s forgetting something. But he figures that if he forgot, it probably wasn’t important anyway.

Tails takes a deep breath of fresh air. Ah yes.. everything is calm.

. . .

Meanwhile, back at the house, Sonic and Knuckles were left in charge of the house while their parents worked. Sonic goes up to the attic to talk to Tails only to find that he isn’t there. He goes back downstairs to the living room where Knuckles is reading a book.

“Hey, Knux? Have you seen Tails?” Sonic asks Knuckles who lifts his head up from his book “no I have not.. have you checked the shed?”

“Good idea.” Sonic runs off and checks out the shed where Tails normally works on his inventions. He’s not there. Sonic checks the garage, maybe Tails is looking for some spare parts or tools. He’s not there. Sonic is starting to panic a little.

Sonic returns to Knuckles “he’s not in the shed, and he’s not in the garage.”

Knuckles closes his book and places it down “I will help you look.”

The brothers turn the property upside down looking for their little fox. They slowly realize that they had broken one of the two rules their parents had left them with: watch Tails. He may be a genius and more than capable of handling himself, but he is still just an 8 year old child with unending curiosity for the new world around him.

Knuckles notices Tails’ shoes are missing from the rack “..Sonic? I think Tails might have left.”

“WHAT-“ Sonic skids to a stop by where Knuckles is standing. He digs through the rack and closet, making sure those little red shoes aren’t just hiding. Sonic holds his head “WE LOST TAILS”

Knuckles is about to say something, but is stopped by Sonic planting his hands on Knuckles’ shoulders and gripping them tightly “HES OUT THERE IN THE REAL WORLD”

“We shouldn’t panic yet, Tails is very good at handling himself, and with my training, I have no doubt he can defend himself from any-“ Knuckles is cut off again by Sonic, and is now giving him a look of annoyance.

Sonic looks out the window with a sad expression “he’s prolly out there lost, and cold.. confused..” he sighs “poor little guy..”

. . .

Tails struts down the sidewalk with his spirits high, and his eyes sparkling. He spots a little rock and starts kicking it down the sidewalk. This keeps him entertained until he hears some commotion nearby. He goes to the scene, and ends up at a soccer field. There’s a group of older kids that are frustrated because the frisbee they were playing with had flown into a tree, and they’re now trying to knock it down by throwing various objects they find on the ground.

Tails approaches the group “do you need help?” He asks. The group turns to him and goes quiet. They can’t believe their eyes. “The hell are you?” one of the boys asks, not trying to be rude, just very confused. Another boy speaks up “Hey, kid. Can you climb trees?” then another goes “Ron, it’s too high for him.”

Tails laughs “I can do you one better!” He flies up and gets the frisbee and brings it down to the kids. They cheer and give the good ol rough bro pat on his head and back. Tails is invited to play with them and he happily accepts! He just made some new friends. There’s also a Bluetooth speaker blasting some tunes so safe to say Tails is currently living his best life with his new buds.

. . .

Sonic and Knuckles are now a bit more freaked out. Knuckles is checking the surrounding woods, and Sonic is lapping around the neighbourhood. How far did this kid go?? Sonic even checks the park. No sign of Tails.

Oh man! Their parents are gonna kill ‘em!

Ozzy was no help. He just sniffed one of Tails’ gloves and went back to what he was doing. He ain’t no search dog!

Knuckles expands beyond the forest and starts searching fields until finally, at last, he sees his little brother playing frisbee with a group of big kids. Knuckles feels like he can finally breathe again.

“TAILS!” He calls out. Tails turns around and waves all innocent like he didn’t just give his poor brothers a heart attack “hi Knuckles!! I made some new friends!!”

Knuckles approaches the group. Tails introduces his new friends to his brother. They recognize him from school. Unfortunately one of the boys is not in good standing with Knuckles due to a bad choice of words in the past, so Knuckles is giving him a deadly glare.

Knuckles excuses himself and Tails from the group, and sends a quick text to Sonic telling him he found Tails. Knuckles is working on not being loud and overbearing when upset, so he’s gonna try speaking lowly and slowly “Tails. Where have you been?”

Tails, not reading the room at all, says cheerfully “I went on a walk!”

Knuckles inhales and gives his brother a stern look “you didn’t tell us you were going on a walk.”

Tails’ entire body droops. He has that guilty little kid look “I’m sorry..” he stutters. This is what he forgot.. and turns out, it was important!

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it, kid, you had us worried sick!” Sonic has appeared! Despite looking upset, he’s actually more relieved Tails is ok. He’s still upset though.

Tails avoids eye contact. He’s in trouble. He hates being in trouble.

Knuckles crouches down to look Tails in his eyes “You cannot just leave without saying anything. We have to know where you are in case something happens to you. I’m not saying you’re weak, or you can’t handle yourself, but I’d much rather know where you are when you’re in trouble, rather than not know where you are and you come home bruised, or worse, we find you unconscious in the middle of the woods. We’re glad you’re safe. Please remember to tell us next time, ok?”

Tails nods and leans to Knuckles. Knuckles hugs him gently to comfort him. Sonic is so proud! Knuckles handled his tense feelings wonderfully! No yelling! Not even a raised tone! Though, it’s probably because Tails has baby bro privileges but that’s besides the point.

Tails says bye to his friends and they all head home. Sonic and Knuckles have agreed to not tell their parents because they’re pretty confident Tails has learned his lesson. He’s a smart kid.

Tails has now learned that whenever he goes on a walk alone, he should tell someone and bring his Miles Electric with him so they can contact or locate him.

#I’ll get to your prompts eventually #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog movie #miles tails prower #sonic 2 #tails the fox #sonic #movie tails #knuckles the echidna #movie sonic #tails wachowski #sonic wachowski #knuckles wachowski

[nothums-from-tj]

What is your hc on boomercup? for me, I think they bonded over the fact that they are the odd ones out of their siblings. Brick and Butch are always together doing things Blossom and Bubbles doing things together, and Buttercup and Boomer are just left out, not that they want to do the things their siblings are doing I also hc that boomer moved out like when he was 15-16 so that just adds to how estranged his relationship with his brothers is whilst buttercup is going out all the time with her friends just so she doesn't have to see how close her sisters are and how estranged she is and I also hc that they both were the last to get together so their siblings mostly blossom and bubbles set up double dates just so they make buttercup and boomer be together

I’m literally so excited someone asked me abt them I’m like in tears. This is a super long post just to give you a heads up

Just rq I feel like with how oblivious the two are they’d be like “why are we literally being dragged on a date” and then ditch their siblings to hang out with each other, said siblings laughing at them when they finally get together like “that’s literally WHY WE INVITED YOU BOTH WE BASICALLY FORCED YOU ON A DATE WITH EACH OTHER” “oh”

Ok so a one-shot I actually had in mind basically touches upon exactly that also loosely inspired by “Pity Party” by Melanie Martinez (full idea beneath the cut), although my main work right now—the fic I have going (you can find it under the tbmg tag I have on this post and my pinned) is Boomer being impulsive to try to impress some girl in a class they all share by trying to be “good” and so asking for help, and given it’s the most-behaved Ruff and the least-behaved Puff and somewhere along the line they’re still classified as a villain and a hero respectively despite not being too different fundamentally and it’s mostly a character study in that aspect while still building their friendship before getting them together. I like to think that as crime lessens in the future the Ruffs mostly stop having contact with Mojo and low contact with HIM providing they’re mainly just tools to them unlike the Puffs to Professor, who he sees as his children and created them specifically to have children in his life. Boomer, in Buttercup’s opinion, is the most annoying since he’s as much of an instigator as she is. For the most part they lose contact with the other groups save for Boomer and sometimes Brick just trying to have a bit of fun by getting on their nerves and eventually only really focus on Buttercup since she’s the only one to still give them a reaction

That, and it’s nice to have someone that can actually match each other’s strength—they mostly get into fights when having a rough day, when they need to either beat the shit out of someone until they feel better or it means violence is still some kind of physical contact that says there’s some kind of care in it, good or bad

This is sort of what I’m alluding to at the start of said fic that I’ll try to delve into further into the next chapter or the one following. During the next chapter is when I have them actually chatting and getting to actually know one another aside from any insecurities to jab at to initiate a fight

I have another hc I’ll put in a rb here at a later date bc it deals with some heavier topics (EDIT: some are featured here)

