#like a man in a suit of armor that is in it because he must

[mockerycrow]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a one shot with gn!reader who gets hurt in a mission trying to save Ghost and as he feels bad for it, so he gets reader a small plushie (kinda like those for the key chain) and when reader wakes up doesn't know it was ghost how gave it to them

💙

KEYCHAIN (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — 1.3k words

authors note; it’s your local author criticizing their writing non stop again!!!!!! i feel like i could’ve written this better idk i’m sorry, anon! i wrote this whilst focusing on other projects </3

[WARNINGS; violence, descriptions of stabbing and choking, gore, hospital settings, fluff at the end.]

Ghost did not expect you to do what you did. Someone somehow managed to get the jump on Ghost from behind, wrapping their arms around the man’s neck with a knife in their hand. It was right in the middle of Ghost claiming he cleared a building; in his defense, he had cleared the entire building of every hostile for the exception of one. You heard him grunt and choke before going radio silent, you decided that you were on your way to his location the second something sounded wrong.

Ghost gasps for air and reaches for a knife of his own, trying to stomp his foot down on the man’s foot, but the man grunts and laughs when Ghost discovers he’s wearing steel-toed shoes. Ghost struggles against the man, his head beginning to swim—when is the last time he’s been overpowered like this?—and Ghost manages to grab one of his knives, taking it out of the sheath—

Ghost’s vision goes white for a moment when he feels the man’s blade sink into his abdomen, the man shushing him in his ear. “It’ll be over soon, big boy.” The man hisses, carelessly ripping the knife out of Ghost’s gut, making his legs buckle. Ghost must have blacked out for a moment because the next time his vision and hearing work, he’s on the ground in immense pain, witnessing a figure fighting off the strong, armored man. Ghost hears someone cry out—is that you??—but his vision won’t focus just yet.

His ears are ringing as he puts a forearm against the ground, a groan leaving Ghost as his other hand goes to his gut, and he winces as he applies pressure to his stab wound, hot thick blood trickling between his fingers and onto the ground. Ghost’s throat aches terribly, so he clears it as his vision finally focuses and it’s you fighting off a man that’s bigger than him. His eyes widen as he shouts your name, his voice hoarse and broken, laced with panic.

There’s blood staining your uniform as Ghost lets go of his stab wound, and he groans loudly as he leans down and grabs his handgun out of his ankle holster. Ghost inhales through his teeth and he shakily aims his handgun, and holds his breath to steady his aim, and he pulls the trigger.

The bullet ripples through the air and rips through the man’s temple, causing him to stumble for a second before crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll. Unfortunately, you follow suit, a loud pained gasp leaving you as you land on your side. Ghost holsters his handgun and he calls your name again, fighting through the pain to quickly crawl over to you, blood trailing him. “Oi, oi—“ Ghost hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to roll onto your back.

There’s blood caking your uniform so horribly he doesn’t know where your wounds begin. It’s smeared against your neck and face, your eyelids fluttering from the pain. Your lips part and shut multiple times as your mind tries to comprehend what just happened. Ghost calls your name, a loud noise of pain leaving him, one hand pressing against his own wound whilst the other grabs your jaw to keep your head still.

Ghost hears Price shout your name through comms in an angry and panicked tone. “Ghost?? Fuckin’ hell, someone come in!” Ghost pants before he begins to tear the velcro straps off of your vest as he needs to know where you got hurt. He moves his hand off of his own stab wound—he is a bit lightheaded—and he presses down on his radio. “Ghost to Price, we’re both injured. One SW for me, I’m not sure how many for them.” Ghost croaks into the radio, trying to multitask.

“Bloody—where are you two?” Price demands through the radio, sounding a bit breathless. Ghost inhales sharply as he leans over, his body bending the wrong way as he grabs the front of your vent and he grunts loudly as he drags it off of you with one hand. He’s lost a bit of strength with the blood he’s lost. You gasp and grab for Ghost’s wrist as he begins to press down on one of your multiple stab wounds near your vital organs. “Building two, third floor.” Ghost responds with a strained voice. He notices your head rolling back, and you barely hear Ghost yelling.

Don’t let this be the end.

You ended up passing out from pain and blood loss, despite Ghost’s best efforts of keeping you awake. You slowly awakened in a plush setting, slight pain humming through your veins, your throat dry and aching. You twitch, your muscles heavy from not being used for a bit. You hear a monitor or two, which gives you an indication you’re in the hospital. Your eyelids fluttered open and luckily, the overhead light in your hospital room was not on. The curtains were drawn open, and the light streamed into the room.

You glanced around, seeing Soap with his journal in his hand, sketching something. It gives you a warm feeling in your gut and you glance over to your other side, seeing Gaz sitting there, holding.. your keys with a little fuzzy thing?

“What’s that?” You croak, causing both Gaz and Soap’s heads to snap to look at you. “Aye, look who’s awake!” Soap exclaims, grinning. He closes his journal and puts it on the ground next to his chair before he grabs a foam cup. Soap brings it to your lips, and you realize it’s water so you greedily gulp it down, the water soothing your throat. Gaz lets out a breath before he scoots closer, the crease in his eyebrows finally relaxing. “It’s nice to see you awake.” Gaz murmurs with a soft smile of his own.

Soap pulls away the cup and sets it back down. “How long was I out?” You question. “What even happened? It’s in sections for me..”

Soap and Gaz share a look before Gaz fiddles with the fuzzy thing in his fingers, your keys clinking around. “You saved Ghost. He was being overpowered and you found him, but uh..” Gaz winces a bit, causing your eyebrows to furrow as bits and pieces begin to flood back to memory. “—But you got injured yourself. Luckily lil’ ol’ LT got off with one stab wound. You? Ya got off with six.”

You blink for a moment. “Oh.” You utter, taking a moment to process that. “You had to have surgery which is why your throat aches so much, the tube.” Gaz explains, putting your keys and the fuzzy thing in your lap. “They said everything should heal normally, but you'll be out of commission for a while.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, your hand reaching out and grabbing your keys. “And Ghost?” You ask, your tone tight, expecting the worst. “He’s alright,” Soap assures, causing you to look at him now with a look of relief. “He just left a bit ago to get some rest, since he can’t stay and lay hunched over.” Gaz chuckles and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face. You finally look down at the fuzzy thing attached to your keys; it’s a little keychain plushie of a black and white cat. You let out a soft “aww” before looking at Gaz, and then Soap. “Who gave me this?” You ask.

Soap and Gaz share a knowing look—a glance you can’t quite yet decipher—before they shrug and mutter stuff like “i don’t know..” and “no idea” when in fact they watched Ghost, in a wheelchair, wheel himself into the room and grunt for your keys. Soap had wordlessly handed them to the man, and they watched him put on the kitty keychain and made them promise to not tell them he gave it to you.

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #mw2 2022 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x gn reader #ghost x gn!reader #simon riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost angst #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod

[fabric-shower-curtain]

By complete accident I somehow have the autopsy scar mod on top of the bhaalist tattoo mod, don’t ask me how they’re both on my durge I have no idea how it happened. But it got me thinking how would the origin characters (+halsin) react/barely react to a lover that is heavily scarred and tattooed? (Set in Act 1)

Read more for the full brainrot

Astarion: The first time Astarion saw your body for himself was when he walked past your tent late at night, through the flaps in the entrance he saw all those scars, he couldn’t tell what had you awake this late in the night, especially mostly naked with your back turned. The vampire simply continued on his way to hunt for the night. He dropped it there, until that is, the second night in the clearing you two spent together. He was lying down leaning his head against his arms as his red eyes stared at your naked body. His eyes flowed down every scar that littered your body, he barely seemed to look at the tattoos but that’s what he asked about first “So, can you translate that one?” - he points to the tattoo across your left arm, lifting up the limb you pull your skin to take a proper look at it. It’s been a while since you properly saw it, because just out of sight enough to make it annoying to stare at. When you tell him Astarion seems content with the information. His fingers drift across the tattoo. It’s a tender moment until the elf’s hand floats toward your neck. His ice cold fingers dancing across the lingering puncture wounds on your neck - “But these are by far my favorite mark on you,” You lean into Astarion’s touch releasing a chuckling sigh before calling him the weirdest flirt you have ever seen.

Gale: He really didn’t mean to go to the river at the same time he truly meant to go two hours early when he said he would, but that tome was particularly interesting - the effects of adrenaline on libido, certainly important for a man so restricted by his netherese orb. But now it was two hours past and he definitely had a musk going on. Taking an extra robe and rag Gale went to the nearby river, only you were there too. Illuminated in moonlight you were bare in front of him. Gale cleared his throat loudly, trying to let you know he was there. What he did not expect was for you to whip around and get out of the water to say hello. He tried his best to only look at your face, he did not succeed. Your skin was glowing with a vei of water cascading down in droplets. Gale’s eyes followed one droplet from your hair, down your neck, across your chest until a certain tattoo caught his eye, infernal script. Trying to keep his focus on the tattoo rather than the flesh its on he asked you if it meant what he thought it did. He was right in fact, and you told him the story behind why you got it, quite the nice tale. The wizard relaxed enough to notice another scar across your soldier “Is that from a magic missile?” He asked without thinking. Nodding in confirmation you turned to show your shoulder blade where the other two missiles struck. As you turned around the coldness of the night hit you like a thunder wave, a massive shiver shook your entire body spraying tiny water droplets around. “Gosh you must be freezing,” - Gale wrapped you in his towel-rag before stressfully ushering you back towards the camp. Once you got back to your tent you realized you left your towel and clothes on a nearby rock, you could return the peeping Tom favor.

Halsin: Halsin adores you long before he ever saw your birthday suit, sure he thought about it, quite a lot, but with his focus deep on the shadow-curse he doesn’t have time to do much other than think about out. But the first time he does see you was far from romantic or sensual. A hook horror had slashed your entire back open when you got to close, and Halsin watched it all happen. Before the beast even hit the ground he was rushing over to you, he didn’t think, he just ripped your armor right off of you to get to the wound. You might have been screaming but his ears were ringing too loud to tell one noise from another. Halsin couldn’t even see where scar ended and fresh cut began, your tattoos were doused in enough blood to make them impossible to see against your skin. The bear of an elf’s hand floated above the wound with the same glowing blue light the hook horror’s body was basking in, thank silvanus he was far enough from the sussur tree for his magic to work. Even with his healing a scar in the same place as the monster's claw marks stayed. Halsin’s druidic skills must be faltering, that’s what he determines at least. Until the next day, you’re healed fully up and about getting ready to leave camp for the day. Halsin calls out your name - “I’m sorry I could not heal you fully, I tried best I could but the scar persists” to his confusion you begin laughing. The scar he’s so upset about has been on you for so long now, and you tell him such. His healing left no scar, in fact he healed you so well an old scar was able to show.

