#Three White Soldiers pattern

[signode-blog]

How to Trade the Three White Soldiers Pattern: Strategies and Examples

Technical analysis offers traders a wide range of candlestick patterns to predict price movements. One of the most reliable and bullish reversal patterns is the Three White Soldiers. This pattern, when used correctly, can signal a strong trend reversal and provide profitable trading opportunities. In this post, we’ll explore what the Three White Soldiers pattern is, how to identify it, and…

[kisses4themissus]

Mingle || In-ho X Reader

a/n: i somehow caught the flu :/ wc: 1.3k masterlist request : I did combine the two requests since they were both abt mingle :)

You sighed as you stepped onto the platform, you glanced at in-ho he nodded back at you.

You held your hand to him, he took it and squeezed your hand, in reassurance. “No matter the number we stick together!” He informed, you nodded in response.

The platform stops. You and in-ho look at each other. “Three.” 

The group looked at each other, you grabbed jun-hee’s hand. “We got her!” You told gi-hun, who nodded and began looking for more people.

You three rushed to the closest room. In-ho held himself against the door as other desperate players tried to open the door. You watched as the counter went down, gunshots filled your ears, you flinched and covered your ears, jun-hee doing the same.

In-ho watched through the small slip as the soldiers shot the remainder of players left outside. You all caught your breaths as you waited for the clean up to be finished. “Are you alright?” You asked jun-hee, she nodded and held her stomach. “Are you alright, young il?” You questioned the man, who nodded and rested his hands on his knees.

“All players may leave the rooms!” The room’s door unlatched. You all sighed and walked out and found the others. “Not that many people are left…” You pointed out, the white sign above the entrance glowed 157 players left in the game.

You followed in-ho’s gaze which was on the soldiers. You brushed it off and got onto the platform. Jung-bae leaned over to in-ho and gi-hun; “what do you think it'll be next?” He asked, looking between the two men. The platform began to spin.

Gi-hun took a second to think what the pattern could be. In-ho turned to you all. “Two.” 

You all gave him a confused look. “How do you know?” You questioned. “There’s 157 players left, only 50 doors, there will only be room for 100 people.” He motioned towards the doors all labeled. The platform stopped, you all waited for the number to be announced. 

“Two.”

Your group froze; in-ho was correct. “I’ll go with jung-bae!” Dae-ho told you all before the pair ran for a room, others doing the same and pairing off. In-ho grabbed your hand as you both ran for the nearest door.

As you ran off the platform, a player stepped on your ankle, causing a loud crack to fill your ears, you tumbled forward, in-ho stopped and ran to help you, he lifted you onto his back and ran to the door.

You cried as your ankle dangled, you had a loose hold on in-ho. As he opened the door, a player ripped you off his back by your hair, you yelled in pain as your back hit the floor.

The player quickly shut themselves in with in-ho. You scrambled to crawl to the door but froze as a loud latch sound came from the door. Dread filled your body as you stared at the yellow door, In-ho pushed the guy to the side and began to pound on the door.

Gunshots filled your ears, you flinched, covering your ears; too overstimulated by in-ho’s yelling, the gunshots. 

The soldiers began to get closer to you, making you whimper in fear. 

“HOUSE!” In-ho yelled through the peek in the door, the soldier paid no attention and shot your upper leg.

“Soldier 18 stand down, at the frontman's command.”  The worker spoke to the soldier in their earpiece. They tossed the gun behind their back and walked over to your body as you cried and attempted to crawl to in-ho.

They motioned for workers, who walked over and began carrying you away from the game arena.

In-ho watched as the workers carried you away, most likely to knock you out and fix your leg and ankle.

“House?” The other player questioned, standing in the corner. In-ho turned to the man and gave him a glare. 

“Mind your business!” He sized the other man up before waiting for the doors to be unlocked.

“YOUNG-IL, Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU??” Dae-ho yelled, screeching the room for his friends. In-ho walked over with an unreadable look. “Where’s y/n?” Jun-hee questioned, glancing around. “Her number wasn’t announced.” Jung-bae began to frantically look around for you.

“Those circles took her; some dickhead broke her ankle as she was running with me.” In-ho sighed, earning a pat from gi-hun. “Her number wasn’t announced yet; there’s hope.” He tried to reassure.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

They all groaned, sore and tired from the game. In-ho stopped as he spotted you on your mattress, two workers by your side.

In-ho rushed over and smiled as you weakly grinned at him. “You can lose me that easily!” You joked, coughing as the workers helped prop you up on the bed.

“Would never imagine it.” He chuckled, grabbing your hand. The workers bowed to both of you before leaving the dorm, you both stared at each other.

“Y/N! She’s alive!” Dae-ho yelled as he ran over to you. “Thought you were gone..” He confessed, holding his hand over his racing heart.

You chuckled as the group surrounded your bed and spilled their relief about you still living. “They told me if the games do continue I'm being held back.” You announced to the team, they all expressed their surprised reactions; In-ho smiled at the news.

As you all celebrated your life the doors began to buzz, the worker began to set up the voting machine. 

“HOW IS SHE STILL ALIVE! I PUSHED HER OUT THE WAY!” The man from earlier yelled to the manager of the guards. 

All of team O began to rile up, upset at you being saved.

The soldiers shot at the ceiling to get everyone's attention on the manager. “Frontman believes in equality in these games; A player just so happened to be trampled as she crossed!” They announced. Everyone fell silent as the voting began.

You looked at in-ho with pleading eyes. “I want to go home.” 

He nodded and patted your arm, “We will.” 

You bit your nails as the voting began. You slowly dropped your hand as the voting, The X’s were far ahead of the O’s.

As they called your number, you sighed and glanced around, having no stable way to walk. “She’s injured!” In-ho yelled, making the guard nod and stare at you. “Do your arms in an O to continue or an X to dismiss the games!”

You raised your hands and made an X.

That side of the room cheered. Finally 001 walked up to vote, you all froze as he hovered his hand over the O. with baited breath you watched as his hand pressed down on the X.

The guard nodded. “The majority of the players have voted to terminate this game, therefore it is now terminated, it’s a pity having to part.” The square announced, no tone of emotion.

You let out a breath, relieved you’d get to go home. Jun-hee walked over to you and hugged you.

You both hugged each other, happy the madness would end. From her shoulder you watched as in-ho walked over to your bed, smiling at you, “We’re getting out.” He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “When we get to the mainland…would you like to go out sometime?” You asked, playing with the seams of your blanket, he chuckles at you.

“Of course, hey when we leave, you need to go to the doctors, get your ankle fixed up, doubt those pink workers hardly know what to do.” He patted your hands.

You chuckled and nodded.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Months had passed since the game was canceled, you sighed as you looked at your white cast on your ankle. 

“It stands out on every outfit!” You groaned, chuckling came from behind you on your bed. “You look fine.” In-ho sighed, buttoning up his shirt. “This is important, ok, first impressions matter!” You groaned to your boyfriend, who laughed.

“I don’t think a newborn will remember if you wore a cast to meet them.” He pointed out. You sighed and walked over to him. You groaned and fell back onto the bed, throwing your hand over your eyes. “Just pick something out!” 

In-ho laughed and walked to your closet and began to pick out clothing. You two had grown quite fond of domestic life.

[pdfneo]

10 Advanced Candlestick Patterns PDF Download

If you’re an avid trader or investor looking to sharpen your skills and gain a competitive edge, understanding and utilizing advanced candlestick patterns can be incredibly beneficial. In this article, we will explore some of the most powerful candlestick patterns that can help predict future price movements more accurately.But why should you care about candlestick patterns? Well, these…

[inseobts]

Ghost Knife

strawhat crew x fem ! winter soldier ! reader (platonic)

inspired by bucky barnes (marvel) - after getting separated from the other strawhats you return as the world government’s masked assassin with orders to kill them all. but then memories begin to resurface and so does the person you used to be.

a/n: omg I had a huge crush on bucky at some point so thank you anon for this request lmao

words count: 4.3k

tags: platonic, sabaody archipelago arc spoilers, kidnapping, brainwashing, torture, angst, hurt/comfort, cybernetic arm

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“Robin!”

Your voice cracks as you watch her vanish into thin air. One second she’s there, eyes wide, body tense, and the next, she’s gone. Swallowed by that giant’s palm. Sent flying through nothingness by Kuma’s strange power.

You run to where she stood, hand outstretched “Robin!”

The man, the machine, turns toward you.

Your breath catche “Don’t you dare.”

He says nothing. Just moves.

“Y/N!” Luffy yells from behind, voice full of panic “Run!”

You try to run. Kuma’s too fast. In a blink, his hand slams down.

You land hard. Cold floor. White lights. The air smells like metal and bleach.

You groan, pushing yourself up “Where…?”

Then pain shoots through your side. You curl up, coughing.

“Subject is awake, she forgot again.” a voice says above you. Mechanical. No kindness.

You blink through the blur. A face leans close with goggles, gloves, clipboard.

“Where am I?” you whisper.

He ignores your question “Sedate her again.”

“No!” You try to stand, but hands grab your arms. Straps hold your legs. A needle pricks your neck.

Your world fades to black.

The days bleed together.

They don’t call you by name. They call you Asset. Like a tool. Like a thing.

You scream the first time they put you in that chair. Metal clamps, flashing lights. They press buttons. You forget how many days pass. You forget the sound of Luffy’s laugh. Nami’s voice. Zoro’s snoring.

You try to run.

One day, you make it to a hallway before someone shoots your leg. You fall. They drag you back.

They don’t punish you with words. They punish you with fire.

“You’re stubborn,” the woman says. She has short black hair and cold eyes “Most subjects break after three weeks. You’ve lasted five.”

You spit at her.

She slaps you “Fine. We’ll go further.”

The next time you try to run away you then wake up with your left arm gone.

You scream until your throat bleeds.

“You don’t have to be in pain,” they say “Just obey.”

You don’t speak.

They give you a new arm. It’s metal. Heavy. Cold. It hums when you move it.

They teach you how to fight like a machine.

They wipe memories. Try to bury your name.

But in your dreams, Luffy still grins “You’re our nakama!”

Zoro still says “Tch. Don’t get soft.”

Usopp still brags “I’ll protect you!”

Robin still reads with you under the sun.

They can’t take that from you.

At least not yet.

Later on, the voice returns, steady and cold, always the same, “Who are you?”

You answer like they trained you to “I am Weapon Unit 27.”

“What is your mission?”

“Obey. Eliminate targets. No emotion. No hesitation.”

Your voice doesn’t shake anymore. Not like the first time. Or the fiftieth. But when you sleep, if they let you, shadows curl at the edge of your mind. Laughter. A rubbery arm slinging around your shoulders. Someone yelling about meat. Orange hair in the sunlight.

You reach for it but always end waking up screaming.

The woman with the cold eyes, Commander Drayke, watches as you fight in the simulation room. You’re faster now. Your metal arm crushes steel like paper. You don’t flinch when blades touch skin.

“She’s nearly ready,” Drayke says “Complete memory collapse in progress.”

The man beside her, white coat, tired face, glances at his screen “Her brain patterns still show flickers.”

“She’ll forget,” she says “Sooner or later.”

You now sit in your cell. Metal walls. One bed. One sink. One screen.

A small bird taps on the bars, black feathers, a bag tied to its leg.

News Coo.

The guard grabs it, rips the newspaper free, tosses it into your room.

“Read. Stay updated. Don’t fall behind.”

You almost ignore it.

Then your eyes catch two names.

PORTGAS D. ACE AND MONKEY D. LUFFY

The paper crinkles in your hands.

Luffy.

Ace.

The names itch in your chest.

You stare at their faces. Luffy’s wild smile. The straw hat on his back. Ace, strong and scarred, fire dancing in his hands.

You tilt your head.

“Why do they look… familiar?” you whisper.

You flip the page. There’s a bounty poster. A crew. Pirates.

The words Strawhat Pirates ring in your ears. It makes something in you tighten. Like a string pulled too hard.

Your hand trembles. You clutch your head.

Something hurts. Deep.

Like static in your skull.

“No. I don’t know them” you mutter.

But a voice inside you says: Liar.

Year 1, Month 8

Location: Secret Government Base – North Blue

The Winter Soldier... you stand motionless in the training room. Your breath is slow. Controlled. Your mask hides the lines of your face, but not the stillness of your new soul.

You don’t remember the ocean, the Going Merry, your family.

Only orders. Only targets. Only missions.

“Tell me what you are” the voice echoes from the intercom.

She answers with no hesitation.

“I am the blade of justice.”

“And who do you serve?”

“The World Government.”

“And your purpose?”

“To eliminate threats.”

“Good girl,” says Drayke “Deploy her.”