Alright one-shot idea:

It’s the girls’ 15th birthday, a Saturday, and Buttercup has always been the first to pick on her sisters right and it seems that’s the only way she really knows how to make connections which is a little bit what @milksteaki touched upon in her (edited to use proper pronouns) hcs as far as how she “flirts” with Boomer (not quite the same, it’s close enough), and I doubt her sisters would ever fully understand that

Especially as they get older I have a feeling Blossom and Butters would argue a bit more given they’re probably the two who bear the most insecurities and they’re so alike in sometimes getting on what really makes people tick. Anyway they probably had one the night before bc Buttercup is sometimes just so intense they don’t really know how to take it the way her sisters do and it literally scares their friends, especially when BC’s friend group are boys who roughhouse or are able to match her competitive nature and they mention this to her sisters in private who then try to relay the message to Buttercup or they try to encourage their friends to tell her straight up bc she really doesn’t mean any harm. Either way, Buttercup either didn’t invite her friends for those reasons or was told to invite someone else and she doesn’t have anybody else, that or everyone was busy/had games/whatever else. Blossom asks Buttercup not to “scare the guests” and she, in a bout of teenage angst, takes it as “don’t show up”

After that she’s left alone in the room and her immediate thought is to contact Boomer to play basketball at a park or something—just the two of them, since all he was really doing was either trying to ignore Brick and Butch fight or, providing you’re the second person I’ve known of to hc Boomer moving out as a teenager, he’s doing absolutely nothing and is more than happy to hang out with someone

They chat during the game and sometimes after shots—not like it’s a real game anyway—and Buttercup mentions that she’s been “kicked out for the day” or that she fought with Blossom again, really anything to keep from sharing too many details and it works as Boomer continues to say that he’s so glad to not really be around his brothers like that anymore. While Boomer is never the one really involved with Brick and Butch’s spats, he feels left out and like no one pays attention to him in kind of the opposite of how Bubbles feels

It’s late afternoon when Blossom finds her after realizing Buttercup isn’t in the room sulking or looking for privacy but straight up left, and only then did she realize Buttercup probably had no intention of showing up and felt horrible—they’re a tight-knit group, even with the arguing they both miss their sister terribly and their birthday is never too fun without the third

Another argument starts out since Blossom’s concerned and Buttercup’s pissed and they eventually forget Boomer’s there for a minute—at least Buttercup, until:

“You said you didn’t want me there!”

“I never said that! All I wanted was for the guests to have a good time!”

“Forget them, Blossom—it’s our birthday! I should be able to enjoy the day, too!”

Boomer’s heart sinks as he’s looking between the two as they argue and his voice is softer than he ever expects: “It’s your birthday today?”

Her heart stops when she remembers about his presence and how she was actively avoiding that detail and she can’t even think about a response, Blossom’s as silent as she is, and he just looks hurt that he was never told and about everything that’s already been said, “Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday?”

“It’s no big deal, Boomer. If I cared enough, I would’ve said something.”

“I care. The least I could’ve done is, I don’t know, made you dinner or something.”

They discuss to talk about it later since the most important thing is that Blossom wants her there for cake and they’ve refused to even light the candles without her there. They make up, there’s probably some tears, and Boomer is then invited to every party (he also probably makes a little friendship bracelet or a favorite snack as a gift that he brings to her in the midst of the night)

#tbmg #tj shares #tj writes #kinda #💥🌼 #boomercup #asks #buttercup x boomer #boomer x buttercup #long post #headcanons #ship headcanons

[thetomorrowshow]

burn a light between

hello all! welcome to this team rancher fic requested by @flyingfish1234 who said:

Oh, yes! I was just wondering if you could write something with either chronic pain as a main point or something. Maybe something double life but idk? Team rancher?

here we are fish my beloved!! this has been crossposted on my ao3 - TheYesterdayShow.

title is from Speedway by Cedar Sigo.

~

Tango thinks he hides his trepidation well when he wakes up at spawn, Jimmy stirring beside him. He bemoans his mistake, apologizes, agrees to go with Jimmy’s plan.

When Jimmy leaves to see if he can regather his stuff, Tango buries his face in his palms, takes a shaky breath.

No wonder he’d been attacked by all those mobs. No wonder that creeper had turned up out of nowhere. No wonder he’s the first one yellow.

He’s soulbound to the Canary.

He hadn’t realized it until he discovered his soulmate, but he’d wanted it to be anyone but Jimmy. He’d wanted Grian, really, as crazy as the man was—or Impulse, someone he knows well and is decent at surviving. Heck, he’d even have been fine with Scott or BigB, despite barely knowing them—and when it comes down to it, even Scar has a better track record of survival than Jimmy does.

There’s nothing he can do, though. He’s stuck with Jimmy, as much as he doesn’t want to be. And he really doesn’t want to be.

But it’s forcibly him and Jimmy against the world, so Tango gets to gathering materials for their base and tools. His life depends on keeping Jimmy alive, impossible as it seems.

He’s barely cut down a single tree when his knee gives out from under him. He hisses at the pain—it’s not too bad, not like anything that had actually happened to him, but Jimmy must have tripped or something and banged his knee.

Tango balances himself against a tree, takes in a breath. When he feels like he can put weight on his left leg again, he does—but it doesn’t stop hurting. It aches, occasionally stabbing through with pain sharper than he would expect from a single fall. Maybe Jimmy tripped again?

Tango can handle a little pain. He’s died before, he’s been injured before. He grits his teeth and gets back to work, pausing every now and then just to breathe through it. Jimmy must have seriously messed up his knee doing whatever he did. Just more reason to get a hut built. Maybe Tango can convince him to just stay inside for the entire death game, where the only pain will be once-in-a-while singed fingers from poking at the fireplace.

Aw, who’s he kidding? Tango’s stuck with the Canary, of all people. Even if Jimmy stays inside, it’ll leave Tango with some cursed obligation to get them killed, and then they’ll be on Red and who even knows if they’ll be able to keep a lid on the bloodthirst enough to be conscious of their fragility. Tango’s never really interacted much with a Red Jimmy, but he’s probably even more reckless and danger-inducing than usual.

His knee throbs again and Tango bites his tongue accidentally, then curses at the taste of blood. Jimmy will have felt that. Which, now that he thinks of it, is kind of embarrassing. Someone he barely knows is right now aware that Tango just accidentally bit his tongue. That’s stupid. This whole soulmates thing is stupid.

There’s nothing he can do about that, though. There’s nothing he can do about any of this. So Tango goes back to ignoring the pain pulsing out from his knee and continues gathering supplies for their home.

-

Tango’s building a cow pen when he realizes that he can’t feel his left hand.

He pauses, wipes away the sweat that’s dripping into his eyes, then tugs off his rough leather glove with his teeth (his right hand still holding the fence post in place). At first he doesn’t see any noticeable difference. It looks like his hand, he observes as he turns it back and forth, normal, just slightly buzzing and—is it swollen?

He didn’t think he’d been working for too long, and he doesn’t remember pinching a nerve—and pinching a nerve, while it would explain the numbness and buzzing, does not explain swelling. He holds the fence post with his knees, awkwardly half-squatting to keep it in place (his left knee still aches which doesn’t make that any easier) and pulls off his other glove to compare his hands.

Yep, his left hand is definitely swollen—skin reddened and splotchy in comparison to the right, and the lines of his knuckles are just slightly farther apart on the left. He tries to bend the fingers of his left hand, finds them stiff and reluctant to move.

That can’t be right. Tango’s built dozens—if not hundreds—of bases and farms in his life, and he’s never seen anything like this happen from the exertion of the task. The longer he stares, the more the numbness gives way to a slow aching pain spreading through his entire left hand.

What on earth—

Right. Jimmy.

Jimmy’s out doing something—looking for a horn, maybe?—and he must’ve, like, dropped a cobblestone on his hand or whatever. Not that Tango can come up with any reason as to why that might have occurred.

He flexes his fingers again, watches as the movement meets even more resistance than before. This sucks. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to grip anything with his left hand at this rate, and he doesn’t even know why.

