#A knock for a name every soul has their price.

[this-is-a-nice-show]

It does kill me a little bit that the character who claims not to read picked a 100% human name, but the character who owns a bookshop and works in customer service didn't.

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[polakina]

what they're like in bed

call of duty headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

replayed the mw2 and mw3 campaign...not feeling so happy so here's a happy hc to keep us going :)

rating: explicit

-

doting. loving. a fucking masterpiece

is there anything else i need to say? nah im kidding i have a LOT i could say on this man

loves to undress you, first of all. just taking your clothes off slowly gets him all tiled up before he's even began

is a gentleman at heart. loves to please you before thinking about himself

will spend hours between your thighs, taking his sweet ass time until you're crumbling under his touch

has a thing for teasing until you're too sensitive to be touched anymore. giving undying attention to your clit and then watching you whimper and squirm away from him only makes him smirk

but he does give in eventually, peppering kisses over your body, whispering how good you are for him

his favourite place to fuck you is the bedroom, of course. the man loves comfort more than anything, for the both of you

his second favourite place is his office desk on base. he flies you down to his base every couple of weekends since you don't work those days and neither does he

he's fucked you on that desk in every position you can think, but he loves bending you over it, your face pressed against the solid wooden surface

you've been caught once before, with Ghost knocking on the door to deliver some paperwork sent over by Laswell. Ghost could never make eye contact with you after that, nor Price for a few weeks

you grabbed the hat off his desk once when you were riding him, setting it on top of your head and grinning when his eyes widened

he never actually admitted it, but fuck he loved when you wore his hat. and only his hat

you wear it sometimes when you go out with him, just grabbing it before you leave the house. when he sees you in the bar dancing while wearing it, he can't ignore the throbbing in his pants

not into public sex, but doesn't see it as counting if it's not technically sex

so he'll tease you, edge you, play with you while you're out with friends or out with the 141. his hands will find their way under your dress while you're sat at the bar or at the restaurant table, inching higher up your thigh until he's pushed your panties aside, toying with your cunt while you try and keep composure

this man is filled to the brim with stress and you're more than willing for him to use you to let it all out

sometimes he doesn't even say anything before grabbing you roughly, but somehow tenderly at the same time. you see it in his eyes the second he walks through the door, his mask tossed on the entrance table as he strides to you

loves to manhandle you. picking you up with ease and laying you on the bed, holding your wrists above your head with only one hand keeping them firmly locked against the wall or mattress or wherever he decided to take you

the one thing that turns him on more than anything is hearing your moans. your lips against his ear as he rams into you at an ungodly pace, whimpering and mewling with each thrust, crying out his name in pleasure

favourite position to fuck you in is cowgirl. seeing your face, seeing your mouth fall open as he fucks up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as your head falls back

into ass play. only found this out accidentally when things got seriously heated one night when you were making out on his couch. his hands drifted to your ass, grabbing at slapping the supple flesh until one of his fingers drifted over the taut sensitive spot between your cheeks

you'd gasped out of surprise, but you let him proceed, and he saw the flicker of excitement glaze over your eyes when he started teasing your hole

since then, he knew how quickly he could make you cum with both your holes filled

loves giving aftercare, but loves it just as much when he's given it

the man needs some care too, he's a fragile soul at heart

after sex, he's cuddly. he likes to lie in bed and wait for you to come over to him, breathing in the scent of your shampoo when you bury your head in his chest

rarely tells you he loves you, but has done it on a few occasions when he's fucked you. usually on the odd time he fucks you slow, passionately

he does this when he knows he's got time on his hands. or when he's not going to see you for a few months at a time

big into cockwarming when you guys take your time. will take a few seconds, or even minutes between thrusts just so he can stay inside you longer, feeling you clench around him

fucks like a rabbit

let me explain

is down for it whenever

text him while he's out grocery shopping saying you miss him, prepare to be doing the other half of the shop tomorrow because he's paying for whatever's in the cart and leaving immediately

he's busy working in his home office and you walk in asking how long he's going to take before he's done, he's immediately saving the half finished reports and running around the desk to you

whenever you stay on base with him, he's never ashamed to stay in bed a little later with you. has been late to morning meetings on more than one occasion

more submissive than you are

loves to be at your every command. listens to you with such direct focus, everything else drowns out in his ears

begs

a lot

begs for you to touch him, to fuck him, to do anything

turns into a mess when you suck him off

mumbling praises and pleads with your mouth around his cock, words escaping him and reducing the man to a whimpering puddle

loves pulling your hair while he grinds into you. whether you're bent over the kitchen counter or on laid flat on the bed or the back of his truck (happened one time and you both agreed it was not the best idea for either of you)

is such a softie when you're in bed together. likes to make it fun, even though it could be a serious moment. makes you laugh when his cock is buried deep inside you

hate sex is how the two of you started dating. you were giving gaz a little too much attention on base for his liking, and when he confronted you about it, your argument concluded with you both tangled in his sheets

so, piss him off, and expect the night to end in the exact same way. he takes control when his emotions take over

such a fucking softie

experienced as hell

was such a playboy when he was younger, and brought that experience to adulthood when he was with you

likes to watch you try and make him jealous, finds it amusing because he knows exactly who you're going home with that night. but make no mistake he's going to make you beg for it once you're in the bedroom. you don't get to cum that easily

obsessed with shower sex

one arm wrapped around your middle as he plows you from behind, your legs shaking as you struggle to hold your own weight up, your body pressed against the tiles

whenever you're on a work call with a shitty manager or even shittier client, he's spun your office chair around on more than one occasion and knelt between your spread legs

likes to take a risk, sees the reward being so much more satisfying when it's during a compromising or risky situation

will eat you out when you're on the phone or in a work meeting on your laptop, loves to see you try and keep composure while he fucks you with his tongue

eating you out is one of his favourite things to do, even in the beginning when you repeatedly told him he didn't have to do it so often because he never got any enjoyment out of it, he always assured you he loved to do it

he did. it turned him on so much to be buried between your thighs at any point during the day, he didn't care

slow and sensual when he fucks

tells you he loves you when he's deep inside you

loves when you mark his back with your nails. feels proud to have those scratches on his back for days to come

pleasures himself when he's away at base, on the phone to you while you're laid in bed, talking him through it

loves to be given direction during sex, wants to better himself any way to make you feel even better

but loves to give you orders

almost came on the spot once when you jokingly called him 'sir'

you brought that into the bedroom after a few months and it turns him almost animalistic

obsessed with marking you. your neck, your tits, your thighs. he leans away when he's done to admire his work, revelling in the bruises and blemishes marked into your skin

[holylulusworld]

Between a rock and a hard place (3)

Summary: You are in big trouble and in need of money. Two wolves are more than willing to help you. For a price…

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Mobster!August Walker

Warnings: angst, language, power imbalance, debts, scared reader, groping, gaslighting, darkfic, both brothers are not nice guys, mafia au

Between a rock and a hard place (2)

Between a rock and a hard place masterlist

He’s looming over you like a dark shadow. The eternal darkness eating the light left in your life. You must watch him take over every single aspect of your life. Even the clothes you’re wearing.

Today he wants you to wear a floral print satin babydoll dress. The V-neck and back reveal a little too much skin for your liking, and it’s too short, but you don't have a say in what you wear any longer.

“If you are good today, I’ll talk August out of his plan,” Walter nuzzles his face in your neck. He nips at the tender skin, causing a shudder to run through your body. You press your legs together and try to ignore the tingling in your clit.

The bastard with angel eyes has this influence on you. Whenever his brother threatens you, Walter is there to protect you. He hasn’t touched you yet – not the way you expected him to do.

He’s a little more subtle. A little peck here, and gentle massage there. Walter is like a wolf toying with its prey. It’s hard to not fall for his protectiveness and soft words. He’s no better than his brother, but you are less scared of what he’s going to do to you.

“I’ll be good,” you don’t recognize your own voice any longer. It sounds so meek and broken when you dare to speak at all. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs and presses a soft kiss to your neck. “You’ve been so good for me, little lamb. I think you will be my perfect doll to play with soon enough. You shudder again when he moves his hand under your dress to cup your pussy. “No panties, just how I like it.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whisper. You don’t dare to call Walter by his name. He didn’t allow you to do so, and you don’t want to end up in August’s hands because of a stupid mistake. As long as Walter is interested in you, he’ll offer protection. - At least you hope so.

The brothers are both equally evil and vile. Deep down inside you know that Walter is not better than August. But right now, he has you in his clutches, and obedience is your only way to survival.

“Smile, and don’t make a fuss,” Walter tuts while ushering you inside the club. “Relax. I won’t let anyone but August touch you, little lamb.”

You’re not sure you can trust Walter. He smirks like the devil himself as the girls at the club gawk at you in his embrace. 

They don’t know that you are not with him on free terms. He owns you. Body, soul, and life. If not for Walter, you’d be sucking dick at the club like all the other girls.

“They don’t have what you have, lamb,” he muses when you stiffen in his embrace. All the angry looks thrown your way make you nervous. “Jealousy doesn’t suit a woman, you know. I get bored easily and move on to the next girl.”

His words send you spiraling. If he gets bored easily – how long will he protect you from his brother and his plans for you? Will he protect you from August at all? Or will he push you into his brother’s arms tonight and tell him this was all a big joke?

If so, you are the butt of the joke.

“Oh,” is all you get out.

“You are special, of course. A cute little innocent lamb for me to ruing. I have all these plans for you and your ripe body,” Walter doesn’t know that your knees buckle and that you are close to going for a sprint. “Did your husband ever fuck you on a breeding bench? Damn, I bet I can make your legs shake in no time. on that thing.”

“No,” you squeak when a hand suddenly gropes your ass. Walter is less subtle and more touchy tonight. “He didn’t want kids.”

“Baby,” Walter dips his head to whisper in your ear, “a breeding bench is for fun, not to get you pregnant. I’m not crazy enough to knock a toy up.”

That’s all you are to Walter. A fragile toy he can use to his liking and break beyond repair.

“OH!” You nod and feel like a fool. You’re so inexperienced when it comes to more than vanilla sex. “I see…”

Your recently deceased husband wasn’t adventurous in the bedroom. A blowjob and he was snoring next to you while you tried to get off, imagining one of those hunks from the awfully written erotic novels you’d love to read.

