#[ visage terry ]

[of-elitiism]

Terry's updated look, a lil bit more unhinged. Terry with extraflavor~

[mcltiples]

TAG DUMP PT 3.

[delusional-mushroom]

Aaravos x reader where reader is also a startouch elf who was Aaravos’s lover but got imprisoned at the same time he did but in a different prison so instead of trying to lead Claudia and Viren to his prison he’s insisting they save his lover (but in his own ‘No! You can’t do it on your own you need this elf’s help!’ To avoid revealing something that would break his mystery facade- maybe reader had like a pet that guards their last residence and Aaravos is just like ‘oh yeah, that’s just ___ he bites.’ Feel free to add some plot to this it’s just a lil scenario that poofed into mah brain hole.

🌟 anon

Oh hello 🌟 anon. Thanks for the request >:3

Side note: sorry this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end. I’d be happy to part two it if you guys want.

After Leola’s death, you and Aaravos shared your grief. When you had no more tears to cry, and the crater of her demise was full to the brim, you began plotting your revenge.

At first, everything was going great. No one suspected a thing.

But then, a human girl— A human girl, had the audacity to stick her nose into where it did not belong, and rat you two out to the arch dragons.

It all happened so fast, one moment Aaravos was shielding his lover from the onslaught of attacks; and then the next they were both enveloped in a crude, blinding light.

Your look of horror was the last thing he saw before he too was imprisoned.

The two of you were both granted a visage through intricate looking glasses, spared with only one shellshocked glance at each other before you were given to the arch dragon of ocean, Domina Profundis.

Every day, and every night, Aaravos cried in his prision.

First Leola, his kind and loving daughter, and now his spouse: the only thing he had left in this cruel world.

Everything seemed hopeless.

He might never hold you in his embrace.

You two might never see each other again.

That was until a middle-aged dark mage stumbled upon his looking glass. How it got from the clutches of Avizandum and Zubeia to the treasury of Katolis, he didn’t know. But old habits die hard, and Aaravos didn’t mind reusing some old tricks…

“Avizandum is dead.”

What…?

Avizandum, King Of The Dragons, the ringleader in his and his lover’s imprisonment. He was dead.

Aaravos felt a satisfaction he had not felt in a long time. Not only was this going to make his schemes easier, but hearing the news of his passing made Aaravos almost giddy with joy. Maybe he wasn’t the one to end Avizandum’s life, but knowing of his death was almost just as good.

Maybe this middle-aged, emotionally fragile man had potential. Maybe he would be a useful pawn.

Finally, after centuries in his prision, escape was within his grasp. He could leave this dreaded place. He could take revenge upon those wretched dragons and elves.

But in a final moment, he relented.

“No.”

“What do mean ‘no’? We’re this close to freeing you!” Claudia squawked indignantly, pinching her fingers together to emphasise her point.

“You need to free someone else first. Someone just as powerful, and just as essential to the plan.” Aaravos insisted, his ghost-like apparition pointing a finger to a second dot on the map.

“And who would that be?” Viren inquired, Raising and an eyebrow in suspicion.

The star touched elf resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His use for the old man was beginning to dwindle. “You will see when the time comes.”

Reluctantly, he managed to get Viren, Claudia, and Terry to agree, though the earthblood elf didn’t really put up much of an argument.

Roaring and ticketing sounded through the mountain where your prison was kept. Allegedly, the magic orb that contained you was imbedded into an ancient tree. In order to acquire it, the tree needed to be felled. Easy, right? Wrong.

The tree was guarded by a serpent-like dragon by the name of Mortem, who’s bite held enough venom to kill an archdragon.

“Don’t get bit.” Aaravos instructed.

He was so close to you. He could feel your energy radiating through the mountain.

And somehow, the earthblood elf managed to lead Mortem away and distract him long enough without getting bit for Claudia and Viren to cut down the tree and grab your prision.

The scrambled journey back down the mountain made his breath bait in anticipation. This was it. He was finally going to be able to see you again.

Once the ritual was complete, your giant form kneeled down to look the three mortals in the eye. Shrinking yourself down, his ghostly appearance caught your eye.

“Aaravos?” You ask incredulously.

“I’m here, beloved.”

I’m here…

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Underground Alliance

.Chapter One.

Been wanting to write a street racing fanfic with RE2 Leon for the longest time. It is loosely based on the first Fast and the Furious movie while interweaving actual events from street races from my childhood. Hopefully, some car girlies enjoy this, but even if you're not into cars, please enjoy it! It takes place in 1999 when the Racoon City incident has not occurred yet but the events are still happening. Please comment, tell me if you love it or hate it! To those who waited a long ass time or have moved on from RE, I really hope you enjoy this! And yes, I'm still planning on finishing Within Session.

This story is purely written with RE 2 (Remake) Leon in mind. Yes, my puppy dog boy is all the focus in this one.

Takes place in 1999, Racoon City is not in flames yet!

Yes, I'm terrible at uploading fast, but believe me when I will finish this with the other one!

Loosely based on the first Fast and the Furious movie with real life stories mixed in from my childhood.

I have not decided yet on the rating but expect: Car Sex, Betrayal, Penetrative Sex, Manipulation (sorta), Public Sex, Violence... And more to come!