Same time - Weatheria, Sky Island

Nami lounges under a cloud tree, weather scrolls beside her. She flips open the latest News Coo with a sigh.

“Huh,” she mumbles “Another article about that assassin again…”

She reads aloud “The Winter Soldier has completed 35 high-level government missions. No survivors left at any site. Her origin is unknown. World Nobles call her their ‘Ghost Knife.’”

She frowns, “Creepy.”

She turns the page, trying to ignore the chill down her spine.

Kuraigana Island – Wasteland Castle

Zoro slices through a falling boulder like it’s paper. Perona floats nearby, holding up a newspaper.

“Hey, Moss-For-Brains, have you seen this? New assassin. Woman. Metal arm. Wears a mask. Total psycho.”

“Not interested.”

“She’s got a bounty on her head even without being a pirate. That’s rare.”

Zoro grabs the paper, scans it.

The image is blurry, during nighttime, shadows, but she’s unmistakable. That mask. That arm. That stance. The way her fist dents solid rock.

Zoro stares a little longer than he needs to.

“Huh,” he mutters “Feels… familiar.”

Boin Archipelago

Luffy stares at the newspaper like a child with candy.

“She looks SO COOL!” he yells, eyes shining “Usopp would freak out if he saw this!”

He points to the tiny, grainy picture of the Winter Soldier mid-kick, her metal arm glowing, mask hiding her face.

“Do you think she can stretch like me?!”

Rayleigh laughs from across the fire “She’s not like you, Luffy. She's basically a war machine now.”

Luffy tilts his head “That’s sad.”

Impel Down – Level 6, Hidden Room

You stand over a rebel leader, blood pooling on the floor.

“Good,” Drayke says through her comm “Leave no trace. Return for recalibration.”

You turn to leave, but something on the prisoner’s jacket catches your eye.

A small pin. A broken symbol. An old pirate jolly roger. It’s familiar.

You don’t know why but you kneel down, fingers brushing the worn cloth, as something in your chest twists.

A campfire. A boy with a slingshot. A reindeer with wide, teary eyes. Laughter.

You jerk back, eyes wide behind the mask “What was that?”

Two Years Later - Sabaody Archipelago

The sea smells like salt and blood.

You stand stiffly on the deck of the government ship, black mask fixed over your face, mechanical arm humming quietly. Behind the mask, your heart feels cold. Heavy.

The voice buzzes in your ear “Mission: Eliminate the Strawhat Pirates. Neutralize any other threats.”

You nod once, sharp “Understood.”

The ship docks silently and you jump off without a word, disappearing into the crowd.

Nami and Usopp walk quickly through the thick crowds, keeping their heads low.

“You sure it’s this way?” Usopp whispers nervously.

“Yeah,” Nami mutters “Shakky’s bar should be close—”

She stops dead.

Ahead, a group of pirates blocks the path. Rough-looking men. One of them is dressed ridiculously like Nami, down to the orange wig.

“Hey, hey, look at these cuties,” one of the fakes sneers “Where ya rushing off to?”

Nami grits her teeth “Move.”

The fake Nami shoves her hard “Make me, sweetheart.”

Before Usopp can react, a shadow drops between them. Heavy boots slam into the ground. A figure, all black armor and shining metal, stands there.

You.

The Winter Soldier.

The thugs laugh, until you move.

A brutal punch knocks the fake Nami out cold.

The other pirates don’t even have time to scream before you take them down with smooth, efficient blows. No wasted motion. No mercy.

Nami and Usopp stare, wide-eyed. The street falls dead silent.

You turn your masked face toward them.

No words.

No threat.

Just silence as the two Strawhats freeze.

Usopp’s voice trembles “T-thank you…?”

You say nothing.

Nami grabs Usopp’s sleeve “RUN!” she hisses.

They sprint away.

You stand there, unmoving, just watching them disappear into the trees.

You could have chased, but you don’t. Something in your chest aches, and you don’t know why.

Shakky’s Bar

The Strawhats start gathering inside the bar.

Zoro leans against a wall. Franky orders drinks. Robin smiles softly. Brook hums a tune. But the air feels… wrong.

“They should be here by now” Nami says, pacing.

Usopp wipes sweat off his forehead “You guys. We saw someone scary out there. I think… it was her. That assassin the whole world’s been talking about.”

Nami shudders “Yeah. She saved us. But she was terrifying.”

Chopper clutches his bag “Isn’t she working for the government…?”

Nobody has real answers. Only dread. Only waiting.

Meanwhile — Grove 34

Marine soldiers scatter like bowling pins as Luffy punches through them easily, grinning wide.

“Man, you guys are weak!” he laughs.

He turns the corner and freezes.

You stand there, waiting. Black mask. Cold metal arm. Heavy silence.

You don’t speak. You rush him.

Luffy grins, slipping into Gear Second, pink steam curling off him. But his smile fades when he sees your eyes through the slits of your mask. Empty. Hollow.

You clash. Fist against fist. Rubber against steel.

The street cracks under the force of your hits.

“You’re strong!” Luffy yells, blocking another strike.

But then he ducks under your punch and with a sudden roar, he slams his fist straight into your mask.

The metal splits and the mask breaks off, clatters to the ground.

You stand there, gasping softly, face bare under the sunlight.

Your face.

Scarred. Pale. Tired.

The other Strawhats arrive, running after the noise and they all skid to a stop when they see you.

Dead silence.

Luffy stares at you, his mouth hanging open. His fists lower. His heartbeat screams in his ears.

“Y…Y/N…?”

Nami covers her mouth “No…”

Chopper’s eyes fill with tears “It’s her! It’s really her!!”

Sanji falls to his knees, sobbing heart-shaped tears “A goddess! And it’s OUR Y/N!!”

Robin’s eyes go wide in quiet shock. Franky clutches his huge hands over his mouth. Brook stares, frozen.

You blink at them confused.

You step back, raising your weapon again “Who’s y/n? I don’t know you.”

The words feel wrong on your tongue.

Luffy steps forward slowly, like approaching a wild animal.

“You’re my friend,” he says, voice rough and low “You’re my nakama. You’re part of our family.”

You hesitate.

Some random images flash in your mind.

Your grip tightens. Your orders scream in your mind: Eliminate them.

You attack.

The fight is brutal.

You move like a ghost, precise and devastating. But your strikes aren’t as strong anymore. Your hand shakes once when you aim at Nami. You freeze when Chopper cries your name.

Luffy blocks, dodges, and refuses to hit you hard. His voice breaks every time he calls your name.

“Come back...” he pleads.

“Wake up!” he begs.

Your body moves automatically, but inside, you are screaming.

In a desperate move, you throw a smoke bomb to the ground to blind them.

You retreat. Not because you were ordered to but because something inside you felt like breaking.

You stumble onto the ship, heart pounding.

Memories hit you like waves.

You fall to your knees in the empty hall, breathing hard.

“Luffy…” you whisper.

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you.

The scientists grab you and drag you to the white room. Cold metal cuffs slam around your wrists.

One scientist squints at you.

“What did you say?” he demands.

You clench your jaw. But it’s too late. They heard.

The lead scientist sighs coldly “She’s remembering. Begin full brainwash protocol.”

You struggle. You fight against the straps “Please! I don’t want to forget—!” you scream, thrashing.

The machine hums louder.

“You don’t need memories,” the doctor says flatly “You need orders.”

Tears prick your eyes as the sedation hits you.

The last thought in your mind before the darkness swallows you whole... I have to find them. I have to remember. I have to go bac home.

As the smoke clears. The mask lies broken in the dust. The air still hums with tension, but you’re gone.

The Straw Hat crew stands frozen in the middle of the wrecked street, staring at the empty space where you once stood.

No one says anything.

Chopper’s small voice finally breaks the silence.

“…She ran away.”

Robin steps forward slowly, picking up the shattered piece of your mask. The black metal is cracked, still warm.

She studies it with sad eyes.

“It was her,” she murmurs “All along.”

Usopp gulps “The Winter Soldier… that assassin everyone’s been talking about… that was Y/N?”

Franky clenches his fists “No wonder she was so strong.”

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke shakily, eyes low “Two years. That’s how long she’s been… gone.”

They walk slowly back to Shakky’s bar, the mood heavy like storm clouds. Inside, silence falls again.

Then Nami speaks.

“I should’ve known it was her.”

She sits down hard, shaking her head.

“When she saved us earlier, I didn’t… I didn’t recognize her. But the way she stood. The way she moved. It felt familiar. And I ignored it.”

Usopp adds, guilt in his voice, “Her eyes… They looked empty. She didn’t even blink. Like she wasn’t even… human anymore.”

“She was scared,��� Chopper whispers, tears sliding down his cheeks “Even though she didn’t show it. I could feel it.”

Zoro leans against the wall, jaw tight “They must’ve brainwashed her. Tortured her. Trained her like a weapon.”

Luffy doesn’t say a word.

He’s sitting at the bar, hunched over, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

Robin turns to him gently “Luffy…”

He doesn’t look up.

“For a second I thought she was dead.”

His voice is low. Quiet. Broken.

“After I broke that mask her eyes felt nothing like our y/n.”

He slowly lifts his head. His eyes are red, jaw tight with emotion.

“But she’s still y/n. They turned her into that but she hesitated.”

“They stole her from us,” Luffy growls “They made her forget us.”

Nami looks up, blinking back tears “What do we do now?”

Luffy stands “We go get her.”

Everyone looks up.

Robin nods “They won’t let her go easily.”

“I don’t care,” Luffy says, voice firm now “She’s our nakama.”

“She probably doesn’t even remember us fully...” Usopp mutters.

“She doesn’t have to,” Luffy replies “I remember her.”

The room goes quiet.

Zoro smirks “Then we break in. We take her back.”

Sanji flicks his lighter “Hell yeah we do.”

Brook plays a low note on his violin “Let’s bring our friend home.”

Meanwhile, your body lies strapped down in the cold lab room.

Machines buzz around you. Wires in your head. Drugs in your veins. But somewhere deep inside your mind, something fights.

You stand in a white, empty space.

Alone.

Then “Oi! Don’t eat all the meat!”

Laughter.

“I’ll patch you up, just stop moving!”

“You’re one of us now, dummy!”

Voices. Memories. Echoes of who you were.

You stumble forward. The ground starts shaking. The white fades.

A hand reaches for you through the dark.

It’s Luffy’s.

“Come back” he says softly.

Some days later, the alarms blare. Explosions rock the outside of the base.

Marines run through the halls in panic “We’re under attack!!”

Outside Luffy crashes down through a wall, fist first.

“Y/N!!!”

The Strawhats have come.

Your eyes snap open.

Lights above. Cold metal around your wrists and ankles. Straps tighten across your body.

The head scientist leans over you, calm as ever.

“They’ve come for you.”

Your breath hitches.

You don’t ask who. You already know.

“Kill them all” he says.

A command.

Your programming obeys. A new steel mask is replaced. The black suit sealed. Your left arm whirs to life.

You stand up, empty inside.

The Straw Hats move like fire through the base.

Zoro cuts through waves of marines, swords flashing. Robin breaks them apart with giant phantom arms. Sanji kicks his way through steel walls and floors, growling, “Where is she!?”

Luffy punches another door down “She’s somewhere here. I can feel it.”

They find you in the inner chamber, standing alone, blocking the hallway.

Winter Soldier mode on. Silent. Masked. Deadly.

You raise your weapon, red light glowing on your metal arm.

Luffy stops.

So does the rest of the crew.

You stare at them and they stare back.

You speak first.

“Leave. Or die.”

Zoro doesn’t even flinch “Not happening.”

Your eye twitches behind the mask.

“I said leave.”

You dash forward. Fast.

Your punch aims straight for Sanji’s chest but he doesn’t move. You slam into him and he staggers back, coughing blood, but doesn’t strike back.

You hesitate.

Why didn’t he fight back?

You spin, launching kicks and strikes at Nami, Robin, Usopp... They dodge or take the hit but they don’t attack.

Nami yells, voice shaking, “We’re not gonna hurt you, Y/N!”

You freeze mid-swing.

Luffy steps forward, fists unclenched.

“You can try to kill us,” he says “But we’re not gonna stop until you remember who you are.”

“I know who I am... I’m the Winter Soldier” you reply coldly.

“No” Luffy says.

“You’re Y/N. Our nakama.”

You punch again and again, he takes it. Blood drips from his mouth. Still, he grins.

“Come on,” he says “I know you’re still in there.”

Your vision shakes. A memory flashes. You stumble backward, clutching your head.

“Stop! Stop!!”

Luffy doesn’t stop. He steps closer.

Robin gently calls, “You saved us so many times, Y/N. Let us save you now.”

“Don’t you remember?” Usopp says “You made me that slingshot charm, back on Water 7. You said it’d keep me safe.”