“Aw, you are so cute and innocent. A pity I didn’t get the chance to plug your flower before your husband came into the picture,” he cups your chin and runs his thumb over your lower lip. You open your mouth and allow him to push his digit into your mouth. “I’ll ruin you and make you my whore.”

You hold his gaze, and lick over his thumb, just like you remember from a juicy scene in one of your novels. He hums and runs his thumb over your tongue.

“Walter,” his brother exasperated says behind your back. “You’re fucking late!”

“I was on time,” Walter lowers himself to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. “You let us wait. Now I’m in the mood for something sweeter than business.”

August exhales sharply. He still doesn’t like that his brother called dips on you. August crosses his arms over his chest and glares at his brother.

 “Walter,” he grunts. “Can you at least pretend that you are interested in more than a wet cunt.”

“Watch your tongue around my little lamb,” Walter turns around to glare at his brother. “We are here, aren’t we? Let’s go to the VIP area and talk about business. Y/N can keep me company.”

“Fine. Follow me,” August says and jerks his head toward the less crowded area at the club. “If she’s making a scene, she’ll end up in the special room.”

“Such a good girl for me,” Walter praises while you try to remain silent and not squirm in his lap. 

He wanted you to straddle his lap, and to rest your head against his shoulder. Now he’s running his big hand over your back to lull you into safety once again.

“Walter, can you stop playing with your new toy? We came here for business!” August squares his jaw. He doesn’t like that you cling to his brother, nor the fact that his cock strains against his pants at your submissive behavior. 

“I told you,” he murmurs another praise before turning his attention toward his brother, “I won’t do business with that douche. Hansen can get fucked.”

“Hansen knows how to do business,” August bites back. “He’s reliable.”

“He’s a sociopath, brother,” Walter grunts. “You know that. He’s out of control, and last time he didn’t get the job done!”

August sighs deeply but nods. “Fine. The next point on the agenda is your little toy.”

“I won’t let her work at the club,” your self-declared protector growls. “She’s mine. I won’t share with the creeps at your club.”

“Hmm…what about me?” August rises from his seat to stand in front of his brother. He pats your head and smirks. “Is she ready to get spread by two cocks, brother?”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[buttercream-princess]

Modern Will Turner fluffy & spicy head canon x blackfem! Reader

Warnings: Light smut, pregnancy kink, swearing, fluff, edging, mentions of your family members, tattoo's, spanking

(Not edited or proof-read)

Note: I write most of my characters in modern settings, so this won’t be any different. I may write about him in POTC in the future but that’s something I need to chop up. Also first time writing a headcannon, this was fun making, I'm looking forward to doing some more for Will/Legolas/Orlando.

— Will is very attentive and never misses a single thing. Anything you have interest in, he’ll use his own bare hands to recreate it for you. You like candles? Here’s 1kg worth of candles in all your favorite scents. You like plushies and stuffed animals? Build a bear has nothing on Will’s craftsmanship, he made a lifesize teddy for you to cuddle when he’s not around. He’ll even order parts for his creations from overseas, no matter the price tag, to give you the perfect gift.

—- Adding onto how crafty he is, you never have to worry about breaking anything because Will is always happy to fix it for you and he always does so, effortlessly. He’s tactile and amazing with his hands.

—- He knocked down a wall in his house between his office and guest bedroom, renovated the room, painted the walls your favorite colors and furnished it with all your favourite things including a wall hung TV, neon lights, a pink desktop and plants. Just so you can have your own space when you’re at his house. He wants you to feel like his home is yours too.

—- He loves going to IKEA with you, it’s like a playground for him to find things to build for you and your room. When you get Hotdogs in the food court with him later and get mustard on your face, he’ll grab you by the chin and lick the sauce off. Anytime you get food on your face, he does this. Why wipe it off when he can just clean it off you?

—- Will’s intelligence is unlike anyone you’ve met before, but when he’s not using his head, he’s a bit of a himbo, giving off strong Kenergy. He might know how to solve enigmatic riddles quickly and build houses from scratch but he’s clueless when it comes to most general things. He’ll always regard you as the smarter one in the relationship. In his mind you’re everything and he’s just Will. He adores you that much.

—- He has a tattoo of your name and a blue butterfly next to it on his hip bone. This man is whipped. Gone and lost in your love. He’s considering getting your initials tattooed behind his ear.

—-  Will’s independent by nature but gosh, he is one needy motherfucker, but in the most adorable way. He’s coming with you to run errands to the beauty store, late night Target trips or waiting in the corner of the salon while you get your nails done. And he’s always paying, he never lets your credit card touch the reader.

—- Will can listen to you talk for hours about your life and yourself. He finds everything about you whimsical, enchanting and seductive. Even if you’re babbling about delusions and made up scenarios, he’ll react with big emotions like it’s happening right in the moment just because he loves you that much.

—- Will collects records that you love listening to. He says, “The record is always better than streaming it.”

—- Will use to only listen to symphonies and classical music before you came into his life. Now, he listens to everything you listen to. He’s fallen in love with Neo-soul and R&B and refuses to listen to anything else.

—- His favorite song is “Stay Ready (What A Life) by Jhene Aiko and forever dedicates that tune to you. Whenever the song plays, he always sings to you, “They say the truth ain't pretty. But comin’ out that pretty mouth the truth is fitting. Cuz you ain't never talkin loud and you know plenty. Yea you know what I'm talkin bout, cuz you just get me, Yea you so pretty”, And he means every word of it. That song was written just for you, he believes.

—- Even though you and Will are just dating and don’t have kids, he always refers to you as “His wife” or “Mother of my children”

—- Will’s favorite part of being intimate with you is undressing you. There’s something about seeing you come undone only and all for him, that makes him want to be closer to you, underneath your skin even.

—- Will love’s quickies and to give you a quick orgasm in the middle of the day. But there’s nothing he loves more than giving you a sensual, candle lit, slow jam’s experience. After a long day at work, expect Will to be ready for you with a bottle of aromatherapy bottle oil, ready to iron out all your tight muscles and kinks. And of course, this massage always leads to him giving you and internal rub down too. 

—- Will edges you any chance he gets. Sometimes you just wanna snatch your vibrator off him and hit him with it because he won’t let you cum. But he always lets you finally get off if you ask him kindly. He likes manner’s in the bedroom.

—- He has a pregnancy kink. He always moans about putting a baby in you while having sex. So you can imagine he always wants to do it raw. He always begs for you to wrap your legs and arms around him while he cums.

— He gives you warnings in the bedroom if you’re rushing the pleasure too quickly. Will believes pleasure should be savored and reveled in. Greedily chasing your release and out of warnings? That’s a hard pop to your behind, leaving your cheeks red and sore. But he quickly runs his hand over your skin, soothing you. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. See what happens when you don’t listen? Hmmm?” he murmurs in your ear before sliding two fingers back in you.

—- Only with you, Will reveals how intimidating he is in the bedroom. But in front of others, he’s the most kind respectful gentleman anyone has ever met. All your friends and everyone in your family loves him. He quickly picks up on social dynamics and easily blends himself into the environment as if he was always a part of it. You can find Will at family barbecues, bonding with your uncles over different cuts of meat and taking over the grill, which your father never allows but Will’s charmingly convincing.

—- Will always plays house and dress up with your younger family members. He takes it seriously too. You best believe he’s rocking a blue lid and red lippie with confidence after playing makeovers. 

—- Will comes with you to all your social events, he just loves being around you and hyping you up in all settings. You can find him at clubs, bars and music festivals, right behind you, jamming out and spreading the good vibes. He’s even buying you and your girls rounds of bottomless cocktails at brunch.

—- Will’s a fencing prodigy, of course. He also practices MMA. His strength, determination and will is unmatched. You love sitting in the audience of his matches when he’s given trophies, standing the breathless, T-shirtless and sweaty, dressed in his little fitted shorts showing all his business, knowing that’s all yours.

—- After matches in the ring or on the mats, Will just wants to cozy himself up under your shirt, cuddling you and weakly lying against your skin. 

[juggalomary]

She’s here and just sent off to my beta reader (ugh thank you again). I’m excited to announce the unbetaed "of scars and silence"

content warming! violence, mcd (technically), described injury ig? Enjoy

“John Elias Mactavish was an honored soldier and a loving uncle. He did not however live long enough to become a husband, father or grandfather. He had the ability to light up a room, literally and figuratively, and had never failed to get every possible man out of any situation. You may not know him as a soldier, but I did, and so did the men sitting in the place of his parents. That fireball of a man was once one of my closest friends. I wish him the best in whatever death may bring.”

Gaz has shed a tear, and Price is smiling reassuringly and sadly at once. Ghost clears his throat and blinks back a single tear. Losing comrades was the sad truth about the military. He watched his best men get gunned down and there was nothing he could’ve done. This was different.

Ghost had watched, and had seen Price get hit. He could’ve made a shot, but they were just moving too much to risk it. He attempted to go over to them, but a Konnie got a hit onto his temple, knocking his steps to a halt. He felt a single wave of darkness fly over his vision and leave, simultaneously with a gunshot. The thunk of the body on the floor was met by silence as he regained himself.

Johnny, lying dead on the concrete, active bomb being defused, no Makarov. He doesn’t remember shouting out to him, but apparently it happened. There was an exit wound. There was an entrance wound. There was no shot of him getting up.

Price and Gaz had the bomb defused by the time the initial shock was wearing down. His pulse was zero, his breath was zero. Everything was zero.

Soap was dead. He couldn’t come back. Goddamit ghost still had the the killing bullet in a box in his room. He didn’t actually admit that to anyone.

His ashes (most, soaps sisters and the task force, as stated in his will, were to receive some) were spread in the wind and water off the Scottish coast. His dog tags are worn by Mari Finch-Mactavish, his Irish twin.

The world kept revolving after his death. Makarov's heart is still beating after his death, not for long, if Price had something to do with this.

x/x

Waking up from a coma is a jarring experience, especially when you wake up with a massive blind spot in your left eye, and extremely obnoxious tinnitus in your ear.

As far as he can remember he shouldn’t be awake. A loud noise, likely a gunshot was his last sensation he can remember. He can’t remember much else. That seems like an issue for a later moment, he was tired.