It hurts more, now, in an almost tingling way, like brushing a collection of needles across his palm. Jimmy’s got to be doing something idiotic—but there’s nothing he can do about it on his end, except growl in frustration and slap some ice on the offending hand. Which he does, even though it only helps marginally. It at least brings it closer back to the numb state it had started with, so after ten minutes of icing, tapping his foot impatiently as he sits on the steps that lead into their shack, Tango ties the ice onto his still-sore knee and returns to work.

As soon as Jimmy gets back, Tango isn’t letting him out of his sight until he figures out what he’s been doing to injure himself in such inconvenient ways.

-

When Tango wakes up in the morning, it’s not just his hand and knee that are bothering him (though they still are). It’s also his hip—and it hurts. A lot.

He gasps a little when it shifts, grinding against the joint, as he tries to sit up. Usually Tango would chalk that up to age and not staying young forever, but he hadn’t felt any sort of warning that this was coming. His joints ache now and again, but it’s always achiness that vanishes quickly and only bothers him when it’s cold out, and that is not what this is. This is bad. This is worse than anything so far in this game. This is—well, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say this is his hip dislocated.

It’s not—he can move it well enough, he can feel his leg below it just fine, but it hurts so terribly that it has to be something bad, doesn’t it? He doesn’t remember sustaining an injury, but he must have for something this awful.

Tango does his best to work around it for now, rolling out of bed and limping to where he’d thrown his clothes the previous night. They need to get some sheep, get a change of clothes spun. It’s been a couple of days, and despite the cleanse of the respawn, his usual outfit is becoming a bit ripe.

His hip screams at him, and he only gets his shirt pulled over his head before he has to stop and check it over, probing figures searching for the injury.

There’s nothing.

The fingers of his left hand pulse from where he’s grabbing his leg, and he watches as they turn red and begin to swell again.

Right. Soulmates. Jimmy.

A quick glance around the shack tells him Jimmy’s not here. He must’ve already headed out for the morning—something that worries Tango, mostly because of the pain that’s sure to be coming his way.

But he also kinda just wants Jimmy to be okay.

He hadn’t known Jimmy but by reputation, and it’s so terribly strange actually living with the Canary. But . . . not in the way he’d expected.

Jimmy jokes around and gives Tango praise for the bare minimum and always has a smile. He’s really a nice guy when it comes down to it, and Tango’s genuinely a bit surprised that he hadn’t known that before. Everyone who had teamed up with him in the past only proclaimed his faults.

What’s probably the most gut-wrenching to learn about Jimmy is that he cares. Jimmy cares a lot—he takes the time to name each of their cows, he insists on carrying Tango through the door of their house bridal style when it’s first complete, he extends offers of friendship and trust to anyone he meets. Just yesterday, Tango watched him cradle an armful of chicks on his knees, pure adoration beaming from his face, as if it was the first time he’d even seen a baby chicken.

Tango can’t imagine how much it must have hurt for Jimmy’s former allies and friends to loudly shout his mistakes and ignore everything great about him. Tango’s not even known him for a week and he’s already coming to terms with the fact that Jimmy is more than his legend, is more than what everyone says. Jimmy’s a person, a kind if often misguided person, and Tango definitely still doesn’t want to be soulbound to him but he can at least show him the same kindness.

Jimmy’s a good friend. He deserves some happiness.

That doesn’t excuse all the hurt he’s causing Tango.

Jimmy may be a good friend, but he’s a terrible soulmate. He keeps getting hurt in some stupid way, leaving Tango to limp across their one room hut to the furnace just to try and warm up his terribly aching body. Not that it’ll help much, knowing that it’s Jimmy’s pain and not his own.

Now, he is a little bitter over it. He grumbles a few curses under his breath as he stretches, trying to pop the joints of his left knee and hip as if it’ll ease the pain. He massages the three main points of pain as well, his response to pain so deeply ingrained that he can’t help but try to soothe it, even if it isn’t his own. He’s not sure where Jimmy is right now, but he is sure that there’s no way the man is walking.

Maybe it’s Tango’s responsibility as his soulmate to go find him. Then again, maybe it’s Jimmy’s responsibility as Tango’s soulmate to be more careful about his health.

There’s nothing he can say for it now. Jimmy’s out and about getting injured, so Tango ought to get that farm started that they’d discussed last night. He takes another moment to just breathe, the pain settling into more of a pulsing ache, then hobbles out of the house, more than a little unhappy with Jimmy.

He doesn’t see Jimmy all day. All day, he continues to hurt.

-

It’s still dark out when Tango wakes, an agonized moan escaping his lips.

He can’t move. The entire left side of his body radiates with fire, from his jaw to his toes, leeching any coolness from the right side and leaving him sweaty under the blankets he can’t move to get out from under.

It hurts, it hurts so much worse than Tango could have ever imagined, it feels like axes splitting open the skin of his side and fishing hooks caught in his knee and white-hot razors along his arm and hand and back and gravel in his hip and a porcupine nestling his foot. Everything hurts so, so bad, and it’s everything Tango can do not to burst into tears as a choked cry squeezes past his clenched teeth.

“Oh—Tango! Did I wake you up?”

Someone’s speaking to him, he doesn’t know who so he can’t tell them what’s wrong, that’s just common sense, can’t be seen as weak on this world—

But there’s something right about their voice, something that, deep down past all the layers of torment, pulls at his soul.

Jimmy.

“Hurts,” Tango manages to wheeze, and there’s a moment of nothing but suffering before there’s a soft glow beside him and he focuses on Jimmy’s clear brown eyes, his brow wrinkled in concern.

“Oh, gosh, you’re all sweaty,” Jimmy murmurs. “Do you want the blanket off?”

Tango nods, gasps when it sends shooting pain up his jaw. Blurrily, he sees Jimmy slowly pull himself up from his knees by gripping the side of the bed, then place his lantern down.

Moments later, gentle hands are tugging the blanket off of him, wrapping it up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tango takes a shuddering breath, cursing raspily when he feels a tear trickle down his temple.

“Oh, gosh. Oh, geez,” Jimmy mutters from somewhere beside him, then there’s a large hand shifting under his right shoulder, another holding his right hand. “I’m about to help you sit up, all right? It helps, I promise.”

Tango nods almost imperceptibly. He’s practically lying in a puddle of his own sweat, and despite the terrifying pain crashing wave after wave into his body, he feels as if he might be more in control while sitting up.

Jimmy counts to three, then heaves him up so quickly Tango’s almost too shocked to feel anything. Almost.

Because as soon as he’s sitting up, all of the worst spots—his hand, hip, knee, jaw, foot—scream at him in one huge burst. His right hand somehow finds his pants to grip hard, reassurance that he’s here, he still exists, even when his world feels like nothing but endless shards of glass being hurled at him.

It takes Tango too long to realize that Jimmy’s sat beside him on the bed, both arms clutched around his middle. A sob tears from Tango’s throat at a pulse in his left hand, and as he turns his head ever so slightly, he sees Jimmy wince in time.

Right—Jimmy’s feeling all of this as well.

How in the world had he been able to walk, let alone help Tango sit up?

More importantly, Tango hadn’t done anything dangerous in his sleep. This pain doesn’t belong to him. Jimmy had been awake already—had he left the house, had something bad happened to him?

Panic drowns the pain, and Tango releases his pant leg and turns properly, using the low light of the shuttered lantern to examine Jimmy for injuries. There’s no blood or bruising that he can see on Jimmy’s exposed left arm, but the sleeveless white undershirt he wears to sleep obscures his side and the lighting is too dark to see his legs properly—

Jimmy carefully uncurls Tango’s questing right hand from where it’s wrapped around the hem of his undershirt, pats it. His face twists guiltily when he speaks. “I’m so sorry, Tango. I have a pan of water boiling for tea, it’ll help if you feel like trying it.”

Tea. Tango’s never been much of a tea-drinker, but it actually sounds . . . really nice. The pain is severe enough that his stomach is rolling, so at the very least, something to calm that would be great. A warm drink could ease the aching a bit too. He nods agreement, winces when it sends another jolt down his neck.

His knee and hip begin to hurt exponentially more—at levels he didn’t think were possible—when Jimmy stands and crosses the room, leaving his line of sight. Tango breathes in through clenched teeth, then out. Again. Again. He’s not going to cry, he tells himself despite the tears already falling. He can breathe through the pain.