Sanji places a gentle hand on your shoulder “You called us family.”

The words hit like thunder.

You scream.

You drop to your knees.

The pain behind your eyes explodes and the memories rush in.

Every laugh. Every fight. Every hug. Every scar. Every sunset on the Sunny. Every meal Sanji made. Every time Chopper patched you up. Every stupid, perfect moment.

The mask suddenly feels wrong. Tight. Heavy. You rip it off.

Tears streak down your cheeks.

“I remember.”

Luffy holds out a hand to you, grinning through a split lip.

“Welcome back.”

You take his hand and stand up. The mask lies shattered at your feet. Tears drying on your cheeks. The Straw Hats stand beside you.

You don’t feel like the Winter Soldier anymore.

Now, you feel like you.

But the moment is short-lived. Behind you, the reinforced blast doors hiss open.

White coats. Scientists. Dozens of them. Their voices are calm. Clinical.

“She’s unstable.”

“Reactivate the protocol.”

“Sedate her before she infects the others with sentiment.”

You freeze. The crew tenses.

You feel the shift in the air. The pure, boiling rage that radiates from behind you.

Zoro steps forward first. One hand on his sword.

Sanji lights a cigarette. Hands shaking with fury.

Luffy cracks his knuckles “You’re the ones who did this.”

The scientists don’t even flinch.

“She was never yours to begin with.”

Wrong answer.

Zoro unsheathes his sword.

“Zoro—wait—” you try, but it’s too late.

He’s gone. Charging forward with the fury of a storm.

Luffy launches after him.

Sanji’s right behind, kicking straight through the steel wall just to get a shortcut to them.

Franky roars, cannon arm charged.

Brook draws his sword with an eerie silence “You hurt our friend.”

Even Nami gets ready to attack them saying “How dare you doing that to our y/n!”

Usopp, Robin, and Chopper stay behind you, but even they look mad and protective.

You turn to them, breath fast “We can’t let them go too far.”

“They tortured you!” Chopper yells, ears flat, teeth clenched “They hurt you for two years!”

“I know...” you say softly.

Robin’s eyes are hard, but she’s not moving “People like them… they don’t stop unless you make them.”

“They already broke laws” Usopp says “They broke you.”

You step between them and the path ahead.

“I’m not asking you to forgive them. I’m asking you not to become like them.”

Screams echo through the halls.

Zoro’s blade slices through security bots. Sanji kicks a scientist across the room. Luffy punches straight through a wall of machines.

They’re not holding back.

“YOU SHOCKED HER—FOR WHAT?!” Sanji bellows, grabbing a doctor by the collar.

“She was scared, and you punished her?”

Luffy blasts a ceiling open.

Zoro cuts through an entire server bank, sparks flying “You brainwashed her.”

“She’s a person” Franky says, as Nami stands beside him and continue the sentence “She’s not your weapon.”

You land hard in the center of the chaos, skidding between your friends and the scientists. The room is smoke and ruin. Bodies groaning. Fire crackling.

You raise your hands “STOP!!”

They do. Barely.

Luffy stands over a lead scientist, fist drawn back. Shaking with rage.

You step between them.

“Luffy,” you whisper “That’s enough.”

“She crushed your arm, Y/N,” he growls “She erased your name.”

“I know,” you say “And I’m still standing.”

His fist trembles in the air.

“Please,” you whisper “Let me go forward now.”

His arm drops.

Slowly, the others follow. Zoro sheaths his swords with a hard glare. Sanji turns away, biting down on his cigarette so hard it snaps. Franky’s fists stop sparking. And Nami look at you apologetically.

You stand there, panting, eyes wide.

No one speaks.

The scientists back away, terrified now. Not of the fists. But of the silence.

Robin walks over to you slowly. She places a hand on your arm.

“You brought them back” she says.

“Now I remembered who I am,” you whisper “And who I fight for.”

Hours later, the ship is quiet.

You sit on the deck, wrapped in a warm blanket. Chopper’s checked your wounds three times. Sanji made you soup and hasn’t stopped calling you “my dear lost goddess”. Nami prepared you a good warm bath and brushed your hair.

After you get out all clean and dressed as your real usual, Luffy joins you, plopping beside you with his usual grin.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

Just sits.

Then he says “You’re really back now.”

You nod.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

Your chest tightens.

“I missed you too.”

For the first time in years, you feel still. Safe.

Your new arm clicks softly as you lift your drink. It’s light. Comfortable. Yours. Matte black metal with gold lines running through it like veins, designed by Usopp and Franky, who proudly call it “The Strong Arm Mk. I”.

“Mk. II has a built-in slingshot compartment,” Usopp boasts, puffing up “Just in case.”

Franky flips his sunglasses up “And the third one comes with a grappling hook! So you can be SUPER mid-air!”

You laugh “I love it.”

They both beam like kids on Christmas.

Chopper bounds over next, stethoscope in paw “Arm okay? Nerves stable? Circulation’s good?”

You nod, smiling “You’ve checked it twice already.”

He pouts “I just wanna make sure! What if the bone memory causes—”

You hug him before he finishes the sentence.

He squeaks, face turning red “O-okay! You’re fine, you’re fine!”

Later, in the kitchen Sanji won’t stop cooking.

Plates stack up faster than you can eat them: your favorite stew, that spicy rice from Drum Island, a cake that’s somehow in the shape of your arm, and a hot drink with cinnamon swirls on top.

He hovers proudly nearby, heart eyes practically glued to you.

“I’ll make it every day if it makes you smile, mon étoile!”

You snort “You’re gonna spoil me.”

He spins dramatically “Then let me!! You’ve been through hell, now all you get is heaven!”

Brook strums his violin, a slow, sweet tune.

It’s the lullaby you used to hum when you couldn’t sleep.

He doesn’t say anything. Just plays for you.

Robin sits beside you, passing you a book she picked from her personal collection. It’s about strong women who survived and changed the world.

She doesn’t say much either. She doesn’t have to.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

Nami and Zoro hang back at first.

You find them leaning against the mast, watching the crew buzz around you.

“You okay?” Nami asks quietly.

You nod “I am now.”

Zoro doesn’t look at you, but his voice is low and honest “You scared the hell outta us.”

“I know” you say softly.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances over at last “You don’t have to be. Just don’t vanish again.”

You smile, holding back tears “I won’t.”

Nami smiles back at you “I’m so happy to see you smile again!”

Later that night, Luffy slams his mug down “Alright!! Now that everyone’s back, let’s celebrate!”

The crew cheers.

Meat piles up. Lights string along the mast. Music plays. Laughter fills the air.

You’re laughing too, tears in your eyes, surrounded by your family.

They don’t treat you like you’re broken. They don’t treat you like a weapon.

They treat you like Y/N.

The next morning the sails are up. The wind is perfect. The Log Pose spins confidently.

Nami grins “Let's start, next stop: Fishman Island!”

Luffy points ahead “Full speed!!”

You stand beside him, wind in your hair, new arm gleaming in the sun.

“Let’s go.”

Because this time, you’re not just coming along.

You’re finally home, with them. And the world better be ready.

[mechanisedbrainrot]

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any notes on hair and hairstyles by any chance?

Writing Notes: Hairstyles

Some writing tips to describe your character's hair:

Frame your character’s face with a hairstyle that reflects their story. A crewcut might signify a military soldier or someone who likes to be in control. A ponytail or pigtails might indicate a young character. Describe a character’s hair color—black hair, dark hair, brunette, redhead, blonde, gray, or white—in interesting ways instead of just stating the shade. It makes a difference whether your character dyes their hair or keeps it its natural shade. Describe the length of their hair. A confident businesswoman might have short or shoulder-length hair. A musician might have longer hair. Match your character’s hairstyle with their personality.

Make facial hair an element of a character’s style. How a male character keeps his facial hair is telling. If he’s constantly clean-shaven, he might go to a regular corporate job. A bit of stubble can signify a more casual career. From a beard to sideburns to a goatee, facial hair helps paint a picture of a male character and can help represent their life and what they do.

Write detailed character descriptions. Visualize a character in your own mind. Make them three dimensional by fleshing out both the character’s personality and physical appearance. Write down their physical details like hairstyle and hair color—do they have brown hair, blond hair, or dark hair? Describe how they move through the world and hint at what their body language and mannerisms reveal.

Here are some words to help you select more precise language and improve the clarity in your writing:

Descriptive Words to Describe Hair

Hair Texture. Relates to the circumference of individual hairs as well as the curl pattern and general state of the hair, with regards to how it looks and feels.

body, bouncy, bristly, brittle, bushy, coarse, crinkly, delicate, downy, fine, flat, fluffy, frizzy, fuzzy, glossy, lank, limp, listless, luxuriant, luxurious, medium, nappy, no body, puffy, rough, satiny, silky, sleek, smooth, soft, sticky, stiff, straight, straw-like, supple, touchable, velvety, wavy, wiry

Hair Thickness. This means the same thing as hair density. There are a number of terms for how thick a person’s hair is.

lush, scraggly, sparse, stringy, thick, thin, voluminous, wispy, wooly

Hair Styles or Cuts. Properly describing how hair is cut or styled is critical in describing the appearance of a character in a story or the subject of a work of nonfiction.

afro, a-line, angled, asymmetrical, bangs, beehive, blunt, bob, bouffant, bowl cut, braided, braids, brushed back, bun, buzzed, center part, chignon, chopped, choppy, clipped, coils, comb over, corkscrew curls, cornrows, crew cut, curled, dreadlocks, ducktail, emo, extensions, face-framing, feathered, fishtail braid, flat top, flyaway, french braids, french twist, fringe, Jheri curl, kinked, layered, long layers, loose, military cut, mohawk, mullet, natural, pageboy, parted, pigtails, pin curls, pixie, plaited, pompadour, ponytail, Rasta, rat tail, ratted, ringlets, shag, shaved, side part, slicked down, spiked, spiky, spirals, springy, stacked, straightened, swept back, swept to the side, swept up, teased, topknot, trimmed, twisted, undercut, up, updo, waterfall braids, weave, wedge, wings, wrapped

Hair Length. Hair can vary greatly in length. Choosing the right descriptive word for hair length helps readers get a better picture of the character or person about whom you are writing.

cascading, chin length, close cropped, cropped, ear length, flowing, long, medium length, mid-back length, neck length, short, shoulder length, tailbone length, trailing, waist length

Hair Color or Tints. Since there are many hair colors in different tones, some natural and some not, it’s really important to choose the right descriptive word for hair color.

ash brown, auburn, black, bleached blond, blonde, blue, bluish, bottle blonde, brown, brunette, burgundy, burnished, chestnut, coppery, dark, flaxen, ginger, golden blonde, gray, green, honey, jet black, light, mousy, multi-colored, natural blonde, oil slick, ombre, peroxide blonde, pink, platinum, purple, rainbow, raven, red, salt and pepper, silver, strawberry blonde, streaked, sun-kissed, sun-streaked, wheat blonde, white, yellow, yellowing

Treated Hair. There are a number of treatments people can use to alter the appearance of their hair.

bleached, body wave, brassy, colored, conditioned, deep conditioned, dyed,frosted, highlighted, highlights, lowlights, permed, relaxed, smoothing, tinted

Messy Hair. There are a number of ways to convey to readers that a person has messy hair. Whether the individual’s hair is messy due to a lack of care, general unruliness, or having been engaged in activity that caused it to become messy, choose the right word so readers will understand.

bad hair day, bedhead, clumpy, disarray, disheveled, drooping, knotted, matted, overgrown, shaggy, snarled, tangled, tousled, towheaded, uncombed, uncontrollable, unkempt, unmanageable, unruly, unstyled, untamed, untidy, windblown, windswept

Neatly Styled Hair. Some people take great pains to ensure their hair is the exact opposite of messy. Use these terms when you want to describe someone with neatly styled hair.

blown out, coiffed, coiffured, done, neat, runway-ready, tamed, tidy, well-groomed

More Ways to Describe the Appearance of Hair. The categories listed above aren’t all inclusive when it comes to describing hair.

beautiful, brushed, classy, clean, combed, damp, dirty, dripping, dull, elegant, enviable, fashionable, filthy, gorgeous, greasy, healthy, luscious, lustrous, nourished, shiny, singed, slick, soaked, squeaky clean, stylish, sweaty, trendy, vibrant, voluminous, wet

Words to Describe Hair Problems. There are a number of different hair problems. If the person or character you are writing about has a visible issue with his or her hair, be sure to choose the best word to describe it.

alopecia, bald, balding, bald patch, broken, damaged, dandruff, dry, flaky, fried, hair loss, lice, needs a touch-up, nits, oily, overly processed, pattern baldness, receding, roots are showing, shedding, split ends, thinning, thin on top, widow’s peak

Hair Accessories. Thoroughly describing a person or character’s appearance may require giving some information about hair accessories the person is wearing. Choose the best term to describe any items placed in or on the individual’s hair.

ball cap, barrette, beret, bobby pin, bow, butterfly clip, chopsticks, elastic, feather, flower, hair clip, hairpin, hat, headband, headscarf, kerchief, ribbon, scarf, scrunchie, side comb, snap clip, sweatband, tiara, tieback

Names of Hair Tools. When you need to describe what someone uses to style their hair, be sure to accurately describe the type of tool the individual uses.

blow dryer, clippers, comb, curling iron, diffuser, dryer, duckbill clips, fine-tooth comb, flat iron, hairbrush, hot rollers, rollers, round brush, scissors, thinning shears

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Facial Hair

Hope this helps with your writing!