He dreamed for the first time since being shot that night. He dreamed of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. Conquest, a blonde woman, late thirties, strong souled and confident. She was his adoptive mother, after his parents had left. War, a tall man with a hat and mutton chops, he spoke rough but cared deeply. In this he was a father, his source of advice. Hunger was a tall, young, lanky man, a cap with some flag sat atop his head. A brother and a friend, a lover, but not to him. He could make any man, even the strongest yearn, hunger, and beg, for his approval, but John (?) didn’t need to beg, he already had it.

Finally, if not the most important but the most scary was death. 6’4, shoulders wide as mountains. His muscles had to have been the size of his head. He wore a human skull across his face. He was feared by most, not his 3 other horsemen, not soap (?), but everyone else. He told jokes, he showed emotion, he smoke cigarettes as well as vaped, at least on the field. He would sneak onto the roof with john and watch as mars, named after the god of war, aligned with earth.

These horsemen were familiar. The dream brought him comfort in times of terror.

He woke up officially to a nurse changing a bandage on his head. An IV was jammed into his hand and his arm was in a sling. His whole head hurt, waking up from such an experience like this one, this dream was bound to give him a headache. The nurse walks in front of him, he only knows this when she walks around to his right and notices his stare.

He can hear what she says but she does say something. Then out of nowhere a man guarded by two burly armed men and a doctor.

“Good morning six. I hope you can hear me. We will get you a hearing aid soon. We’re wishing you a speedy recovery.” The man spoke with a thick accent, Russian likely. He didn’t know who he was, he knew he could barely hear him and couldn’t see his right side.

“Thank-“ he was hit hard across the face. He hadn’t done anything yet to deserve it.

“The task force is not to speak unless asked a direct question. You will learn over time.” And with that he's gone as quickly as he appeared.

He, who was referred to as six, which seems dehumanizing, was left to think.

He had to think about this task force. How was he qualified? Is this military? Is he military? He was six, so who were the other five? Who is soap, and why dies he refer to himself as it.

x/x

The nurses came in once every hour and a half. He only had a tv with Russian sitcoms playing. The nurse would chuckle, check and change his IV, every 3 nurses they would feed him through a tube in his nose.

That tube itself was a problem, he would throw it up nearly every night. And then gag and tear up when they put a new one in. He stopped being audible when he received a clean cut across his collarbone.

The injuries received after he got there just added onto a list of things wrong. The most notable ones include, puncture of the frontal lobe, entrance and exit wounds, deafness (cured by aids), complete blindness in his left eye, titanium plate in his head, and a shattered collarbone.

He quickly realized that those were just the things he was told because they were operated on. He had a vertical scar across his forehead, eye, and cheek. These cosmetic things did not bother him because he was not allowed to look.

Six was released into light training after about a month of recovery in the hospital. By this point he was completely silent, never asked questions so he never spoke. In light training he met another guy, one who used bsl, which six understood without ever learning. He learned he was called eight and had a steel rod in both his legs.

These two were only one apart in formation so they were also one room apart. Eight was ever the luckier of the two, knowing he was in the British Royal Navy, but had his legs shattered with an ied in Kyrzakhstan.

Six tried to remember but was only met by the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Death called him Johnny, sounding increasingly stressed and worried with each call until he was screeching in agony. He disliked dreams with death.

Still that man, death himself must’ve been important if his damaged mind remembered him. The other horsemen were there often enough that he didn’t fear sleep. Only one actually riding a horse, which was famine, on strangely enough, a chestnut thoroughbred racehorse. He would pet and brush this horse. When he showed up in dream he’d know it’d be a full night's sleep.

[pen-observing]

Genshin harem manhwa au!

CHAPTER FOUR OF SEVEN. characters: capitano & zhongli (seperate) x gn! reader word count: 4.8k (1.8k + 3k respectively) warnings: you can understand every character's story seperately, capitano calls you 'little one' but not in a weird way, zhongli's starts off funny, ajax is presumed dead in capitano's chapter.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

CAPITANO - YOU ARE LOOKING FOR REVENGE BUT HE STANDS IN YOUR WAY. HE SWEARS TO TAKE UP THE SWORD FOR YOU AND PROVE YOUR FOOLISH NATURE.

Sometimes it amazes you – this life that is. How, while you are taking determined steps to a bar that deals in the underground circles, people around here are living carefree lives. They take hold of their lover’s hands or lead children so they don’t get lost while buying animal ears for fun.  

You bite the inside of your cheek.   Ajax was once like that. Your heavy steps inside of this light atmosphere to your destination remind you of him. How, whenever there was a festival, he would ask for a day off. He was such a wonderful knight that you always allowed him to do as he wished because you knew he had his reasons.  

After you gave your permission, he would say he wanted to speak as a friend; then, he would invite you to help him look after his younger brother. He would bring you simple peasant clothes to mask your identity and then the two of you would walk down the street hand in hand while leading the curious-eyed child along.  

Thanks to those moments, you were somewhat acquainted with the true situation inside this small kingdom you were supposed to rule later. Your parents ignored the complaints and problems inside, but every outing with Ajax helped solidify the true state of it inside your mind.  

You were supposed to ascend the throne later. Ajax was supposed to stand by your side as the trusty knight he has always been. Your kingdom was supposed to prosper. Ajax was not supposed to die.  

That thought comes back again! Your determined steps take a small detour. By now you are away from the shining lights and faces of the citizens that spelled the doom of your bloodline. But Ajax’s blood belonged to them; not to your family and certainly not on the carpet and the walls underneath your castle while he helped you escape.  

Ajax should not be dead right now!  

But he is. And you have been unable to cope all this time. That is why you are crouching beneath a tree; taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down.   Inside that bar hides your only hope of vengeance. You have spent three years searching for any trace of that infamous informant. You know nothing besides that he frequents this establishment and that for a good price, he is willing to give you the name of the one who struck down Ajax. 

With that renewal of hope inside your soul, you finally rise to your feet and pull the hood over your head before continuing down the dirty path. There are no lights that lead to that bar, only some footsteps in the middle of a grass field and you hope they are trustworthy enough.   The money you paid did not lie. After an hour of walking through that forest, you finally found a house which had a worn-out sign. ‘Rowdy Dog’, the name of the bar that stood between you and your purpose.  

Pulling your hood again, you opened the doors. You were sure that if you did knock, they would immediately throw you out. Luckily, they currently happened to consist of just three quests and a bartender. With that quick scan, you decided that immediately getting a drink would be the next best choice.  

The chairs were squeaky and uncomfortable, but you sat in one right across the bartender. Your contact told you that he was the worst kind of man to deal with. And looking at him; confirming his size and build and that long hair which people said he used to mask a particularly bad scar from his shoulder to his stomach; you know the contact was right.  

The other guests didn’t pay you much attention and you doubt they even noticed you from how drunk they were but he... his eyes were already telling you to leave. It seemed like he was doubtful of your purpose and hoped a warning by rejecting to speak first would be enough to get you to turn back.  

But your quest for revenge was greater than anything else and you could certainly deal with a bartender before your informant got here.  

“Whiskey.”  

You noticed everyone you dealt with to get this far ordered that drink so surely it would prove you knew how to dabble in this line of business.  

The man turned around and put down a glass and a bottle of whiskey on the counter in front of you. Him not talking was unnerving.  

“Are you so clever not to pretend you saw my cue telling you to leave or are you so dumb that you choose to stick around.”  

Him speaking was already starting to give you a headache.  

“Just pour me a glass and ignore my presence.”  “This is my bar; by extension, it is my house. If I put down a bottle and a glass in front of you, it means that you have to pour it yourself.”  

You never thought such a deep and smooth voice could cause you this much annoyance.  

“Is there a reason why your particular business model is so prejudiced towards me Sir?”  “Yes. You are too soft hearted to set foot in this place.”   “It is none of your business what I do here.”   “Would you like me to kick you out right now?” 

Your informant was right. For a man that ran the bar most frequented by assassins and criminals with bounties on their heads; he was too dignified and moral. So what if you are a young person that never killed anyone? You swore to only use your sword on the person who killed Ajax and nobody else.   Still, you had to get on this man’s good graces or your new informant would never trust you either.  

You poured yourself a glass while thinking that it was necessary to put up with this for just a while longer.  

“Are you happy now?”   You were about to bring the glass to your lips but before you could, the bartender took everything in front of you and placed it behind the counter.  

“At least you are willing to bluff where it doesn’t count.”  “What is that supposed to mean? And the way you are running this establishment is horrible!”  

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and then he glared at you.  

“Meet me in the back in five minutes.”  “Excuse me?”  

He didn’t even dignify you with a response. He simply walked away and slammed the door behind him. You suppose nobody would dare to steal from him. But, why should you wait five minutes? You decided to immediately follow him instead. 

Outside, he was standing leaning against the wall with a cigarette in between his fingers. You approached and he was kind enough to blow smoke in the opposite direction. 

“I see you do not even possess patience.”  “Why are you acting this way towards someone you never met so far?”  

The man took in another puff and leaned his head on the wall as well looking up at the bright moon.  

“An innocent soul was never supposed to step foot into that bar.”  “You made it what it is. I don’t think you get to choose who steps into it or why.”   “Little one, you are so wrong about everything you have done tonight. Tell me, does the atmosphere inside that place fill you with any joy?”  “No. I don’t see how it could fill anyone with joy.”   “Wrong again. And that proves my point.”  

This man was incorrigible. Your head was staring to hurt more and more but something about him wanting to protect innocent people reminded you of Ajax. You decided that for the sake of your dead friend, you would take off your mask for a few minutes.  

“Do you think I am innocent even if my family caused poverty and death in this city?”  “Yes. Did your own hands ever do anything? Those guests inside are filled with joy by knowing everyone else in there has killed and felt blood on their tongue. It makes no sense to you; that violence.”  

How horrible. How could you not lay down your mask when this man seems to have a natural ability to disarm people?  

“Tell me, is the reason you are here revenge?” He says it nonchalantly, but his eyes look at you with a plea and a hope that you will say no. 

“It is. I have someone who was more innocent than me and they died by people who said they were seeking justice.”  “I would say that you too wish to protect innocent souls, but the dead do not need protection. Why not turn around and start something new like I did?”  

His cigarette is finished by now and he dims out it’s last light by stepping on it. 

“Something new? Isn’t your bar the place where everything you regret doing, other people plan to do?”  “Ironic, isn’t it?”  

Silence. Something about him makes you feel peaceful, and you hate it.  