A flash of something hot—stinging—burning hits Tango’s right arm just above the wrist and he jerks, hissing when the jostle just exacerbates everything. He looks to his left—Jimmy’s cursing over and over, balancing a very full pan of sloshing, steaming water. The light of the furnace is brighter than the lantern, and Tango can see a light red burn spreading across his right arm. A glance down at his own arm shows the same mark.

“I’ll rub some ointment on that in a sec, just gotta pour the other cup—”

That cup presumably goes smoother, because soon enough, Jimmy’s limping over with a cup for him. Jimmy presses it into his hands with instructions to let it seep, then goes back for the medical supplies. After several minutes of the cup warming Tango’s hand, he feels the burn on his arm cool, and though it’s only a marginal improvement in the grand scheme of his body, Tango’s grateful for it.

“Stupid Grian and his stupid no-potions rule,” Jimmy grumbles as he gingerly sits beside Tango again, sipping at his own tea. It’s not instant, but Tango feels his body relax slightly without his own input.

He lifts the cup to his nose, sniffs it. It smells almost woody, and while that’s not usually something he goes for, preferring a sweet drink, he tastes it anyhow.

It’s . . . well, it’s strange. It’s quite a bit saltier than he expected, and the woody flavor is very present—almost as if biting into a piece of driftwood found on the beach. He’s not sure he likes it.

He can’t deny it’s helping, though. It still hurts, a lot, but the tea cuts through the fog of pain in his head and relaxes his tensed muscles.

“Better?”

Tango nods, breathing a sigh of relief when the motion only twinges. “What . . . where’d you learn to make this stuff?” he rasps, shaking the mug for emphasis.

“Lizzie taught me, actually. I’m not sure if she invented it, though. It probably came from Ocean tradition.”

Tango chooses not to ask about that. Instead, with a slow wave of pain cresting, he takes another sip and brings up the obvious.

“You’re hurt.”

Jimmy winces. “No. I’m not.”

Tango croaks out a laugh, despite there being nothing funny about any of this. “Oh yeah?” he challenges. “Why’s it hurt, then? I’ve been feeling it all week. What’s going on?”

The hunch of Jimmy’s shoulders is despondent, his gaze into the tea guilty once again. “I’m not—I haven’t been getting injured,” he begins. “Well, except for just now, with the boiling water. But this—” he gestures vaguely to the left side of his body with his cup— “this is just the way it is. It always hurts.”

That’s not possible, though. Jimmy’s young, and he runs around and farms and keeps up with everything, and with this level of agony Tango doesn’t think that would be possible for anyone, no matter how young they are.

“Is this—is it a Canary thing?” asks Tango, trying to work it out aloud. “Like, the curse is already trying to kill you, and it just hurts until—”

“No,” Jimmy interrupts quickly. “It’s not—it’s nothing to do with—that. It’s—look, Tango, do you know what chronic pain is?”

“I’m a smart boy, I can figure it out,” Tango says drily, then more seriously, “like arthritis?”

“That’s one kind, yeah. It really just means a pain that you’re stuck with for life. And that’s . . . that’s what this is.”

“Yeah, but arthritis isn’t—isn’t this,” Tango protests, biting back a gasp as his elbow flares. “It’s—it means that sometimes you need a cane ‘cuz your knees are tired. This—”

“—isn’t arthritis,” Jimmy finishes. He looks tired, more than anything. “It’s called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, or CRPS. You ought to look it up when this is over, not too many people know about it. And arthritis can be a lot worse than you think, you know.”

CRPS. Tango rolls the letters around his tongue, takes another sip of his tea. The pain is definitely more manageable now, seeing as he’s not clenching his jaw so hard he’s afraid of cracking a tooth. “So . . . what, you just woke up one day like this? Or were you born with it?”

Jimmy frowns. “Neither, really. It—well, some years back, my hand just . . . stopped working right. Temperatures were all wrong, it got all swollen sometimes. All that. And ever since, it’s just . . . it’s spread.”

Tango takes a moment to process that, as well. It’s a little difficult to wrap his head around: Jimmy’s been feeling this pain for years, and it’s only gotten worse as time passed. Like dementia, his mind supplies randomly. At first it’s just little things here and there, then it builds and then one day you wake up with everything wrong.

“That . . . that sucks,” Tango says vehemently. “You just live like this? All the time?”

“There are good days and bad days,” Jimmy shrugs. Tango swallows back the pain that rolls through his left shoulder at the motion. “This is—this is a bad day. I pushed myself too hard this week.”

“Is there anything that helps?”

Jimmy raises his mug. “This stuff. Stretching and sleeping well and all those healthy lifestyle things. But potions don’t touch it, and neither does a respawn, so.”

That’s a disappointment for sure. Tango had been about to ask Grian to lift the potion restriction for Jimmy alone in light of this information. If Jimmy’s right, though, and there’s nothing that really relieves this pain. . . .

“How are we going to survive?” he mumbles to himself. If they’re both in constant, mind-numbing pain, how will they ever be able to stand up to the other crazy pairs on the server? How will they be conscious enough to even recognize threats?

“Sorry,” Jimmy says quietly, and Tango doesn’t realize until he glances over that Jimmy’s face is shadowed in guilt.

“Hey, no—that’s not your fault, dude! Why would you ever think it’s your fault?” Tango may still be fairly irritated (or a lot irritated, with this revelation) about Jimmy being his soulmate, but Jimmy’s his soulmate and he won’t stand for that kind of treatment of his soulmate.

Jimmy shrugs again. “I’ve always sort of—dragged everyone else down, you know?”

“What? No—”

“C’mon, Tango,” Jimmy says, fixing him with an exhausted glare. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. I know what they call me. I know what they think when they see me. I know what you thought when you realized that I was your soulmate—you didn’t want me. I could tell. I’m—I’m not meant to be happy, I’m not meant to win anything, and everyone knows and makes it their life mission to make sure I’m alone in that.”

It’s not the words that worry Tango the most. It’s the matter-of-fact tone, the clear belief that these thoughts are universal and unshakeable, that really bothers him.

“That’s not true,” he automatically responds. Jimmy just shakes his head.

“Grian won’t give me a horn because he thinks they won’t be fun when I have one,” he counters. “Martyn kicked me out of the Southlands and Grian voted to keep me out twice. Everyone I’ve met since the start of this world has been grateful that it wasn’t me they were stuck with. The last server I was on, everything was taken from me and I was exiled. I’m the Canary and my life is supposed to suck—whether it’s death or destruction or my own body fighting me, I’m supposed to be alone, so that if I die from the fumes no one else will!”

Tango’s not sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t say anything. All he can think is those sound like a lame excuse for friends.

Jimmy’s shoulders are shaking and he sniffs, runs a hand under his nose. “I’m sorry that the universe—or whatever higher powers there are—stuck us together, Tango. I really am. If I’d had any idea that someone else would be feeling . . . this, I never would’ve agreed to come on this round. We can talk to Grian, arrange something, take me out of the game. I’m sorry I’m here. I’m sorry you’re with me.”

And then he hunches over into a miserable little heap, one that sends pulsing aches through Tango’s bones and his heart.

Because Jimmy’s right. He had been upset, angry even, over being paired with Jimmy. Ever since he found out, he’d been bitter—never to Jimmy’s face, but clearly his efforts to hide his true feelings hadn’t been enough and Jimmy had noticed.

And now that he knows it all—or at least, knows as much as Jimmy felt like telling—those feelings have completely vanished in an instant. Instead of resenting Jimmy just for the chance of being stuck with him, or getting angry at how he seemed to be getting hurt all the time, Tango just feels so much love for Jimmy it hurts.

He may not know the guy very well, but he knows by now that he struggles to even stay on his feet on a daily basis. He knows that he’s world-weary, tired, exhausted. He knows that he must feel like everyone has abandoned him for a chronic condition that he can’t control just because it tends to lead him into death a bit easier.

And maybe Tango is still angry, but not at Jimmy. He’s angry with Jimmy’s so-called friends for abandoning him to a world of nothing but pain.

“You’re amazing,” Tango tells him, and he hadn’t realized exactly what feeling those words were going to be imbued with when he said them, but now he knows and his heart is singing in admiration. “Jimmy, you’re telling me that you deal with this every day, and you’re still an incredible player? That’s—you’re amazing,” he says again, and this time, Jimmy lifts his head up.