Karlach: The first time she saw you naked you were bathing next to each other after a battle. Even with Dammon’s initial upgrade you can’t touch each other, but you swore to find ways to be intimate without touching, just like this. However you neglected to inform her about what lay under your clothes until now, scars covering you head to toe interlaced with tattoos of varying quality. “Hey Soldier! How come you didn’t tell me before stealing my aesthetic!” You didn’t even register this was the first time exposing yourself in such a way, a brief moment of panic before you burst into a smile. “Come here, let me see them” Karlach makes you twirl around, using the faintest touch of her fingers to pull your arms out and see the tattoos wrapping around them. Her eyes continued to trail down your body, after a gasp she jumped back up to your face - “That burn scar looks like mine!” She said before pulling down her trousers to show you the near identically placed scar on her thigh. But Karlach didn’t ask about the obviously fresher stab scars, she continued to smile at her new discovery but lets the two of you properly bathe for once.

Lae’zel: Even when pinning you against a wall the githyanki warrior wasn’t particularly gentle. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into tonight, she had said pretty explicitly she seemed carnal pleasure. Somehow Lae’zel was even more assertive in such a scenario than during your adventures. You couldn’t even take your own armor off, she practically ripped it off of you. Your body is exposed to her in an instant, she doesn’t react, her hands go immediately to unlace your trousers and undergarments. The night is enjoyable even as exhausting as it was. Only much later does Lae’zel ever comment on them, and its in a conversation praising you two’s battle prowess “Each scar is a battle fought, a battle won.” You try not to tell her you have at least two scars from dropping the knife while cooking with Gale. She’s sweet in her own way.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart first saw you naked while healing a particularly cruel wound, goblin had snuck up on you and slashed your torso deep. You stabilized yourself quick enough with a healing potion but the wound persisted. After the battle you wandered your way over to Shadowhearts tent, asking for help. She laid you down atop her bedroll, sliding your shirt off as you let yourself relax into the makeshift bed. And then you caught it, Shadowheart’s eyes widened, shit. But she didn’t say anything; she pressed her warm hands towards your open wound as they lit alight with magic. Radiating from your gash the warm feeling washed over you, your eyes closed softly breathing out in relief. Shadowheart quelled her magic, looking over you for a fat moment. You can feel her eyes wandering over you, up and down your chest, down your stomach and across both your arms. The relief of healing has left you now but you’re still too scared to open your eyes. And then a soft hand traced along your largest scar, her fingers were so light it tickled. “I like your tattoos.” The half-elf’s voice was soft, her eyes focused back on your large scar, “How’d you get that one.” Whether or not you tell the story she’s content, happy to have this extra piece of you in her memory.

Wyll: Poor Wyll just wanted to ask about the plans for tomorrow, but not only did he smack his horns on the skeleton of your tent while entering but you’re also as naked as the day you were born. The man nearly shrieked like he saw a ghost, his entire chest swelled up with his shoulders shooting up and he looked like he just swallowed a frog. Without a word Wyll turned on his heel and left your tent, only after trying to cool his blushing face off did he even process all your markings. Upon the log he sat on he dragged his hand up and down his face trying to process what the hells just happened. And then you exited your tent, completely decent this time. You greeted Wyll and sat beside him wondering what he had barged in about in the first place. But the poor man can’t even look at you. He as calmly as he could gave you the sincerest apology you’ve ever heard. After your acceptance he finally turns to you “So what does that tattoo across your back mean?” You pause for a moment, then explain as best you can. And that conversation continues just like that, he’d ask how you got a certain scar or tattoo and you’d answer him. In return he showed you one particularly nasty scar on his arm from a monster he fought while traversing the sword coast. What may have started as the most embarrassing moment of your partnership ended with you closer than before.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion acunin #gale dekarios #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 x reader #lae'zel #daddy halsin #halsin #gale x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #bg3 karlach #karlach #gale x tav #karlach x reader #laezel x reader #shadowheart #shadowheart x reader #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #wyll x reader #gn reader #bg3 x fem!reader #bg3 x male reader

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere Prince x Reader

this is gonna be fun

TW - general yandere behavior, abuse of power

Yan!Prince was a spoiled brat. As a child he threw massive tantrums and only one thing could calm him down. Fairy tales.

Yan!Prince especially loved reading the ones where the princesses would be saved by brave knights and live happily ever after.

Yan!Prince could never be a knight though. He was sheltered his whole life, and never saw any need to be strong when he had actual knights to be strong for him.

Yan!Prince initially didn't care at all when you were appointed as his personal knight. He's had a million of them, honorable men and women that just weren't interesting enough to stay.

Yan!Prince wasn't planning on you sticking around for long either. That was until you saved him. Sure he knew that he'd be in danger if some stupid enemy kingdom decided to attack, but he never expected it!

Yan!Prince was taken in the night by a spy and held hostage. All his training for what to do in this situation was gone.

Yan!Prince thought this was the end. For 5 hours days, perhaps even weeks he was trapped there! Held captive by these disgusting men. That was, until you came along.

Yan!Prince was in awe as you fought off the men single handedly. He didn't even mind the blood that splattered on his cheek. An intense blush spread across his face as you picked him up to carry him home.

Yan!Prince realized that it was you. You were his knight in shining armor. And he would have his happily ever after with you, no matter what it took.

Yan!Prince was incredibly clingy after that. He never ever let you leave his sight, not even for a second. You needed to go attend training? Well, he'd just have to join and watch you. You needed sleep? You'd have to join him in his bed. After all, you needed to protect him.

Yan!Prince didn't let any of the other knights near you. The man that pat your back after training? Fired. Or the woman who shared her water with you? Mysteriously disappeared.

Yan!Prince eventually made you move in with him, making you bring all your belongings to his room. He was even considerate enough to add new decor that would suit your tastes!

Yan!Prince was a parasite you couldn't get rid of. You just had to have your meals together, sleep together, and even shower together.

Yan!Prince never missed an opportunity to use his authority over you. You just had to bend over to pick up that item he dropped! Not because he wanted a view of your rear...

Yan!Prince finally gave you a day off...but only if you brought him with you. Seeing you in your civilian clothes made his heart beat so fast it could have escaped his chest.

Yan!Prince finally convinced his parents to approve a marriage between the two of you. Damn old hags we're getting in the way of his happily ever after...He just couldn't wait to surprise you with the news! He was sure you'd be just as thrilled!

Yan!Prince is elated if you comply! He couldn't wait to see how you'd look at the ceremony!

Yan!Prince if you protest, however, isn't nearly as pleased. He had other ways to make you marry him. You became a knight for the money, right? So you could pay for your parents to have a better life? You must care about them a great deal. Sure would be a shame if his future in laws were framed for some horrible crime and were executed...

Yan!Prince knows you'll be happy with him, whether you like or not. It's in the name, isn't it? You two will live happily ever after...

Hope ya'll enjoyed! Any interaction is always appreciated!

#yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere prince #prince yandere #prince x reader #x reader

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 3: Closer

knight!simon riley x queen!reader - featuring our favorite Scot in this chapter👀

word count: 3.2k

[<<< chapter 2]

Smile. Nod. Greet. Don’t forget to give your husband a loving look from time to time- look at him like he were the sun, the great star you revolve around. Repeat.

The King’s departure feast is tasteful, though ostentatious to be sure- just how he likes. Especially when they are held in his grace’s honor. Oh, if you could roll your eyes right now without being seen, you would.

All this for such an arrogant bastard.. truly a waste.

But you can’t deny the beauty that surrounds you, no matter the reason. The Great Hall had been thoroughly lavished in emerald silks, dripping with jewels and flowers of your choosing-

It was one of the few duties you didn’t mind giving your input and opinions on, working with the different tradesmen of the kingdom; you found you rather enjoyed partaking in the planning portion, enjoyed the creative freedom given to you behind the scenes-

But.. attending them, well, that’s a different matter entirely. They were nothing but an exhaustive performance, a true test of your goodwill and patience-

“You look positively captivating tonight, wife.” The King drawls in your ear, his hand creeping up your thigh under the table. And it’s so difficult to fight the urge to jerk away from his touch when all you can think about is the last time that hand was on you, your lip had been bruised and swollen for days afterward-

Smiling down at your plate of untouched food, you give him a sweet and temperate laugh,

“You flatter me, Your Grace.”

The hand squeezes too tightly, not painfully, but certainly not gentle or loving- it’s a possessive touch, one that worries you, makes your shoulders tense and your movements turn robotic as you place your fingers over his,

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you battle-ready, My King.. it suits you.”

You exchange pleasant smiles, his eyes on you far longer than you’re used to. It does not soothe you though, or make your cheeks flush warm. No, they’re too invasive, and the feel of them on your exposed skin makes your stomach sour-

A quiet sound trickles into your ears from behind your seat, it’s one that you had learned is deliberate, purposeful- a simple series of taps, always the same, random to everyone but you. Simon’s way of communicating- I’m here. I see you.

You tilt your head toward the insignificant little noise, only just able to see the inky outline of his shoulder in your peripherals, but it’s enough. Enough to ease your nerves and calm your relentless mind.

Knowing that he’s right there, always keeping you within arms reach- but something is different now. You can feel it. And you can’t quite grasp how, or even the exact moment the already anomalous lines in your relationship had somehow become even more blurred, but they had.

And this fading of the proverbial line in the sand, the crumbling of all your boundaries, should most certainly not make you feel the way it does- should not make your core turn molten, or your head swim in a dizzying way by just the sound of his voice, his presence-

He hasn’t even touched you again since that night, after the King left your chambers, which must have been more than a month ago, you think-

Because it was a fluke, it was the man sworn to protect you simply aiding you- he saw you bleeding and was the only one around to help.

But, he also didn’t retreat.

No, you noticed the very next morning how Simon stood just a step or two closer than he did before, following behind you like your omnipresent shadow, the sinister black armor becoming well known in the castle.

Unsurprisingly, he had garnered quite a reputation within court by merely existing at your side, speculation about his history running rampant- and you only recently heard from your lady-in-waiting that many commoners, and noble folk alike, had taken to referring to your new guard as “The Ghost”-

And oh, how fitting of a name- because you feel truly haunted by the enigmatic man; haunted by those eyes, haunted by the softness of his touch, haunted by the yearning and desire to feel it again- No. No..

Wherever you go, your dark omen follows- and for more reasons you can’t explain or justify, you find equal parts pleasure and power in his presence. Because where Lords and Noblemen once might have dismissed you entirely; or the opposite, let their eyes linger or their tongues turn crude- they now avert their gaze, they regard you intently and with due respect; and their Queen’s guard, with fear-

Tap-tap .. Tap-tap-tap

A smirk tugs at your lips, and you hope he sees it- of course, he does, and if you were able to look back at him, you would see his own smile settle at the corners of his eyes as he watches you relax slightly.

After a moment longer, you force your attention back to the festivities, eyes widening as you hear a booming voice,

“Your Grace!”

The distantly familiar accent dredges through your memories until you’re finally able to recognize his face in the crowd- seeing none other than Lord John MacTavish, your Johnny, looking back at you.

It had been years since you last saw your closest cousin-

Well, cousin is a loose term, isn’t it? We aren’t technically related by blood- but, we had grown up together as family, and neither of us had ever seen or known each other as anything else..