“How can you sound so sure when seeing those guests?”  “It is simple. Trying to save them would be futile, but saving you like this would be enough. Wouldn’t you say you’ve enjoyed out conversation so far?”   “You cannot save me. I made up my mind long ago. I will avenge him.”  “A lover perhaps?”  “My knight.”  

He looks at you and laughs. His laugh sounds regretful, so you don’t take it as an insult. 

“A knight you say? And you said he had a soul purer than yours?”  “Yes. You sound like you disagree.”  “Before this, I was a knight of the enemy kingdom. The title of a knight is never innocent. We gain it by swearing to kill so that we can protect flimsy ideals and even weaker families.”  

All this time, you never even imagined Ajax’s sword decorated by another human’s blood. That image shattered your world. Revenge for a pure soul? Maybe it was revenge for yourself but just masked as less selfish.  

“Tell you what;”, the man kneels down in front of your feet. You can tell that his body automatically remembers the grace and honor knights carry on their backs. Ajax so quickly fell into this stance too.  

“To save your soul, I will be your new knight. To prevent you tasting blood, I will be the one to spill it for you. I’ve done it so many times that I can do it again.”  

Incorrigible man. Paradoxical man. 

“I do not need a new knight.”  “You need someone that will show you just how pointless revenge truly is.”  

When he says that, he looks up at you with piercing eyes. It will be your resolve versus his own and, as much as you hate to admit, it looks like he will win. Maybe that is why you hear Ajax’s laughter. Maybe that is why you get transported into the white room again. This golden door, it echoes with his laugh. Honey-like, warm and it is calling your name. 

Not answering it would be a sin. 

ZHONGLI - EVERYONE THINKS THE KING IS DEAD. IN REALITY, HE IS HIDING IN YOUR HOUSE SAYING HE NEEDS YOUR HELP.

“You again? I already made it very clear to you that your presence is disturbing to my chickens!” 

He is here again. You have debts to pay, and he is disrupting your quiet and small farm. Again. This is the third day in a row. Soon enough you will be as restless as your chickens if this man with intricate tattoos on his arms keeps coming back.  

Wait..coming back? That isn’t the right word. He doesn’t leave! He just spends all of his time here! Why on earth has this man, too tall for you to look at without stretching your neck, decided that sleeping every night in your chicken coop is the most comfortable place one can get some rest? He must be insane. One of those special calibres a friend told you about a while ago; like that man who thought waiting inside hospitals was the biggest joy he had so he would go to one every single day and just sit there.  

“I apologize for disturbing your chickens and, by extent, you. I have no other place to do.” 

Liar. Even if he has been sleeping inside of here for three days his clothes are of such fine fabric you refuse to believe his excuse being homelessness. Bandits pretend they need help all the time; they pretend to be sick and when someone lets them into their house, they rob them and escape with possessions that person spent all their life obtaining. You will not be fooled by his sweet disposition. He should count himself lucky you didn’t chase him away with a broom yet. Truthfully, your heart does not tell you that he is a bad person or that he wishes to spread evil but..he is a suspicious figure! One day, you walked inside the coop with your basket, ready to greet the mostly-nameless-chickens when Miguel (your roster, and, quite frankly, favorite one) screamed as soon as you opened the door while he was about to pluck the top of a sleeping man’s head.  

“If you have enough sense to apologize, then you have enough sense to leave my household and my coop. So, please, walk away somewhere else.” 

The man looks at you with eyes that seem more authoritative than his current homeless position would imply but you refuse to give in and look away. A staring contest first thing in the morning works wonders for your spirits.  

“Like I already said-”, he begins, and you already know how the sentence would end if Miguel didn’t sneak up on him and pecked his ankle. The man bit the inside of his cheek in frustration and looked down at the creature below him. It didn’t seem like it hurt him at all, it seemed like he found it an annoyance more than anything.  

“Tell this chicken that people should get to finish their sentences.”  “He did what any living being would when their home is invaded.”  “I did not invade his home. Be careful of what you accuse me of. I will admit that my presence here seems invasive to your home, but I just needed a place to stay that was very far away and quiet.”  “Then just walk a few more steps into the forest itself and it will serve you nicely.” 

For some reason, when you say that, Miguel starts to scream like never before, you can feel that the air feels heavier and...are his eyes glowing? No, you imagined it. In a split second everything is back to normal. Must have been all the stress. 

“It looks like you haven’t been sleeping lately but I assure you my presence should make no difference to your daily life. I have not even taken one of your eggs to eat in the three days I have been here – can that not be called fair?” 

The arrogance of this man. Does he really think this is a fair trade?  

“Your presence in this coop has decreased my egg production by 47 percent already!”  “Are you sure...did you really calculate that or did you make that number on the spot?”  “What if I did? Accurate number or not, if you continue to stay here, eventually, I will not be able to pay off my debts either way. I am on a very strict payment plan you see.”  

He puts a hand to his chin and looks down at Miguel again. He probably thinks you cannot understand what he is mumbling about but you hear it quite well. He says it is not surprise that your business is failing when you make up numbers on the spot. But then he drops his hand and looks at you.  

“I will leave this chicken coop.”  “So you finally have some sense?”  “If you allow me to sleep on your front porch instead.” 

You raise your eyebrow. It would help your production more and in turn you would be able to pay off your debts but...a grown man sleeping like a dog in front of your porch is not the best solution. Still, if you don’t pay them back in regular instalments they said they would destroy your property so...it should be fine? 

“Fine. But under no circumstances am I letting you inside of my house. Are we clear?”  “Absolutely. I thank you for your kindness?” 

Kindness? You saw him walk around with a stiff back and bruises and all the dirt. Miguel is a big fan of making sure this man gets as dirty as possible..just because you let him stay without feeding him does not mean you are kind. Well, you did give him one slice of bread on the first day since you thought he seemed like a victim. 

“Suit yourself. I still do not see what the difference between this and the forest is!” 

As you walk away, he sighs. Twice. Then he looks at Miguel again who is preparing to attack his ankles again. 

“Your owner really does not feel their own potential... What a shame. Shouldn’t the fact I am so close by be an awakening for that power in them?” he hisses.  “Miguel, if you bring your beak to my ankle once more, I will make you fly.”  

You said that and he really did move to your porch. Right now, you are cooking dinner and he just spends his time sitting there. You waved to him through the window because he sometimes gets up to walk around on the humble porch of an even more humble house.  

But something tells you it was a mistake. To hold a cooking spoon in one hand and to wave at him through the other. Why? Because as soon as he waved back, rain started to pour. The sound on your stove immediately got dimmed from the strength of the downpour and you knew that even the plants would live to regret the strength of this rain. But...it was a bigger mistake because your roof above the porch was never patched up and the rain seemed to be falling at such an angle that the man would get hit with it no matter what.  

It tugged on your heart, and you opened the front door. In those few minutes, your entire porch was already filled with water and, no matter how close to the house he stood, the man was completely wet. His long hair clung to his forearms and neck, his clothes were clinging to his skin too.  

“I know what I said but--” 

As if to help the urgency of your kindness, hail started to fall from the sky and you just quickly tugged on the man’s sleeve to bring him inside your house.  

“I will let you stay inside just for tonight.”  

He remained quiet and stood completely still next to the door. 

“You have my thanks.”  “Well, walk further inside?”  “No. That would prove I lack manners. Since I am all wet it is better if I stay in one place while I dry.”  “You-- Did you really think I would not offer you a change of clothes and a towel to dry yourself with?!”  “Well..you did let your chickens peck me for three days so..I just inferred you would be hesitant.” 

You quickly walk to another room and bring him a change of clothes without missing the chance to throw a towel in his face. 

“Here. I barely have any warm water left but go take a bath to ensure you do not catch a cold.”   “You have my sincere thanks.”  

You walk around to your counter to stir the pot. You can hear him drying his hair; somehow it annoys you his has that much volume. As you look up, wishing to glare at him, you can see that he is already shirtless and about to tug down his pants. In a moment of panic you decide that throwing the cooking spoon at him is your quickest reaction.  

“What are you doing?!”  “Hmm? I should change in this one spot because my clothes are dripping water onto your floor as well.”  “I do not want to see you change!” 

He freezes up. He has spent so much of his life inside his castle; never has anyone reprimanded him for his habits and he had his own harem. Somehow, he never expected such a reaction to befall him, and this moment just reminds him of how low he has fallen, even if he tried to show consideration towards your home.  

“You are absolutely right, I deeply apologize. I shall finish up the rest in your bathroom.”  

He tries to make his steps as light as possible when he walks by and you curse yourself for looking at his defined back.  

By his physique, he seems stronger than most..just why is he here in such a miserable state? 

“Thank you for choosing to share some of your dinner with me.”  “I did let you go hungry for three days and the rain doesn’t look like it will stop soon. So, I figured, it was the least I could do for now.” 

He sits up straight in the chair. This oversized sweater of yours fits him perfectly and the pants you brought him only reach up to his knees, but they are better than nothing.  

“You must know I... I understand your hesitance in not trusting me.”  “Do you now?” 

He nods.  

“I do not think I have given you many reasons to not trust me, but I also do not think I have given you reasons to trust me either. It crossed my mind just now that I never even gave you my name.”  “Will you give it to me now?”  “My name is Zhongli. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

He doesn’t seem to know that he should stretch his hand for a shake when introducing himself so you just raise up another spoon of broth to your mouth.  

“I am glad to finally know the name of the man who has lessened my egg production by 63 percent.”  “Wasn’t it 47 percent just this morning?” 

You did admit to making up the numbers but your cheeks still feel hot from embarrassment. 

“Hush.” 

Zhongli simply looks at you and puts a hand to his chin. He should have made more public appearances in this form, but he doubts his image as a king would have ever reached this place of solace you live in. Not only is it the smallest village in his kingdom, well, his ex-kingdom he supposes but...even with all of that you chose a house so removed from everyone else that you probably only talk to other humans once a week when you have to visit the village square.  

He wonders how you would react to knowing that you just told the most powerful king of these lands to hush up. Nobody ever did this before; he wonders if he should hate it instead of finding it endearing.  

“Could I ask you how your life has been since the king died? You might not believe this, but I did see changes when travelling all the way here.”  “What are you trying to hide from?”  “Pardon?”  “Zhongli what are- ugh never mind I actually do not wish to know. My life since the king died? My life while he was alive before the Revolutionaries took over was hard enough. You see where I live, and I have no idea why you are acting like it is a good place. To simply tell you of my life; I do not remember having a childhood, but I do remember waking up here and being cornered by some bandits. They kept asking me about my debts and I only saw the chicken coop from the window and decided to lie and say a fox snuck in and killed most of my animals.” 