Summary

         After a series of recent hijackings of Umbrella equipment, Leon Kennedy is sent undercover in the street racing scene to find a notorious perpetrator named to be orchestrating these attacks. Leon struggles with his visage as a street racer while upholding his own morals as a police officer. As a young street racer, you aspire to reign and topple the influence of a major corporation that has its clutches on Raccoon City. Yet, plans are thwarted when an ambitious blonde tries to join the ranks of the most skilled racer.

Please enjoy~ Anisssa أَنِيْسَة

The Colors That Mark You

“Speed, power, and pure chaos now dominate the streets of Raccoon City, a surge of street racing along with other rising trends in crime in recent months—Terri Morales with Raccoon 7 News. Sources have reported 5 hijackings of lab equipment from Umbrella Corporations within the last 3 months. Umbrella truckers are now pointing direct blame at street racers. The recent hijacking is costing Umbrella Corporations billions of dollars and threatening the careers of truckers. Raccoon City Police so far, have no comments on the surge of street racing and the unlawful seizure of Umbrella equipment during transportation. On other reports, the mysterious disappearances on Arklay Moun-” 

                  With one click of the TV remote, the screen abruptly becomes black. Every single day, the consumption of the morning news seemed to blend in with his mundane morning routine before work. The surging crime that continues to transpire around Raccoon City was nothing new to Leon. Hell, the recent murders and disappearances that occurred around the Arklay Mountains last summer are what compelled him to join the Racoon Police Department straight from the police academy.  Now, several months passed in a blur since his orientation day in September, and the adjustment in his career has been everything but exciting. Among his colleagues, Leon was regarded as the rookie, an errand boy to the other officers in his division. Nonetheless, the escalating crime pressured Leon to prove his merit.

       His fingers measly slip each button into the slits of his uniform, proceeding to adjust the blue fabric until he became content with his overall presentation. There he stood before his dresser mirror, the same worn blue eyes staring back at him while his lips managed to form a smile. Truth be told, Leon rather remained tucked under the covers to pretend there were no responsibilities that dictated his adult life. Yet, the paychecks were more than necessary to live in this measly town. Nonetheless, Leon convinced his feet to trudge right out the front door of his apartment to depart for work.

         The sight of the city welcomes Leon to the streets filled with trash, and the homeless camping at nearly every corner. Tourists would assume that the recent crime rate may have driven this city downhill, but Raccoon City was always a sore sight for its residents and outsiders. Leon often wondered if the breakup with his ex-girlfriend before moving into the city was worth the nights dowsing in alcohol. In the end, Leon achieved the career within the RPD he so sought. 

              Rock music plays on the radio while Leon manages to traverse his Jeep through morning traffic in the city. Aside from the occasional honks and cut-offs from other cars, he drove to the police station with ease. Inside the station, the lobby was nearly chaotic since the sightings of cannibals roaming the streets and parts of the mountain only escalated. Plethora of sounds from the police radios, telephones, and the chatter amongst officers only blend in an echo in the main hall. Leon had to admit the station was bustling more than usual.

          Yet, there in all her glory was the Goddess statue standing tall upholding a flag in hand to greet him every single day. 

          “Rookie!” 

   That utterance of that nickname prompts Leon to scrunch his nose, however, he whirls his attention to Eliot in the doorway of the West Office. “Lieutenant Branaugh requires your presence,” He sneered, gesturing with the tilt of his head to accompany him into Marvin Branaugh’s office. As Leon strides behind Eliot, the other officers at their desks perk their heads to glance at Leon walking past his desk. Eliot knocks on the open door to alert the lieutenant of their presence. 

        “Kennedy… the person I wanted to see this morning,” Marvin greets him once he notices the messy blend of dirty blonde hair entering his doorway. The aroma of coffee permeated the air of the small office as Leon was directly in front of his desk. 

      “Sir…” Leon addresses him immediately, his voice holding a level of utmost respect.

       “At ease rookie, take a seat,” The lieutenant extends his hand to the chair behind Leon while Eliot closes the door. Now, a certain heat crept in his uniform as the silence weighed in the enclosed office. Leon spurred thought of possible mistakes he could have made, yet none surfaced that would be worthy of reprimand. 

      “I’m sure you are aware of the rise of hijacking of Umbrella equipment in these past few months…” Marvin eyes the rookie, pulling out several files from the filing cabinet, and spreading them on his desk’s surface. 

     “The truckers are in uproar, and Umbrella is threatening to pull out of Raccoon City if nothing is done to cease the hijackings. We do not want a pharmaceutical company taking matters into their own hands….” Marvin warns, slipping out several photos and documents from the files. 

        Leon nodded along with every word, remembering the report from the morning news. “They speculated these hijackings were orchestrated by street racers…”

“That’s precise, rookie…” Marvin trails off, lining out the photos on the desk to allow Leon to view them clearly. “Which is why I am assigning you to this case…”

        Three photos were aligned perfectly beside each other on the desk. With no context, Leon would have been puzzled at the images. Two pictures displayed skid marks on the road obviously from the crime scene, and the third revealed a truck driver sustaining various bruises on his body. What kind of street racers were these? 

        “The truck drivers have described the exact modus operandi of the vehicles involved, three black 2D coupe cars with red underglows: a 1991 Toyota MR2, a 96 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX, and a Mazda Miata MX-5. And the lab provided the latest skid marks identical from every scene, Toyo brand tires.”

   Marvin flicks his eyes to the rookie while Leon examines the contents of the images to memory. 