Yet, despite time and distance, he looks exactly the same. Blue eyes bright and full of life, and his smile infectious as it stretches ear to ear. His dark hair is longer than you remember- but now cut extremely close to his scalp on the sides, turning the messy chocolate waves on top into an overgrown sort of mohawk-

Oh, Sweet Johnny.. never one to conform to any sort of standard-

“Lord MacTavish, it’s been too long.” You say, watching him sweep into a dramatic bow, his antics forcing you to bite back a wide grin,

“Your Majesty,” Johnny turns to the man sitting by your side, “With your permission, may I have Her Grace’s hand in a dance?”

The King watches him for a moment with utter disinterest, much like he regards most of his subjects, but eventually concedes with a nod- and you don’t hesitate to push away from your chair, your ladies rushing to straighten the flowing gown but you brush them away politely, gathering the skirts in your hands instead.

Rounding the long table, you take Johnny’s arm, letting him escort you through the crowd- and you wish more than anything in this moment you could just be another woman floating across the marble floor, you wish you could toss the crown on your head away, remove the green and gold colors of your husband’s house, the crest from around your neck-

“Still always so stuck in your head, eh, Hen?”

The dance you fall into is simple in its movements, with your palm flat against his above your heads, gliding in a slow circle as the music softly builds,

“Hard not to be- but this is helping, I must admit.” You tease, giving him a wry smile.

His head tips back with a warm laugh, and you’re instantly flooded by memories of your childhood with him- of growing up together, his ceaseless pranks and joking, of the hours you would spend scouting through the woods together, soiling all your dresses, and ruining the pretty braids the maids would put in your hair.

The trouble you got in for him was “unbecoming of the future Queen” as your mother would say, but Johnny had been your best friend- much to her and your father’s chagrin, and no amount of their preaching ever kept you away from his never ending mischief.

It was like that up until he left for the army, and while you both had tried your best to keep up through letters like you promised, after your coronation, time for anything other than your duties always seemed to escape you-

“So, how’s married life treatin’ ya, Your Majesty?”

You roll your eyes at his quip, giggling when he picks you up, your hands holding his wrists at your waist until you’re on the ground again and stepping in time with the next bit of music,

“Oh, I’m sorry, shouldn’t you be married by now, m’Lord?”

Again, he laughs, ducking under your arm before spinning you both gracefully- your back against his, though your heads turned toward each other to keep up the hushed conversation,

“Glad to see your tongue is still made o’ thorns, Grianach.”

His old nickname for you stirs up a sadness that feels overwhelming, almost tangible, and the sting of tears prick at your eyes as you turn back to face him- knowing the dance would too quickly be coming to an end.

It’s during the last, slow spin that you catch Simon’s gaze- watching you from just beyond the edge of the crowd, eyes raking over your body until he sees the turmoil in your expression. And it’s like your pinned beneath him with the weight it carries, holding the fleeting contact even from a distance,

“Sunny?”

You blink once, realizing the music has easily flowed into the next tune, something slower, more somber- and when you blink again, Simon’s moved, and you struggle to not immediately look around for his familiar form, seeking the comfort he unwittingly provides you.

“Ah.. Tha’ the new Queen’s Guard I’ve heard so much about?”

Johnny offers his arm again, looking down at you with a lop-sided smirk,

“It is. And, what of it?” You ask innocently enough, finally spotting him standing a head above the rest, stoically taking his spot behind your chair- eyes roaming over Johnny’s face, still sizing this unfamiliar man up, watching how comfortable you seem with him. He misses nothing-

“Not really your style, is all.. The big, gloomy bastard doesn’t seem like he fits for my li’ bit o’ sunshine.”

How could you tell him that his sweet nickname, Grianach, Sunny, was what actually didn’t fit you anymore?

But you suppose if he stays around long enough, he’ll surely realize you relate more to the dark side of the moon than you did the sun these days..

“He’s been a good guard.. better than any I’ve had.”

Johnny nods, watching the man in question as you approach the giant table,

“Good, tha’s good, Sunny.. you deserve the best, always have.”

You don’t know why his words take you by surprise, why they make your feet feel like lead in your shoes-

“Will you be staying, Johnny?” You speak lowly, not wanting to let go of him, not when he’s the closest thing you’ve had to home in so, so long,

“Aye.. a week is all I can spare, but I’ll be here with ya, all right?”

All you can give is a weak nod before he bows for the King, kissing your cheek and bowing in front of you, as well. And those usually vibrant eyes dull a bit when he sees your apprehension- but he smiles anyway, backing down the steps and disappearing into the crowd once more.

And you do your best to plaster a warm grin on your face as you move to take your seat again, brushing past Simon, you lean down, speaking only in the King’s ear,

“I’ve grown tired-“

He waves his hand at you before you’ve even finished speaking, focused on one of his advisors- the conversation of his imminent travel far more important than anything you might have to say.

Well, haven’t the gods granted me luck tonight..

Your exit is a quiet affair, and as soon as you’re out of the Great Hall, you feel some of the tension melt away- the further you get from the raucous, the easier it is to breathe, the weight easing itself off your shoulders with every step.

“Go ahead and ready my chambers, please, Elia. I’d like to take the air.”

She goes without question, your other handmaids flitting right behind her as you take the next hallway to your right- the one that leads towards the courtyard and the gardens.

You can hear him behind you, those long, steady steps contrasting your shorter ones. Neither of you speak, but you feel his proximity intensely- always so frighteningly aware of him when you’re alone.

And it’s enough to drive you mad, how much he affects you. Because you’re so certain he feels nothing, being in your presence is his duty. He’s a man who has seen too much, experienced too much, to let the likes of you get under his skin-

The guards bow their heads graciously as they push the solid wood out of the way for you to pass through; and it’s as if the night air were a salve for your restless soul- fresh and perfectly chilled, the whispers of fall in the breeze. Just enough to get you out of your head, if only for a moment.

“Ser Simon..”

You walking slowly, your steps languid as your fingers brush over the leaves and petals, absently studying the textures as they feel under the moonlight-

“People keep asking if I like my new guard..” You ramble, moving beyond the entrance of the tall, maze-like hedges, leading you both deeper as you speak,

“But, I don’t think I’ve asked the same of you..”

Don’t.. don’t do this. Just turn around- go back to your rooms. This is petty and useless, nothing but disappointment can come of it..

“Not sure I follow, Your Grace.”

A chill creeps down your spine at the rasp in his voice, from the cold or disuse, you’re not sure. You turn with a saccharine smile, though it quickly falls away as you take him in-

He’s so entirely otherworldly like this, cast in the milky light from above, the shimmering onyx of his armor almost glowing under the pale moon- and when he shifts his weight, the light dances around him, like it simply chooses to bend and move at his will.

Beautiful.. Can monsters be beautiful?

You turn away again, unable to stand it for a moment longer. This was indeed a mistake, you should not be here.

Alone. With him-

“Do you like it?” You ask the hedge, your voice soft now, your confidence having waned, “Your new post..”

Is it seconds that pass? It can’t be minutes.. surely- but gods, it feels like an eternity. The silence stretches on around you- infinitesimal in its reach.

See? That’s enough of an answer to a silly, foolish question. Like he really has a choice in the matter of liking or disliking-

You just barely feel him before you hear him- but how? How had you not heard him move before? Maybe you were right from the very beginning- he is no man; maybe the rumors are true, and he really is a ghost.

He isn’t touching you, but you think if you took even half a step back you would be able to feel the cold steel of his breastplate.

You keep your eyes focused ahead, the dark not really a hindrance because you aren’t truly seeing anymore, so consumed by him that hardly anything else seems important- that is, until something heavy is placed in your hand.

The weight of it is awkward, and you bring your other hand to hold the object before looking down.

His helmet.

It stares back at you, devoid of the warmth you usually find there, without his amber eyes, the black metal is just that- cold, and harsh.

You have every opportunity to turn, to finally gaze upon the face that you had pondered on far too often- to confirm the features you imagined late in the night.

But, you don’t. You wouldn’t, not with the trust he had very literally placed in your hands- you don’t want to betray that, you don’t want to betray him.

“I do.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, his nose grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck as his head dips lower- it’s a slow, tentative movement, and once again your mind goes to war with itself-

Danger. This is dangerous- he is dangerous. If anyone were to see you like this, they would have your head and his, too- Hells, the King himself would probably volunteer to take it from your shoulders-

Yet, when you feel him nuzzle just behind your ear again, your mind quiets, body moving on its own. Just like the moonlight, you bend to him without thought- letting your head tilt to expose more of your skin, your lips parting in a shuddering breath when he inhales deeply through his nose.

A growl resonates from his throat, it’s fleeting, but it ignites an ache so deep between your legs it nearly takes your breath away-

“And, have I served you well, My Queen?”

You shake your head, your grip on his helmet turning almost painful as you struggle to stand straight.

“Why must you insist on saying it like that..”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest sounds so perfect in your ears, and the weight of his forehead gently dropping to rest on your shoulder makes you bite your lip-

“Like what?” He coos, and you can hear a barely concealed smile in his voice now, one that has the most delightful shiver snaking its way through your entire body.

He was giving you so much, but you so desperately wanted more. You’ve never wanted a man’s hands on you in the way you need his at this moment.

What would they feel like roaming over your body? Would his touch remain as tender as he’s handled you thus far?

The thought alone hazes your mind even further.

A small hum escapes as you allow yourself to spare a glance at the deep ebony locks you can see now-

Hm.. do ghosts have hair? And are they suppose to feel so warm..

The thought brings a sad smile to your lips, your cheek settling against the side of his head, and your eyes slipping shut; you relish in the feel of his hair on your skin- but, it’s that very same feeling that causes you to tense, pulling away.

Because too suddenly, all you can imagine is the feeling of his soft hair in your hands, matted with blood as you hold his head in your lap- his body cold and lifeless..

No- I will be the death of him.. I can’t- I couldn’t..

He moves just as abruptly as you do, though his motions are still so gentle as he rises to his full height again,

“I apologize-“

“No..” You cut him off, turning only enough to let him take the helmet from your hands, “Please, don’t- I-“

Words fail you. And your heart sputters in your chest as embarrassment, and shame, and grief burn through you-

“I shouldn’t- I just.. We can’t.” You whisper hoarsely, your voice pathetic even in your own ears.

Strong hands turn you, and you don’t know why your eyes clamp shut, but they do- you keep them closed, breathing in through your nose, which is just another mistake because his scent is so strong now you want to wrap yourself in it. Keep it with you-

A single finger tilts your chin up, a silent command to open your eyes, to look at him.

He’s covered again, but his gaze is so open as he looks down at you- studying you in that way that only he can, though it’s impossible to miss the unrest behind his expression,

“I know..”

[chapter 4 >>>>]

#knight!ghost #and his queen #I can just hear the way he says my queen and it ruins me every time #cod fandom #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #ao3 fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #medieval au #lord mactavish #your honor I love them #fic: the queens guard #also on ao3

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

What do you think of afo giving shiggy decay

Oldest and favorite theory now to (very possibly) turn true in the manga. This was seriously one of my first theories when I joined the fandom!!!