Zhongli patiently listens to you. His eyes seem to glow again because of how interested he is in what you are saying. Maybe you are talking so much because you have not had human company in so long?  

“Anyway, they believed me without checking but they reminded me that I owe them for life because, apparently, I made a shady deal with them in the past. I wanted to fight but there wasn’t much I could actually do. Would they kill me? Sell me? Living in this dump and taking care of chickens to earn enough money to pay them back monthly seemed better than..living in that forest I tried to send you too.” 

Zhongli does not say much but he feels that you want him to say or ask something.  “All this time I supposed that the king only failed his people by dying but it seems like he failed you long before that. Based on my travels so far, I suppose that it only got worse after that fact?”  “Worse? It is hell! I never thought that the king had any duty towards me but maybe he did. The Revolutionaries certainly did not help anything improve! They raised taxes, which means the bandits I pay want even larger amounts of money now. I never thought the tax increase would even influence the illegal jobs of this world.”  

You take another bite of your food, but it tastes bitter this time, probably because your feelings are the same.  

“You must allow me to apologize.”  “Apologize? For what?”  “I had no idea you were in business with these..bandits...they came last night and since I deemed them suspicious I..took care of them.” 

At first, you laugh. A big, hearty laugh.   Then, Zhongli laughs with you. He was not expecting that reaction but he knows how wrong he was to relax when your spoon hits his shoulder. Now, you are glaring at him.  

“I was right not to trust you! When they return with backup what will I do then?”  

He can feel that you are panicking. And he lets you be angry at him because he knows what lies behind that is fear. He knows the prophecy; he knows why he let the rebels have the upper hand for now; he needed time to reach you – the one who is destined to help him. But with all this fear and your lack of memories or awareness of the power you hold – he had to subject himself to sleeping in your chicken coop and waiting for your power to awaken.  

It becomes crystal clear that as you are now, you will never grow into your potential without his help. He decides to approach this like everything else he has as the king right now. When you finish yelling, he extends his hand and his tattoos go from black to gold – he uses his power to make calm wash over you and he forces you to sit down in the chair again.  

“Listen to me, they will not be returning. Even bandits have enough sense to know that they will lose against me. Your chickens posed more of an issue for me.” 

Was this his way of trying to bring light to this whole situation?  

You should be angry still. You should be making sure he leaves your house; but his powers calm you beyond all harmony you have known so far.  

“How can you be so sure of yourself?”  “If you were not so filled with fear; you would remember who you are. Child of the Sun, we are the same origin. You are meant to help my mission in this world by standing as my equal. Yet, it is clear I will have to guide you regardless.” 

His..who is that man? Is he the considerate man who refuses to take another step to not wet your carpet or is he an arrogant bastard? The answer does not matter. His innocence and consideration can be the truth or a lie; you do not care.   Something in you snaps and your body grows yellow too. It lets you stand up and glare at him. Something is tugging your body and it does not feel like Zhongli’s power. You think this surge of emotions and power welling inside is going to make you faint soon, so you settle on just one sentence before you are plucked from this world and another door swallows you. 

“All of you kings are the same. And you can all beg for my help and burn as I do not answer you.” 

a/n: whelp,, it has been a while,,truly. how have you been? i hope this chapter is to your liking. I am trying to make these shorter than before but,,it is hard ://

TAGLIST: send an ask if you wish to be added.

@is-asimp , @irisxiel , @sunsethw4 , @sketcheeee , @thelonelyarchon, @magicalink , @ladycoleigh , @luvr-exe , @yuus3n , @haru-lucidream

[happy-hermit]

HELLO I WASN'T EXPECTING SO MANY OF YOU DKJSKD THANK YOU OMG <33

Okay very long incoherent ramble incoming I haven't figured everything out yet so here's just the general idea :)

Okay so basically the setting is a sort of like. Medieval setting where magic also exists! Ren is the king of the land which isn't plot relevant at all but it's relevant in my heart ASJKDKJS. Grian is a just sort of a traveler. He hates staying in one spot for too long so he's always hopping from village to village getting into trouble, the usual Grian stuff you know. He's best friends with Mumbo, who's a big name in what i'm calling the industrial district. He's a redstoner, which i'm thinking is a type of like. technology based magic. So he and Grian communicate on ye olde FaceTime via redstone/magic crystals, which is a very new technology that he's basically beta testing on Grian because what else are friends for.

ANYWAY akjsdkjs so Grian is a traveler. Pearl is his sister, also sort of does the same thing except she's been into sailing lately, so Grian can't exactly send her mail. Her address is perpetually changing. But he misses her and wants to check in on her SO he has to go to a wizard to help him send a message :) Just so happens that the next village he stops in knows of one close by...

Enter Scar :D He lives in a tower sort of on a cliffside by the ocean (dramatic flair). He's a good bit away from the village but close enough to walk, other than that he's pretty isolated. The village people act a little weird about him, like he's some kind of mysterious shut-in, or a hermit (hah), so when Grian knocks on the door he expects like. Some old and grumpy magic user telling him to get off his lawn. And it's Scar. Neither old nor grumpy, and in fact he is delighted to have a visitor.

Grian explains what he wants to do and asks what the price is, expecting like. diamonds or emeralds or his soul or something. And what Scar asks for is flowers. Grian is a little worried he's being scammed but ultimately goes through with it. Grian writes a letter and Scar conjures a bird to carry it safely to Pearl, and Grian goes outside and walks a bit until he finds some flowers to pick, and he brings them back to Scar. Scar pretty much lights up when he sees them, and the moment he touches them they get more vibrant and alive, so Grian figures out that he's nature-aligned (which just means he's got a natural talent for nature magic) which is weird because apart from the flowers Grian just brought there just. aren't any plants in his house. But he shakes it off and goes back to the village to stay in his little rented room.

He has to stay in the village long enough to get a response back from Pearl, so he has to visit Scar every few days to check! Cue awkward bonding moments and the forming of a friendship while they wait for the magic mail service to make the rounds. Finally he gets a response from Pearl and of course has to write her back. And of course has to wait for her response to that, and eventually it's just a thinly-veiled excuse to keep hanging around Scar KADSJJKD

Mumbo notices on one of their ye olde FaceTime calls that Grian's been in the same spot for like. way longer than usual. And he starts teasing him about it. ("Did you meet someone?" "...Well." "YOU DID?!")

So they're both falling in love, but Scar is. clearly nervous about something, hiding something. Grian tries to be patient but he's also worried and horribly curious. He invites Scar to walk through the market or the meadow or stargaze multiple times but Scar always looks guilty and scared and makes some random excuse. Grian's confused and a little hurt but is now fully invested in the health and wellbeing of this silly little wizard so he sticks around.

So things are sort of at a standstill. Until one day after a few days away Grian visits Scar again to find him fully panicking and freaking out, and he tells him that Jellie hasn't come back in a few days, and he begs Grian to look for her, telling him he'll do anything if he does. So Grian calms him down and promises to look for her, even as he's wondering why Scar isn't, and he asks if Scar wants to come with him but Scar just shakes his head through his tears and Grian leaves it alone.

He goes and looks for Jellie and finds that she's been "adopted" by one of the village families that thought she was a stray. Grian buys her back from them and takes a very grumpy Jellie back to Scar, who is just. so incredibly relieved and he cries into his cat for a while. Eventually Grian can't help himself and gently asks him why he didn't go look for her himself. Why he didn't leave.

Scar seems to resign himself to something, and he looks up at Grian with dull eyes and a sad smile. "I can't."

Grian asks him what that means. Scar demonstrates by standing up and trying to walk out the door. Glowing purple shackles appear around his wrists and neck, chains connecting back into the tower and fading into the walls. He steps back inside and they disappear. "I can't."

He explains that someone has trapped him here. That they think it's handy to have a wizard at the ready whenever they need one. That they force him to do magic for paying customers but that he never sees a penny of the profits. He doesn't have plants in his tower because he has not been allowed outside in years.

(i haven't decided who the evil person should be yet sdjskj please help.)

Anyway :) Grian starts feeling very, very murderous :)

[yanderes-galore]

Can i have a senerio of yandere Tigerclaw x a mutant reader? Maybe the reader was turned into a mutant recently and Is untrusting to people they dont know

Alright this'll take place before he meets Shredder. Apologies for character flaws I am still bad with Tiger Claw. Sorry for the long wait! Got carried away in this so I hope it was still good ^^

Accidental Encounter

Yandere! Tiger Claw Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Implied Yandere-like behavior, Obsessive behavior, Mentions of scents, Violence, Threats, Intimidation, Manipulation, Forced relationship, Slight sadism, Possessive behavior.

After your little incident, nothing felt safe anymore. You were an outcast and could never return to your old life again. Not when you... looked like this.

This led to you living in the shadows. Away from the peering eyes of humanity. Right where no one could judge you based on your new form.

You thought you could live a nice life like this. You may be alone and away from family... but you could fend for yourself. A perk of being a mutant was you were much stronger than your human self.

Then the unexpected happened. You were found, by accident but you were found. Found by not only another mutant, but a mutant assassin.

Tiger Claw was what he went by. He was hunting down a target yet he must've smelled you lurking in the darkness. Before you could flee the tall tiger mutant knocks you against a wall.

You cry out in pain, staring at his predatory eyes. You didn't mean to get in the way! It wasn't your intention.

"Just what do you think you're doing here?"

The larger mutant hisses at you. You keep your ground and try to be intimidating. You never liked new people, especially ones who forced you against walls.

"Trying to stay out of the way! I have no business with you... just let me go and I'll slink off."

Tiger Claw's nose twitches, catching your scent. You wrinkle your nose at him before trying to push off him. He doesn't relent.

"... Fine. You don't seem like a threat, anyway. Go. I don't have time for this."

With that the infamous bounty hunter lets you go. Quickly you run off, wanting to hide away and never be found again. Meanwhile, Tiger Claw couldn't get your scent out of his nose.

It wasn't a bad scent, in fact it was strangely pleasant to him. You also looked so scared and terrified of him... something he faintly remembers. He was like that once.

Scared, confused, and cast out of his village.

Part of the tiger felt sympathy towards you. He may be busy now, yet he wished to help you. He wasn't heartless... he just had a job to do.