       “These are all JDM cars…” Leon finally comments, bringing his blue eyes to Marvin’s face.

       The lieutenant nods at the blonde’s observation, “Which is why we have indication someone from the street racing scene has organized these recent attacks. A name without a face, someone who is referred to as El Jefe…”

    El Jefe.

     “Doesn’t that mean the boss?” Leon questions, curling his pointer finger underneath his chin.

       “Yes… Kennedy, we want you to investigate him undercover in the racing scene. Pinpoint who he is, integrate into his circle and observe his activity… and reveal the identity of this bastard.” Marvin leans back into his chair, carefully lifting the coffee mug to his mouth. After a satisfied slurp, he sets the mug on his desk with a soft thud. 

     This was the ultimate opportunity for Leon to prove merit to his lieutenant and to the whole precinct. A major case of a circle of street racers responsible for the recent hijackings brought down by an undercover rookie resonated as a great headline on the front cover page of Racoon Times. Only a grin formed on Leon’s lips as his fingers ghost over the photo of the bruised truck driver. “How soon can I start this investigation, sir?”

   “How good are your driving skills, rookie?” Marvin inquires, piquing his eyebrow.

   Snickers are heard behind Leon, prompting the blonde officer to whirl his head to Eliot leaning against a tall filing cabinet. He had nearly forgotten Elliot’s presence during this debriefing. Now his fellow officer was finding means to poke fun at him.

     “This rookie may have scored excellent in everything else , but God his driving… He would crash a parked car somehow,” Eliot taunts before laughing and slapping his knee.

     Leon frowned at the officer with a flustered face and Marvin merely rolled his eyes. “That's enough Edwards, this is your partner during this whole operation.” Marvin sips his coffee, flicking his eyes between Eliot and Leon. “Since Leon is a fresh face, he would blend into the scene.”

     This comment from Marvin seemed to cause the older officer to glower, yet it was directed at Leon. “Hey! That's saying I'm old. Pretty boy here is gonna get him snuffed out like a block of cheese to a rat.” Eliot crosses his arms, slumping against the filing cabinet.

     The lieutenant adjusted his throat, ignoring the blatant complaint from his subordinate. His hands then pull out an additional two photos, two different cars. “These were confiscated a while ago from drug dealers. Now they belong to the department. Rookie, you have the first pick of your ride.”  Both cars were exotic, modded, and designed with decals. However, Leon was oblivious to the model and make of the cars. To earn the attention of El Jefe, it was crucial to learn all specs of the car. 

   “Uhh sir, I honestly don’t know what exact cars these are…” Leon trails off before taking one photo from his desk. A black car with GTR in small letters in the front along with Skyline imprinted in bold letters on the back bumper. 

   “Oh, that one? That's a Nissan R34 Skyline, imported illegally from Japan,” Marvin comments, pointing at the picture. 

     Only a tilt of Leon’s head could be noticed by the lieutenant, impelling Marvin to explain details on how a vehicle could be illegal in the states. “Certain car models like the R34 Skyline have a 25 year import rule, meaning the vehicle has to be 25 years old to be eligible to be imported to the US. It was recently passed into legislation, and you can thank the major American automakers for pushing that law into place,” Marvin clarifies, offering a smile to the rookie.

       Leon returns the smile, nodding with an understanding to the situation of the vehicle. But then the idea struck him with the Skyline.”Maybe this is the vehicle to catch the attention of El Jefe since it's so rare…”

     “Not a bad idea, Kennedy. The Skyline will be your vehicle…” Marvin nods in agreement before flicking his eyes to the other officer behind Leon. “Elliot, your vehicle is the Mitsubishi 3000GT. You boys take care of these vehicles. Tracking devices will be installed, so no funny business!”

       Elliot lets out an audible grumble for getting second pick, reaching over to swipe the other photo from Marvin’s desk. His eyes examine the body of the vehicle before peering at Leon’s pick. Another audible huff escaped through his teeth once he realized that Leon had the superior choice.

      On the other hand, a wide smile seemed to be permanently plastered on the rookie’s lips. This was his first major case, and a case that was notorious around the city. He could barely contain his excitement despite his efforts to remain professional around his colleagues. 

        “On Fridays, there are reports of organized street races around the industrial district of Raccoon City. El Jefe is one to not miss opportunities to win money, so Leon, you will attend these street races. Blend with the crowd, and the most important… Do. Not. Blow. Your. Cover,” Marvin emphasis with each syllable, and word. A pang of anxiety forms in Leon’s chest, almost squeezing the air. While he was ecstatic, this mission could go south if he was careless or cocky… Like Eliot.

    Leon assures his lieutenant with a nod,”Yes, sir. This case is important to find out the bastards who assaulted those truck drivers…”

        That assurance leads Marvin to stand from his chair with two driver licenses in his possession. His hand extends one license to Eliot and the other to Leon.

     “These are your new identities! No longer Eliot Edwards or Leon Scott Kennedy but Eliot Smith and Leon Santoro. You boys will forge an identity and stick to it.” Several heavy steps creaked the floorboards and Marvin returned to his seat.”Both of you are dismissed… the cars will be ready by the evening.” 

     Both officers nod to their superior before finally stepping outside the small office, the door softly clicking behind them. They were just assigned with a profound investigation, but not as Leon Kennedy and Eliot Edwards, but as two racers ready to join the ranks of one the most notorious street racers. Leon realized the urgency in apprehending this savage gang, especially for the safety of those truck drivers.