Tumblr sucks at helping you find your own posts, meaning I have no way to link my old posts about it in this ask :( but anyway.

At first it was purely born from the frame of the shadow man with the hat delivering Tenko home and how strange it was that Tenko happened to awaken his quirk that day. There's also the fact that the man looked a lot like AFO, with the body structure, the suit and the face in shadows.

This is the panel that started it all:

I remember a lot of people went against it 'cause it was anticlimactic for them. They thought that if AFO gave Tenko decay, that event was taking something from Tomura as a character, making him less interesting.

For me, it made sense because there were too many factors that you couldn't explain otherwise. Some of them are exposed here. There are too many variables for it to be a coincidence. Now, if AFO gave Tenko decay or if he did something to activate it that day... That's yet to know.

But for example, look here. AFO had a room fully prepared for Tomura. He had shelves full of books, a bed, a chair and a desk... He even had toys!

* it looks like some of the action figures had arms or even the head missing. One of them is fully on the ground.

It wasn't long until Tomura had a PC installed too:

It's clear that AFO was expecting him. For what I know from the Vigilantes manga and bnha, AFO didn't treat every kidnapped kid like that. He had a hospital full of kids to turn into nomus after all. He wasn't that involved with every experiment.

Tomura was clearly different from the star. He knew who Tomura was, he expected the tragedy to happen, he expected the quirk too. AFO never reached for Tomura's hands. He acted like he had already seen the state the Shimuras' house was left in. He knew where to look for Tenko, like he was following him.

And the way he spoke... It was too premeditated:

He created that situation so he could play the role of Tenko's saviour. He needed Tenko to hate every hero, every citizen, he needed to feed his anger, his hurt. Or well, at least how's the theory goes.

AFO gave Tenko decay, waited for the result of an abused 5 years old reaching his limit and then he appeared like a knight in shining armor. He made sure to allow Tenko to walk around, he was also probably using his influence to interfere so a) the Shimuras deaths wouldn't become a scandal and b) no one would rescue Tenko before he could.

But going back to the "AFO gave Tenko decay" theory, I think the canon fact that supports that theory the most is that Tenko was already 5 years old. Here are the panels I'm referring to:

There's always the question if the Shimuras had a quirk. We know Nana had hers, but nothing is said about Kotaro or Nao or even Hana. We don't know if they were mostly a quirkless family or if Tenko would be the first one of them.

For the way Tenko recounted his day to Nao, we know that he was at the park playing with some friends. Here:

Between AFO picking Tenko up from the park and taking him home to his family, he must have done something. I don't know about the timeline... and if Giran could have already been associated with AFO... I just remembered that his quirk was the ability to muddy the memory of anyone up to five minutes prior or after he used it.

You see, Tenko never said anything to his family about the man that brought him home. We don't know what Tenko did when he "played the hero". We don't know what AFO told Nao. This is just theorizing, but giving someone a quirk by force doesn't hurt? From whom did AFO take decay if Tenko wasn't the original user?

Doc Garaki said it was a quirk never seen before...

I don't know. Since you asked me my opinion, I'll say that I'm still not very sure if AFO gave decay to Tenko or if it was Tenko's quirk from the start. It's not unheard of, since his case sounds a lot like Eri's, who developed a weirdly aggressive quirk on her own.

We're getting closer to being absolutely sure 'bout AFO's involvement with Tenko prior to the deaths of the Shimuras.

I just wonder what option fits better thematically.

#shan's asks #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 415 #mha 415 #bnha 414 #mha 414 #shan's bnha thoughts #shan's mha thoughts #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #lov #shigaraki tomura #afo #all for one #Tenko shimura #my villain academia #mva #shimuras #the shimuras #shimura family #bnha leaks #mha leaks

[moodymisty]

“He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.”

“His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.”

Our black templar bf is large and warm??? Everyone in the reblogs is talking about sleeping with him, while I’m thinking about how nice it must be to sleep (nap, rest, snooze) with him. That man is a human version of a heated weighted blanket! The cuddle sessions with him must be astonishingly good!!

You're thinking good thoughts, anon. Honestly other than the interface ports, a big ol' space marine would be a fantastic cuddle partner in the cold. But maybe that's just me deluluing.

Also I know writing requests are closed because of my backlog, but I just really wanted to do this. So enjoy.

Warnings: Unnamed Black Templar from this fic/Fem!Reader, Possessiveness, Size difference, General 40kness, A very rough drabble so plz forgib

The wind outside howls, battering against walls much less suited for keeping heat comfortably indoors.

To think, you would now very much prefer to return to the Sigismund's Oath instead of having to face weather significantly more severe than just the cold hollowness of the ship. At least he is of a high enough rank that he's allowed a barracks of his own; You don't know how you'd feel in a hall with ten other astartes.

If you already feel like some sort of prized animal in the brief moments you're around them, you can't imagine how that would feel. Particularly if your only protector had to leave you alone.

Suddenly you look up as the only door opens, teeth clattering against each other. You neck hurts from how tense it's been, toes curled in worn shoes as your body desperately tries to keep the most important parts warm.

He enters, no longer in his armor and now sports the loose cloth trousers and robing astartes usually do when out of their ceramite gear. You can see the scars that are scattered over his skin; An untold amount from both battle and his creation.

You rub your hands together fast to try and warm them, before sticking them between your thighs. He watches with that same stoic, unreadable expression.

"You're cold." He says it so matter of fact, you can't help but purse your lips to avoid smiling. You nod and try to hold back the clattering of your teeth.

"I'll be fine. I just need to get used to it." You'll be here awhile is the assumption, so 'getting used to it' is going to be a necessity.

He walks closer to where you sit on his temporary bed. Important enough that he couldn't remain stationed on the ship until needed, but not enough that he couldn't be relieved of duty a moment of actual rest. For a brief moment, you wonder what he's like in battle.

Coming closer to you he in one fell swoop sits down onto the bed, making you to wobble.

"Come," He says, looking at you.

When you freeze for a moment, he speaks again with more words an a more exasperated tone. "Are you like my battle brothers from Inwit now, and prefer the cold?"

As of late he's becoming a bit more talkative around you- though you suppose 'talkative' might still be a bit of a stretch. Out of the many things, humor was not one of the skills bestowed upon them by his Primarch Dorn's genes. At least from the stories and scripture he's taught you as of yet.

Quickly you shuffle closer to him, and he grasps your arm tightly and pulls you against his chest. You quickly adjust in his lap with your legs pulled closed to you. He sleeps sitting- unsurprising to you given his history- with his dagger in arms reach. You suppose this is the most natural extension of that, curled in an almost upright fetal position.

Other than his interface ports pressing against your skin he is overwhelmingly warm, and within moments it feels like you're barely even cold anymore. Astartes and their blood, you swear it almost feels like it's boiling. No wonder he pays the cold no mind.

His massive hand covers good portion of your upper thigh, as he keeps you held close. His nearly inhuman amount of muscle isn't as uncomfortable as you'd thought it would be, as your shift your hands.

It's comfortable and snug, but you doubt you'd be able to leave now even if you'd wanted to.

Your shoulders relax a bit now that you're no longer shivering, and safely in the arms of your Black Templar, you finally feel like you can fall asleep. Even if you'd been warm, the idea of doing so in an unknown place with the one who'd brought you here no where in sight isn't a good one.

You know that unless they suddenly have need of him, he'll have five hours of sleep. You'll have the same, though unlike him you have to daily, whereas he can apparently stay awake for days at a time. Another odd quirk.

You don't know if he's asleep as it's impossible to tell, but you fall asleep not long after, finally warm and comfortable.

#black templar x reader #space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[tranakin-skywalker]

*sits down n snatches a french fry off ur plate* tell me more about groundwater

Ok so, consider this:

You're Darth Vader. You've just saved the life of your son on the Death Star pt II Electric Boogaloo, and have died from electricity induced heart failure/your shitty body finally giving out on you.

You expect to become one with the Force if you're lucky- maybe find yourself in some sort of Hell if you're not.

Instead you find yourself standing over a woman who looks painfully familiar but you can't place- holding a baby who won't stop staring at you. The baby too seems strangly familiar and for one heart-stopping moment you think Luke!

Then you look closer, and realize the woman is your mother- younger than you've ever remembered her. And that means the baby must be...

Then you realize that you don't have a body anymore. Not really. You're burning without heat in a blue fire that doesn't catch- nova bright and yet the only living thing around you that seems able to see you is the infant version of the person you used to be.

You try to flee, and realize you can't. You don't even make it out of the building before something stops you from moving, and you realize you're bound to this boy and his mother, and that this might be Hell after all.

Or

You're Anakin, and all your life you've been followed by this strange spirit. Sometimes it looks like a man, sometimes it looks like an animal, sometimes it's a suit of armor or a burning corspe or an imploding star or a black hole.

All you know is that it's angry, and also very very sad. You wonder why it's trapped here, if maybe it's cursed, or maybe it just can't move on.

You're the only one who can see it.

It doesn't talk- sometimes doesn't even look like it's aware of where it is. But it follows you. And it protects you and your mother.

Other people might not be able to see it, but they can feel it. And it keeps the worst of them away from you and your mother.

Then the Jedi come and take you away. You hope that the spirit will stay on Tatooine and protect your mother, but it follows you instead. It's never spoken to you (or if it has, you've never been able to understand it), but you think it wishes it could stay with her too.

None of the Jedi can see the spirit either, but it can see them. You don't think it likes the Jedi very much.

It's with you as you learn how to be a Jedi, and you realize that some of the things the Jedi teach you, you already knew. Obi-Wan tells you you're a natural with a training saber, and you don't tell him it's because you feel like you've already learned all this before.

You're spirit hates Chancellor Palpatine, and that makes you nervous.

You're fourteen when the dreams start. They're hazy, and hard to explain, but they wake you up in a cold sweat and leave you with a feeling of impending doom. Something bad is going to happen. You don't know what.

You tell Obi-Wan about them, but the advice he gives you is useless.

The dreams get worse.

You start seeing your mother in them. You see her die in your arms.

You beg Obi-Wan for the chance to go see her, to make sure she's alright. He tells you it's a lot more complicated than just hopping in a ahip and going to Tatooine. That they can't just run off without authorization. That he’s sure your mother is fine.

That night you wake up to the spirit crouched over you in your bed, a face half melted off with bones and wires poking through the char, a living funeral pye with a mouth made of void.

"Your mother is going to die" it tells you, and you believe it.

You take the saber you built with your own hands and cut off your padawan braid, leave it with a note for Obi-Wan to find. You steal a ship, and set coordinates for Tatooine.

You're going to save your mother.

Or

You are Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you woke up one morning to find your entire world has ended. There is a note on the kitchen counter, and beside it, a burnt, braided lock of hair. You already know what the note is going to say. You have to read it three times anyway.