He thought he'd forget about you, another lost soul tormented by the Krang....

However, Tiger Claw found your scent again. Again, you were on the dark streets. Fending for yourself as it's all you could do.

"Hey." Tiger Claw calls to you, you then turn towards him. You scoff and keep your distance.

"What? Are you going to throw me against another wall?"

"No. I actually wish to help this time."

"How do you expect to do that? How am I to trust you?"

Tiger Claw studied your behavior closely. You looked like you wanted to trust him but couldn't bring yourself to do it. You two were so similar.

"I was like you once."

You stare at him blankly.

"Except I managed to make something of myself. What you need is help. Help I'm willing to offer."

"R-Really...?"

Tiger Claw grins at your hopeful expression. That gaze suited you much better than the confusion you usually had.

"Sure. Yet I hope you know every deal has a price."

You frown again, Tiger Claw laughs softly.

"Really? Like what?"

"Let's start with your name...."

------

After you met Tiger Claw, you thought you could feel safer. The bounty hunter helped you out of your life in the shadows and befriended you. He was a great ally to have.

However, after months, you didn't feel safer. In fact, you felt you might have been better off in the shadows. As long as it meant you could keep your distance from others again.

Tiger Claw quickly became the reason you didn't trust others. He came off as so kind to you. Although that kindness slowly became something worse the longer you knew him.

You originally bonded over the fact you had similar pasts. You allowed him to build you up. You were even patient when he had to leave for another bounty.

Then you noticed him, being a tiger, was possessive. Possessive of his territory, obsessive towards his closest companion. He became terrifying.

Who you once thought of as a friend now tried to convince you there was something more. That you two were inseparable. That the encounter you had that day was fate trying to send a message.

You didn't believe any of that but tried to ignore his ramblings. He was touchy, clingy to you when you were alone. You put up with it... but Tiger Claw scared you.

Was he planning on using you? Why did he want to push this relationship so hard? Did you really capture his attention that much?

You're intoxicating to the fellow mutant.... To the point he was willing to do whatever he could to keep you under his care and watchful eye.

Once again, you no longer felt safe. Even if Tiger Claw claimed he was trying to help, you could no longer believe him.

It was time for you two to go separate ways...

However...

"That isn't part of our little deal, is it?"

Confronting the mutant was a poor decision. Tiger Claw's eyes held so much irritation towards your suggestion that you two stay alone for a bit. How selfish....

"Have you forgotten just who gave you a better life?"

"No, It's just that-"

"It was ME. I helped you out of your position. Now you wish to leave? Just where will you go? You'd only have the streets."

"Maybe I'd be happier there!"

Tiger Claw's growl was loud enough to feel in your soul. You immediately shut yourself up. The tiger in front of you looked just about ready to pounce on you.

"Nonsense. Even if you did manage to leave, I'd remember your scent. If I ever caught it in my nose again... I'd chase it down."

You're then cornered by Tiger Claw, any defiance you had left your body.

"I'd hunt you down like a cat chasing prey. Then once I caught you... I'd drag you back. I enjoy a good hunt, after all."

Tiger Claw then laughs at your fight faltering. He knew you couldn't leave him. In fact, he had a feeling you knew too.

What he said was all true. If you managed to sneak away then he'd know your scent. All scents are unique, there was no changing them completely.

He'd find you even if you went back into hiding.

There was no way for you to feel safe now that he has you.

[thesagebrushkid]

New computer = New art!!! So, after 2-3 years of not being able to work on anything because my last computer had no ports for my tablet, I got a new one last weekend. It's hard to believe I went close to 3 years without being able to create anything. As such I am relearning everything. I am also re-honing in on my "classic comic book skills" which I have not touched since I left DC comics....decades ago. I am not as skilled using a tablet and computer as I was with traditional pen and ink. Can't believe the price of India Ink these days. Sheesh. Anyway, I digress on that. I was up till 3:30 last night trying to get this done. SO....here is the first for 2024. Happy belated Easter/Equinox. While such creatures like Jackalopes and Sasquatch are extremely rare, they are out there. And with them come legends. In Sage's world, if you catch a Jackalope on the morning of the Spring Equinox, you will have good luck the whole year long. So, Sage and the boys are out to get them some luck. The catch to the legend is you have to let it go before midnight to ill luck will reign down on you for 2 years. And if you kill it...you will die one year later. Not sure who that would work with Sage's immortality. I mean he is killed almost weekly. LOL.  The traditional depiction of Jackalopes always was disturbing to me (A hare with antlers) It just would not work and the antlers would serve no purpose.  So, I revamped the traditional to something that is actually plausible/impossible: JACKALOPE: A small hooved deer about 3' tall with the head and long ears of a rabbit. Instead of burrowing, it just lives on the plains. Its antlers allow it to knock edible leaves and fruits off of trees and its long ears allow extra hearing perception, being that it is certainly prey to wolves, coyote and cougars. It still has lesser speed of a White-Tailed Deer due to its short legs but can kick the eff out of anything. It lives in small family units of 2-10 but often will take off on its own, once it is not dependent on the family. Seeing one Jackalope on its own is rare. Seeing a family unit is close to impossible. The Wolf Tribe calls them "Jakennesu" and the Messo Blood tribe calls them "Kallopae". When the first Europeans moved west, they confused the two names and so they took the names of both and fiddled them into "Jackalope." Didn't think this would turn into an Animal Biology class, did you? There is a test on Friday. LOL.

Created by myself, with my own human hands, without the need of AI nor stock images. Nor does my art steal jobs from human beings. My work is ART, not images dictated to a computer by lazy people that are stealing jobs from REAL artists. Those that live with AI will die by AI and may Hell save their souls, because for all your sins against humanity, neither God nor Heaven will have you. May every dollar you steal from an artist with your AI sins, so it will be taken from you in turn 1000-fold. Telling a computer to create 50 pictures a day, by taking images from other peoples to make pictures of naked superheroes DOES NOT make you an artist. It just proves to the world you are lazy fat-ass, as well as sexually and mentally unstable.  The Sagebrush Kid is the creation and property of Hallow Comics © 1981 - Present

[leet911]

Bargaining

When the spark leaves Laudna's eyes, Imogen wails — a psychic scream that knocks everyone to the ground and has them clutching at their heads.  Even Otohan grits her teeth and the shimmering shield around her flickers.

Imogen floats above the battle and her eyes are pure white beacons.  Her mind is frantic, searching, reaching, looking for any trace of Laudna's thoughts.  Laudna isn't gone yet, she can't be.  It's not too late, right?

Suddenly, a connection is made, but something is different.  It's not the usual soothing tones of Laudna's consciousness.  It's different, green and hungry, powerful and ambitious.

Hello dear.

Imogen has heard stories of this voice, but never the voice itself.  The confidence and arrogance behind it is palpable.  But there is power there, Imogen knows.  She's seen it before, bringing Laudna back from the brink, stealing control from Laudna.  And now, Imogen needs the power.

Bring her back! You've done it before.  Imogen manages to keep the pleading out of her internal voice, but she doesn’t know if it shows through in her thoughts.  

Of course.  The voice is slow, alluring.  But I need something in return.

Name it.  Imogen’s eyes are still focused on Laudna — pale, beautiful Laudna — bleeding dark blood onto the sand and lying far too still.

I require a vessel.

No deal.  I want Laudna back, not you in her body.

Imogen can feel the smile from the other, even without a face in front of her.  Silly child, not that frail one. Yours.  Think of everything we could do.

Her eyes dart to Otohan, who has recovered from the mental blast and is stalking towards Imogen with purpose.  Imogen’s anger and pain swell again, her mind opens even more, seeming to reach further than she ever has.  Every living being in the area is known to her.  She can sense all sentient creatures, but Laudna’s music is missing.

Will you kill her?  And Imogen’s eyes flare brighter as Otohan nears.

Is that your price?

For Laudna.

Excellent.

Green and black energy swirls around Laudna's body, collecting above her briefly before funneling into her chest.  Bones crack and limbs flail.  Laudna’s body rises as if it were a puppet pulled by strings.  Her head is the last to right itself, hanging far too low until all the energy around her is absorbed.  Then her jaw falls unnaturally wide, and a maniacal laughter echoes louder than the wind.  But her eyes are open, and they are Laudna’s eyes, boring straight into Imogen’s soul.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?  Laudna shouts in her mind.

But it’s too late, because Imogen’s eyes are glowing green now, and Imogen’s only response is a laugh that’s all too familiar to Laudna.

IMOGEN!  Laudna screams both internally and aloud, but only the laughter remains as Imogen lays waste to the shadowy figures on the ground.  Magic the likes of which Laudna has never seen fills the air, making even the sandstorm seem feeble in comparison.  Otohan leaps to meet the threat, and an impossible aerial battle ensues.

There are hands on Laudna’s shoulders now, FCG dragging her to cover.  “What happened to Imogen?”

Laudna shudders.  “That’s not Imogen anymore.”

[the-broken-truth]

I really loved the last ask I sent that you answered! Poor Magni, Modi and Faye, being forced to fight their evil uncle, Loki! But tell, will Kratos betray Atreus/Loki, since he made a deal with Freya that he will give up Revna to her as long that she lets Björn and his children bind with him and Atreus?

Even after Atreus make that clear that he doesn’t want to give up on Revna? What will be Atreus’s reaction when he finds out that his own father “betrayed” him?

Broken Truth (Reads the ask): Glad to know you were fond of that ask as for this town, Atreus deserves all the misfortune that comes his way after what he did to Revna and Björn. Now, let the words weave together.

[Midgard - The Ghost of Sparta's Cabin]

The frozen winds were heard from the inside of the house through the hollow windows, causing Atreus to look at the window with narrowed eyes. It was dinner time for the Sartan Family - or what was left of them - while they were waiting on Freya to arrive with intel as to how to approach getting Björn, Revna, and Björn's Children: Magni, Modi, and Faye.

"Relax, Atreus. She will be here." Kratos said as he placed a piece of meat in his mouth and slowly chewed - it was deer meat, causing him to look at the empty seat at the table: Björn's seat. He would have loved this meal but was with the Aesir in Asgard, living a false life; the Aesir put him in the face of danger every day instead of protecting him like he was supposed to be. It didn't matter, Kratos was going to correct that. A knock on the door caused Atreus to get up from his seat and open it - revealing Freya, the Ex of the All-Father, Odin.