     Elliot huffed beside Leon, clicking his tongue as he leaned over the rookie’s shoulder near his ear. “Don’t fuck this up for both of us, rookie… or we end up missing like some of those S.T.A.R.S members in last July. Hear me?” He mutters low enough for only Leon to hear. 

      Leon’s fist clenched at his sides, staring forward despite the words whispered from behind. The audacity from Eliot…

      Eliot struts away from the rookie to his desk, a cocky smirk plastered on his face when Leon glances at him. Everyone else was oblivious to the exchanged glares between the officers, engrossed with their own stacks of paperwork on their desks. It was no surprise working with Eliot would be provoking, but Leon was determined to solve this case by any means.

        Raccoon City soon was engulfed by the darkness of night once the orange gleam from the sun soon settled down, replaced by the crescent moon in its place. The Skyline was honestly more than he could handle when he arrived at the auto shop where the car was kept. Something that Marvin failed to mention was that the driver’s seat is on the right side instead of the left and the car is a stick shift, not automatic. This was the night street racers crept out onto the desolate streets, no denying that El Jefe was probably already at one of these spots. 

        Eliot’s pick, the Mitsubishi 3000GT, was held at another auto shop in town to deter any suspicion before the partners were to meet up at the races. Pretending to not know that prick was an easy task for Leon, but he honestly desired nothing more than to be the first one to secure the trust from El Jefe. 

          As Leon traversed the Skyline from downtown Racoon City into the industrial district, his chest weighed with heaviness. Between abandoned old factory buildings, a surplus of exotic cars filled the parking lot. Various music from techno to rap blasted from speakers, cliques of people forming around them. Women dawned in mini skirts and tank tops, leaving nothing to the imagination, gyrating their bodies along with the rhythm. Leon had to use one hand to adjust his pants as he stationed the Skyline besides another car.  

     In the distance, he can hear the revs of engines and tires screeching as several cars raced. Once he stepped out from the driver’s seat, eyes were immediately on Leon. The watchers were murmuring amongst themselves, plenty of them snickering. Being a fresh face, they were hyenas scoping out who this new meat was…

      Now Leon braved a cocky smile, knowing he obviously drove in with a rare vehicle, illegal nonetheless. To fit the role of a youngster seeking to street race, he wore a simple windbreaker and jeans with high tops. 

      “Who the fuck invited this cream puff?”

 Leon ignores the blatant insult from the crowd, walking directly to one of the nearby people.

     One Hispanic bald guy with a long graphic tee with sagging pants leaning on his car, the police’s profiling of a thug off the streets. But Leon was here to make friends, no arrest yet. 

     “How long is the line to race El Jefe?” Leon inquires with no hesitation. 

     The guy scoffs, glancing around his surrounding peers with a snarky chuckle. His posse of men and women follow suit in laughter, shaking their heads. “Hey kid, this ain’t no video game. Fuck off,” He iterates, pressing his attention towards his crew.

    Well, that didn’t work, but Leon was not going to surrender to defeat. He pulls out several bands of cash from the pocket of his jacket. “Maybe this would entice him? A few grand…”

    “Please, this shit is monopoly money, but that-” The man points, gesturing to Leon’s R34 parked in the distance, “El Jefe would compete for… but that’s only if you're prepared to lose it tonight, blondie.” 

     How would Leon justify losing a $200 grand car to the man himself, El Jefe, when reporting to his superiors? If El Jefe did not humiliate or kill him, the RPD would surely have him by the badge. 

     “Consider it a race then… I’m not one to back down from a little challenge,” Leon remarks, the smirk never faltering on his lips. Deep down, the rookie knew he was bound to lose this car. 

       As on cue, the crowd suddenly disperse, almost parting like the Red Sea when a silver car slows in the middle of the street. In the distance, the revs of engines cease while everyone is in awe. People then scramble to opposite sides of the car, waiting for someone to climb out.

    “ ¡El Jefe está aquí!” One man announces, and the watchers erupt into a frenzy. 

    Leon waited there with anticipation for the boss himself to step out of his car, but he never did. The guy who Leon approached earlier walks directly to the driver’s side, the tinted window slightly ajar for the man to speak to the person inside. Then the guy directs his pointer finger at Leon in the distance, muttering words that Leon was unable to hear. 

      Leon’s palms sweat as the tension builds, the fate of his career predicted by this moment. Then the window raises up completely before the man stands in front of Leon. 

  “El Jefe wants to know how a kid like you managed to obtain that car…”

     Shit. The words from Marvin echo like a seance, and Leon has to fabricate a whole backstory. ‘…forge an identity and stick to it…’

    “My dad is in the Air Force and imported this car from Okinawa,” Leon spurred without thought and shrugged as if an illegally imported car was no big deal. 

      There were murmurs from across the crowd that observed the interlude exchange of words in anticipation of a race. Yet, Leon’s revelation of the rare vehicle only piqued an eyebrow of the man before he returned to the agape window, enough for him to relay the message. Despite the indistinct chatter, Leon already assumed a deal was being proposed.    

       The man chuckles, peeling away from the car to confront Leon once more. “El Jefe agreed to race… for the pink slip of that R34. Not too late to back out blondie, that’s of course if you’re a pussy…” He taunts, earning the snickers from the observers.