You chase after your padawan, because if anything happens to him, you will never forgive yourself. You can't leave immediately, you're not allowed to. There’s process, and procedure, and though the Council is understanding, they won't let you just go gallivanting off to the outer rim. (Like your padawan did, you hear in the pointed silences). They assure you that Anakin is smart and resourcful and that you have trained him well, that he'll be fine.

You want to scream at them.

When you do finally leave, it is far far later than you would have liked, but you have a place to start looking at least. Tatooine. Mos Espa. A junk dealer named Watto.

It takes you much too long to find the shop, and seeing it for the first time, it hits you- this is the place your padawan grew up. This is where he was owned. Then you meet Watto, the one who owned him.

You ask about Shmi Skywalker, and Watto tells you that he sold her. He refuses to tell you who he sold her to. You ask him about Anakin, and he squints his eyes at you, and tells you he hasn't seen the boy since he lost him in a bet five years ago. In the Force, you can't tell if he’s lying or telling the truth.

You spend almost a month on Tatooine, looking for your padawan. You never find him.

Eventually, you are forced to return to the Temple, though you tell yourself it is only temporary. You're never going to stop looking.

And you don't. Every chance you get, you are searching for Anakin. All your friends too, when out on missions, keep their eyes out. None of you ever find anything.

Then, two years after your padawan disapeared in the night- you feel your bond to Anakin snap.

It is the most painful thing you have felt in your life. You realize, one heartbreak at a time, what that means.

You stop looking after that.

Then-

Footage is released of an uprising on Tatooine. Jabba the Hutt is dead. His executioner is a Sith.

You realize who killed Anakin.

You want to be one of the Jedi sent to Tatooine to investigate. You killed a Sith before, after all, you can do it again. The Council does not allow you to go. They send Quinlan and Aayla instead.

Before he leaves, Quin makes a promise to you. "I'll find out what happened to him."

While they are gone, more planets revolt, more footage leaks. You see that Sith, in that horrible, monsterous mask, that red blade. You see other masked beings, with their own blades. Colors you have never seen on a lightsaber before.

The Outer Rim is buckling, or maybe- it is transforming. Nal Hutta is razed, and slave worlds are liberated. There are reports of a fleet, and army. Every day it grows bigger. Like a spreading infection.

(Or maybe, you think- remembering that junk shop and things like ownership- maybe it’s something like hope.)

There are planets talking of seceding, of forming their own government. That talk has been going for years now, but something about this, about the unrest in the Outer Rim has made it a roar.

There is talk of war.

And all the while, more and more planets in the Rim go dark. The Freed Worlds, they call themselves, who want nothing to do with the Republic or this new Confederacy. The Republic and the Confederacy both feel threatened by them all the same.

Quinlan and Aayla and the other Jedi sent out return. They find very little, if anything at all. "We weren't allowed to get close. They didn't trust us. Any of us," Quin explains. "Somehow they knew."

The Republic reaches out to the Freed Worlds for a peace talk. They don't want a war on two fronts. Only, you think, some of them do.

The Freed Worlds agree, tenatively, but they agree, and send representatives to Coruscant. They don't seem aware that their arrival coincides with a vote on whether or not the Republic will form in army.

You are there when the representatives arrive at the Senate Dome, a bizarre collection of species and ages and appearances, none of them looking anything like the senators you know. They follow behind a young man, too young you think. Then you get a closer look at him, and your world ends and begins all over again.

"Anakin?"

#wow this got a lot longer than i intended #pardon any mistakes i wrote this on my phone at work #fic: groundwater #im leaving. a LOT of things out plot-wise #but heres a little taste

[see-arcane]

More thoughts about @ibrithir-was-here's Blood of My Blood AU. Shredding my heart about it

Picturing Quincey thinking back on the sparse scenes in which Dracula must have actually acted like a parent. All the revelations of the present wouldn't hurt as much if the Count was always a monster to the boy. It couldn't have been a constant stream of fear when in his Father's presence. Worry, yes, but also love. And the assumption of love returned and shared with everyone in the castle. A happy image waiting to be torn to pieces.

There had to be Moments.

Father showing him how to follow the blue lights and discover real treasure, like in his adventure books. Quincey didn't care about the value as much as the magic, the finding of (gasp!) Buried Treasure. He'd cherished the couple little coins Dracula let him take more than any golden heap piled in the castle.

Father being in a good mood when little toddlerpire Quincey tried to sneak up on him along the ceiling while his back was turned, only to play-pounce in turn, making the boy yelp at the sudden blazing eyes in his face. "I know everything here, child. You must do better to take me by surprise." A sharp smile. "Just ask your mother." And Quincey did. This somehow transmuted into something of a Lesson in which Father showed Quincey and Mama how to race along the walls and mountainside without effort or sound. Mama had smiled. For her son.

Father peacocking during history lessons as Quincey sat rapt. Tell another, Father! Just one more! He even showed Quincey how to hold different blades in a fight. A sword. A dagger. ...A kukri. Bonus sour aftertaste points if Papa is roped in for the latter, his smile straining as the Count let him 'borrow' the weapon for proper demonstration. A suit of armor was beheaded, picture of false catharsis. Quincey was delighted--and fed an unsubtle hint that Violence is Cool and Normal and Right in this family--before Jonathan had to hand the blade back. Smiling. For his son.

Father hearing the boy tell him upon some special occasion, a holiday, a birthday or deathday, or a pure whim of genuine warmth: "I love you, Father."

Father telling him in turn, sounding nothing less than honest, "And I you, pet." A hand on his head. Never his shoulder; no matter how he grew, always he stroked the boy's head. Perpetual child. Perpetual pet. Good boy. "We would not be a family without you."

Out of an endless sea of lies, Quincey knows now that this much was a truth.

Worse thought: Father himself believed that what he had to give to Quincey, to his true parents, was love. That Purgatory of abuse and horror and ownership was and remains the most he has to give. To force upon the Harkers, the family he put in invisible chains.

Quincey thinks of the child he was, who knew only love, with parents all smiling for him, with an ignorant faith that he lived a fairy tale.

And he thinks, hating himself, that for all that he must acknowledge reality, must fight back against Father the Count's evil, must Do Right and Be a Good Man, a tiny selfish corner of him envies that oblivious child. The boy who was happy and loving and loved because he knew nothing else.

A boy who had three parents where he only has two.

#pain train time :) #:') #quincey harker #dracula #dracula bad ending #mina harker #jonathan harker #blood of my blood

[snoozepotato]

We’ll Be Fine -12- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: lil creepy, stalking, swearing, FLUFF

Masterlist

Summary: It's cold working in some of the other server rooms, Ghost finds you trying to warm up and gives you his sweatshirt.

Part 12

~PLUSH ARMOR~

Generally speaking, you don't mind the cold, but today was an exception. Currently, they have you stationed in the basement, for some that might mean dealing with loads of paper documents. But not you, for you this meant the clean room.

The COLD room. 

They keep the temperature low because the sensitive machines down here put off so much heat, computers and heat don't mix. It's not that cold, but combined with your bad circulation once you get cold you tend to have a difficult time warming back up. This kind of work really makes you appreciate the lax atmosphere of the old server room upstairs.

You had been wearing a ‘bunny suit’ all day, you get the purpose, but you're beyond grateful to finally be rid of the protective gear. Despite being back upstairs you can't seem to warm up, and regretfully you hadn't thought to bring anything warmer to change into.

Frustrated, you decide to grab a cup of tea and make sure everything is situated upstairs before turning in for the night. It's been a long day and you're exhausted, but thankfully the areas pretty much cleared out due to the lateness of the hour. After making your tea you head off towards your usual room, and can't help but take notice of the eerie quiet atmosphere of the hallway.

The sense that you're being watched.

Pace quickening in the slightest, you're all too grateful to finally arrive at your destination. Scanning your badge and leaving the door slightly ajar, with no intention of staying for very long. Reaching over to flick on the first of two light switches, illuminating half the lights, basking the room in a dim glow.

Heading over to a server console and skimming through the menu, checking to be sure everything is running smoothly. A shiver runs up your spine and you grumble in frustration, quietly cursing the basement work that felt like punishment. At least you had your tea to look forward to, you ponder as your attention is suddenly drawn to the other side of the room.

Looking up from the console to find the silhouette of a massive figure standing beside your desk. Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach at the sight of the intruder. Before they slowly lean forward into the light casting down from above. The warm relief spreading through your chest as those dark eyes of his catch yours.

Ghost

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim, the initial anger washing away as you let out a stiff laugh, shooting him a weary smile.

how did he know you’d be here?

“Noticed the light was on,” He retorts as if he conjured the question in your gaze. The sight of his imposing figure lurking in the muted light, it's almost like he’s stalking you.

“Sorry,” you apologize for your sudden outburst, taking a moment to rub your hands together in an attempt to defrost the chilled digits before going back to typing.

“You alright? you look-,” he pauses, looking away like he's contemplating something.

“Ya, I'm fine, just recovering from working downstairs in the cold room,” you interject before he can continue. Marginally warmer hands back to typing as your gaze returns to the screen.

“Done for the day but I can't seem to kick this chill,” you murmur thoughtlessly, fingers clicking away on the keyboard as you input the last of your data into the console.

His lack of response draws your attention from the screen. Looking across the room to find the masked man has vanished. He must have slipped out while you were distracted. You part from the servers to make your way over to your tea, but something seems out of place.

Peering around your desk you find Ghost’s sweatshirt slung over the back of your chair. Your gaze is fixated on it a moment before reaching out to rest a hand on the worn material, it's still warm… He seriously just took it off and left it here for you without saying anything?

Glancing around the room suspiciously you pluck the garment from your seat, slipping the sweatshirt over your head without much thought. It's enormous, you’d been expecting as much but hadn't quite grasped the scale. You were swimming in it, absolutely drowning in fabric. But, oh my goodness is it warm. Hiking up the sleeves to free your hands, you grab the mug off your desk and head off to your room.

You'd say you were happy no one was around to see you like this, but what you were sporting earlier was far worse in comparison. The quiet of the hallway seems a little less sinister now. There's still that sense of being monitored, but it subsides the moment you're shut behind the safety of your door.

Setting the tea down at your desk, and dressing down for the night. You turn off the light and nestle into your bed, completely ready to surrender yourself to sleep. Still clad in the oversized garment that keeps you warm despite your thin blanket. You lazily slouch down against your pillow, head sinking below the collar, taking in a deep breath.

‘It smells like him,’ you mentally muse. Rolling over onto your side, as warm color pools in your cheeks. Drifting off into a pleasant slumber, the plush armor shielding you from the nightmares that lurk in the shadows of your subconscious.

Your tea long forgotten.

There's nothing better than a giant sweatshirt, thanks for reading &lt;3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #x reader #female reader #cod x reader #no beta read #slow burn #slow build #fluff #stalking #stalker #kinda creepy #ghost is being a lil creepy #sweatshirt

[ishipallthings]

Cap-IM Rec Week 2023 (Sat) - Podfic

Hidden Gems, July 22 for @cap-ironman Rec Week!

I'm reccing podfics today - they deserve all the love!