"You're late," Atreus said as he let Freya into the building and closed the door when Freya was inside. The Valkyrie walked into the room and sat in Björn's seat, much to Atreus' annoyance but he didn't say anything.

"What plan do you have to obtain The Lost Bear, The Raven Girl, and the Bear's Cubs?" Kratos asked as he looked at Freya with his golden eyes. Freya reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of 5 rings - all golden and engraved with a strange rune. However, one of the rings had a red jewel embedded in it, causing Kratos to pick it up and examine it.

"These are Binding Rings - all of them keyed to the ring in your hands. Placing a ring on Björn and his children and wearing the ring in your hand would bind them to you so that they would never escape you." Freya explained.

"Wait. You're missing a ring - The Ring to bind Revna. Where is it?" Atreus asked as he looked from the rings and back to Freya who smirked and lifted her hand, revealing a gold ring with a blue stone in it.

"I didn't make a Binding Ring for you being I am going to make Revna mine. That is my price for helping you get Björn and his children." Freya smirked at Atreus who stared at her.

"I told you once - Frevna is my sister and I won't let anyone else have her! Now, give me her binding ring!" He demanded but Kratos raised his hand.

"Silence, boy. Freya has named her price to aid us and she shall have it." He said, making Atreus look at him with wide eyes.

"You made a deal with her, didn't you?!" Atreus stood to his feet and glared at his father, who just groaned and told him to sit back down but Atreus didn't listen to him, "Father how could you do this to me?! I told you that I didn't want to give Revna to Freya but you go behind my back a make a deal with her?! What's wrong with you?!"

"That is my price to give you Björn & his cubs. Revna is soul-bound to my son, Baldur, and I want her to be my daughter. If you go back on your word in giving me Revna, I won't give you the rings to bind Björn to you, Kratos." Freya said as she looked at the Ghost of Sparta.

"You want the raven girl, you shall have the raven girl. That was the deal." Kratos said as Freya smiled at him before smirking at Atreus.

"No! YOU'RE NOT GETTING YOUR TALONS ON MY SISTER! I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S SOUL-BOUND TO YOUR SON, SHE IS MINE AND INE ALONE! I WON'T LET YOU HAVE HER! YOU HEAR ME?!" Atreus got in Freya's face who just continued to smirk at him.

"I have her binding ring. She will be mine, Atreus. There's nothing you can do about it." Freya smirked. Atreus glared at her again before turning on his heel and running out the door with tears in his eyes - his father betrayed him, He had to make a binding ring for Revna on his own or Freya was going to get his sister and he couldn't let that happen.

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Of Irland, Chapter 15

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 14 \\ Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 15: A Good Price

Chapter warnings: Language, Violence Words: 1157 AO3

Life had got better since the trial. Stiorra was now back working alongside Drifa in the hospital. She’d overseen a long difficult birth, sat by the bedsides of dying old men and women, and played with the children while the parents waited anxiously for news. People stopped and said hello when she walked through the market looking for rare and unusual herbs. Sometimes she would be joined with someone when picking plants just outside the walls.

This day was no different. Except for the fact that she was on her own.

Sigtryggr and his brothers had left to hunt. He had stopped to greet her before Ivar called on him to hurry up.

Yes, that was the best part. Sigtryggr was her friend again. He smiled at her when she walked in the room. He pulled up a chair for her at mealtimes and told her stories of the gods. He trained with her almost every day.

People were starting to trust her again. There were still those who muttered and whispered and cursed her. But it was easier to ignore them.

Stiorra had not seen another soul since Sigtryggr and his brothers had rode on. It was quiet and peaceful. A pleasant change to the noise and crowds of Dyflin.

She hummed to herself as she picked flowers for the patients bedsides, as well as the plant Drifa needed for her concoctions.

A snapping twig sent her head whirling around.

Nothing.

No-one was there.

The snicker of a horse.

“Who’s there?” she called out into the trees.

She did not see the man sneak up behind her and knock her out.

***

Stiorra woke up what had to be many hours later. The sky was now dark and, somewhere far away, an owl hooted.

There was laughter and chatter from a group of men sitting around a campfire. She could only see one of them clearly. He seemed uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be there.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” he interrupted.

“For the last fucking time, Niall, this is exactly what the lord said we had to do?” the man who appeared to be the leader exasperated. “Kidnap a Dane, best if it’s one who’s important, ransom them back, and use the money to build an army. You saw as well as we did. Sigtryggr Ivarrsson stopped to talk to that girl, so she must be important.”

“And yet Ivar, who is the king, did not.”

“Who cares?” another one laughed. “If they don’t take her back, we get her.”

The men cheered.

It was disgusting. These shits cheering at the idea of forcing a woman. It was both fucked up and disgusting.

“Ivar is not the king,” another added. “His father’s still alive.”

Wait, Sigtryggr’s father was still alive? Why had she never seen him?

“He behaves like the king.”

Stiorra could not dwell on this news. She had to get out of here. Ivar didn’t care about her. Whatever ransom they would demand he would never pay. Why should he pay for the daughter of the man who has killed many of his kin? Sigtryggr would pay, of that there was no doubt. He would not let her be torn apart by Irish. Would he?

Her shuffling around caught the attention of her guards.

“So you’re awake, I see.” This man had to be the leader. “My name is Naos. And you are our hostage.”

“You picked the wrong hostage,” she spat. “You won’t get your gold.”

“Here’s where I think you’re wrong. Sigtryggr stopped on his way to hunt. Why, I wonder?” He grinned. She did not like this wide, toothy grin. His breath reeked of ale. “I think if Ivar won’t pay, then Sigtryggr will. And that is enough for me.”

***

The next morning dawned. Stiorra was dragged to her feet, her hands still bound. They must have sent word to Dyflin at some point, as Ivar, Sigtryggr, Rognvaldr, even Drifa, were there waiting for them.

Sigtryggr. His eyes quickly widened in concern when he saw her. She smiled and nodded at him, assuring him that she was fine.

Ivar took one look at her and laughed.

“This is your ‘valuable’ hostage.”

Her captors were taken aback by this reaction. She warned them.

“Yes, this is our hostage,” Naos said. “And we demand 5000 weight of gold for her or she will be taken and we will enjoy her.”

Ivar only laughed harder.

“1000 pounds,” Sigtryggr offered. “That is how much I am prepared to pay.”

“You will not,” Ivar ordered.

“I will.”

“You will not.” He scoffed, his previous smile vanishing. “You do not have that kind of money. Do you expect me to pay the rest?”

Sigtryggr turned to Drifa. She shrugged. “I do not carry that kind of gold with me.”

“I will not pay for the daughter of our enemy.”

“But she is not our enemy!”

“She’s as good as!”

Silence fell in the clearing.

“So you will not pay,” Noas guessed. “That’s fine. We will take her.”

Sigtryggr lept forwards, but a dozen swords all pointed at him.

“I’ll be fine,” Stiorra promised.

I’ll be fine.

***

Night came quickly in winter. The cold came with it. Before long, Stiorra was so cold she thought her fingers, toes and nose would fall off. But those Irish bastards had tied her up as far away from their fire as possible. She hadn’t eaten anything since that day either. She was staring to imagine the taste of the stew Drifa made that made her feel so full.

One by one, those men fell asleep, safe and warm by their little fire. Stiorra started twisting around, trying to loosen the rope they had used to tie her to a tree.

She stopped when she heard the footsteps, a soft rustling in the undergrowth. Turning, she was confronted with a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. It was Niall. The same man who had been uncertain as to whether they should go ahead with their plans. He put a finger to his lips and removed his hand.

He untied her. What?

“I woke for Drifa. I’m helping you escape.”

Drifa had Irish spies now?

“Tell her that these men were planning to take you to Faolán as a slave. You must tell her that the Irish have broken the treaty.”

Stiorra tried to take all this in. Faolán, treaty broken, slave.

“Go that way,” he instructed, pointing. “Follow that path and you’ll reach Dyflin.”

She paused again, searching for the words to thank this man.

“Go!”

And she went.

***

After a few hours of running, the sun started to come up. And Stiorra had no idea where she was. Left, right, everywhere. The only thing she could see were trees. The path had long since vanished. There wasn’t much for it though. She had to keep running. The question was where?

[thecaladrius]

prompt: ready or not au, from @ohbluejay. naturally, trigger warnings for graphic violence and death. 

Oil and gas production, mass media, moneylending, weapons manufacturing — the Sydin, Xi, and Stagg families built their corporate empires on prayers to the Beast and made themselves gods among men through their sustained and violent reverence. But for every desire, there is debt, and the price of their greed is charged to the cowards foolish enough to join their parasitic bodies. On his wedding day, Javi draws the card that determines his contribution: the clan must kill him in ritual sacrifice, or die by sunrise.

A catalog of injuries so far: Minor skull fracture, from when Warden whipped an empty pistol at the back of his head. Gunshot wound and shattered metacarpal bones, from when Isaac (yes, the toddler) emptied Warden’s pistol on Javi’s palm. Bruised pride, from when Fei couldn’t remember his name as she aimed a rubber bullet gun at his ribcage, and bruised ribs, from when the rubber bullets landed. Sprained ankle from jumping off a third-floor window, and scraped knee from when the strain of running with a sprained ankle knocked him off-balance on the wooden floorboards of some stranger’s barn. Severed muscles and median nerve, because — a mere few seconds before Javi slit their throat and kicked their corpse off his lap — Pasi sank a dagger through his wrist into one of the barn pillars, and severed brain cells, because 1) since when was Pasi strong enough to do that? and 2) since when was Pasi related to these people?

Next on the list is probably chest pain, either from going into cardiac arrest while watching his sister-in-law raise an axe over his sternum, or from having his aforementioned sister-in-law split his aforementioned sternum open with the aforementioned axe.

Maybe it’ll be from holding his breath for too long. His wrist, raised above his head, stays pinned into the wood. Curiously, Delilah hasn’t swung. Maybe she has a soul after all. Or maybe she’s stuck on the mental math of murder — calculating whether the blood loss from chopping him up would drain the life out of him before she could drag his body to the ritual table. Either way, the axe hangs mid-air, which means he still has time to yank the dagger out of his arm and run.

His mouth spreads into a nervous smile. “Hi, Lila.”

She takes two steps forward. Javi holds her gaze, hoping to keep her peripheral vision from catching the way his free hand creeps toward the hilt of the dagger.