[waynes-multiverse]

Lover – Part 3

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

�� Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, the fluffiest of fluff, the smuttiest of smut (watch out for the breeding kink lol) 😉

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to you all, loves! 💕 Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments over the last few days. I've seen and appreciate them all and will catch up with you guys over the weekend 🥰 For now, excuse this poor mama, 'cause she is fucking beat 😂

Enjoy the happy end 🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 3: Lovestruck

Three fucking days he had waited in front of that goddamn door.

He slept in front of that door, ate in front of that door, and he silently panicked in front of that door. He hated that fucking door, had raging murder fantasies about it, but he never, ever opened said fucking door, no matter how much his fingers were twitching. Mostly because every time his hand did wrap around the knob, she’d yell at him to ‘stay the fuck out.’

Ben only unwillingly complied.

But when the quiet came and all other noises stopped, he finally dared to set a foot inside. The bedroom looked normal, even if disarrayed – but the bathroom surely needed a fucking remodel.

All that remained of their bathtub was a solidified puddle of acrylic. There was also a hole in the floor – burned right through the tiles. He’d wondered why it’d been so cold in there till he'd noticed the giant hole in the wall too that gave a perfect view of their backyard. But he found Y/N resting and curled up on the cool, white tiles – alive.

His heart might have fucking soared higher than an eagle.

When Ben asked her how she felt, she only replied with “Like I fucking survived D-Day.”

At that, Ben had snorted and said, “At least one of us did.”

And when they were both sure the worst was over and she wouldn’t turn the car into bubbling liquid as well, Ben finally drove her to a hospital. She was still weak, mostly from not eating a thing in four days. The doctors thought she must’ve had a severe case of the flu, gave her an IV drip with plenty of nutrients, and then released her after a few tests.

She’s been exhausted since then, drifting in and out of dreamland as he holds her in his embrace. She begins to stir again, and soon enough, she glances tiredly up at him through her eyelashes and gives him a lazy smile when she realizes he’s still here, exactly where he was hours ago when she last woke up.

“How late is it?” she asks and stretches a little in his arms but only ends up snuggling closer to him.

“Close to three,” he replies, and judging by the darkness outside their bedroom window, she guesses he doesn’t mean in the afternoon. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N almost breaks a smile. She can’t remember if he had ever asked this much about her well-being before. Her little brush with death might have shaken his steeled core more than she’d initially figured, and her heart swells slightly at the thought.

Sometimes, she still thinks he only keeps her around because he doesn’t know any better. It’s like getting an abused dog from the shelter – you never know if they really love you or if they only tolerate you because you’re nice enough to feed them.

He’s a creature of habit, after all.

But the affection and genuine worry gleaming in his pine green eyes tells her he might see more in her than that – whatever the hell that is.

“Better.” She nods, letting her fingers trace patterns around the golden freckles on his chest. Much better, she thinks as she feels the familiar heat pool between her legs. She bites down on her lower lip and presses herself closer to his perfectly toned and muscular body. It’s been too long since she’s worshipped every fucking glorious inch of him. “I think the fried chicken and noodles helped,” she adds with a small grin.

He chuckles – but not at her words. He can feel how she’s rubbing her thighs together now to get a little friction.

“Oh, I’m sure the burger, fries, sushi, and tacos helped, too,” he teases her. He came this close to entering her in one of those eating competitions as he watched her empty take-out container after container.

“Don’t forget the churros.” She giggles, and on cue, she rolls fully on top of him and straddles his waist, spreading featherlight kisses along the paths her fingers trailed.

“Not surprising. I already know how much you can stuff in that fucking mouth, doll.” Ben’s wide smirk is full of pride, and it causes her to giggle.

To make his point even clearer, his massive hands smooth down her sides and grip the globes of her ass, grinding her core against his proudly standing member. She mewls into the crook of his neck when she feels how fucking hard he is already. He lets out a grunt that carries the same desperate need to be inside of her as two of his thick fingers delve into her tight channel without much of a warning.

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters appreciatively as she arches her back with another moan on top of him. His free hand winds itself in her hair, giving it a slight tug that parts her lips with a pleasurable hiss as he drags her closer to his face. His amusement doesn’t fade, though, nor do his fingers in her pussy as he works her into a frenzy. “Sure you’re ready enough for the big guns, baby girl?”

She giggles breathily at his relentless teasing. “I’m literally about to come any second now,” she replies, soon followed by a harsh bite of her lip when his calloused thumb finds her clit. “Fuck…”

“Oh, I don’t think you fucking are.” Ben smirks and withdraws his fingers from her heat in the same breath. He laughs a little when she falls against his chest with a whimper of real loss.

Her hand finds his length between their burning bodies and wraps around it, already dragging his tip through her dripping folds. But Ben only entertains her plans for a second before snatching her wrist and pulling her away from him.

She whines this time and looks up at him. “Dear God, what do you want?” A laugh rumbles through his chest at the exasperation on her face. “I’ll do anything you want, anywhere you want. Just tell me. What’s Soldier Boy’s deepest, darkest fantasy, huh?”

Ben knows she’s teasing him, and a smile of amusement twitches on his lips, but a part of him actually seriously considers her question.

“What?” Her brow knits curiously as she observes the contemplative purse of his pillowy lips. “It’s okay. You can tell me,” she assures him and grins cheekily. “How fucking dirty is it?”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and subtly swallows the lump in the back of his throat. He doesn’t reply instantly, however, pulling her ear to his lips as he whispers his little wish.

When he’s done, she blinks at him in surprise (and a hint of amusement). She certainly hasn’t expected that, but she places a loving kiss on his lips. The asshole can be charmingly sweet once in a blue moon.

“You sure about that?” she checks, but her tone is more than a little teasing. “There’s a lot of kinks to pick from.”

“Why does your generation always have to label fucking everything? It’s fucking sex. That’s it.” He huffs a bit too defensively, and she tries her best to muzzle her laugh. “What’s fucking wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” she assures him, giggling, and tries to soothe the furious lines of offense on his brow with little kisses. “It’s just surprising. It’s usually what super-old, married couples do.”

“Well, there you go,” he retorts. “I’m super fucking old and married. You’re gonna keep fucking chit-chatting or are you gonna do it now?”

“Fine, I’ll make love to you,” she relents with a smirk as she voices his little secret out loud.

“Jesus fuck!” He throws his head back into the pillow with a theatric eye roll.

His patience has run out. He grabs her fast and rough and flips them both over in a blink of an eye, her back landing in the plush mattress with a bubble of giggles. His weight presses down on her and deliciously threatens to squeeze the air from her lungs.

“Let me show you how it’s fucking done, my love,” Ben says with a cocky smile and begins to ravage a path of destruction down her throat. She’s sure she’ll be more colorful than a rainbow in the morning.

His teeth nib on her skin, hands pawing at the only clothing item that still covers her body from him, soon tearing the shirt over her head. His mouth stops attacking her clavicle then, green eyes focusing on her tits with a rising smirk.

“There’s my girls. Daddy’s home…”

Before she can even reply with a laugh at his comment, his mouth is swallowing her left tit, tongue roughly swirling over her nipple till it peaks against his wet muscle. She moans and arches off the mattress when his other hand massages, palms, and squeezes her other breast with the same fervent hunger.

Her hands find purchase on his strong upper arms, bicep flexing underneath her pads. His mouth devoutly licks lower and lower down her belly. She can feel his smirk rise against her skin the further he travels before his tongue dives straight into her folds.

“Fuck!” Her hips instantly buck forward, everything below her belly button clenching at the welcome intrusion.

And God, that man is skilled when it comes to sex. If he takes nothing else in his life seriously, this is his goddamn Olympics. He always gives it his all, just aiming for that gold medal over and over again.

It’s why she honestly forgives him for most of the shit he does or says, and she’s pretty sure he knows it, too.

His arms wrap around her thighs and pull her even closer against his sinful mouth. Her ankles cross behind his head, calves resting on those broad shoulders that seem to be made just for that purpose. Her toes tease his scalp, scratch the back of his head that cause little groans of his against her center that sound both submissive and primal, as if it's the most natural thing to give his everything to her.

His nose deliciously rubs her clit, and then the bastard fucking inhales and sucks the air right out of her when his lips seal around her bundle of nerves. She cries out his name, her cunt clenching with aching emptiness.

“Don’t worry. I know what you need,” Ben hums against her mound and shoves two thick fingers into her wet channel. “So fucking tight. You think you can take three? It’s been a while. Gotta get you into shape again…”

Fucking Olympics.

His digits then pump her so purposefully, mouth sucking her so religiously, she soon soars so fucking high she can see fucking Cupid himself. Her head falls back into the clouds when that fucking arrow hits, and she falls apart under his binding spell.

She thinks she might have passed out there for a second or two. When she steals a glance south, he still works her zealously through her glorious high as her pussy grips his fingers so tight she’s baffled they don’t break.

If she still had been a supe, they would’ve have.

And my God, she knows Ben’s never wasteful, not with his drugs nor with her arousal, but the way his tongue cleans her and licks his own fingers reaches a new level of obscenity she hasn’t witnessed before.

He acts like he’s been fucking parched for decades, and her juices are the elixir of life.

Then, when there's not a drop left to drink, and only then, does he decide to resurface with the laziest and proudest fucking smirk she’s ever seen. He leans so close to her face their foreheads touch, and she can smell her own scent in his glistening beard before he makes her taste herself, too.

“You’re still the same shithead.” She smirks breathlessly, her tits heaving as she breaks from the kiss. His chuckles fill her soul. She cards her fingers through his beard and brushes the hair back that falls into his mesmerizingly green eyes. “You’re gonna make love to me now?”

A smile widens on his plump and swollen lips, even at the hint of teasing in her voice, but he doesn’t respond with words, only nods and claims her lips in a blazing kiss. He angles his hips between her thighs then and spreads her legs further apart as they secure around his middle.

His lips leave hers and force her eyes open, staring straight into his. There’s an abundance of devotion and love in the lush greens that fill her heart. He makes her fucking feel it – every goddamn thing she is to him.

She feels his love when their fingers interlace and he pins them above her head. She feels his dedication with every thick, long inch he pushes inside of her. And she feels his fucking loyalty with each deliberate stroke.

He doesn’t rush, even keeps the dirty talk to a minimum. This is just for her.

It’s his fucking Olympics.

But most of all, she sees their vows shimmering in his eyes and knows he’ll never fucking break them.

“I love you,” she moans breathily into his ear, wounding herself tighter around him. She’s fucking close, ready for that next arrow with his name on it to pierce right through her heart.

He smirks a little in response, like he’s been waiting to hear it first. “Trust me. I fucking love you more,” he says, voice husky and thick with love. He emphasizes his promise with a snap of his hips, driving his cock right against her cervix. “Gonna pump a full fucking load deep into that little pussy till you’re fucking knocked up with a whole litter.”

Fucking shit. That should not turn her on as much as it does, but it’s hard to goddamn deny it when she comes right then and there as soon as he’s finished that filthy sentence.

“That’s it. Fucking milk my cock,” Ben rasps into her ear and feels his balls tighten when her pussy quakes around his shaft. “Like a fucking faucet,” he murmurs appreciatively and sucks marks into her neck. He’s missed making her his work of art, too.

When he spills his seed into her, hot and raw, he ensures their eye contact never breaks. He wants her to see what she’s fucking doing to him, how he falls apart just for her, too.

Two months later…

“What the fuck is taking you so long?” Ben stretches his neck and tries to peer into the kitchen. He begrudgingly eyes the green, glittery party hat on the dining table in front of him. “‘M not putting the fucking hat on, by the way.”

“Dude, you think it’s fucking easy lighting 108 candles on a fucking cake?” she retorts from the kitchen with a bit of bite before she strolls out with a sort of wonky buttercream cake, but the smile on her face is even brighter than the million candles.

“There’s no fucking way you put 108 candles on there,” Ben scoffs and grumpily crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back with a creak in his chair.