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

[Podfic] Stark's Moving Castle by lomku @oluka read by Juulus @juuls

Steve has the great misfortune of being the eldest son of the family, destined to fail miserably should he ever leave home to seek his fate. But when he unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Steve finds himself under a horrid spell that transforms him into a small and fragile man. His only chance at breaking the curse lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Stark's castle. To untangle the enchantment, Steve must handle the heartless Stark, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, he discovers that there's far more to Stark--and himself--than first meets the eye.

[Podfic] "Cold Space, Warm Welcome" by Annie D (scaramouche) @no-gorms read by Renton6echo @renton6echo

Tony’s spent a couple of years flying around the galaxy in his best friend Rhodey’s spaceship the Iron Advance, doing what could perhaps be counted as ‘hero’ work. Among their allies is Steve Rogers, captain of his own crew, with whom Tony has a… potentially friendly relationship. When Steve’s ship is irreparably damaged, Rhodey takes him and his whole crew onto the Iron Advance to recover. Tony’s not at all nervous about this, because so what if this is the first time Steve will see him without the Iron Man armor?

When they finally come to destroy the earth (they'll have to go through you first) [podfic] by AlchemyAlice read by grrreed_pods (quaetzalcoatl)

In which Tony Stark went to boarding school with Bruce Wayne, and the road to becoming a superhero is not smooth.

[Podfic] Touchy Feely by musicalluna @musicalluna read by seleneaurora

After an encounter with Justin Hammer, Tony starts to feel—and act—strangely.

[Podfic] Take Me Out (And Let Me Hold You Tight) by musicalluna @musicalluna read by RsCreighton

Steve daydreams about holding Tony's hand, and Halloween might just be the best chance he's got for making dreams reality.

[Podfic] Breakwater by Captain_Panda read by only_more_love @onlymorelove

When the helicopter hits the water, Captain America and the Winter Soldier both go under. Only the Winter Soldier escapes. By the time Tony Stark and company find Steve Rogers, he's been dead for nearly an hour. Brought back from beyond the brink, Steve is a changed man. Things will never be the same.

[Podfic] The Sound Silence Makes by ladyshadowdrake read by seleneaurora

“We need exactly what we don’t have,” Tony observed, annoyed and tired. He started to giggle and couldn’t stop himself. “Power.” He cast a glance back at the door, sealed shut behind him, and he didn’t foresee the cavalry charging through anytime soon with a generator and a bomb kit. Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How much reserve power does the suit have, J?”

[podfic] Appraise Valuable Assets -> Launce Opportune Navigation (AVALON) by gottalovev @gottalovev read by Albuss

The plan was that no one but Tony would know about the AVALON protocol until it was needed. Steve finds out and he's pissed.

[Podfic] For You I Will (A Thousand Times Remix) by ishipallthings read by SoldiersShield

During Hope and Scott’s wedding reception, Tony asks Steve for a dance. Steve turns him down, but not for the reason Tony thinks.

[Podfic] Bridge Over Troubled Water by vorkosigan @the-vorkosigan read by only_more_love @onlymorelove

After Thanos is defeated, Tony throws a party, like one does. Steve is there, and Tony thinks it's an awesome idea to seduce him, for old times' sake. Things get... complicated.

[Podfic] JentheSweetie's "And Time Can Do So Much" by JenTheSweetie read by Renton6echo @renton6echo

A few years after Steve moved permanently back in time, he started having conversations with Tony again.

Love Is A Masquerade [Podfic] by Mizzy read by paraka (616)

When the Avengers are invited to attend Tony Stark's Annual Masquerade Ball, Steve's hoping Iron Man will be there--after all, he can wear a mask and keep his identity secret. So when Steve recognizes Iron Man's distinctive thighs, Steve is SO sure he's found Iron Man's pilot... He's right, but not in a way Steve would ever have guessed...

Hide Your Love Away, by Sineala, (podfic) by Sineala @sineala read by cookiemom6067 @cookiemom6067 (616)

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever. When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

[PODFIC] How to Date a Robot by Sineala @sineala read by crawfishing (616)

How do you date a robot? Even the twenty-first century doesn't have the answers to every question. Steve will have to figure this one out for himself -- after he politely rebuffs Mr. Stark's interest, of course. Sure, Mr. Stark is handsome, but Steve would rather be with his bodyguard. So when Iron Man agrees to go on a date with Steve, Steve couldn't be happier. He loves Iron Man with all of his heart, and their relationship rapidly grows serious. But why does Mr. Stark hate Iron Man so much? And why in the world is Mr. Stark trying to tear Steve and Iron Man apart?

[Podfic] Flight of Icarus by by Missy_dee811 @laexploradoraaa read by Cathalinareads @cathalinaheart (616)

“Tony,” said Kamala, hurried. “I loaded up some music to give you a little boost,” she said. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” she added. “It’s not mine.” He smiled. I knew I liked you.

[PODFIC] Magnetic North by msermesth by msermesth @msermesth by Pywren @pywren (616)

Tony joins Steve on his post-Secret Empire road-trip-slash-pity-party. Turns out the road home is paved with a lot of arguments and sex.

If you want to check out more Steve/Tony podfics, here is an older podfic rec list of mine. You can also check out @sabrecmc​‘s list and head over to the podficcers’ profiles for more podfic!

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Here is my tag for previous years’ rec lists.

#stevetony #stony #capimrecweek #superhusbands #steve x tony #podfic #my rec lists

[agonycrossbow]

Thinking about the complete and total role reversal that must have inevitably happened after Leon and Ashley got home from Spain and how how quickly the fairy tale came unraveled as soon as they touched back down into reality.

Fairytale Leon: The strong, honorable, fearless knight who walks through fire and water and mud and shit with his head held high and moves forward, undaunted, towards his goal. Feels more like a force of nature than a man, as he leaves a trail of violence and chaos in his wake, with the blood of his enemies sprayed across his face and in his hair. He's in charge and inescapable; woe betide the man who crosses his path.

Reality Leon: Soft-spoken and almost demure, with his eyes almost constantly turned downcast as he walks to wherever he's told to go -- an unquestioning "Yes, sir" following every order. His body armor has been traded in for a well-pressed suit that seems almost too clean -- and despite having been tailored specifically for his measurements, doesn't look like it fits him right. Always seems at a distance, as though he's perpetually standing just out of reach.

Fairytale Ashley: The warm-hearted and free-spirited princess fair who keeps the light of hope burning and charms the honorable knight with her easy smile and welcoming personality. Her presence is like a home away from home, as she's fair-minded and treats everyone with respect. She's exactly as strong as she needs to be, as she's inspired by the strength of those around her -- which then inspires those people further in return.

Reality Ashley: Cold and closed off for the sake of keeping up appearances. Too afraid to show any emotion that's too strong or hold an opinion that's too controversial due to the looming consequence of potential backlash. Everything in her life is dictated by her station, forcing her into a selfish and self-centered lifestyle that sees her only interacting with her Equals.

Thinking about Leon and Ashley passing each other in the halls of the White House or at some official government event and only allowing themselves a quick second or two to look at the other as though they're just window-shopping for something that they know is forever out of their reach.

Thinking about the cognitive dissonance of "I know you and feel safe with you and want to be with you" lingering from the memory of their shared fairy tale being paired with the reality of "I don't really know you at all, do I?" and the forbidden longing that never gets addressed or resolved, causing each of them to have a certain level of identity crisis.

Thinking about how surprisingly and upsettingly different it feels when they finally take a second to acknowledge and talk to each other. Neither of them really knows what to say or how to address the other. The thought of casually putting a hand on Ashley's shoulder feels invasive and almost wrong to Leon, despite having held her in his arms so, so many times. Ashley wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him -- to adjust the lapel of his suit jacket or straighten his tie, but for some reason it feels like there's an invisible wall between them -- that, even if she were to reach out, her touch would never really reach him. Because they're strangers to each other now in a strange setting, and all of the rules have been rewritten, and nothing feels like it should.

#resident evil meta #eagleone analysis #resident evil headcanons #eagleone headcanons

[jurakan]

Do you have a fun fact in these trying times?

Tell me, friend, do you know the story of the Lambton Worm? If not, then Today You Learned about it.

[This story is in, like, ALL the dragon books.]

The story goes that some time in the ages of the Crusades, the town of Lambton was doing its usual Sunday business of going to Mass–except for the young heir to the Lambton Estate, John Lambton, who was going fishing instead. He got a few disapproving looks from people on the way to church, but he kept fishing because he was a rebel like that. He had trouble catching actual fish, but as Mass was wrapping up, he caught something!

A worm that looked like the Devil.

Okay, so ‘worm’ in those days can also mean a serpent, and Wikipedia describes it as something eel-like. Just… he picked up something on his fishing line that was limbless, not that big, but ugly as all getout. John Lambton was freaked out by this, and he chucked it in the local well. Deciding this was punishment for his non-churchgoing ways, Johnny grows up, trying to forget about the worm. When he grows a little older, he even takes the Cross and goes on Crusade as penance.

Except the worm survived. And it grew down in that well, poisoning the water with its venom or perhaps its general ugliness. The worm eventually grows large enough to slither out of the well and starts to eat things–small animals, mostly. Then it starts drinking cows’ milk (which is a bad thing to feed dragons if you don’t want them to grow bigger), and THEN it gets big enough to start eating cows and small children.

This, as you may realize, is A Problem.

The people of Lambton, and its lord, realize that they can placate the thing by offering it milk and cows, but it keeps growing bigger, and they try to get people to come kill it. And of course knights come along and try to kill this dragon worm thing. It doesn’t work, though. Maybe they hack off a piece, but it grows back, and the worm wraps itself around a man in armor and squeezes him to death.

Finally, John Lambton, heir to Lambton, comes back from Crusade. He realizes what’s going on, and knows that it’s a problem he started in the first place, so he has to fix it. Though he sees that no one’s had much luck in killing it. So he goes to a local wise woman, and she tells him that he can kill the Worm, but first he has to make a special suit of armor, one with spearheads fused all over it. Then, when he chops it to bits, he must dump the remains in the river. And THEN, after the deed is done, he must kill the first living thing he sees. Otherwise, the house of Lambton will be cursed for nine generations.

Well, Johnny Lamb commissions the suit of armor, and then he tells his dad to arrange that when he’s done the deed, he’ll blow a horn, and so then a hunting dog will be released and John will kill it.

Lambton faces the Worm, which of course, wraps around him to constrict him. But it doesn’t work! Because his armor is covered in spikes! And so the worm pierces itself on his armor! And he has enough room to start chopping this thing to pieces. Then he throws those in the river, where the pieces are swept away before they can put themselves back together. 

[C.E. Brock's illustration.]

Lambton blows the horn to signal victory. But ohes noes! His father is so happy that he forgets to release the hound, and runs to his son and kills him. John Lambton obviously cannot go through with killing his father, so he tries to kill the hound anyway, but it doesn’t work to avert the curse. For nine generations, none of the Lambton heirs died a peaceful death in their beds.