“You look beautiful,” he adds.

Her cold stare remains unmoved. “Do you really think that will get you somewhere?”

Javi swallows the lump in his throat. “Hard not to take desperate measures right now,” he says. “I’m covered in blood on my wedding eve.”

Fingers curl tighter around the dagger's hilt. His pulse point hammers against the blade’s flat edge. A slow tug nudges the dagger out by a centimeter and — fuck — jerks the blade at an angle that slices a new tear through nerve and muscle.

“Look at yourself,” she says, “and tell me you wouldn’t do the same to protect what’s yours.”

The dagger’s almost out. He just needs to buy more time. “You know, you just—” Javi winces when another wrong pull rustles the blade through the gaps between shattered wrist bone shards. “You’ve always been so reasonable. To me, you never seemed like the type to believe in all of this ritual sacrifice bullshit.”

“I don’t.”

One harsh swing slams the axe into his kneecap.

“But this would’ve had to happen eventually. We know what you are.” Her eyes darken. “If the media finds out that we made a convicted plunderer CFO and let him marry the CEO’s daughter, Syndin Group’s stock market value is going to collapse.”

Javi blinks. Eyes flick between Delilah and the lake of blood pooling in the new gap between his leg and thigh until his sheer disbelief dulls the inevitable pain into some strange numbness. The scream he’d been holding bubbles into a laugh and weakens into a shuddered breath.

“You’re killing me,” he says, “for STOCKS?”

Delilah raises the axe a second time; it falls over his leg and slices through bone and muscle and sprained tendons. Blood smears the path from the barn to the house as she drags his body to the ritual table: another martyr on the altar of greed.

[welch77doyle]

Top latest Five Luxury designer replica bags Urban news

Hermes has generated a myriad of designer bag collection and TheCovetedLuxury has endeavored to ensure that You will find there's leading-top quality replica for every one of them. Birkin replica would be the most attractive one particular. Most people with designer things acquire them to exhibit. If u can’t afford to pay for them u don’t must go broke to receive them.You will discover awesome designers that happen to be way cheaper.Like Coach,Calvin Klein,Prada,Guess just to name a handful of.I really like appreciate really like bags and possess a great deal.But I will never fork out 1000's for on bag regardless of whether I could JS. They pay out no consideration on the replica purses’ design and style, materials or simply the logos; they’re only concerned with obtaining knockoff luxury bags in quantity, whatever the knock off purses look like. When they do arrest you for this, the initial choose that requires a have a look at this can throw the situation out since they have no way of proving that you understood that you just ended up buying a pretend product. The signal boards are largely there to deter people from earning purchases willingly of faux goods. Essentially form of scaring them into not executing it. They know which they can’t do nearly anything about this if you do it, so they struggle to scare you into not performing it. These legal guidelines are set up to mainly prosecute individuals who are offering bogus items simply because you require a stable lawful framework close to it. Elise Armitage is really an entrepreneur and founder of Just what the Fab, a travel + Life-style blog site located in California. Originally of 2019, Elise still left her company occupation at Google to chase her desires: currently being an entrepreneur and supporting Females obtain wonderful while in the day-to-day. I feel that When you have a purse, sunglasses no matter what, you compensated $ for it. It’s not the airport duty now to become the fashion police a lot less take a little something from someone that possibly paid $ for your merchandise or likely received it as a gift, doesn’t issue if it’s counterfeit or not, up coming factor you know they’ll be getting fake gold chains lol with all of the problems on the globe and a lot more severe problems This is often preposterous & unless you might be Prosperous nobody I'm sure is plunking down 1,000 for just a purse. Secondhand browsing is a lot more popular than ever—and that relates to the luxury market, also. The best component is, for Many of these concealed gems, you don’t even have to depart the ease and comfort within your couch to find out an elegant bag you won't usually uncover. Even so, 1:1 mirror replica handbags could concern the best way to mark the authenticity of those designer goods; You should use your best judgment—and The truth that some sellers are employing AI technologies—to produce your last choice. Many of us aspire to acquire superior-good quality merchandise at very affordable prices, but this need is commonly tricky to satisfy. Saving for aaa quality replicas handbags hong kong in the event you’re not creating first rate funds is miserable and Silly, why would anyone give her cost savings for the bag that's fakely positioned as anything so highly-priced you bought to save lots of many years to acquire. Just unwind girls, and purchase what ever is nice in your case. Not one person, not a soul in this environment can definitely spot a bogus by having an eye, if it’s a very good dupe, ofc. This branded stores create new types each and every year, even the sellers from reliable outlets can’t keep in mind them all. one.) This text is incredibly exaggerated. No we don't go right after folks with pretend items. We don’t contain the guy energy nor the knowledge to establish whether or not all the luxury items in the world from all the luxury brands on the earth are genuine. These equipment are the 1st copy of initial brands. The brand which we involve are Audi+Bentley, Tommy Hilfiger and lots of far more. Give a perfect touch in your outfit by putting on these belts. You may also buy a combo of very first duplicate belts and wallets at excellent selling prices only at thedopeshop.in Consider notes, and act speedy—Here is the resale marketplace we’re talking about, which suggests the inventory will likely be confined. Getting replica bags isn’t a nasty notion after all. We must always check out from a practical point of view, replica bags possess the same operate when compared to the reliable kinds: carrying our everyday personalized things. Never experienced any difficulties when touring. I ve been carrying out it for eleven decades. Dont imagine this bogus news. That is just advertising and marketing to this pretend nevertheless high priced web page!

[juggalomary]

This is a first chapter of my first fic which will be posted to AO3 around the 12/12 time (I’m waiting on my invitation lol). I’d also love a beta reader but I literally don’t know how to get one.

Who is This Kid?

Ch1

BANG.

Silence. Not total silence. Price was shouting, Gaz was shouting, Ghost was shouting. There was a lot of shouting.

Johnny fell, hit the ground hard and then didn’t move. He was bleeding, a lot. There was blood on Ghosts knee, from where he knelt down next to him. It was in Soaps hair, on his clothes, on his gun, everywhere.

“DISARMED” there was a shout from Gaz. It sounded like he was underwater. It was then when Ghost finally took his hand off Johnnys pulse point. A simple shake of the head said it all. Soap Mactavish was KIA.

—————

They didn’t try to bring him home with them.

Well didn’t try is an understatement, Ghost and Gaz tried, they had him upright and ready to be lifted before Price told them to leave it to the recon and collection crews.

So that’s what they did. Johnny stayed on the ground, blood still steeping from his head, slowly. Ghost couldn’t look anymore, his best mate, and possible crush, dead on the floor of some tube station next to a disarmed bomb.

—————

Ghost was laying on his bed next to some sickly man at a civilian hospital. He had gone nonverbal for a few days after the mission. Then suddenly one day he knocked on Prices door, drunk off his head and said some shit. Things along the lines of: “I’ll carve his name into a bullet and paint the wall red and pink.”

He probably should’ve specified that he was talking about Makarov. Ghost was not suicidal, he had not once attempted. Ghost was not unstable. Ghost passed every psych eval except for his last one. He was 5 points off of a pass, he failed due to the ‘what are your plans out of the military question?’

He had said “buy a nice house and hunt.” They had asked what, he had said “anything that moves really.”

So what it was a bit vague, he was feeling vague at that moment. So he ended up on watch and not allowed leave. He wouldn’t have taken one anyway. He got taken off watch and sent to a hospital when his gun was found on range after he had left for a moment with one bullet with ‘J. Mactivish’ carved into it.

Ghost is not suicidal. Ghost was planning on shooting Makarov with that one. He just grabbed some ammo from his room and loaded up. He had not realized that it was Johnnys bullet.

He spent a week in the hospital, then was released. He found himself back on base to spend his 2 week medical leave ordered by his psychiatrist.

When he entered his room, everything slowed to a halt and then sped back up. There was a note on his door.

‘Lieutenant Riley

We feel as though we have to tell you personally, John Leon ‘Soap’ Mactavish has been formally reported KIA as of 11/23/23. All living family has been contacted and his body was cremated on 11/25/23. Our deepest condolences go to you.’

He chuckled lightly at Johnnys middle name. Then he was laughing, then he was laughing as tears slipped out, and then he was sitting on the floor of Prices office as he was being held. Wait. When the hell did he get there. Well never mind that, his captain and father figure (he would never tell a soul that) was holding him. It was nice.

—————

Ghosts 2 weeks were up. He was cleared for duty. During those weeks they had sent Johnny to rest in the wind and water. He was wearing his dog tags along his. They had found evidence of Makarov in a remote and seemingly abandoned village along the Russia-Malaysia border. Heat signatures were suddenly picked up after 3 months of nothing more than a few wild animals.

It was decided that the 141 would go in and attempt to apprehend Makarov. Ghost would be sniping while Gaz and Price would go in. Johnny would be watching down on them.

—————

It was a simple mission. No casualties on either side. Turns out they ran just hours before the 141 were wheels up. They still looked and looked, for anything really. They were searching through a file cabinet when a file was picked up and a few Polaroids fell out.

“Captain, you have to see this.” Gaz was speaking slowly and sounded scared. It took a lot to scare Gaz, and pictures are usually not something soldiers who’ve seen so much should be afraid of.

“Gaz, what do you have…” 5 pictures, 2 head wounds, 2 soldiers, 1 person in a hospital bed, one person on the ground.

The dead man was not John, the man in hospital was. The final photo was a picture taken in a dark room with flash, a buzzed head with a bloody bandage. He looked terrible, bruised, bloody, beaten, and the worst part, he was looking towards the camera, but not at it. 1000 yard stare, as his therapist would say.

The entire village was searched again, with 100% more thoroughness. They didn’t find anybody. What they did find the second round was the hospital bed that he was laying in in the picture. There was a blood stain on the top of the mattress and metal restraints at the sides. They also found a copy of the records they kept on him.

The bullet had penetrated his skull and somehow missed his brain and exited 4 inches above the entry wound on the top of his head, nearly shattering his skull. He was kept alive on life support for 5 days, before throwing up the intubation and passing out. He was then ‘taken to the positive psychology ward’, meaning roughly that he was now in the process of being seemingly brainwashed. There was one photo with a date on it 12/4/23, it was a picture of Soap with a M branded onto his collarbone and mouth slightly open, broken nose and disassociated.

That man in the photo may be Soap, but there was no way it was Johnny.