His eyes are dry, surprisingly, but he only offers a disbelieving smile. “You think?” he asks drily.

“No, really—how long did you say this had been going on?”

Jimmy bites his lip. “Five years or so? I don’t remember.”

Five years. Five years of this all-encompassing pain, the pain that just minutes ago Tango had been certain he was dying from. And nobody had ever even noticed. He’d somehow hidden it.

He’d hidden it from Tango, too.

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Tango says. “I wish I’d known.”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you could feel it, otherwise—”

“Not for my own sake,” Tango interrupts. “I wish I’d known so that I could help you be more comfortable. It’s not the whole, feel-each-others’-pain thing. It’s about how you’re my friend, and I want you to feel better. For you, not me.”

Jimmy doesn’t believe him, he can tell. Tango’s not surprised after what he’s said. He takes Jimmy by the shoulder—the right one, of course, slinging his arm around Jimmy’s back to do so—and gently tips his head so that it’s leaning against Jimmy’s.

“I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else on the server,” Tango says, doing his best to rub Jimmy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Who cares if we die first? You’re my soulmate, dude. What’s important is that I got your back no matter what.”

Jimmy bumps his head lightly against Tango’s, lets out a shuddering sigh. “You sure?” he asks, voice so terribly small and achingly vulnerable.

“No doubt about it. And if any one of the others says anything about you, just let me know. I'll make ‘em regret it.”

“You can’t kill until you’re on Red,” Jimmy points out. Tango grins.

“There are a lot of other ways to ruin their lives,” Tango threatens ominously. Jimmy snorts out a laugh.

He’s still in severe amounts of pain. He still barely got any sleep. Somehow, though, Tango feels motivated. Motivated enough to help Jimmy understand that he’s willing to learn to be better.

“So what’s first?”

Jimmy shoots him a confused look. Tango takes another sip of tea before continuing.

“You said this tea stuff helps. What else? Should we take the day off, or power through it? Is there more to do to make it better? What do we do?”

“You—you really want to stay?”

“What, like you expect me to leave you to deal with this alone?” Tango scoffs. “No way. I’m here to support you, man. I want to stay.”

Jimmy nods several times. “Okay. Okay. Um, there’s a few chores we’ll need to do once the sun actually rises, but other than that we’d probably ought to take it easy. Um, ice might be good? But that’s mainly just to numb it enough to get through the chores, it’ll probably be worse after because it hates extreme temperatures. Other than that, we just need to . . . ride it out, see how it goes.”

Tango can do that. He trusts Jimmy knows what he’s doing. “I can handle most of the chores—we’ll both feel better if you stay in bed, I think. I can go get some ice from the icebox to start.”

Of course Jimmy protests. For some reason, none of the others had ever talked about how adamant Jimmy could be about his own capabilities, how desperately he wanted to help. And as the morning goes on, maybe Tango relents a little bit when the burning under his skin gets the better of him—lets Jimmy feed the cows while he pulls weeds out of the garden, lets Jimmy cook up something for lunch while he collects eggs and feeds the chickens.

And if they both sleep the rest of the day (Jimmy tells him they’re out of ‘spoons’, something Tango’s never heard before but is willing to accept), nobody comes calling to find out.

-

Tango knows Jimmy’s exerting himself when the ache in the bones of his left leg jumps from a 4 to an 8 on a 1-10 scale of pain. He’s learned by now that it’ll just trigger a chain reaction and soon his entire body will be on fire, so he packs up his hammer and nails and throws a tarp over the section of roof he’d been redoing. He leaves the ladder propped up against the house, sets his toolbox down just inside the door, and starts a pan of water boiling.

Jimmy stumbles in twenty minutes later, just as the pain in his upper back crescendos.

“Sorry,” he gasps, shucking off his chestplate that Tango notices now has a very glimmery effect to it, “went down to the Deep Dark. It’s—it’s something else down there.”

“That’s incredible!” Tango exclaims, and he helps Jimmy with the rest of the armor, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise at the spikes of agony shooting through him. Jimmy smiles proudly, the only indication that he hurts at all the pinching of his forehead and the lines around his eyes.

Jimmy willingly gets into bed while Tango finishes up the tea—a sign of how exhausted he is, really. Tango’s learned over the past week that Jimmy does not like giving up, even at the expense of his bodily functions. It’s another thing about him that, for some reason, had never been touted by his so-called friends.

When the tea is done and they both have their mugs, Tango gingerly clambers onto their pushed-together beds and kneels beside the face-down Jimmy. “Is it all right if I touch you?” he asks, suddenly anxious. Jimmy’s back tenses; Tango’s own back seizes in pain.

“Wh—how so?” Jimmy asks cautiously.

Tango works his hands absently in the air, miming his intended actions to no one. “Like, a massage. I thought it might help to loosen the muscles up or something.”

Jimmy’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe. I’ve never had anyone willing to try.”

Tango swallows back the anger at how lonely Jimmy sounds and gets to work, starting with both hands, switching to just his right when it proves too painful to be continuing with the left. He massages up and down Jimmy’s back, then his left leg, all while Jimmy presses his face into the pillow and is silent.

It doesn’t really help. Tango only feels marginally better, although that may be more because his body is less tense rather than any actual pain relief. But when Tango lies down properly, gritting his teeth at the spasms of pain trailing up and down his body, Jimmy turns to rest his cheek on Tango’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers, sniffling a bit. “Not just—but for everything. I don’t deserve you.” Tango shifts so that his arm wraps around Jimmy, holding him close to his chest. Despite the stinging at the motion, Jimmy melts into him, and Tango wonders just how long it’s been since Jimmy was properly hugged.

Jimmy may be the Canary, but Jimmy’s his Canary. And Tango’s going to make darn sure that he’s always got someone to hold him when the pain won’t relinquish its grip. He’s going to be here for Jimmy until they both die first, and even beyond that.

Tango’s going to do his best to prove to Jimmy that his pain does not make him a burden. It does not make him unworthy of love.

And maybe Tango will learn a few things along the way, about chronic pain and disability, and how unfair the world is for those who need help. For now though, he’ll just hold Jimmy tight until they both fall asleep, and hope that Jimmy will begin to understand just how amazing he is.

#double life smp #double life fanfic #team rancher #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #tangotek #dlsmp #mcyt #mas writes #written as platonic but if u want u can interpret it as romantic idc #i wrote a bit about crps in the endnotes on ao3 #so if you wanna check that out go ahead! #um the cdc keeps calling me should i answer #ANYWAY i wrote much of this off of my own experience with crps! #i recommend looking into it #ask to tag #i really enjoyed writing this #ive actually written from tango's pov before funnily enough #back during deadcember i had a last life fic abt tango #um anyway lmk what you think! #love you guys

[waywardsalt]

thoughts on totk now that i’ve beaten it

under the cut bc of length and bc there is honestly a fair bit of negative stuff

i don’t really think i can say that i liked totk.

it’s fine, it’s genuinely fucking incredible from a technical standpoint with ultrahand, recall, the three map layers and with how smoothly it ran for me. as a game it’s fine.

i’ll start with the things i dislike and end with what i actually liked

i honestly didn’t really like ultrahand? i disliked how much the game leaned on it, since so many puzzles and whatever just boiled down to ‘make something that’ll work’ and it just... it was far too clunky for me to really enjoy using it, outside of using some of the same few designs for traversal. there were a few times when i could see what the game wanted me to do with ultrahand and the given zonai parts and sometimes it just... didn’t work at all. more often than not ultrahand was frustrating for me to use so the game’s reliance on it just made it into a chore sometimes.

in a similar vein the dungeons were serious letdowns. i mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re fine, they had good themes and (mostly) had good aesthetics and general looks and identities to them, but the fact that they were just... basically twenty-ish minute little things was kind of disappointing. i hate that they all had the exact same ‘go hit x number of switches’ gimmick. it really limited what you could do and fucked with the dungeon design, too. the only one where that really worked for me was the fire temple, which was my favorite overall. the water temple was especially dismal, with the least inspired look and just being an astoundingly easy experience. the puzzles in those dungeons were so awfully easy, too, especially since half of the time they just hand you what you need so you barely need to really assess the situation and put a plan together

i hated the water dungeon’s little mini-areas where you do a single piss-easy puzzle to automatically get your prize, i hated the wind temple’s god damn ‘pull a lever and get your prize’ kind of puzzles, i hated how soul-crushingly disappointed i felt when i took a look at the lightning temple’s map and realized that every fucking floor had a singular room just for the switch puzzle. god forbid it’s as fun as the lowest level of that temple. i really miss stuff like mini-bosses or rooms where you have to do a puzzle in order to just... progress, i miss dungeons that i could get lost in or spend a while in or just had... something more interesting or some more substance so that i can’t just breeze through like it’s a glorified shrine. most of the puzzles in those dungeons were simpler than some shrines i did.

i didn’t care to do much exploration since there honestly isn’t much motivation to explore the surface map if you’ve already played botw, and the scarcity of materials this time really got to me, it took me a while to have a half-decent stock of materials, and i still had trouble not running out of stuff even though i was using amiibos to stock up on some things. the money situation was rough, too... a lot of things are cheaper to sell, but some armor is still really expensive plus you have to pay the great fairies to upgrade your equipment in addition to having the correct materials. that especially felt odd- having to grab a handful of (goddamn hard to get) lynel guts is hard enough to upgrade the soldier’s armor, but you want me to cough up 500 rupees, too??