He’s been a bit of a party pooper all day. It also didn’t help when their son pointed that out at breakfast.

However, Ben probably shouldn’t have replied with: “Yeah, you would be too if your wife said no to blow.”

And yup, you bet your ass he woke her up bright and early in the morning, requesting she’d lick the snow off his dick. He’d termed it a super blow job and was rather disappointed when she'd declined.

“No, but I managed to get 53 on there, so it’s an A for effort,” she replies patiently. God, she needs so much fucking patience every day, but especially today.

“What fucking hippie school did you go to, huh?” Ben huffs and only encounters an annoyed frown when he looks at her.

“Blow out your fucking candles and make your wish, caveman,” she orders him dryly.

With a pissy eye roll, he does, puffing the life out of each little flame. “Are we fucking done with this now?”

Just then, the oven timer goes off, and Y/N straightens in the seat across from him.

“Uh, almost,” she says. “Got something in the oven. Can you check?”

“It’s my fucking birthday. How about you check yourself?” he retorts like a fucking princess.

“Ben, c’mon, I just spent six hours in the kitchen, baking you that cake,” she argues.

“Surprising it took six hours for this fucking thing,” Ben mutters, and she’s about to goddamn choke him.

Patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue…

“Baby, please, my feet hurt really bad.” She pouts, and he finally gets up with a deep sigh. She smiles wickedly.

“The oven isn’t even fucking on!” Ben yells soon from the kitchen. “And there’s nothing fucking inside!”

“Are you sure?” she acts as best as she can. “I thought I put something on the baking sheet.”

She listens to the clattering metal before a beat of silence follows. She’s sure his brows are densely knit in confusion (and frustration) at this point.

“What the fuck is this? Why would you put a fucking plastic stick in there?” The question finishes when he returns to the dining room, a small, white stick still in hand. He then holds it to his nose. “Why the fuck does it smell like piss?”

“Because I fucking peed on it,” she responds but sees he’s still not fully catching on.

“Ew! Why the fuck would you put that in the fucking oven?!” His brow furrows so comically she tries her hardest to stifle her laughter.

God, she hopes the kid gets her brains.

“Why is there a fucking smiley on it?”

“Because you’re supposed to be fucking happy, you moron,” she says.

“Why would I be fucking happy over a piss stick? Not exactly the fucking Rolex I wanted, is it?”

“Ben.”

His green eyes narrow at her and then blink. “Wait…”

“Yup.”

“Are you–“

“Yup.”

The stick in his hand drops to the floor before he scoops her up into his arms so fast she feels slightly dizzy from the motion. Happily, her legs wrap around his waist and arms lock behind his neck. She kisses him deeply, and he kisses her back with the same passionate devotion.

He squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, forcing the tears to stay in, but she can still see the remnants of them when she draws back from his lips.

“I’m pregnant,” she says in case he still needed the verbal confirmation.

“Best fucking birthday ever,” he replies, swallowing the fucking lump in his dry throat.

She grins mischievously. “Told you it would be a good one, but no super blow jobs for a while.”

He snorts a chuckle. “Got it. I’ll take the regular ones, too.”

Ben once used to hate everything, his heart, much like the Grinch’s, a few sizes too small for anything else. But now, there’s barely enough space in his chest to contain it all. These days, he certainly considers himself a lover of all things life has to fucking offer.

The End 💕

Didn't I fucking say I would fix it?! Well, there ya go! Sid and Nancy got a happy end 🌅❣️

Do you guys think Ben wished for a baby or a fucking Rolex when he blew out those candles? 😂

(@zepskies 💜 – Not sure you remember this, but you sent me this ask for Dirty Drabbles about a year ago lol: What if Ben's girlfriend/wife/partner agrees to help fulfill one of his dirty fantasies. She's fully prepared for it to be insane (a la Ben), but what he requests is actually something surprisingly sweet (in its own way lol) And I immediately had this for this miniseries in mind! It fit those two perfectly!! 🥰🫶)

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[creatingblackcharacters]

hi! this might be a complicated ask. i'm writing a Black-coded (nonhuman) ex-soldier with PTSD and was wondering if there is anything else i should consider with this character's relationship to violence. since im white, i dont have a nuanced perspective on how growing up Black(coded) might affect his behavior in this area.

my character is Black-coded in his character design, but more importantly, in-universe, he is part of a phenotype of his species that is treated like they are less intelligent and more violent than the other phenotypes. in canon material for this universe, other characters who are subject to these stereotypes have been interpreted as Black, so there is precedent for this analogy. a huge part of the source material is the struggle for equality, freedom, and liberation for all phenotypes. (not that its always done well)

the way im writing him now, he's a very calm and avoidant pacifist when possible, wanting to distance himself from the battlefield. but when he feels his new friends are in danger, he will fight again to protect them and himself. thing is, he has PTSD, and what he registers as a life-or-death threat might not register as a threat to his friends. as a result, they might find his actions overly aggressive… they don't understand what the war was like & how not being proactive enough cost him a friend. he's terrified to lose someone again, and this is the root of his behavior. that fear drives him more than the fear of returning to the battlefield. i dont want him to be an "angry aggressive Black man" or anything, i want it to be clear that he's acting from a place of fear, trauma, and protectiveness. i also want to note that he is not the only Black-coded character. one of the three never-seen-battle, carefree characters is also Black-coded. hopefully i've written him with enough nuance to avoid falling into stereotypes about aggression, but if not, i'd want to hear where i can improve.

now, the part where i really need advice is on how growing up as a part of this stereotyped phenotype might affect how he does (or does not) express things like anger, hostility, or fear. might he try to keep his emotions under wraps to avoid appearing angry or aggressive? or uncritically embrace it as a part of his identity? might he be afraid that expressing his emotions honestly will invite discrimination from his friends who do not have this phenotype? im afraid i just dont know where to begin with this one, but i feel it must be addressed as an important part of his character. oppression is a big topic in the source material and i feel i'd be remiss to avoid it in my OCs.

i know this is a long ask, but if you do choose to answer, thank you very much! if you'd like elaboration on anything, just ask. he's my favorite OC in this story and the most well-developed, and i want to do him justice

Hi, sorry for taking so long to get back to you, but I've been thinking about how to answer this question daily. In my honest opinion, I think you should pause on this character and do some further research. You have an incredibly intriguing concept that would be really cool to explore... But I don't think that, right now, you as an author necessarily understand what you need to in order to depict the complexity of this character's experience.

My suggestion would be finding and reading books written by Black men about their experiences as Black men. They will include their stories of how they had to deal with their emotions, their traumas, and their relationships. I'm sure there are even stories of Black vets, if you really want to get that specific, but just in general life experience will hold patterns worth understanding for characterization. Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the World and Me, or Monster by Walter Dean Myers, stuff like that.

[blackcat-star]

Do you accept request perhaps? Cause I really wanna request for Igris x reader where reader is Igris lover from back then but sadly died and got reincarnated in today's time as jin-woo old classmate and they finally meet with Igris having bits of their memories and reader remembering everything. This is theme with angst and chaos (from the other shadow)

May Fate Give Us A Chance.

Igris x Fem!Reader.

Note: I finally finish this! After a whole month!!!! ... Lol I'm sorry my dear reader😭

__________

Rain fell in drops against the glass windows of a grand and majestic mansion, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Outside, the neatly trimmed rose garden surrendered to the pouring rain, petals glistening in the distant lightning.

Tonight the weather seems worse than usual.

Winters in this country usually have very little rain, so it was unusual for there to be a sudden downpour like this. It gave people a bad feeling about something. Something dark was about to happen. A separation. Life and death are on the edge and in a struggle.

The war had been going on for almost three years, and there was still no sign of it coming to an end. At present, everything is stabilized by the truce. But everyone knows that it is just an excuse to not have to fight in the current unfavorable weather for both sides. Perhaps before dying on the battlefield, the soldiers died first from the ice and snow, from the rain that penetrated their skin, from the cold, from hunger and thirst. So the truce is now the most suitable solution for both sides. And it also opens up hope for peace negotiations.

Or so we hope.

Inside, the mansion maintained a solemn silence. The silence was broken only by the crackling of a fire in the fireplace of an office, where the commander of the army, Igris, sat reviewing maps spread out on a jet-black ebony table.

Crystal vases glinted, casting amber reflections on the leather-bound books stacked on the table, and on the wooden bookcases. An old sword hung over the fireplace. Nearby was a globe, with some of the borders marked in intricate patterns, a testament to long evenings spent pondering strategy.

Servants moved like ghosts through the corridors, their footsteps muffled by thick Persian rugs. They knew better than to disturb the commander on nights like this, when the rain seemed to add to the weight of the decisions that had to be made before dawn.

The office door creaked open, causing Igris to frown. He was sure that he had asked everyone not to disturb him while he was working, and everyone understood that. Yet what kind of idiot would dare enter without permission.

But when Igris raised his head and saw the figure hiding behind the door, his eyes softened.

His wife, you, in a white woolen nightgown with your hair down, hesitantly peeked your head out at him through the door. "Igris..."

Igris put the map down on the table, immediately stood up and walked towards his wife, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Wife, are you still not asleep?"

You leaned against him, pressing your ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat. "I can't sleep without you."

He gently tightened his arms around you, feeling your small body shivering in the wind and the sound of rain outside the glass window. Inside the large office, the light from the fireplace fell on your face, making your sad eyes seem even softer and more fragile in his.

"I'm sorry," Igris whispered. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting this long."

You just shook your head, your fingers tightening around Igris' thick military coat. "I know you're busy..."

He gently led you to the fireplace, letting you sit down on the red velvet armchair. "Wait for me," Igris said, turning back to the table, carefully folding the map and putting all the papers in the locked drawer. Then he returned, took off his heavy military coat, leaving only his white shirt underneath, and sat down next to you.

He pulled the thick blanket over your legs, then let you sit on his lap, carefully holding you in his arms.

You snuggled into him, letting his warmth dispel the winter and the chill in your heart.

Sensing his mood, Igris gently reached up to stroke your hair. "Is something bothering you?"

"I don't know...," you whispered. "But I have a bad feeling."

You looked up at him. "Igris, will the war end soon?"

It was a difficult question. Igris paused for a moment. For he himself did not know whether the war would end soon, or whether it would take another three years, or even more than twenty years.

"In a few days," he said softly, "there might be news of a peace conference. But at the same time, I have heard some bad rumors."

"Regarding the armistice?"

Igris pondered, his eyes looking at the fire as if looking into the distance. "There are those who do not want peace. If they act sooner than expected, I am not sure if we will be able to react in time."

You were silent for a moment, then placed your hand on his. "If war breaks out, will you go to war again?"

Igris nodded firmly. "As the commander of the army, that is my responsibility. It is only a pity for you, as the wife of a soldier, you may have to endure a lot of hardship and suffering."

You shook your head. "I love you. Ever since I agreed to marry you, I've been prepared for everything." You paused for a few seconds. "But I always hoped you would come back safely."

The wind howled outside the window, accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the glass, like someone crying in the middle of the night.

Finally, Igris squeezed your hand gently. "I will always come back to you, don't worry."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

But both of you knew that this promise was as fragile as a thread.

And in the end, the promise was not fulfilled.

...

The surprise attack broke out at dawn on Wednesday, the sun had not yet risen above the misty horizon.

No warning. No note rejecting the peace treaty. No sign except the rumbling of cannons that seemed to tear the sky apart, shaking the earth and awakening the nightmares that had been sleeping in the hearts of the people.

Igris set out on the coldest morning of winter, under the worried eyes of all the servants in the mansion and the unease in his wife's eyes. He didn't have time to say any words of comfort, only time to leave a hasty kiss on your lips and a final message. "Wait for me to return."

The neighing of a horse sounded, the commander mounted his horse and urged his horse to gallop towards the battlefield.

You stood on the balcony of your bedroom door, between the rows of snow-covered stone pillars, your eyes following the army as it disappeared towards the mountains. Your white cloak fluttered like the wind, blending with the falling snow.

You waited.

A week.

Then a month.

Months passed.

While everyone put aside their grief and eased their fears of war by trying to prepare well for the spring party with the hope of a better future, winter seemed to never end at the commander's mansion.

The royal knights arrived, carefully carrying a box wrapped in the national flag.

The wife was shocked, her face was pale and bloodless. The look of shock and pain was clearly visible on your face. Your limbs felt like they were about to give out, without any strength left.

"We're sorry..."

"Commander Igris' body could not be found in the sea of ​​blood..."

"Please hold back your grief..."

The box was handed to your trembling arms and the knights left with a respectful bow.

You fell to your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks, hugging your husband's remains and sobbing. "You promised to come back..."

___________

You dream the same dream again.

