#defiant development

[negativespace06]

as metal breaks and bends

[kidrat]

‘Colin didn’t REALLY have any character development the way the other characters pretend, he just hasn’t done any war crimes in a while!’ Ok and it’s been really hard for him did u ever think about that

[idol--hands]

Lore: “...We ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

[fragmentedblade]

Blade compared the relief from pain death brought him to the moments spent with his friends drinking together.

His desire for death as both a release from pain and from the condition of existence in which he finds himself now, so similar to that which he most hated (hated so much as to dedicate his entire life and self to fight, up to the point of crossing unthinkable barriers for shortlife species); but death also almost like a returning to the time that was, the joy and pride it brought him, and the friends and self he lost

[steakout-05]

ATTENTION HALFBRICK FANS!!!

the long-cancelled GBA prototype game developed by Halfbrick in 2003 called "Fuzz & Rocket" was released and put onto the Internet Archive recently!!!

(and here's the tweet that brought this to my attention!!)

according to this archive, it's a build from January of 2005, a few months before its very last appearance at E3 2005. the amount of cool lost media that's getting found recently is insane and Fuzz & Rocket getting found certainly wasn't on my bingo card for 2024! very cool!!

[starlightomatic]

.

[zarameraki]

♡🍼₊˚・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸 ₊˚・🍼₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 toji loves boobs

: ̗̀➛ words: 982

: ̗̀➛ notes: this was requested by anon and i did post it through the ask but I wanted to post it separately hehe. ok enjoy

Toji had an outlandish kink. 

It developed shortly after you’d given birth. You didn’t understand why he’d stare at you as you breastfeed your child. Well, he mostly stared at your breasts in his classic Toji style. 

“What?” you bit out as he continuously watched you from the kitchen. You helped your baby latch onto your nipple and stared at your husband with a defiant look. “Oh, for God’s sake, Toji. Spit it out.” 

“I want a taste.” 

“Taste of what?” 

“What that little brat is drinking.” 

Your brows hit the roof of your hairline at his bizarre request. He couldn’t be—Wow, your husband had truly outdone himself in his kinks game. “Yeah, no fucking way. This milk is strictly for our child. If you’re so eager, open the fridge and pour yourself a cup. I’m pretty sure we’ve got cookies, too. But the oatmeal ones are mine—”

“I don’t give a fuck, doll. I wanna know what your milk tastes like.”

“Toji, are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not—You’re a grown ass man. I’m not going to, I don’t know, breastfeed you.” 

“I’m not asking you to breastfeed me. I only want a little taste. I’m fucking curious, sue me.” 

You scoffed, giving a small rock to your baby as he gargled and took small breaths in between the feeding. “Toji, I love you, and I love your abnormal requests during sex, but I’m not letting you taste my milk.” 

Toji stared at you with a frown. A puppy-dog frown that melted your heart and added cracks in your defenses. He lowered his eyes and resumed washing the dishes. “I only wanted a small taste,” he mumbled in the most adorable manner. 

Growling from your throat, you folded at his request. “Fine.” 

“Really?” 

“Just—Just give me a minute.” 

Toji abandoned the dishes and quickly sat next to you, ogling your breast. “What if he drinks you dry?” 

“What if you drink me dry?” 

“I don’t mind sharing. He’s my son, too.”  

You rolled your eyes and smiled down at your baby. After a few minutes of drinking, he unlatched his mouth and you handed him off to Toji to burp him. “Wait here. I’ll go use the suction pump—”

“Fuck no. I wanna drink it straight from the source.” 

You took in a deep, aggravated breath. “Fine, you dick. Put him to sleep and meet me back here.”

A tiny part of you was intrigued by Toji’s kink, but another was scared that he would drink you dry. The man was downright obsessed with breasts since the first night you slept together. During your pregnancy, he’d lay you back on his chest and massage them with scented oils, commenting how heavy they’d gotten. It was only a matter of time his curiosity regarding your chest would grow. 

You unhooked your nursing bra and placed it aside, laying down on the couch with a groan. Toji entered minutes later and immediately covered your body with his looming figure, giving you kisses across your face for being such a kind wife. “Whatever. Hurry up so I can eat something.” 

“I’ll cook,” he said, trailing kisses down to your neck and chest. “l’m gonna finger you, too, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. 

Toji smiled and pushed his hands down your panties, parting your folds slowly growing wetter and wetter from his heated presence. He sought out your clit like the expert he was and rubbed it with gentle circles. Your lips parted with small, soft sounding sighs, fingers running through your hair and staying there. “That feels good, doll?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Yeah?” Toji pushed his middle and ring finger into your entrance. He began stimulating you with his quick thrusts. Your heels scraped up the couch’s surface, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip. 

Toji ran his coarse tongue over your right nipple. You glanced down at him and scoffed from his cheeky wink. He kissed the sensitive bud, then locked his mouth on it, pulling it in. You wrapped a leg around the back of his thighs, and your hands cupped the back of his head as he suckled on your nipple. He moaned and took laboured breaths from his nose, and when you glanced down, you found trickles of white liquid at the corner of his lips. 

“Toji, save some—”

He switched to your left nipple, leaving his fingers static inside your walls. He was too drunk on the taste of your breast milk to care about anything else. Your back arched from the sensation of him teething your nipple to produce more milk. Toji took his fingers out of your pussy and massaged your right breast. 