(the scarcity of monster guts also got on my nerves, but i’ll just chalk that up to just some kind of really weird difficulty thing. it was annoying until i tracked down the stronger monsters.)

the story is probably the weakest part of the game to me. it’s really hard to have a baseline investment when you don’t care about these characters, anyway, and what i saw in this game’s story still failed to endear me to hardly any of them. link’s role frustrated me; he just comes off like a tool rather than a character this time through, he barely has any actual relevancy to the story segments beyond being the guy who can use the master sword and being the player’s vehicle to get from point a to b in the story. the blank stare and limited emoting worked in botw because... there’s a given reason for his lack of outward emotion in the past, plus he has no memory in the present. it makes sense. but this time around, he’s gotten memories in the years between this and the last game, but he just feels like a background character in most of the story beats. 

he has no role in the memories and in the present just exists to gather some stuff for other people, he gets the master sword from zelda and then helps the other sages get their secret stones, but he’s barely addressed as his own character in the grand scheme of things unless he’s being directly spoken to. he’s just the swordsman capable of wielding the master sword and zelda’s chosen protector as far as the story is concerned. he has no opinions outside of doing what he’s told and looking for zelda. at least not as far as i could really tell. at least in botw, the story directly concerns him, and it’s his story we’re following. this time around zelda and the sages seem like the most important characters, link’s just... there, doing what he’s been told to.

the new sages are fine, none of them really endeared themselves to me, and i will say that making the player watch essentially the exact same cutscene each time you finish a dungeon was BAFFLING. they were long and you learned almost nothing new after the first one, and there was nothing done to make them very distinct to each individual pair of sages or their respective regions; at the very least, it could have been interesting to meet the ancient sages not in the exact same stone garden, but perhaps at the top of a snowy mountain for the rito, near a volcano or something for the goron, maybe in a shallow pool of water for the zora, and in the desert for the gerudo- but no, they’re all effectively the same thing just with the speaking character swapped out with some minor changes.

(the sages themselves are a pain in the ass to use, having to chase them down to activate their power or accidentally activating a power when you don’t want it; yunobo was honestly my favorite, but because i generally defaulted to having them all activated at all times, i had a lot of trouble with tulin blowing shit away from me when i was trying to grab it while midair. they’re half-decent for combat)

i didn’t really care for rauru or sonia, either. rauru in the present as a ghost was fine, he was kind of interesting and seemed to have changed from his time in the past, but he never managed to be a character i particularly liked. i wasn’t really a fan of his... arrogance? or something in the past scenes, and he never really came off as very interesting. sonia was nearly completely uninteresting which is a shame since she has an interesting design, she just felt delegated to the role of supporting rauru and zelda and then dying to motivate them.

ganondorf is a character i was really looking forward to seeing, and it really fucking sucks that he’s so god damn one-dimensional this time! the story can’t be fucked to delve into him beyond just giving us scenes that just tell us that he’s evil and wants to rule hyrule and get the secret stones and nothing else because fuck having complex villains, i guess. especially frustrating because within the game itself you can draw more interesting motivations up for him, but the game really just doubles-down on him being evil for the fuck of it and wanting to end the world because uhhhh... he’s evil don’t fucking worry about it

the ignoring of the triforce in this game sucks in that way, too, because the way the triforce works and how it can grant wishes made it a much more interesting goal for ganondorf to attain, rather than some poorly-named ‘secret stones’ that do nothing more than just amplify power or something. it sucks how black-and-white this damn story is and how it seems like it just wants to do away with any possible nuance or gray area. no one but the bad guys or side characters are flawed in any actually interesting or significant way.

at least ganondorf was still the most interesting character in the flashbacks.

and then zelda, oh god ZELDA. i honestly really liked her in botw. i liked how you saw her as a flawed, insecure, pressured teen, and how you saw her struggles to relate to link and how she eventually warmed up to him. you saw her as a flawed person who develops and as someone who cares deeply about her friends and her duties and gets frustrated by her failings.

and then in totk a lot of her more interesting traits- her interest in sheikah tech, her excitement over field study and research, her more defining traits as this incarnation of zelda- are basically sanded down and she’s just this perfect flawless princess with great power and an insanely passive role in the past beyond finally taking some kind of action after one of her friends dies and she’s pushed to the brink. cool. great.

she has practically no flaw in totk. if anyone in the present talks about her, they have nothing bad to say and just want to please her and follow her orders, she is right in telling the gerudo how to train their troops she is right even when misheard to tell people to put themselves in danger and she is hardly meaningfully questioned when her imposter is doing very clearly suspicious shit. neither the story nor any of the characters wants to let her be flawed. she’s just perfect in damn near every way and barely retains any interesting characterization she got in botw. there are some interesting snippets in her being a teacher and setting up memorials to those who died in the calamity, but there’s hardly any more than that, and it makes it really hard for me to give a damn about her. she’s not interesting this time.

the whole thing with zelda becoming a dragon too, is... it’s fine. it’s ok. but the fact that she turns back at the end with no problem whatsoever is one hell of a fucking misstep. why talk about draconification being forbidden for a good reason anyways if it doesn’t actually matter anyways??? if you never actually see any of those fucking repercussions why even bring them up??? i really feel like it would have been more effective for there to have been actual consequences for zelda beyond just fucking flying around half-conscious for a millennium or whatever- have her lose her memory when she’s brought back! there you go! there’s the reason why draconification is forbidden! there’s the thing about losing yourself! plus, zelda losing her memories as a result would mirror link having lost his memories in botw! that has so much more weight and significance then ‘oh uh ignore the warnings from a while back she’s completely fine dw abt it’ i hate that she’s back just like that without any of the consequences that the game suggests.

the dragon’s tears in general kinda just felt weaker than botw’s memories anyways bc you’re more just. watching stuff happen then actually learning anything. it has less characters and yet i feel like you only get to know like half of the important ones. like three of them are all about the same event. a few times they just replay parts of old memories in new ones. if they ever reference a past memory they just show you what they’re referencing instead of leaving you to piece it together. just play the voices or something don’t break the flow of things to play a clip of something i’ve already seen.

plus the fact that totk... barely acknowledges that it’s a sequel to botw really rubs me the wrong way. i understand that loz is extremely loose with its lore, but totk is a direct sequel set in the same world a few years later, and yet the events and characters of botw have might as well been forgotten and its all either ignored, brushed aside, or straight up replaced by something else for no good reason. the continuity between these games is absolutely dismal and to see the different ways in which the events and concepts or botw are just... disregarded really just left a bad taste in my mouth.

just- i love good stories and worlds in video games, and while some games can coast by for me by feeling good to play, having a good and engaging story and characters is usually essential to my enjoyment of a game, and when i don’t care about to the point of disliking the story and characters, and when none of the important areas are fascinating or distinct enough from each other, and when the game even fails to really reel me in with the gameplay...

i wanted to like totk, but it really just did not work for me. i just ended up feeling frustrated and disappointed and even sometimes bored with all of the major stuff and man. totk is really, REALLY, not for me, and it just left me wanting to play older zelda games instead.

...