The clash of swords, the thunder of hooves, and the screams of the dying. And at the center of it all, a tall figure in shining purple armor. His name danced at the edges of your consciousness, drifting away like smoke as you tried to grasp it.

Igris.

The name comes to you naturally, a ghostly memory from a life you can't recall. But each night, the dreams came more frequently, more vividly, until they barely felt like dreams at all.

You groaned, rolling out of bed to face another ordinary day at Seoul High School. Another day of trying to pretend that you belonged to this era, in this life. Another day of searching for something, someone, that you couldn't name.

"Are you late again, Miss L/n?" Mr. Kang's disapproving gaze met yours as you entered the classroom.

"Sorry, teacher," you muttered, sitting down next to Jinwoo. The quiet boy barely acknowledged your presence, lost in his own thoughts as usual.

Jinwoo had changed lately. You remembered him being weak. At least about two years ago. Then one day he suddenly stopped going to school and disappeared for two years. When he came back, he brought something with him, some kind of power that surpassed humanity.

Not sure if anyone else saw it, or if you were just paranoid, but this classmate always gave off a strong and dark aura that was suffocating. Sometimes you saw his shadow seem to lengthen, and there were flashes of light from it.

Moreover, for some reason, you felt something familiar.

Realizing you were staring at him, Jinwoo turned around. "Do you need something?"

You immediately flinched and turned away "Sorry!", completely embarrassed when you realized you had been looking at him for too long.

Jinwoo just smiled, his eyes flashing dangerously. He whispered, but you couldn't hear it. "It seems like she can sense you guys."

'You guys' here referring to the shadow soldiers hiding in his shadow.

Beru appeared. "Do you want me to eliminate this person, My Liege!"

Igris immediately appeared and fiercely objected. "No! You must not harm this person!"

Seeing Igris's unusual loss of composure, Jinwoo was curious. "Why?"

The small version of Igris was slightly agitated. The shadow commander pondered for a moment before hesitantly confessing. "This person...resembles my wife in my previous life, My Liege."

Jinwoo shocked.

Beru shocked.

The whole army of shadow soldiers shocked.

"WHAT!?"

________

"So...you were a human before you became a soldier of Ashborn's army."

"Yes, My Liege. I once lived the life of a human. I studied and graduated from a prestigious knight training school, met my destiny, and got married. It's a pity that we couldn't be together until the end of our lives, and we didn't have a child yet."

Jinwoo said nothing. Trying to absorb the large amount of information he had just received.

While Igris was confiding in Jinwoo, in the Shadow Realm, the shadow soldiers were holding a meeting - which Beru thought was secret - but Jinwoo could sense it all - where the ant king seemed to be giving some kind of presentation.

With his many years of experience watching dramas, Beru lifted his glasses (which came from nowhere) and began to lecture about this love affair.

"Dear Shadow Soldiers," Beru said, his voice drawling as if he were standing on a theater stage. "Kiekkkkk. We are witnessing a phenomenon unprecedented in the history of the Shadow Legion!"

The Shadow Soldiers nodded, watching intently.

"The woman sitting next to our Liege at the human school - is a perfect replica of Igris's deceased wife from his previous life!" Beru said, holding up a glowing projection of you he had created.

"Impossible!"

"A predestined relationship from a previous life!?"

"As romantic as the dramas General Beru watches!"

"As good comrades...we must help the commander pursue the love of his life!" Beru cleared his throat. "So I'm pleased to announce that the 'LOVE WINS' campaign has officially begun!"

"Hurayyyyyyy!"

"For love!"

"So what should we do, general?" Tusk asked.

"That's why I called this meeting. We need to think of a way to help Igris." Beru tapped the jet-black stone table after distributing headbands that read 'For the Happiness of Commander Igris' to the shadow soldiers present.

"First of all, we need a strategy," Beru growled, drawing in the air with his hand. A strategy board appeared in midair.

"Step 1: Find out the reincarnated young lady's habits and preferences.

Step 2: Create opportunities for Igris and the young lady to interact more.

Step 3: Assist Commander Igris in confessing."

The ballroom erupted with enthusiastic "ohs" and "ahs."

Tusk raised his hand. "General Beru, how can we help Igris approach the girl when we are all under the King's shadow?"

Beru narrowed his eyes. "Kiekkkkkk. That's the problem. But judging from the situation this morning, it seems like the young lady can sense us. And moreover, our Liege is studying with the young lady! We can take advantage of this. Let's start appearing more and help the young lady remember Igris!"

The entire hall cheered in approval.

Meanwhile, Jinwoo was sweating profusely as he listened to the 'shadow soldier conference' and looked at Igris who was still sitting quietly beside him, completely oblivious to what his comrades were saying. Jinwoo secretly felt sorry for Igris, but he didn't intend to stop the shadow soldiers. After all, this might not be a bad thing, after all, Jinwoo wanted this commander of his to be happy.

___________________

And...ever since then you've felt like you're being watched.

It seems your paranoia has gotten worse as you start seeing shadows spread across the ground and walls with glowing eyes. They even seem to wave at you.

You're scared to death.

You don't understand why they're following you. You can't help but wonder if this is some evil plot and you've accidentally angered them. You shudder at the thought.

You even feel like Jinwoo's dark aura seems to be stronger, making you wary of him a lot more. You should probably apologize to him and ask for forgiveness even though you don't know what you did wrong. But you were also afraid that if he realized you could see Jinwoo's aura, he might kill you to shut you up. Thousands of scenarios ran through your head, making you panic even more. But in the end, you decided to meet him after school.

At first, Jinwoo was quite confused when you said you wanted to meet him after school. And seeing your hesitant appearance, he thought of the possibility that you wanted to confess to him, which made him even more confused.

He seemed to have done something wrong to Igris... He could imagine Igris looking at him with eyes full of resentment and disappointment.

But when you bowed down to apologize to him, his brain stopped working for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry, sir! I don't know if you're part of any cult or what I did wrong to you. But I have absolutely no ill will and no intention of interfering in your business, please don't send those monters to follow me anymore!"

Jinwoo: ?

That's when he realized that leaving the shadow soldiers alone had led to an unintended misunderstanding.

Jinwoo sighed and explained everything to you.

___________

You: (＠_＠;)

You froze after hearing Jinwoo's explanation. A large amount of information had just been conveyed to you.

And then, he summoned Igris.

Igris stood stiffly in front of you. He silently cursed the shadow soldiers who had caused this situation. He really didn't know how to act in front of you. He didn't even know if you remembered him or not. If not, this situation would be really awkward.

When your eyes met Igris's, you were instantly stunned. Memories of your past life flooded back for a moment, and the dreams seemed to become clearer.

Your eyes widened and tears gradually formed in your eyes. "Igris...? Husband...?"

Jinwoo decided to leave so that the two of you could have some privacy.

"My Lady...," Igris whispered.

You burst into tears and ran to hug Igris. Even though you couldn't see his face, you still recognized who he was, the aura of the person you loved was always the same, you couldn't mistake it.

Igris panicked, something that was unusual for him - a commander who was always calm and cool. He gently hugged you back and comforted you.

"You promised to come back! You broke your promise!" You sobbed. "I missed you so much!"

Igris hugged your body tightly. Even though he was now a shadow, you seemed to have returned to the old days in the warm embrace of your old husband. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you wait so long..."

You rubbed your head against his chest, tears falling down. "I waited, I waited for the day you brought the victory flag back. I dreamed of you, of us, but when I woke up, it was all just an illusion..."

Igris said sincerely. "I'm so sorry. But my dear, I'm a shadow now. My world right now is so different from yours. I'm afraid...."

You shook your head. "I don't care. I just need you. Whether this life or the next, whether you're in this form, as long as you're Igris, I will always love you."

He hugged you tighter. "I love you so much. In the past life, this life, and forever."

__________

Meanwhile, in Shadow Realm.

Everyone was looking at the scene before them with emotional eyes. Some shadow soldiers were wiping their tears with handkerchiefs and blowing their noses dramatically.

Beru held up the banner of 'For the Happiness of Commander Igris' and shouted loudly. " 'LOVE WINS' campaign was a great success."

"Hurayyyyyy."

"Congratulations, Commander Igris!"

"Be happy, Commander!"

I forgot to make masterlist for the others character :0 noooo, i'm a bad writer 〒▽〒

[seethesin]

multitasking

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, facesitting, cunnilingus (mdni, 18+)

a/n: based on this prompt. enjoy :)

The dinner party invitation from Bette & Tina came as a surprise to you. You accepted, of course, wanting nothing more than to spend quality time with Shane's loved ones. However, a part of you couldn't understand why you were added to the guest list. What you and Shane had was—for lack of better words—a situationship. Neither of you expected more out of the other than incredible sex, mutual respect for boundaries, and someone who was always down to have fun. Something as intimate as attending a dinner party together screamed commitment. Regardless, the two of you agreed to go together. Shane insisted on picking you up by 7:00 to be there for 7:30.

"It makes it easier," you remember Shane justifying over the phone. She babbled on about something regarding limited parking space; in hindsight, it was a lame excuse just to spend more time with you.

As promised, Shane was punctual. She was at your home by 6:30 sharp for a pickup. However, you were nowhere near ready. Thankfully, you showered, dried, and styled your hair already. But, you still needed to pick your outfit and put makeup on. You were going to need at least a half hour.

Shane blaring her car horn while parked in your driveway brought you back into reality.

"Oh my god," you mutter to yourself, searching your bedroom for your phone. Finding it underneath the dresses splayed over your bed, you smash the call button by Shane's contact and wait. Her car horn finally stops and your favorite husky voice answers on the other line.

"I'm here, [Y/N]."

"Yes, I know Shane. As does the rest of my neighborhood."

She chuckles, tickled by your tone.

"Are you ready?"

"Not yet, I still have to do a few things."

"Do you know what you're wearing yet?"

Silence. Shane's laughing now.

"Should I come in and wait?"

You sigh, defeated. "I'll unlock the door."

You end the call and hustle over to the front door. You unlock it and hold it open for Shane as she makes her way towards you, a smug smile glued onto her face.

She looks good. She always does. But there was something about the tailored suit jacket, dress shirt, and trouser combination she donned that made her look even sexier than usual. You shake that thought out of your head; you need to get ready.

"Hey, [Y/N]," she greets you, stepping into your home as you shut and lock the door behind her. You turn to face her and she's already leering at you. Her smirk does not falter.

"You sure you don't want to wear that tonight?"

Glancing down at yourself, you blink back your shock. Since you couldn't decide on what to wear, you kept your bra and underwear on but threw a robe over yourself for modesty's sake. If you weren't crunched for time, you would have taken it to throw a smart comment back at Shane. Instead, you playfully punch her in the shoulder, unable to stop yourself from grinning back. She holds up her hands in mock surrender.

"Do you want anything?" you ask, getting ready to step into the kitchen. Shane shakes her head, settling down on your couch instead.

"I'm going to finish getting ready. If you need me, I'm in my room, okay?" Shane salutes you like a soldier, snatching up the TV remote before turning it on. Half seriously, you roll your eyes before slipping down the hallway.

Your brain kicks into overdrive as you check the time. 6:34. Okay, you have some time.

Exhaling slowly, you look at the three dresses spread on your bed. Childishly, you close your eyes and whisper out the eenie meenie miney mo spiel to yourself. Once you finish, you open your eyes and take in your randomized decision. It was a batwing, beige a-line dress with a white floral pattern. Good enough.

Shedding your robe off, you slip into the dress before smoothing it out. You check yourself in the mirror and, once content with how you look, put the other dresses away. You then pull the chair out to your vanity and take a seat.

You’ve just finished applying a layer of foundation when you see Shane enter your bedroom from the corner of the mirror.

“Hey,” you offer, looking back at yourself and you start blending blush into your cheeks. She nods in reply.

“I got bored.” she finally admits, settling down on your bed. It sounds like Shane wants to add something to her statement, but she ends it curtly. She's fiddling with her rings, looking around your bedroom as if it's the first time she's been inside. If you didn't know any better, you would think something was making her nervous.

“So you’ve come to bother me?” you question teasingly, your tone light as you move onto bronzer.

Shane flashes a boyish grin at you, watching as you paint across your hairline with great interest. “Absolutely.”

“Lucky me.” It’s hard not to smile back at her, so you don’t bother to hide it.

Shane lays back on your bed, her legs draped over the foot of it while her head hits just under your pillows. She's staring at the ceiling, eyes wandering until she notes the windowsill above your headboard. Her brows furrow and then, a wicked thought crosses her mind.

"[Y/N]?" Shane's sitting up now, watching as you finish your highlight.

"Yes?"

"How much more do you need to do?"

"Just my eyes and lips, why?"

Shane beams.

"How good are you at multitasking?"

You don't follow. Your interest, however, is piqued.