     These remarks tempted Leon to reveal his badge, vexed at the theatrics flaunted in front of everyone. But Leon held his tongue, dismissing the mockery for this one race.

      “I’m not changing my mind, I’m racing El Jefe…” 

          Once those words escape his lips, slurs and hollering heighten as the mob disperses away from El Jefe’s car. With the street cleared of bodies, Leon took the opportunity to scan the car, immediately detecting ‘Supra’ gleaming below the spoiler. If Leon had heard anything about Supras… they were fast as hell.

       His knees wobbled as he strutted to his R34, climbing inside to the driver’s side with a pounding heart. People were already disputing bets, the majority predicting his inevitable fate while a handful held ambition for the new street racer. Leon positions the Skyline alongside the left side of the Supra, halting on the poorly red spray painted line on the pavement. A woman clothed in minimal attire stands between the two cars.

     The roars from the revved engine of the Supra elicited Leon to turn his head at the tinted window, denying him the chance to glimpse the face behind the glass. It strained Leon that he was unable to identify his face. But the sudden movement from the woman standing between the two cars convinced Leon that his priority now was somehow winning this race. A red laced bra dangles from her hand like a flag, Leon now revving the engine of the rare import. In those mere seconds, it became a pissing contest on which engine revs louder. 

     Leon’s hand grips the steering wheel with vice and his other hand settles on the stick shift. ‘I got this…’ Leon mentally assures himself. Without warning, the woman tosses the crimson brassiere into the air, and the Supra instantly takes off. Tires screech, his hand shifting the stick into first gear after his foot presses into the clutch pedal. Poor hand and foot coordination led to a faulty start, stalling out before the R34 could accelerate. Boos resonate from outside his car, utterly humiliating himself before the crowd. 

   “Shit.” 

      Leon exhales through his nose, attempting to shift the gear with precision. It was playing catch-up at this point but this hiccup did not dishearten his spirit.  With a collective breath, his hands shift the gear to 1, finally accelerating the R34 beyond the red line as his ears tune in with the car's RPM. Lo and behold, his front bumper was nearly tailing the back bumper of El Jefe’s Supra.

           As soon as the blue-eyed rookie believed he had an ounce of chance to win this race, the Supra suddenly surged in speed, stranding Leon behind in seconds. Of course El Jefe spared the use of NOS until the last moment. 

     “Dammit! You son of a bitch!” Leon swears as his foot presses the gas pedal within blind panic, failing to change gears. Before his mind can comprehend what occurs, his Skyline janks until completely spinning out on the road. Even when the car ceases in motion, his blue eyes clenched shut and his hands grip the steering wheel. Eventually, his eyes flutter open while his chest heaves along with shaky breaths. Cheers in the distance ensnare the Rookie’s attention, noticing the crowd surrounding the Supra past the finish line.

      He won…

   Leon slumps his head against the steering wheel, the pounding in his ears only intensifying. In his peripheral vision, Leon notices the Supra drift directly beside the R34. Everyone follows suit around the cars, nothing abates their commemoration over El Jefe’s justified victory.

    Despite his defeat, Leon swings open the driver’s door to confront the crowd and hopefully the man himself. After a moment, the Supra’s door widens slightly, a black leather heeled boot peaking on the cold pavement. Then a second heeled boot settles beside the other with a soft click…

       The sight perplexed Leon as he tilted his head, blinking to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. His lips parted, noticing curves… and breasts? It finally dawned on Leon when a person extended fully out of the car,  your eyes immediately locking on his blue ones with a glare.

        El Jefe is a woman…

[bat-snake]

Ok but I have a feeling Aaravos projected Leola's visage to Claudia and Terry like this at some point between story cuts

[terrence-silver]

Would Terry ever have a sex doll that resembles beloved? 😏

---

He'd have a bigger penchant for statues, I'd say.

Carved stone lookalikes of beloved. Artisan marble in their image. Black onyx. Malachite. Produced from any and all types of luxurious materials. Copying their form. Shape. Lines. Their face. Their visage. They're all over his mansion, one way or another, past and future. In the 80's. Present day. You name it. You walk into whatever bit of real estate he's inhabiting and the first thing that might strike you as interesting is just how much artwork this man has in his immediate possession on display. How many statues. How many oil paintings. Avant Garde and traditional alike. And they often seem to be depicting the same reocurring person (or at least some individual that is eerily reminiscent of literally every other face in the manor).

Is it the same person, though?

Little known fact is, yes, yes it is the same person, specifically commissioned to his tastes and viewing appetites, sexual, non-sexual and purely artistic. And this exact same model is everywhere. Next to his jacuzzi in his state of the art bathroom. In his study. In his bedroom. Lining the hallways. Covered with pristine white sheets when he doesn't feel anyone seeing them. Tucked away in some storage safe. Sometimes clothed in marble. Sometimes nude, their shape carved out in stone. Heck, they're in his beachfront manor garden while he's hosting guests and beloved's right there, in marble, silently overlooking the sight; a piece of beautiful decoration to add to the seaside scenery. He could be leading around other women on his arm at the time, but the never changing fact is that beloved is embedded into the very infrastructure of his life to the degree they're everywhere and nobody but him knows who it represents in the first place.

Everyone else might merely think Mr. Silver's a refined patron of the arts.

And so he is. That's undeniable.

But, the truth is never the surface level things you see.