And that’s the story of the Lambton Worm, friendo!

[John Dickenson Batten's illustration]

#Fun Fact Friday #Today You Learned #Lambton Worm #dragons #stories #folklore

[reashot]

Thank you to everyone for helping me reach 30 followers. To celebrate the occasion. Here's team RWBY meeting their future children with Jaune...

_____________________________________________

Team RWBY and Jaune suddenly found themselves in an empty expanse of whiteness. There's nothing in here except for the five of them. All of them are confused at how they managed to end up here. Everyone except for Jaune that is.

Jaune: Oh no, I'm here again.

Ruby: Where are we? 😵

Blake: There's nothing here but the color white.

Yang: No sh** Blake! Hey Weiss! Did you send us here? We're in your color after all.

Weiss: What! Just because we're in a white place doesn't mean I'm responsible for it. Honestly Yang are you really this daft?

Jaune: Uh... Everyone. I can't tell you where we are, but I've been here before.

Weiss: I knew it! Every time there's something wrong it's always you that causes it!

Ruby: Hey leave him alone. It's not his fault he keeps attracting trouble where ever he goes. 🤬

Blake: Ruby... That's going too far.

Yang: Look it doesn't matter whose fault this is. Right now we need to find a way to get out of here.

Dragonslayer

Suddenly someone appears out from out of nowhere. That someone a large man much older than them encased in a golden suit of armor from head to toe. Carrying with him a large greatsword that are as tall as he is.

Yang: Holy Oum! That guy is huge!

Blake: And he is in a golden suit of armor?... That's kinda tacky.

Ruby: Oh. He have a greatsword. That's so cool. Hey do you think he will let me see it? 😋

Weiss: Ruby will you please stop drooling at every weapons you see! Jaune, if we die. I blame you.

Jaune: That's fair. Everyone get ready. Here he comes!

??? : Excuse me. May I ask you all something. Where exactly am I?

Yang: Eh, that's what we are also trying to figure out unfortunately.

??? : I see. It seems we all found ourselves trapped here.

Jaune: Say. Who are you exactly?

??? : My name is Aurum Arc, son of Jaune Arc and knight captain of the Arc Knights.

Everyone: WHAT!!!

Aurum: Ah. You must have misheard me. I repeat again. My name is Aurum Arc, son of...

Jaune: Wa-wa-wait just a moment. Did you said you're my son?

Aurum: Father?... But, that can't be...

Yang: Wait you have a son? Way to go Vomit boy!

Aurum: Mother? Why do you look so young...

Ruby: Jaune and Yang have a child together! 😦

Blake: But that can't be. He looks so much older than they are, how is it even possible?

Weiss: Can someone please explain what is going on right now?!

Yang: Wait are you really my son? Are you like from the future or something?

Aurum: I guess that closest explanation we are going to get, but yes my mother's name is Yang Arc. Are you her, are you really my mother?

Yang: Well my last name isn't Arc, but yes I'm Yang. Yang Xiao Long.

Aurum: Then I apologize for my insolence, honored mother.

Yang: Wow so polite. You sure you're my kid?

Weiss: Also do a paternity check there's no way he could be Jaune's son.

Jaune: Hey! I could so totally be this guy's father.

Blake: Somehow I doubt that Jaune.

Aurum: Rest assure. There is no doubt that Jaune Arc is my father. After all Both my father and mother love each other very much.

Ruby: Jaune and Yang have a child together... No! I refuse to believe it! Jaune and me are supposed to be together. Where is my child with Jaune?! 😫

Lancaster

???: Mom!!!! *tackles Ruby to the ground* 🥰

Ruby: Who the heck are you?! 😮

???: It's me mom. It's Scarlett. 😊

A teenage girl around their age then stand up to greet them. She has long dark red hair, deep blue eyes and wearing black dress with red hood.

Blake: I take it you also came from the future?

Scarlett: Yup. My name is Scarlett and I'm Ruby Rose's daughter. Nice to meet you all. 😚

Ruby: So I do have a child in the future... But if it's not with Jaune then... I'm sure you must be good kid and I will love you and your father in the future. But right now I just want to be alone. 😞

Scarlett: But Mom. Dad- I mean Jaune is your husband. 🤨

Ruby: What?! Then forget everything I just said. I love you and Jaune so, so much! It's so nice to meet you Scarlett. 🤗

Scarlett: Ooh we need to take a selfie together. I wish my big brother are here to see this.

Blake: Wait if she's also Jaune's daughter. Then that means?.. *stares at Jaune* Do you want to explain yourself Jaune?

Weiss: *stares at Jaune* Disgusting...

Yang: *stares at Jaune* Wow. The two of us? I got to hand it to you vomit boy. I never thought of you as a player.

Ruby: Jaune. How could you. You already have me. Why do you have to go after Yang too! 😡

Jaune: Oh c'mon. I didn't do anything!

Knightshade

As everyone around Jaune accuses him of being an adulterer. Someone comes up from behind him and gives him a hug. That someone is a little girl much younger than they are. The girl is a cat faunus but what most surprising is that the girl looks exactly like.. .

Jaune: Blake...

Blake: Oh no, don't tell me she's my children.

Yang: What the hell Arc are you three timing us?!

Weiss: I say we neuter him right now before he impregnate half of remnant.

Ruby: Not before he unload on me first you don't. Then afterward we can neuter Jaune. 😖

Jaune: Can we please don't treat me like I'm a tomcat. Or at least hold on to that idea until we figures out what is going on.

??? : Daddy I'm scared. Why are the mean old ladies screaming at you?

Jaune: Are you okay?

??? : I'm scared daddy. I want my mommy.

Jaune: Blake can you help me with calming our "daughter" down?

Blake: I guess, I have no choice. Can you tell me your name little one? Mommy seems to have forget.

??? : It's Dusk, mommy. So please don't forget it again.

Blake: Of course Dusk. Forgive mommy please. I seems to have gone forgeful in my old days.

Dusk: I forgive you mommy. We all forget things sometimes. And daddy? If daddy did something to make the old ladies angry please say you're sorry to them. That's what you always told me.

Jaune: I will Dusk *kiss forehead* I swear I will make things right. I'm your dad after all I will make you proud.

Blake: (Wow he's so good with kids. No wonder he can't stop making them. )

Dusk: I know you will daddy. You are my hero after all. And daddy when are you and mommy going to give me a little brother or sister?

Everyone: 😳

Jaune: Ah, ha, ha... Le-let's ma-maybe not talk about that for a while okay. At least not in here...

Weiss: Yes, tell us all about it Jaune...

Yang: *smash fists* Yes let's have a long talk. With my Ember Celica and your crotch.

Ruby: This is all your fault for not picking me in the first place Jaune. 👹

Scarlett: Shouldn't we intervene or something? 🤔

Aurum: I don't think it's our place to help our father out.

Scarlett: I guess so, but if our dad happens to die in here. Don't you think we will disappear after? 🤓

Aurum: That is... Actually a good point. Come let's help our father out.

White knight

But just moment before Jaune are about to be castrated. Another person suddenly appears this time he looks almost exactly like Jaune. But whiter in appearance. He is not as old as the knight but still slightly older than Jaune and the rest.

Weiss: Let me guess he's my son?

Yang: Look at you catching on quick.

Weiss: It's a simple process of elimination Xiao Long.

Blake: Let's hope this is the last "surprise" we will be getting. I don't think we can handle this anymore.

Ruby: (He looks kinda like Jaune. But I feel something wrong here. 🤨)

Aurum: Get Ready.

Scarlett: Ready for what? 😕

Jaune: Oh hi. I guess you're my son too. My name is Jaune, Jaune Arc. It's simple...

??? : And roll of the tongue. Ladies love it. It's nice to see you Father... It's been so long. So long. Since...

Weiss: Well. Now that we are getting acquintaced. I guess this makes me your future mother...

??? : YOU!!!

Weiss: Uh, excuse me?!

??? : I have spent years dreaming of this moment, I've rehearsed everything I ever wanted to say to you, every words. To make you understand what you did to me and your family. But now... I realize I don't need you to understand everything. In fact. I don't need you at all.

Jaune: Don't you threaten your mother. I mean, your future mother. You know what I mean. I want you to apologize to your mother. I know you didn't mean that. Let's apologize together, okay.

??? : You. I will deal with you later. But right now I'm going to kill this bitch once and for all.

He then push Jaune away in order to put his hands around Weiss's neck and start choking her. Jaune and everyone else then start running towards Weiss to help her. But then the man pulls out the same sword Weiss have and used the same semblance to put some distance between them.

??? : Don't you dare stop me from killing this whore. Or else I will not be responsible for what I will do next.

Jaune: But that's insane. You could erase yourself out of existence by doing so.

??? : Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha... Oh father. So naive. Don't you think I didn't know that. But thank you for worrying about me father. But nothing would make me happier.

With a wave of his sword he summons a Dragon like Grimm from the ground. Preparing to do battle with everyone in the void dimension.

_____________________________________________

And that's the end. I might continue this if it gain enough traction. Also you can ask each of the future children a question if you want just leave a message.

#jaune arc #lancaster #lancaster rwby #ruby rose #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #rwby #knightshade #knightshade rwby #dragonslayer #dragonslayer rwby #whiteknight #whiteknight rwby #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #jaune x blake #blake x jaune #weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #weiss x jaune #boy this a lot of tags #30 follower celebrations #future children au #oc don't steal

[doctor-badadvice]

This man has not updated his wardrobe since 1947

There's already a few posts discussing outfits and symbolism and while I found them very interesting, I'm a person of strong opinions now writing two characters with chess related names. So here's my two cents (or should I say, nickels) about Bishop's appearance throughout the 2003 show and what tells us about the specific moment of his life that's being portrayed. The focus will be mainly on the palette, but also on whatever influences are behind the designs.

So let's get started!

1815 — Battle of New Orleans

Here's the first disclaimer. I know next to nothing about US history past what little school required me to learn and generically speaking, I've never been interested in the nuances of how people come together to kill each other. History classes were far more interesting to me when we talked about society and culture. So take what I'll say with a grain of salt. My military expertise here is a couple Wikipedia pages.

As far as Bishop's uniform goes, I have no idea what's going on. I read that uniforms were supposedly mainly blue with whatever color corresponded to what the unit's duty was, with the exception of musicians who had their colors swapped. If that's true, Bishop here could have been a musician having a not so great day at work. But the field medics later in the flashback are wearing the same color so it's probably just a choice to keep the color palette consistent.

Other than that, the belt would suggest he had some kind of rank. Though I don't think they were trying to be accurate past the bare minimum. I'm not going to guess what Bishop was up to in his mortal days.

Also, a special mention goes to Bishop's facial hair. He must have been popular in his time.

1870 — Creation of EPF

This is where colors start being relevant but first, another disclaimer. I appreciate the work wiki editors do, but it would be nice to have sources to whatever's stated on a given page, especially if you're providing estimated dates. I can't say I disagree, but it'd be nice to know where the information comes from.