HOWEVER! there were actually some things i really loved about totk! it’s not all doom and gloom! (well, not all doom, at least)

so! the music was great! not all of it really fit or made a lot of sense with the context in which they played or failed to evoke the feeling they were meant to, but the new tracks in this game were great! i especially love the first two phases of the fire temple’s theme, the depths music, and most of the new battle and boss themes. zelda games almost never fail when it comes to the music.

i did genuinely like the fire temple- yunobo’s ability was used the best in this dungeon, and it had the best five switches gimmick, i loved how you had to hit the gongs (sometimes having to construct a path to account for the weaknesses of yunobo’s ability) and how it then ‘scared’ each of the five statues holding a part of the gate- it was very cute and fit in very well with the general feel of that part of the story. it was the best in terms of difficulty and complexity, but it didn’t have the best boss- the lightning temple had the best boss, and i will admit that even if most of them were easy, i really enjoyed the mirror puzzles, as well as the process to unlocking the dungeon. the wind temple had my favorite visual identity and aesthetic, though, i liked it being a part of this old rito song, and how it was the most distinct in looks from the other dungeons.

the sky islands were honestly fun, even if they weren’t all that interesting. getting to some of the harder-to-reach islands were some of my favorite times i had to use ultrahand, and stuff like the zonai forge island and the one orblike island with the mirror puzzle, and pretty much all of the more complicated parts of the sky islands were a lot of fun to explore and figure out.

being able to ride on the dragons was just really cool, and the fact that they come out of the chasms was fun.

the new horns for the monsters were cool, it helps differentiate the different monster strengths and i just thought they were really neat.

the quest with lurelin village was fun, even if the pirates just being monsters was a real let-down.

the stable trotters were also a fun bunch of characters, that was a good, new way to open up fairy fountains.

all of the new stuff with the yiga was really fun, like getting their outfit and being able to pretend to be one of them and learning the blademaster attack- so much fun it was so cute.

most of the new outfits are really good and useful, and while a bit janky and not that great, the house-building bit near tarrey was endearing.

while none of the main characters interested me, i really, especially liked tauro and yona and penn. for some reason they just appealed to me and i really wish they had bigger parts in the game because they’re interesting and they have good designs and i’d really like to know more about them.

the underground gerudo shelter was pretty cool, to be honest, and the look of the caves was really cool.

i adored the proving grounds shrines- easily my favorite shrines in the entire game, i had no problem spending a decent amount of time in those kinds of shrines, they were fantastic.

the new ingredients and recipes and new weapons were cool.

the way you basically return to the area you started at on your way to ganondorf is pretty cool, that whole path is really neat.

ganondorf in general was a pretty cool boss, even if he ended up being kind of easy for me. the whole final boss sequence was neat.

by FAR, though, my absolute favorite part of this game was 100% the depths. the fact that there was just an entire second layer to the map that was the same size as the surface, just inverted and dark and filled with new bosses and locations... i spent hours down there without going back up to the surface and absolutely had a BLAST screwing around in the dark, lighting up my path with brightblooms and tossing together little vehicles with lights so that i could get to the next lightroot off in the distance. the depths was probably where i ended up using zonai vehicles the most, and it was honestly pretty fun to go around spotting and reaching every lightroot, coming across different mines and weird little landforms and coliseums and yiga camps. the music and plantlife and look of the depths were so good, and it really felt distinct from the rest of the game in a very good way. doing all of the lightroots and getting enough zonaite to max out link’s energy cells was definitely a good move since it made finding shrines and dealing with later zonai machine stuff easier.

overall, tears of the kingdom was a severely mixed bag for me, and while there was stuff i did like, i don’t think it’s enough to really get me to say that i really liked this game overall- after all most of the stuff i disliked was unavoidable parts of the games, and it definitely put a hamper on my interest in the rest of the time. totk is fine, but it’s really not my thing. 

#i just- *slams head into brick wall* bro i did not have a good time with this game #going back to my silly little comparison point; totk was $70 and my copy of phantom hourglass was $70 #$70 is a bullshit amount for a game but thats no the point here #totk from a technical baseline standpoint as a GAME is worth $70 #its story and the amount of enjoyment it gave me was not worth $70 tho. the story and enjoyment i got from ph was more worth $70 to me #salty talks #loz #legend of zelda #totk #'zelda games almost never fail when it comes to the music' if you talk shit abt ph's soundtrack i'll kill you. i like the dungeon track #i partially have the shinji chair image saved for this but i did also initally save it yesterday when i finished nge #listen this was fine on a surface level but it just wore me the fuck down #link was just some flavor of stonefaced or surprised or determined in any given cutscene and like. idk. wasnt too interested in him either #look i know about the silly little dialogue options. still didnt do it for me #link getting his arm back only makes sense to me bc i got every last light of blessing and heart container and stamina vessel #the gloom in his body is 100% gone hes squeaky clean for me. whyd you take his shirt off tho. at least keep his hat. cant take it seriously #put him in the archaic set or smth his arm is fully visible that way at least and its full circle thats what he wears at the start #couldnt take the whole grabbing zelda sequence seriously bc i missed the (hold) prompt and link flew away lol #totk spoilers #also wasnt really a fan of most of the voice acting yeah sorry. kinda rough all around aside from like ganondorf and dimitri- i mean rauru #mineru and the rito sage were fine too ig. im not going to bother watching any vids or whatever to check again #riju and sidon were fine too #sonia was cool too but everyone else was a lil rough tbh esp with having to say 'secret stone' that name sucks shit #my switch died in the middle of the credits. i had like 25% when i started fighting ganondorf. #it died twice actually cuz i charged it for a few minutes and what like yeah 5% should be good and nope. died again #anyways whatever. im not giving it a rating im tired of this game i dont think i'll be replaying or even just touching it any time soon #music was top notch again tho. made me feel stuff more than the actual story did. cool ig #bitching abt totk

[chaikachi]

Hello Miss Chaikachi, I just wanted to tell you that I love your art, It is always very cute, and I want to ask how in the world can you draw so fast? Like it take me a full day to draw half a sketch. You don't need to answer this if you don't want to. I just want to let you know that I appreciate your art, and It's a little bit scary with the speed you can draw.

Awwwwe thank you so much! 🥺🌸

To be fair, I think different pieces take different amounts of time. The recent bee drawings were relatively quick because they're not super detailed and I had a clear reference to work off of for both of them. But original compositions with full backgrounds can take me AGES (especially because I don't use a lot of fancy brushes that would make things like leaves easier to put on the canvas).

The recent Oscar one I'd been chipping away at very slowly for weeks before posting aha. (process shots under the cut)

First sketched it back during v9c2 (you can tell because the other rough Ruby sketch is right next to it).

And I redrew it, no joke, four times before I was satisfied enough to start colouring 💀

the second one was close, but i tried to line it differently than usual and it just Did Not look how I wanted it to so I had to go back and try a different way. Am currently in a style shift phase which makes it very tricky aha.

The only other big thing that helps with speed is practice. Which is everyone's least favourite word, I know. I've been drawing for a long time so I'm very familiar with both my tools (shortcuts and program) and how to draw the things I most often do. So the biggest hurdles I run into now are just if I am trying to do something new or that I don't quite know how to execute. But even in those instances, I have habits for what to look for and how to approach so I usually can overcome them fairly easily.

Being borderline obsessed with something you wanna draw also helps tho. I started drawing fanart for RWBY at the end of 2020 and drew more than 60 fully rendered pieces in 2021 alone. Which is something I'd never done before. Not just your style improves with that amount of practice.

But even if you're not super fast, there's nothing wrong with that!!! We live in a time where art is seen more as content than it is art which makes it seem like speed is something to prioritize... makes me sad.

What people post and how often they post it isn't necessarily indicative of how quickly they work. A lot of styles, especially more painterly types, can't even be created that quickly. And most artists have lots of unfinished WIPs and things they struggle with too that their audiences never see. There's no one right way to do anything. In my opinion, the most important part is just to make sure you enjoy the process. Any reward that comes outside of that is just a bonus 💕

#i rambled again ehehe #thank you for the ask!! #ask #asks #anon #anono

[lucero-is-here]

Headcanons: Celine Georges

Requested by:

Celine:

Don’t know the most about her but anyways:

1 - she has thus one instinct where if someone approaches her from behind, she instantly turns around and punches them either in the face or gut. When she first met Arthur Wright, he had approached her when she was working on something. She turned back and instinctively punched him in the nose out of fear. She is still sorry about it and still apologises to him about it if they talk.