There's always infinitely more to a story.

Perish the thought of one of his guests ever accidentally damaging one of his collection, not realizing the representation of who they just vandalized on his property and the scale of revenge they're about to face for it.

[wordsandgears]

Several religious stain glass art of “those who wallowed in sin”

(Design details under the cut)

Lark Oak, Sparrow Oak Garcia Swallow, & Nicky Foster: Pandora, Hope, & Prometheus - the one who brought forth sin, the one who stays through it all, and the one who’s belief was punished

Lark

Pandora- a woman whose curiosity forced others to live in despair

A mostly dark color palette of grays and blacks is broken up by red (a know color of seduction and adultery)

Above a box containing seven colors corresponding to a deadly sin is opened

A snowstorm filter is placed above

Sparrow

Hope - the only thing that stayed by Pandora’s side on her quest to gather up evil

Hair dyed black and (not pictured) eyes covered by contacts, an expression of his wish for normalcy

Hair spread out in a visage of an angel’s wings, as one of the “many-eyed-ones” hang above, carrying the one who he knows is above him

Same filter as lark

Nicky

Prometheus - the one who brought forth truth and was punished

Asymmetry litter through out is juxtaposed by the symmetry of a spiders eyes and alternating red and blue colors

Cracks like chains hold down not even offensive flame

Ximu (spider): “happiness dropped from heaven” Happiness in the morning and wealth in the evening

A fire filter is placed above

Terry Stampler & Grant Li-Wilson: Thanatos & Keres - The ones who death is painful & the who was at peace

Grant

Keres - women who only bring forth pain to the dead

Snakes and apples hanging in a tree, reminiscent of the original sin, innocence ripped away suddenly and painfully

Three golden apples symbolize three goddess of three different points, the first is marital harmony and the lack thereof, the second is a short lived stint of maidenhood, the third is a love that leads to nothing but pain

A water filter is on top and made to look like blood

Terry

Thanatos- a man who brings forth peaceful death

Symbols of death litter throughout, a visage of Victorian mourning attire and Japanese funeral portraits, on top and bottom are spindles with golden ribbons tangled within.

Color palette has notes of those closet

A static filter is overlaid on top, like a broadcast coming to an end.

[ncrthernl1ghts]

OPEN FOR MUTUALS -- TERRY 🦇

" OUT KINDA LATE, aren't you? " a voice -- gruff, with a hint of concern -- comes from above, visage hidden in shadow if not for the bright red bat on the figure's chest before he hops down from the roof he was concealed on, landing gracefully on his feet, " don't you know this is jokerz territory? "

[of-elitiism]

the whole squad together

[tributron]

Hello fellow compatriots to yet another build! This time I wondered what would Teridax looked like if he stayed in the maxilos robot for longer than expected. And after a lot of back and forth in looking though parts in the years of 2007-08 I realized that not only did we get a new Avohki in 08 but it so happened to also be in gun metal. Further more, Onua Mistika's mask looks a lot like a Kraahkan. Coincidence? I THINK NOT! We have gotten most of the ingredients needed in those years to make a Teridax. Even Vezon's Mask/Helmet looks oddly similar to the rahkshi backs of old used for Teridax's legs. Outside of stars aligning in a beautifully visage in the heavens of this great universe, this moc also has a few play features. And considering he would theoretical be in the year of 08, hence the design language of this build, he retains a waist swivel. The same swinging feature 2003 Terry had, this build has it too. Yet the head remains stationary just like the Rahkshi. Furthermore he can fire his Antidermis staff. Essentially weaponizing his essence. However I opted to use Vahki Staffs for his staff instead of the hurricane blades takanuva used to keep some distinction between the two. Furthermore I wanted him to look like he could not just fly, but fly very fast. Considering he has been weakened so many times and has been running around without wings he is now loaded with turbines and thrusters. The Claw elements in the back of the legs are now thrusters, the vents on his hips now are thrusters, and has another engine strapped to his back that also acts as the play feature knob for additional horizontal speed. Though now that I am writing this I should have made the wings rotate... -_- I can fix that afterwards lol. Anyways this is your host Tributron here and that is all for now so I will see you all maybe next week with a new build. Happy Building and Play Well everyone!

[saulweissberg]

availability / @edwardsthalia setting / happy tails; friday, august 2nd, around five thirty pm.

saul was beginning to have a new appreciation for how thalia must’ve felt when he didn’t return to manhattan after their divorce. with all three ex-wives in town, it was like he couldn’t turn a corner without some reminder of how messy his personal life had been lately. there was never really a time in his life when it wasn’t chaotic, but he never had all three exes within a few minutes of each other before. the island of manhattan might have been thirteen miles long, but it felt like a thousand when it came to keeping his previous spouses separate. blue harbor was much too small and he was feeling suffocated. luckily, he had a trip planned for the next weekend; a quick conference in washington, d.c. and then up to his mother’s home to visit her and attend the country club’s annual end-of-summer celebration for a few days. he needed to prepare, though, and part of the preparation was making sure his cats would be taken care of while he was away. stopping by happy tails to pick up some more cat food, saul turned down an aisle and was, of course, confronted with the visage of his most recent ex-wife.

he was actually trying to take it easy on thalia recently. their relationship had been semi-friendly lately, but with cassie and terry surely to come across her around town, saul tried to keep any situations where their paths might cross to a minimum. he didn’t foresee this, though. grimacing for just a second, he replaced it with an easy smile and reached down to pick up a few cans of fancy feast to put in his shopping basket. “hi, thalia.” saul greeted softly, almost warily. there was a bloom of anxiety within him that she was going to be mad at him for inadvertently bringing her predecessors to town. well, i didn’t exactly ask them to come here, he thought. “i heard your summerween tea party went amazingly—sorry that i missed it, birdie.” saul figured she wouldn’t have wanted him there, anyway. her brother, deacon, certainly would've tossed him out on his ass if he could've.