"Pretty good. Why?"

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she stares at you. You know that look all too well.

"Set your stuff up on the windowsill and c'mere."

You watch her incredulously through the mirror before turning around to look at her directly. She's serious; she's waiting for you expectantly as she drums her fingernails on her thighs. You glance at the clock. 6:45. Fine, you'll humor her.

Gathering the rest of your makeup and a desk mirror, you walk towards your bed before putting everything down on the windowsill. You take a moment to set up the mirror before you look down at Shane.

"I'm here, Shane," you mimic her from earlier, watching as she lays back down on your bed. Raising her hands toward you, she wiggles her fingers in a come hither motion.

"Take a seat."

"Shane—"

"Multitask," she chides, one hand dropping to the hem of your dress. "Unless you really don't want to."

Truthfully, the idea of grinding your cunt into Shane's mouth sounded heavenly. Receiving an orgasm or two out of it sounded even better. So you relent, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear before sliding them off. Scooping up the skirt of your dress, you climb onto your bed and kneel over Shane's face.

"You ready?" you ask, watching Shane nod eagerly before seating yourself on her face. She grips your thighs, readjusting you so you're positioned comfortably on top of her. You reach for a makeup brush and shudder once you feel Shane lick a stripe from your slit to clit. Fifteen minutes you remind yourself as you start with your eyeshadow.

Shane, meanwhile, does not feel the same time crunch. She's consuming your cunt with open-mouthed kisses, pivoting to kitten licks to get a feel of what you like in this position. Her blunt fingernails dig into your thighs, grounding you as her mouth continues to work. A devious suck to your clit makes you whine and her smirk sears into your skin.

Meanwhile, you've managed to complete your eyeshadow for one eye and have moved on to the other. Shane is insatiable though; she rips another moan from your throat as her tongue rubs tight circles around your clit.

"Fuck," you whisper, trying to compose yourself before starting the other eye. Shane hums in pleasure underneath you; the vibration against your pussy makes you squirm. The coil in your stomach is beginning to tighten and desperately, you try to control your panting. You instead focus on breathing through your nose as you blend the powder into your lid. Shane keeps you on edge, her tongue flickering against your clit before sliding down to your slit.

It's when she slips her tongue inside your pussy that your resolve falters. You finished with the eyeshadow, but you didn't trust yourself enough to put eyeliner on. Or mascara for that matter. One hand sinks into Shane's hair, grabbing tightly as you lurch forward. You choke on a groan as your hips teeter, enjoying the feeling of her tongue pistoning inside you.

It's garbled, but Shane is snickering beneath you.

"Shane." It comes out as a pitiful rasp while you shake like a leaf. Maybe no eyeliner tonight. She pinches your thighs playfully to retort, making you swivel around her tongue. You opt instead to put your lipstick on. You remove your hand from Shane's hair to grab the tube in front of you. Popping the cap off, you twist before applying a quick swipe on your bottom lip. Another whimper peels from your throat as you feel the flat of Shane's tongue stroke against your clit. The tip pumps into you, maintaining the same rhythm as before.

The sensations are starting to overstimulate you. Quiveringly, you swipe your upper lip before mashing them together, rubbing the lipstick in. You snap the cap back and nearly toss it onto the windowsill, in favor of grabbing the edge of it for purchase. Your thighs keep Shane's head vised in place as your orgasm washes over you. You're gasping and panting as you cum, eyes screwed shut as your body goes rigid. Shane's pace slows, opting instead to let you rut into her tongue to ride out the remainder of your orgasm. A few moments later, you slump forward.

You feel her tap on your thigh gently and taking the hint, you scramble off her face. Shane takes a few seconds to rest before sitting back up. Her chin is shining with your slick and she rubs it off with the palm of her hand, throwing a half-lidded gaze in your direction.

"You look good," she slurs huskily, taking the time to drag her eyes down your face. You're not sure if you're flushing from her compliment or if it's just the afterglow.

"Thank you." You glance at the clock and your eyes go wide. "Fuck!"

7:05.

You spring back up to the windowsill, swiftly grabbing the tube of mascara before twisting it open and brushing it through your lashes.

"We're gonna be late!" you hiss, scanning through the rest of the products spread out in front of you. There was no time for anything else and you instead take a moment to look over yourself in the mirror. Hopping off the bed, you swipe up your underwear and pull them up, smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

Suddenly, Shane's hands are on your hips and she yanks you into her chest. You stop moving and peer up at Shane through your lashes. Your heart flips in your chest as she flashes you a rare, genuine smile.

"You know, there's a thing called being fashionably late, [Y/N]." She winks and you can't help but mirror her grin. You press a kiss on her cheek, almost upset that the lipstick didn't transfer.

"Doesn't mean we have to keep everyone waiting." You got her there. Nodding, she released your hips before motioning to your bedroom door.

"After you, sugar."

[bullet-prooflove]

Letting Go: Terry Silver x Reader (NSFW)

Companion piece to A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

For the first time in three years Terry wakes up alone. His palm smooths over the cool sheets as he stares at your empty pillow, remembering the argument from last night, the raised voices, the slammed door.

It’s been coming for months, ever since the day John Kreese had turned up at the house and started talking about Vietnam. That’s when the nightmares had started, the flash backs. He’d slipped back into the role of the good Lieutenant, the one that followed his Captain blindly.

“You’re changing.” You had told him one evening over dinner.

You’d been pushing the food around your plate for the majority of the meal, ignoring the wine he had picked out.

“No.” He’d told you as he swirled the chardonnay around his own glass.  “I’m becoming the person that I was always meant to be.”

You’d sighed then and left the table.

The following afternoon he'd had his assistant choose some jewellery for you, he usually handpicks your gifts but he’d been tied up in training sessions at the dojo and he wanted something to placate you. He leaves the diamond tennis bracelet on the kitchen table for you to find when you get home from work. It turns up on his nightstand that evening when he comes home to find you already tucked up asleep.

“You’re being ungrateful.” He’d told you as he set it down on the breakfast table the next morning. Your cheeks had coloured at the remark, your eyes blazing. “Most women would appreciate their husbands giving them a gift like this.”

Most women…

That’s what he’s reduced you to. The ones who seduced him in exchange for his money, his power, his notoriety. The ones he barely cared for, the ones that didn’t care for him.

“You know where you can stick your diamonds.” You’d told him, pushing the black velvet box back across the table before you stand up and leave the room.

You prefer sapphires, he remembers, you say they remind you of his eyes.

He hates the fact he’s acting this way with you, that glimmers of the old Terry Silver are working their way back into his life. He remembers how cruel that man was, how thoughtless, how cold. This is what happens when he lets John Kreese back in, he falls into his old patterns, becomes single minded.

The night he comes home with blood on his hands is the night you walk out the door with nothing but the clothes on your back. You leave your credit cards cut up on the table.

It’s your way of telling him to go fuck himself, that you don’t need his money, you don’t need him.

It’s as he washes his hands in the bloodstained sink that his realises the enormousness of what he’s done. He’s becoming that monster again, the one from the 80s, the only difference is he’s not on coke this time, this is all him. He realises you saw the writing on the wall before he did, if he keeps heading down this road then the next person he lashes out at could be much closer to home and that’s something he would never forgive himself for.

The moment he hurts you is the instant he completely destroys his humanity.

That’s what Kreese wants, he realises. Terry alone, isolated because it gives him control. He gets his soldier back and Terry gets…

Well he gets this…

A vacant house, an empty life.

Cobra Kai becomes his world all over again.

The next morning he lies in bed and stares at your engagement and wedding rings. You'd left them on the nightstand, in the exact same place you'd set the tennis bracelet. He’d fallen asleep holding them last night, clutching them to his chest.

He knows it’s time to make a choice.

John Kreese or you.

It really isn’t a choice at all.

When he turns up at the art gallery where you work, he’s taken back to that day you met in the Louve. You’re seated on a white bench in front of a painting, your sketchbook on your lap, a black fine liner clasped in your hand. He doesn’t know what to say as he sits down beside you so he says nothing, he simply looks at the image in front of him.

It’s one of yours. He remembers you painting it on the terrace of a villa in Italy, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. He twists his head to observe the other artwork surrounding him and realises that every single piece in this part of the gallery belongs to you.

“I’m hosting an art show tomorrow.” You say quietly, breaking through his thoughts.

“I’d like to be there.” He says softly as he studies the profile of your features. “If you’ll have me.”

“I meant what I said.” You tell him, setting down the sketchbook alongside you. “I can’t be in your life if Kreese is. He brings out the worst in you.”

And you, he thinks, you bring out the best.

You always have.

“I’m done with the past.” He promises you, his hand gently clasping yours. His thumb chases over the space where your wedding ring used to reside and it wounds him seeing it’s absence. He hopes that he’ll see it on your finger again soon, that you'll find it in your heart to forgive him. “It’s our future that I’m interested in.”

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[seriouslycalamitous]

Just finished the last chapter and I'm in love with that story, BUT I have questions :) I know the vex species is talked about in cwtt, but could you possibly give us some more crumbs about vexes and sirens? pretty please?

Also, who got to keep the gold coins? I mean happy wife, happy life...

Those are the only ones I can think of at the moment, but I'm sure I'll come up with more at some point ^^

Ohh you have questions!! I’d be happy to provide some answers! Let’s start with the shorter one!

Lizzie won the bet. Her technicality got her that victory — also she threatened him with a sword. She made Joel count out every single coin and place them in her hands, and then she dumped them right back in that same bag because they share a bank account.

As for the lore questions, prepare for elaboration:

The vex species are a group of highly loyal, extremely fierce people. They usually live in small villages within dark oak forests, and with the rise of human violence against magical creatures, are seen less and less wandering from these places. Scar specifically lived in a village along the coast, which is how the hunters found them, and how he came to love the sea.

They form strong bonds with the people in their lives, and are rarely seen outside of a group of two or three others. Being a vex is not a requirement to become a cherished member of their close circle. For Scar, these people include Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, Jellie, and Grian!

Even the more accepting humans view them with a level of fear, since they are some of the few creatures that can lose control of their powers. Without a solid grip on themselves, they can become overwhelmed and seek to release the energy in any violent ways they can.

They are perfect soldiers with those exact same powers. Their brains latch onto the most troublesome points in their life — which vary from person to person, making them stronger or weaker accordingly — and use consistent and shifting nightmares to keep the negativity of those memories alive. The vex will always be able to channel that negativity into pure strength. It makes it slightly more difficult for them to feel pain, though not by much, and every hit they land will be twice as hard.

Usually, this power visually manifests as their physical wings sprouting from their backs, their veins glowing, and when they are channeling the absolute limit, occasionally their eyes will turn pure white. This is rare, however, and requires a vex with significant enough negativity within them, as well as a reason for it to be drawn out.

As for sirens, their lives are a bit more mysterious. They’re relatively solitary creatures! Occasionally, they group up with a handful of people they consider part of their “pod,” though that’s often families and from time to time close friends. They will rarely ever exceed five people, but it is possible.

Because of this, the species varies from person to person, with different preferences and lifestyles. Few things are the same for them: their general appearances, their magic, and their need to stay near the water.

Sirens all have tails like that of a mermaid, webbed fingers, flashy scales, and sharp teeth. Their bright color patterns are said to help lure in and mesmerize prey when combined with their voices. When they’re dried completely off, these features fade into that of a regular human. They do not have gills in this form, so upon diving in the water, they usually have to hold their breaths for a few seconds.

Their magic is enhanced with proximity and contact with water. Their voices can charm anyone within earshot to them, suggesting and hypnotizing prey into following simple commands. To suggest more specific things to more specific people, a siren can sing certain songs or lyrics. The one Lizzie used at the end of the fic was to encourage any who listened to long for home, which would be considered by all the members of their crew as the ship.

Using their magic tires them out, and after belting out commands or songs for too long, they need to remain under the water for a while to rejuvenate themselves. If they don’t, their throats will grow unbelievably dry, and only salt water will ease the ache. This can be replicated by pouring table salt in a cup of water but it doesn’t last long enough to make it feasible for a siren to live too far from the shore.

Anyway that’s my rant!! Let me know if you’re curious about anything else!