So the wiki says that Bishop was supposedly born in 1776. It means that at the time of EPF's foundation he was nearing his hundredth birthday. No wonder he's dressing in all black. The average life expectancy at the time was about 40 years old. It's very possible Bishop had already outlived most, if not everyone he knew and it's probably something one would struggle to come to terms with.

Design wise, turtlenecks were nothing new at the time. Medieval knights wore garments in a similar shape under their armors well before the 15th century. And yes, I guess that's more of a coat than the average tactical turtleneck, but it still gives him a hitman, or even hunter vibe which is more or less what he was up to at the time.

1947 Roswell. New Mexico/present times

I can finally explain the title now. But first, let’s take a step back!

Bishop’s default outfit is the secret agent outfit™ we’re all well accustomed to. Specifically, I think the closest he takes inspiration from is Agent Smith from the Matrix movies (as I previously mentioned here). Guy in a black suit with shades, apparently impeccable self control and a distinctive way of talking that compels you to listen to him.

There’s so much to say about motivations and themes these two share, but let's focus on the aesthetic side.

These two fools are men in black. Yes, like the movies. The whole trope originates from some old conspiracy theories about the US government hiding aliens. These theories date all the way back to 1947 from some guy named Harold Dahl claiming a man in a dark suit told him not to tell anyone about some UFO sightings. Various fellow ufologists made similar claims over the years, making it a staple of their general paranoia.

Because of the second flashback, it’s possible that Bishop himself was one of these men in black, if not the one the rumors started from. It's a funny thought and I feel like Bishop would also find it amusing to watch people lose their minds about his fashion choices for decades.

Color wise, white has been added to the mix. It’s been a while now since the creation of EPF and Bishop has found some kind of balance in his life. He’s still dead set in his hatred for aliens and clearly enjoys inflicting pain on creatures he sees as undeserving of basic human decency, but he now has some purpose other than looking at the sky for something to shoot down. He leads an elite task force with men and funding devoted to developing a proper defense of the planet. He’s a foe not to be underestimated and a formidable fighter who can and will take on multiple opponents. But he’s also a very scared man who doesn’t wish what happened to him on anyone.

I often praise the show because Bishop can survive getting impaled but he still remains human. He will react with sheer violence to aggression and reform his ways when shown kindness. He will happily stick his hands in turtle soup for some DNA, but also be the best man at his friend's wedding and even attempt dressing up for the occasion despite having been deprived of normal human interactions for more than a century.

(I know it's a little cluttered in this point but I can't just leave out Casual Friday Bishop)

Design wise, I like just how an otherwise elegant attire works during the fight scenes and this detail specifically.

This man’s power is stored in the leggy.

Interlude

So this pic above is me right now.

For context, I usually consider the episodes of the staged alien invasion to the outbreak as part of the same arc. The entire situation is absolutely absurd from Bishop dragging the president into his fanfiction in response to budget cuts, to Baxter's bodily misadventures, to Bishop making a deal with a random ghost over the phone while New York is turning into yet another Umbrella Corp mishap.

But anyways we're here to judge this man's fashion taste and we have two outfits to talk about.

First off, a special mention goes to the catsuit and this pose specifically.

The sass is off the charts.

Though I find this one kind of depressing. There isn't a lot to read in it either other than Baxter grabbing the most generic tactical turtleneck for the sake of keeping Bishop from walking around bare chested (and the scene before this pic clearly shows Bishop isn't afraid to show some titty). But seeing him in all black right after moving to a new body kinda points out that Agent Bishop, leader of the EPF, is kinda on par with a piece of military equipment (and the president probably sees him as much to an extent). He's the mold for an army of supersoldiers for crying out loud.

But he switches back to the usual suit afterwards and what matters here is the supersuit.

S3 onward

Imagine being an alien, member of the starfleet of your planet and senior officer of the invading force tasked with taking over Earth. You have trained hard, wargamed the whole operation a bunch of times and concluded that it will be piss easy to conquer this underdeveloped planet.

You reach the surface, get into formation and then this nerd rolls up.

The best way to describe this suit is "hostile". It's hostile to the animators and to whoever has to stare at this eyesore before Bishop shoots at them.

And I love it. There's nothing quite like a black and red suit of armor with various cybernetics and lights to say that you mean business. It goes very well with how the stakes just start steadily rising from this point of the show onwards and seeing as the suit was ready during the staged invasion, we know that Bishop never really planned to retire after unleashing his army of clones.

It adds that extra bit of cyberpunk that I like to see and it shows that Bishop never truly gives up on anything since we have actually seen this design before.

Bishop was so proud of his Slayer he just stuck with him in spirit.

Couple that with a new coat to take off for extra dramatic effect and— maybe the president was right about not trusting him with unlimited budget.

2105 — New York apparently

Another century has passed and Bishop is still alive and kicking. Well, he doesn't kick as much anymore as it would be unbecoming if the beloved president of the Pan-Galactic Alliance were to go around kicking alien butt.

Jokes aside, you can disagree with Bishop's portrayal in Fast Forward, but they were still trying to do something meaningful with him. The idea of the turtles having to work with him when they were trying to kill each other just the other day is surprisingly deep for a season that felt the need to have the most unfunny robobutler ever.

They were clearly attempting a chess joke switching the palette to white with black streaks. Bishop has completely turned his life around and it even shows in the way he presents himself. It's nice to see just how much he managed to accomplish as well, even though it would have been very interesting to see him have a gradual change of mind, rather than selling us the concept through timeskip magic.

Does the design still hold up then?

Well, Bishop is clearly making an effort to look the least intimidating. He is fairly more patient when others don't immediately do as he says, even asking for help rather than blackmailing, and is still commendably dedicated to his job. He still asserts dominance by showing leggy (seriously, Mr President, that slit doesn't have to go this hard) and he's still deep down, at all times, ready to throw hands.

That's Bishop alright and it's no coincidence that he starts running around shooting aliens the second Baxter shows up in his life again. I'm not much of a fan of his new armor though. I think they were going for a futuristic design but it's the blandest they could think of. It reminds me of Obi-Wan Kenobi's armor in The Clone Wars but it just kinda comes out of nowhere. It would have been cooler if his tunic turned into a set of armor kinda like what the turtles got.

In any case, if you really want to see reformed Bishop really shine, you should check out @adenthemage / @violetvulpini 's art. You will not be disappointed.

#tmnt 2003 #agent bishop #oof #this was one hell of a ride #I haven't discussed anything in this length since uni #Tumblr also decided to complain about the number of pics I was adding #hopefully it won't be as much of a pain when I come around to talk about his fighting style

[sapphire-weapon]

Thinking about the complete and total role reversal that must have inevitably happened after Leon and Ashley got home from Spain and how how quickly the fairy tale came unraveled as soon as they touched back down into reality.

Fairytale Leon: The strong, honorable, fearless knight who walks through fire and water and mud and shit with his head held high and moves forward, undaunted, towards his goal. Feels more like a force of nature than a man, as he leaves a trail of violence and chaos in his wake, with the blood of his enemies sprayed across his face and in his hair. He's in charge and inescapable; woe betide the man who crosses his path.

Reality Leon: Soft-spoken and almost demure, with his eyes almost constantly turned downcast as he walks to wherever he's told to go -- an unquestioning "Yes, sir" following every order. His body armor has been traded in for a well-pressed suit that seems almost too clean -- and despite having been tailored specifically for his measurements, doesn't look like it fits him right. Always seems at a distance, as though he's perpetually standing just out of reach.

Fairytale Ashley: The warm-hearted and free-spirited princess fair who keeps the light of hope burning and charms the honorable knight with her easy smile and welcoming personality. Her presence is like a home away from home, as she's fair-minded and treats everyone with respect. She's exactly as strong as she needs to be, as she's inspired by the strength of those around her -- which then inspires those people further in return.

Reality Ashley: Cold and closed off for the sake of keeping up appearances. Too afraid to show any emotion that's too strong or hold an opinion that's too controversial due to the looming consequence of potential backlash. Everything in her life is dictated by her station, forcing her into a selfish and self-centered lifestyle that sees her only interacting with her Equals.

Thinking about Leon and Ashley passing each other in the halls of the White House or at some official government event and only allowing themselves a quick second or two to look at the other as though they're just window-shopping for something that they know is forever out of their reach.

Thinking about the cognitive dissonance of "I know you and feel safe with you and want to be with you" lingering from the memory of their shared fairy tale being paired with the reality of "I don't really know you at all, do I?" and the forbidden longing that never gets addressed or resolved, causing each of them to have a certain level of identity crisis.

Thinking about how surprisingly and upsettingly different it feels when they finally take a second to acknowledge and talk to each other. Neither of them really knows what to say or how to address the other. The thought of casually putting a hand on Ashley's shoulder feels invasive and almost wrong to Leon, despite having held her in his arms so, so many times. Ashley wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him -- to adjust the lapel of his suit jacket or straighten his tie, but for some reason it feels like there's an invisible wall between them -- that, even if she were to reach out, her touch would never really reach him. Because they're strangers to each other now in a strange setting, and all of the rules have been rewritten, and nothing feels like it should.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #eagleone #WHY DO I HAVE TO WORK FOR A LIVING I WANT TO WRITE THIS FIC

[yukipri]

The Prime Override - Chapter 56 is up!

Jango - Riflor, Part IV | Return

Aaaand it's late again, and it's been a few weeks, but Riflor's finally a wrap, and this is the last major event in the early war arc!

This chapter: Obi-Wan continues staring at Seventeen's ass. Seventeen gets a lightsaber. And some long-awaited reunions.

“Yo, Rigo! Bounty is for dead alive,” one of the grunt scum shouts at the lead hunter, Rigo apparently. “More creds if alive. Safer if dead. Which way we go?” Just a bit farther. Seventeen walks past one corpse as he spots another with a nicer blasters. “Safer,” Rigo says, and Seventeen leaps the rest of the way. “Move, General!” Seventeen snarls as he mows down the first line of hunters. Dual wielding is more Fordo’s speciality, but he manages. “I started to wonder if you were abandoning me after all this, Captain,” Kenobi says as he catches up, but he sounds more amused than anything. Like he was worried, he was more interested in staring at your ass, the Prime mutters. What? Nothing.

> > Read Ch 56 on AO3

Also, this is more for my endnotes the previous chapter, but:

I am dead serious about Seventeen's vest busting open, or at least that's how I'm choosing to interpret it.

From Republic 60: Hate and Fear, the escape from Rattatak comic: vest closed.

From Republic 62: No Man's Land, on Riflor: Seventeen's still wearing the same vest, but it's now open.

(images are photos from my own physical copies of the comics)

Seventeen is a man used to being encased in armor + a body suit, I'm not sure he'd just unzip it because it's hot. Therefore, I conclude that he must have busted it open, and it no longer can close.

(I mean, just look at him. Seems plausible to me)

(Also, do you see where the Alphas are Giant headcanon comes from? Again, look at him next to Obi-Wan, just look at him...)

#ThePrimeOverride #YukiPri writes #Alpha-17 #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Star Wars Legends #Republic Comics