[melynnwater]

I looked down at all the worms around me, and I played in the mud

I laughed and I giggled and I wiggled with glee

and they all danced wiggled with me

and then one little worm

named Terry Oh My

did not like me much

She Wants Me To Die.

so I take this small worm up in my big hand

I cave her head in with a flick of my finger

it'd be better if she didn't feel what came next

dissecting all of her gleeful guts and giddy glees

why didn't she want to share her laughter with me?

this inanimate worm lying still in my hand

I see her insides, her guts and her glands

oh, there I can see her rhyming gorifice

the device by which she writes poetry

well, that isn't where the hate in her heart started.

we find next her playful inner child

and we'll dissect him too to see if maybe it started in him.

oh! look!

his beautiful soul!

oh, how precious he looks, such fear in his eyes

don't cry little boy

I am making sure you won't hate any more.

oh, there we go

the source of your hate

aren't you glad you have a loving God?

this little shard of glass

so bright and reflective

see how the sun shines in its visage?

I'm glad I could help you, as your loving God.

enter my kingdom of heaven, now that the hate

has left your body along with your soul.

don't you see that to love god is to see the sun for what it really is?

love?

I'm glad you aren't hateful any more.

you made such a bitter old woman.

how I hate her.

[patheticmenscuffle]

ive got a book (terry pratchett's discworld colouring book, by paul kidby) that has images id like to share as propoganda, obviously making no money off of it, but its totally understandable if it seems best not to post them for any reason.

Anyways, onwards!

Rincewind! You've heard of him, and his miserable, miserable states of slightly more than happenstance.

Its been better argued than here the reasons that hes a quintessentially patheticTM little man, precisely what we're looking for in this bracket,

But what i want to ask all of you to do is to look upon this mans visage and say "That man is not pathetic. I dont know what all of you are talking about, that's the least pathetic man I've ever seen," with a straight face.

You can't?, can you? I think not. Its patently false, if not obviously ludicrous.

So that, taken with all the previous propaganda youve seen for this soggy, mewling, little mans pathetic supremacy,

Id just like you to look at some more of this guy with me. Visual aids.

This is what happened when he was tasked to keep a single tourist with a desk job in insurance out of trouble because he happened to be the only one who spoke a language in common with the guy. (Also that dragon is imaginary. The height hes at and speed hes going aren't imaginary, but the dragon is held together by sheer force of will and imagination. Someone else's imagination.)

This is the infamous luggage that follows him around. Its made of sapient pearwood. When it first appeared there was also a camera the tourist brought, and rincewind was momentarily hopeful that it was powered by something better, something more reliable and less fraught, than magic, but was immediately let down by the fact it was powered by a tiny guy who was kept inside it and painted really fast.

(One for the quote, one for the full render.)

As has been mentioned in much of the other propaganda, he gets sent to the dungeon dimensions. (Aptly referred to as "hell" for the layman.)

Here it is in technicolour. Look at that fail man go! Survive the horrors, little buddy!!

Anyways, uh. Vote rincewind. Its like hes doomed by the narrative, but like, doomed by the narrative to continue to be part of the narrative, while genre aware. Doom him further!!!

MODERATOR'S NOTE: anonymous submissions aren't really a thing unfortunately, that's only available for asks, but I've copied and pasted your submission into a new post to effectively do the same thing. Also, ohh my god that first image. Oh man.

- Mod Dragon

[omagazineparis]

Anais Pouliot, le top canadien à suivre

Anais Pouliot (né le 7 mai 1991) est un modèle canadien. Née à Chicoutimi, au Québec, la belle Anais Pouliot a choisi de poser ses valises et d'habiter définitivement à New York. Dans cet article, nous avons voulu vous présenter quelques étapes de son parcours en l'illustrant de photos choisies. Elle a notamment été mise en avant par Louis Vuitton, Nina Ricci, Topshop, Sonia Rykiel, Aldo, H&M, Yves Saint Laurent, Carven, Anna Sui. Mugler, Mih jeans, Emporio Armani, Eres, Lancôme, Urban Outfitters, Tod's, Kate Spade, Nasty Gal et Barneys New York. Elle est l'un des modèles préférés de Terry Richardson. Découverte en 2005 au Québec, Anaïs décroche très vite ses premiers contrats. Signée chez Trump Models, elle débute dans une campagne See by Chloé avant de fouler le catwalk pour des marques comme Lacoste, Peter Som ou encore John Rocha, lors des fashion weeks de New York et de Londres. En 2010, elle défile en exclusivité pou Miu Miu et fait la couverture de Grey magazine en juin de la même année. Tout s'accélère fin 2010 pour la charmante Anaïs, qui devient l'un des mannequins les plus demandés : Christopher Kane, Mark Fast, Moschino, D&G, Marni... Elle enchaîne les défilés. Elle a participé à de nombreuses couvertures de magazines, dont Vogue, Acne Paper, Elle, Fashion, Oyster, Vogue UK, L'Express, Le Monde, L'officiel, Marie Claire et Air France Madame. Elle pose souvent pour le site Web et les catalogues de Victoria's Secret mais ne participe pas au grand défilé Victoria secret fashion show. A lire également : Behati Prinsloo, une namibienne ultra sexy Depuis quelques années, comme beaucoup de modèles et de mannequins, elle est très présente sur les réseaux via lesquels elle développe une communauté de fans vous pouvez la suivre et découvrir ses dernières activités. Notre rédaction est tombé sous le charme de cette belle canadienne qui bien qu'elle ait désormais la trentaine conserve un visage juvénile et ce regard espiègle qui ont fait son succès dès le début de sa carrière. Désormais, la jeune femme s'est imposée comme l'un des mannequins canadiens les plus demandés au monde... tout simplement. Read the full article