2 - she’s not scared of anything! Except for spiders. A spider laid eggs in one of her creations once and she began to fear spiders and hate them from that moment onwards

3 - dress? NAH SHE’S WEARING PANTS EVERYTIME- She’d show you a dress she has, only to reveal that it’s actually a pair of pants .

4 - she eats sandwiches a lot- they are easy to make to her, and are really easy to eat. So sandwiches are kinda her favourite food.

5 - she has oil stains on a lot of her clothes- at one point she simply gave up trying to prevent getting more oil stains on her clothes since she knew someway somehow oil stains would appear.

6 - she burns any bug she sees. She saw a cockroach? BURN IT. She saw a spider? BURN IT. A maggot? BURN IT. Butterfly? Oh they can go free-

7 - fear of bugs. She is horrified of bugs, which explains the previous headcanon. She doesn’t mind butterflies as much though.

8 - AMAZING SPICE TOLERANCE- I DON’T NEED TO SAY MORE-

9 - okay she’s bisexual…But also asexual and I forgot how to say it- but she likes woman more, she has a girlfriend.

10 - tools are always on hand. She has a lot of her tools with her in case of anything. She’s very fast to fix everything.

11 - does a lot of inspections on her inventions. She wants to make sure her inventions are working and won’t break.

12 - has a lot of pride in her inventions. She spends a minimum of a few days on small projects, while big projects can take up more than a few months to make sure they are in the best condition she can possibly get them too.

13 - she can’t swim- she has tried swimming before, and the most she can do is find ways to stay afloat as long ad possible- she’s trying to learn how to swim though.

14 - she hates heels. She hated everything about them. She never understands how people can walk or even run in heels. She’s tried wearing heels before, and absolutely hated it. It made her feet hurt so much and she fell down so many times-

15 - she can be a bit reckless sometimes. She sometimes speaks or acts without thinking. She usually doesn’t regret it since she gets her point through though, but she does regret it if the other party is hurt by her words.

16 - what’s sleep? She only sleeps when she gets time. She just passes out onto her sofa and goes to sleep, wakes up a few hours later and goes back to work. Few hours meaning at most 5 hours.

17 - really short nails. She doesn’t bother caring for them, she just cuts them. Her hands are always bound to get dirty, and something is always finding it’s way under her nails. So the shorter her nails, the better. But not too short-

18 - really rough hands…some people compared her hands to sandpaper before. She personally thinks it’s worth it, since they’ve only become so rough with how much time she spends working on inventions.

19 - she reads a lot of books. A lot of books. She also reads the newspaper daily. The books is to either learn more or gain inspiration for more inventions. While for newspaper, to see if there are any issues she can make an invention to solve said issue, and sometimes to catch up with what’s happening and any kind of gossip going on.

20 - she tried making her own jetpack once. That failed. She made the straps too weak, and they broke and the jetpack had flown off into the sky.

21 - she likes staring at the night sky. After a really really hard day of work, she sometimes climbs to the roof of her home and just stares up into the night sky. She tries counting the stars, but always runs out of time or patience. She considered breaking off part of the roof and replacing it with tempered glass so she can see the night sky from her room, and ended up doing it. But she still climbs onto the roof a lot.

22 - sweet foods? Sign her up. She eats a lot of sugar sometimes- it gives her the energy she needs to work on inventions and do the necessary designs and math for them. She likes hard candy the most. She likes jawbreakers, because they always last the longest.

23 - she’s strong. She has a lot of strength- used to carry her materials for inventions. She has lifted people up before with no issues too!

24 - solo worker. She doesn’t like having anyone work with her, and prefers to be by herself. She hates the idea of someone stealing her ideas, or someone messing up her workplace. Hence working alone is her favourite.

25 - if she lets you into her workshop, you are not allowed to touch anything. Everything is where it is for a reason and Celine has a pattern behind everything she has placed. They are all organised in someway or another so do not touch, or move anything.

That’s all for now- if I can think of more a part 2 will come up.

#criminal case #headcanons #celine georges

[jb-nonsense]

rough draft for my OC, Erik Balise, AKA Cipher 13.

The job had been simple enough. Locate an old, decrepit scientist on Nar Shaddaa. Apparently, he had been part of some Imperial science operations and the Empire was done with him. Erik hadn’t asked for further details; Extra information wasn’t required for this job. It was a typical cut and dry Imperial assassination. He had a duty to fulfill and work to be done. Tangling himself up in excess information would only distract from it.

He had studied the doctor’s apartments, and realized a sniper job wouldn’t be feasible. The windows were made from a specific durasteel which would only deflect his shots. The only other option for a sniper shot would be if the doctor would leave his apartment. And Erik had realized he was a bit of a homebody and only sent droids out to tend to his work. So infiltration was necessary. Not his style, per se, but he could manage it.

Access to the apartments was something he had to make do with; slicing into the security codes. It took a bit longer than he would have liked, but it was decent enough. He wasn’t detected so that was good enough. It wasn’t as if the doctor had anywhere to go, since he stayed home. Moving down the halls, noting the sensor droids ahead, he dropped behind a corner, taking out the small blaster at his hip and aiming, neutralizing it. He was getting close to his goal. He pulled out the vibroknife as he stood before the door of the doctor’s office. He let out a breath before the door slid open, entering the room.

Dark. His enhancements made it as clear as day, though. The pale, old, rotund male human sitting on the other side of the room, left eye replaced with a cybernetic, cybernetics along his jaw, on his right temple. Wrinkled and looking more like a Hutt than a human, a wheeze came out of his cybernetics at his nose.

“Dr. Manjeel,” Erik greeted, knife at the ready, “you’ve crossed the Empire for the last time.”

“Ah, I remember you,” he said with a wheezing chuckle. “So, the Empire has sent one of my projects to eliminate me?” Erik straightened a bit in his stance, brows furrowing a bit in confusion. “Don’t look so surprised. The Empire wants the best and I am the best. Who else would they have to implant your cybernetics, Cipher Agent 13?”

This changed nothing. He was still a target. He still needed to be eliminated. Another step closer.

“Or should I say...Dirrek Barane?”

Freeze. Pain. Every cell in his brain on fire. An inhuman cry came from his lips; but it felt foreign, as if it were not his own. A hand flew up, trying to dig out the silver cybernetic at his temple. He fell to his knees, a death grip on the knife in hand. He felt his stomach churning and every single nerve spiking through his body, convulsing and twisting. Blue eyes watched as Dr. Manjeel rose to a stand, and it appeared there were at least three of him. He couldn’t hear any steps; he couldn’t hear much but his own blood rushing in his ears.

“Did you really think the only purpose of your implants was enhancements? Don’t be ridiculous. You and I, we were only tools for the Empire. And the Empire only approves of restrained tools.” Cipher 13 clenched his teeth as he tried to focus on the other and his words. Trying to make sense, trying to work through the pain. “It’s like a slave collar but only more painful, isn’t it?”

“I’ll...Kill…you,” Erik snarled, struggling to stand. He felt his blood boil at the man’s mocking laugh.

“Good luck on being able to stand to do so. My guard droids will be here shortly to dispose of you and send you back to Imperial Intelligence.”

No. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. In a quick move with a pump of heated adrenaline, he managed to push himself up, slicing the knife in a precise motion at the center one’s neck. He felt the knife strike flesh and tore through the rest of the way, sending the doctor’s head rolling to the floor. Cipher 13 shook his head, the throbbing pain slowly fading away. He tapped the cybernetic implant, feeling how sore his temple was. He wiped the blood off his face, taking note of the blood splatter on his attire and the walls. Messy but quick. With a tired sigh, he turned to leave the room. He paused at the door, trying to piece together what had happened and what this meant. What was the name he had referred to him as? He had…No memory prior to starting his life as a Cipher. But even thinking about it caused a twinge of pain near where his cybernetics were located. Perhaps another time and another place…

“For The Empire.”

#swtor #star wars: the old Republic #Star Wars the old republic #swtor oc #swtor fanfic #found this in old drabbles #I think I might eventually delve into it and refine it #but I wanted to post for friends to see #Character: Erik Balise #Media: Fanfiction #Fandom: SWTOR