[multiheadcanons]

BLU STREETWEAR

scout: a long sleeve shirt with thumb holes chewed into them, and a solid t shirt over that. occasionally he will put a jacket or a hoodie over this if it is cold. a pair of joggers, long crew socks, and a pair of platform high top sneakers, the shoelaces wrapped around his ankle three times, and the ends tucked into the shoes themselves. if it’s sunny, he will add a brimmed hat. doesn’t like beanies, so he rarely wears them.

soldier: a simple white t shirt and a pair of neutral colored pants, slacks, or jeans. black or brown leather jacket with an interior faux fur lining over the shirt, and his work boots. he doesn’t own any other shoes than his work boots. they are molded to his feet, and at this point are some of the most comfortable things he owns. helmet stays on unless the team begs him to leave it at home. they think he’s cuter without it.

pyro: their fire suit, but with a ring on every finger. pyro is a big accessorizer. lots of hats, lots of jewelry, lots of purses and bags, lots of stick on gems. they are usually running around with gems glued to the gas mask where their ears assumedly are. those are their earrings. pyro also has a lot of coverups. robes, sweaters, jackets, coats. pyro doesn’t like to take the suit off, but they do like the variety in their looks! it works for them.

demo: black cropped short sleeved turtleneck with an undershirt of various colors and textures. leather jacket, and a pair of sneakers, or a pair of combat boots. the undershirt normally will match his pants, which are usually cargo joggers. he’s got undershirts and this particular style of pants in every color and pattern imaginable, and there is a match for each article of clothing. styled with a thick, structured trench coat in various neutrals and a kooky beanie that doesn’t match anything.

heavy: white, thin long sleeve shirt. a solid shirt, normally blue, placed above it. sleeves left alone regardless of the temperature outside. the pants change, but are usually thick, or freshly pressed denim. he once wore overalls and that freaked everyone out, so those got taken out of the wardrobe. denim jackets that do not get above a cerulean in tone and saturation and leather fingerless gloves, usually left unbuttoned unless it’s cold. if he’s wearing jeans, he will switch to a leather jacket. thick platformed boots. he likes the extra inches. makes his existence funnier. sometimes, he will wear a cap.

engineer: this man goes pretty much everywhere in the same hoodie and jeans he’s owned for the past ten years. it’s the shoes that change. sometimes it’s his work boots. sometimes a ratty pair of sneakers. sometimes a pair of well cared for loafers. sometimes fuzzy dog slippers and socks. underneath the hoodie is normally a short sleeved collared shirt, patterned with odd and silly, almost eye watering designs. or flannel in a variety of colors. has a large sherpa olive green coat for the colder days. his actual outfit rarely, if ever changes, what does is how he wears it. there is a notable difference of him wearing this hoodie slouched, covered in crumbs versus his shoulders rolled back and his characteristic uncaring charisma.

medic: it really depends on the weather. on hotter days, he will opt for a white cotton three quarter sleeve shirt, and a pair of pressed slacks with leather dress shoes. his forearms are usually busting out of the sleeves, and he is already complaining of the heat. in the colder months, he is much more put together, and less bitchy. a dark brown turtleneck, a vest of a complementing color, and wool blend slacks. a thick woolen trench coat above that, and occasionally a cap. has many odd pairs of shoes for the winter. loafers with cutouts, infeasibly fitted boots that look crafted around his legs, none truly made for snow. this has never posed a problem.

sniper: snipes will eat up a little v neck henley and a pair of casual slacks. and you know those buttons are never done and those sleeves are cuffed, come on. he might cuff his pants comically high, even. really just depends on what he’s doing for the day. normally in some sandals. “thongs”, even. he learned very quickly he could not call them thongs around the americans. or any of the team, really. though when he found out what a thong was in america he was quite humored! if it’s cold he’s just wearing his regular shoes, and a vest.

spy: stay with me on this journey, okay? because he’s gonna eat this up, promise. a powder blue crewneck, comically oversized. like 5xl men’s powder blue crewneck layered on top of a silk white button up shirt. he belts it with a wide cognac belt, allowing the rest of the belt to flap however it will. if he’s feeling particularly queer, under this will be a powder blue dominant plaid pleated skirt. he tops this with loafers of his choice. and you know the balaclava stays on.

[natinkart]

FULL FEM FORTRESS LINE UP

i finally FINALLY finished this lineup. those fuckers are in my head more that they should be. after writing my ideas for them i HAD TO DRAW THEM, i had such a clear image in my mind. the only one I've drawn before where engie, medic, sniper and scout, but those were just sketches.

if you wanna read what I wrote about them you can find the three posts here: defense | offense | support

full lineup, sketch lineup and design thoughts under the cut:

i always like the sketches more but i love the clear lineart, it makes the character more readable, so now it's time for some design thoughts:

engie - she was the first, she has seen everythin- no ok wrong franchise. i meant, she was the one i was more certain of. the outfit didn't change from the og but i made her have two small pigtails. i always viewed them as a cow girl hairstyle, and they're also practical. a stable hairstyle that keeps your hair out of your face.

heavy - the sleaves where kinda an instant idea i KNEW i had to incorporate. so i did a bit of reaserch on traditional russian clothes and their patterns. they seems to be very geometrical with not more than 5 colors, which two of them are white and black, usually at the seams or borders of the clothing. so i tried to do that. i really like how it came out.

demo - not much to say aside from me winging the hairstyle. i honestly didn't know which one to give to her, but i knew i didn't want a long hair style. maybe one day i'll draw her without the hat.

scout - she is the one with my favorite design. i LOVE how it came out. i fell it express her cockiness the best. i tried putting her in the og outift but eh, i prefer this one.

soldier - this is literally just normal soldier. i tried to but more "femminine" traits in her face. but still, just soldier with boobs.

pyro - it's normal pyro, with some stickers cause why not.

medic - she's my love. my beauty, the absolute perfection. i love her and every time i draw her she becomes more and more creepy. and i love her so much. at first i was unsure about the hairstyle, i tried to but her in a high bun but it didn't fit the face shape, so i just gave her a side swoosh. also you may have noticed she has the nurse hat, well, that's just because i think it's cute, and i mean, she is a field doctor and usually the women there where red crosses so, made sense to me.

sniper - ah, my beautiful, unkept woman. i had a hard time making her face look rugged without giving her 30 years more and doing that on women is actually pretty difficult. i had one time an art teacher saying to me "every line on a woman's face gives her 10 years more" and holy fuck if that's true. the second problem was the body type. a lot of people do her slim, and at first i drew her like so, but i found myself appreciating a bigger waist line, creating a sort of square siluette.

spy - finally the beautiful femme fatale. i will ALWAYS have problems with spy's suit color. i can't. it always feels so wrong aaaa. but that aside, i did a simple google search for 60s women's suit and i kinda went with it. it's a bit different from the og spy suit but it's also different from modern suits, so i had a bit of an hard time adjusting the jacket.

my asks are open if you wanna know more of them or if you wanna see them in some specific scenario!! and if you like tf2 i also did a team furtress lineup with explainations.

consider supporting me on my KOFI, i recently opened commissions!!

[gingerdusk]

Echoes of Wisdom Trailer Analysis: Part 1

I'll tell you what, a new Zelda game, especially one this year, was NOT what I was expecting. I was hoping for a teaser a la "the sequel to BotW is now in development," but to have a full on main-series game come out? That caught me completely off guard.

But I've got my bearings. And I like what I see. So let's break down what we DID see, shall we?

Our opening shot has Link in some ruins, looking over at what appears to be Soldiers (as in the enemy, a lesser version of Darknuts), which are a staple for Fallen Timeline games.

However, they usually aren't this color, restricted to red, blue, and green. And they usually have swords or tridents, not axes.

The axes are a new development, as are the black armor and white capes. Maybe they've taken on the red -> blue -> green -> black -> silver difficulty pattern that BotW and TotK had?

Moving on.

Link here has a dark blue cape with teal geometric patterns on the back. Tempting as it is to connect this to the Zonai with the recent game-

-I'm going to abstain for now, because Zelda games like their teal geometry.

Looking around, the ruins Link finds himself in are unique.

We have eye patterns on the walls and double helixes framing the door. We haven't seen any pattern like this before, to my knowledge.

Link rushes in, sword drawn. The floor is plain square patterns on cracked tile.

We get our first glimpse of the Hylian Shield

As well as a clear shot of his sword. Oddly enough, it's not the Master Sword, or anything like it—it looks too plain to be something final, like the Four Sword or Phantom Sword:

And yet, it still very distinctly matches Link's current aesthetic, with the teal geometry.

Honestly, it looks more akin to a beginning sword that needs to change, like the Goddess Sword of Skyward Sword:

It's basic, it's easy to look at, but it's distinct and memorable.

Immedaitely after the cinematic run, the camera snaps to an overhead view, in which Link attacks. So there's at least a little gameplay as Link.

We see Princess Zelda in her crystal prison. Nothing unusual so far, but she definitely has a new look to her, even if her dress is distinctly Toon/Oracles/AlttP style remade.

Then we pan down to Ganon. Fallen Timeline's beast Gan, as we're used to seeing him. So far, he seems to look the most like his ALBW iteration, with the spiked cuffs around his wrists.

Link enters the scene. Purple mist is there for ambiance.

The pattern on the ground feels...ornamental. It doesn't stick out much or have enough detail on it to be the usual big-bad-evil-ritual.

Link throws his cape away dramatically.

Again, we get a camera-snapped view in which Link's attacks seem very much in the player's control.

And blocking Link off from escape, we have a magical barrier, though this one is emitting particles.

It's almost like Ganon's torn the ground open for this.

Defeated, ready for phase two, Ganon dissipates into purple sparks, only to reappear and start his tennis volley.

And here's where we get our proper view of him head-on.

ALBW's Ganon is a bit easy to miss in-game, because Yuga takes him over moments after he arrives. But he looks like this:

This is not our Gan's design.

He has the bracers, yes, but his forehead gem isn't spiked, his eyes are red, not white, his armor is gold with red edges and has chest plates that look a lot like really old art of ALttP Gan:

But most interestingly, his necklace is different.

In every version of Ganon that looks like this, he's either had a skull at his neck

Or a gem

But our Gan has something new. Something that, given the eyes in the corridor, feels deliberate:

There's a menace in this branch of Hyrule's history that's known for three things: a horned eye, purple magic, and possession.

And I'm out of images. Part 2 here!

[namidew]

Here’s the next part of the design concepts for my story, this time featuring Athena, Ares, and Aphrodite !!

Normally in depictions of Ares and Athena, they would wear armor, but I drew them without it because I wanted to try to incorporate their other motifs !!

Details below for design ramblings !!

Athena - The design of her face and the shape of her hair combined is meant to have a faintly owlish resemblance, her expression stern to represent her domain of wisdom and connection war. For my story, she’d be a bit more steely and essentially logical, showing more of wisdom than knowledge by her actions being based on past experiences. Her peplos is in reference to greek pottery with its black and orange, and her epiblema is in reference to her birth from Zeus’s head (the version which I am going with for my story) with it weaved to resemble the brain from a side view on either side. Lastly, the shield on her back is the aegis (or aigis?), which in this version, is a shield. Her having a shield but no spear represents defense and more “distance” from battle (despite hoplite soldiers using both) to represent strategy, and Ares having a spear but no shield represents offense and closer proximity in fights, thus closer to see the uglier side of war: the bloodshed and death.

Ares - He and Athena have complimenting details in their spear and shield, and in their color palettes. Both of their weapons are bronze, but appear brown due to the shading. Both have very fiery colored clothing, showing their connection of war despite their differences. Said differences include Ares’s (at least, within my story) tendency for impulsiveness and better emotional intelligence. He has scars not because his injuries didn’t fully heal, but because he (within my story) thinks they’re cool. His near-black, dark red(ish) chiton and hair represent blood and death, both common on the battlefield. his himation is red for blood, with orangey details for the metal of weapons or metallic taste of blood, and in resemblance of vulture wings. He has a more boyish appearance in reference to the young age in which Ancient Greece (as well as many other civilizations and modern day countries) could draft men to war.

Aphrodite - Her hair is red due to its perceived beauty in Ancient Greece and its rarity within the global population. Several strands of her hair are shaped like hearts. Her face is meant to resemble a dove, with eyes blue like the sea. The pearlescent jewelry is in resemblance of the sea foam from which she was born (the version I’m using), her ionian chiton colored in resemblance of the sea behind the sea foam (and funnily enough, it is sea foam in color.) In addition, her necklaces resemble the pattern of feathers (dove) or scales (sea theme.) Her hair color is exactly the same reddish-orange shade as the details on Ares’s himation. If you look closely, there is a very faint heart shape within the shading of her forehead. A consistent element in my designs of the Olympians drawn so far is a metallic element, as seen in Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus having matching gold jewelry, Artemis having silver hair bands, and Ares and Athena having bronze war gear. I’m not entirely sure what Aphrodite’s jewelry is made of, perhaps pearl, or perhaps white opal? Maybe the metallic design element will be a “children of Zeus” design choice.

Thank you if you’ve reading all this rambling, it’s much longer this time. All in all, I’m fairly happy with the designs of these three, but now I have to go back and add more details to the other designs to balance it out a bit. Anyway, if you have any ideas or suggestions for future designs, please do tell me !!