[terrence-silver]

How do you think Terry would react if beloved talked back to him? A go fuck yourself mid an argument or something.

(love your writing btw 🥰)

To him, it's like a lizard hissing at a dragon.

A garden snake playing tough in front of a King Cobra.

Amusing, hilarious and in many ways, adorable. No. Really. Terry, he finds it funny. He always finds those perceived weaker than him funny. He would be prone to giving them a serious look at first, sure, that only hints at some sort of vague anger that isn't even there, right before his unblinking, frozen visage twists out into a smile and then outright cackling. Say what? Him? Go fuck himself? It's challenge fuel right there. Should he wash beloved's mouth with soap? Pinch their tongue and pull at it until beloved's eyes well up with tears as he gets in their face? Or better yet! How about he fucks their mouth instead, outright? After all, so much sass, temperament and back talking comes with a price because nothing's for free no matter how much he appreciates a little fire. He's gonna show them what happens if they lack respect. Not that Terry feels legitimately threatened, but my god, does he like being given a concrete excuse to dish out the discipline. And when there isn't an excuse, he simply makes up one out of nothing. Pretends like beloved back talked even if they haven't. He makes up the narrative and he makes up the punishment too. Either ways, he walks out of the exchange fully unfettered and very much pleased with himself.

[moonchildbaby]

hello! i just finished watching excessive force and was wondering if you could write a fic/headcanons where terry and reader do it for the first time

Hello hello ofc : D  I stuck with hcs for your request i hope you don’t mind -  Enjoy ! 

AN: Mature obviously as this is Seggs talk 

First Times with Terry McCain

I feel he would be very classic on your first time

Lots of kisses, caresses and foreplay to get you comfortable and ready for the main event

Missionary the first time you do it most likely 

He is clearly someone with a praise kink, he likes to rewards as much as he likes to give 

Voice baritone and husky, he would whisper every so often “Am I making you feel good?” , “This where you like it?” 

affectionate endearments “darling”, “love”, (“babe” when Terry gets really hot)

He pays a lot of attention to non verbal communication through body language (as he is a cop he is trained to do so) looking for any signs of discomfort 

Looking for the places that make you moan and quiver in his arms 

He will then mercilessly seek them out again again until you are a little mess of bliss, his name falling from your lips over and over

Because he likes when you tug at his curls breathless and gushing 

He plays you with the same delicacy as his beloved piano,  your moans the tune he creates 

He is aware of his size down there and also of his build overall so he would make sure to give you time to adjust to his size and to shift his weight so you are not squished by his muscled abs (if you don’t want that)

When you would go on top he would most likely be in some sort of awe, marvelling at the way your breasts bounce/ your chest flexes, the grip of your hands, the softness/smoothness of your skin 

His eyes would wander over your visage as he’d experiment with the push of his hips against yours, the force of his thrusts just to capture every notion of pleasure on your face

He would caress you where possible, taking his time with you thoroughly the first time, deep strokes at a moderate pace before the heat of the moment may lead to a more faster pacing as you loose yourselves in ecstasy 

(There might be moments where his size would rip the condom during rough sex)

I feel Terry is a Switch BUT

He will most likely take action the first time you do it as he wants the tone set for a romantic and not so much “heated” affair, after all he wants to make love to you and prove just how much he adores and worships you (it’s difficult for him though as he would love to just take raw with full force after all the pent up desire)

but if you are willing to give him a bj you will surely delight him

He is quite vocal making love, he wants others to hear who he is pleasuring/who receives the pleasure of your mouth sucking him off 

Deep moans turning into growls

His big hands digging into your hair as he praises/commands you “Faster”, “F***,you are taking me so well, babe” ,“That’s it, good girl/boy” 

But in general Terry is a romantic, he wants to give you max. pleasure bc the sensation of being in you alone is enough for him to cum

the first time will be an experience hazy with desire and romance while Terry cautiously claims the victory of finally being inside of you 

Setting: might be happening next to a fireplace in the old cabin in winter, so he has you as some sort of pre -Christmas present

“You spoiled me” he’d murmur as you lie tangled in each other and abused sofa blankets in hazy afterglow. 

The fireplace crackling softly as you feel Terrys lips grazing your earlobe featherlight and seductive 

You press a kiss to his chest, drawing lazy patterns on it as you feel Terry move beneath you. His hand reaches to put on the record player sitting on the end table beside you as you listen to the quite tunes drifting through the cabin, snow and wind tearing at the windows outside