“Toji, that’s enough,” you breathed, using his hair to pull him away. Thankfully, he compiled and released your nipple with a pop sound, licking around his mouth to taste the last bits of your milk. “How was it?” 

Toji had to close his eyes and reel in a deep breath. “I’m gonna drink from these tits every night until they stop producing milk.” He gathered your breasts in both large palms and kissed the tips. “Gonna put a baby in you again so I don’t die of thirst.” 

You chuckled in disbelief and smacked his back. He stared lovingly at you and kissed your lips. You tasted nothing, really. “Mmm. You know, if you make me a big dinner afterwards, I’ll have more milk for our baby when he wakes up.” 

He narrowed his eyes. 

“What I’m saying is, you big buffoon, that whatever is left over now, is yours—ah!” 

You clutched to the back of his hair as he started drinking again, pulling up to sit on his lap. His strong arms stayed wrapped around your waist, mouth glued to your sore, puffy nipple. 

Sighing, you smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You’re a kinky idiot, Toji Zenin.” 

[dearesmeray]

Character Traits & Quirks (For Writers)

Peace and blessings upon everyone!

I hope life's treating you well. I’m Esmeray and I welcome you to this post on my blog Dear Esmeray.

Ever wondered what makes your OC truly unforgettable? I believe it is the character traits. Character traits are what bring a character to life, or else you just have a flat, one-dimensional everyman as your OC. So today I'll be sharing with you a list of character traits that I compiled to help you develop better OCs.

Positive Traits:

Agreeable

Brave

Caring

Cheerful

Confident

Cooperative

Creative

Dedicated

Devotion

Diligent

Disciplined

Dutiful

Easygoing

Efficient

Fairness

Forgiveness

Friendly

Funny

Generous

Hard-Working

Honest

Honorable

Humble

Kind

Leadership

Love of learning

Loyal

Passionate

Persuasive

Prudent

Principled

Punctual

Reasonable

Reliable

Respectful

Responsible

Self-regulation

Social Intelligence

Supportive

Trust-worthy

Well-mannered

Witty

Wise

Neutral Traits & Quirks:

Raises Eyebrows

Blinks rapidly

Avoids eye contact

Maintains eye contact

Blinks rapidly

Slouches

Stares off into the distance

Shrugs often

Touches their scars or wounds often

Chews lips

Paces around

Smiles a lot

Rarely smiles

Gestures with hands while speaking

Often is distracted

Hums

Negative Traits:

Absentminded

Abusive

Acts superior

Alcoholic

Aggressive

Always plays the victim

Aimless

Apathetic

Arrogant

Argumentive

Avoids their problems

Bossy

Blunt

Boring

Careless

Can't take criticism

Can't take a joke

Clumsy

Conceited

Controlling

Cunning

Childish

Cruel

Deceptive

Defiant

Demanding

Disloyal

Dishonest

Dramatic

Dependent

Disorganized

Disrespectful

Distracted easy

Extravagant

Envious

Forgetful

Greedy

Holds grudges

Makes up excuses for everything

Has a reason for why nothing is ever their fault

No accountability

Hostile

Hypopocrite

Immature

Impatient

Impractical

Impressionable

Impulsive

Insensitive

Irresponsible

Not a team player

Incompetent

Irritable

Inconsiderate

Indulgent

Insecure

Jealous

Know-It-All

Lazy

Liar

Loud

Manipulative

Makes everything about them

Makes everything a joke

Their way or the highway

Mean

Meddlesome

Messy

Naive

Nosy

Obnoxious

Obbssesive

Offended easily

Overdramatic

Overreacts

Patronizing

Power-hungry

Pretentious

Rebellious

Reckless

Rude

Sarcastic

Selfish

Sensitive

Stingy

Sexist

Spoiled

Stubborn

Superstitious

Talks over others/interrupts

Too loyal

Too forgiving

Undependable

Unreliable

Unsympathetic

Unorganized

Unreasonable

Violent

Weak

Remember, there are no one-dimensional characters in real life, and there shouldn't be in your stories either. The possibilities for your characters are endless – so get creative and have fun writing!

With Love, Esmeray ♡

[maplemind]

Seriously, the way we watch Arthur's whole world change from the very first second he comes into contact with Merlin is so. damn. cute.

There's no doubt why Arthur let him get away with outright "disrespectful" and borderline treasonous comments and behaviour the first time they met.

I mean, look at the way he instantly lit up at the concept of verbal and physical sparring with this elfin looking dude with the real "couldn't give a sh*t- try me" attitude. Someone who not only took on a knight of Camelot in mid training, but didn't change his attitude one little bit when he found out he was addressing the goddamn prince of Camelot, in fact he doubled down and got worse.

And Arthur loved the challenge, loved the defiance, loved the concept of spending more time with this guy, especially time spent doing something he loves - sparring. There's nothing Arthur loves more than a physical activity - we see it throughout all five seasons. Search the whole castle on a wild goose chase? Absolutely. Train 15 new knights in a single day? Sign him up. Ride out to battle a magical beast? He's already out the door.

And even though he knows (thinks) he can beat Merlin into submission in two moves, he's finally going up against someone who doesn't give a flying f*ck who he is and will square up to him and give his absolute best. And he hopes this will be a regular occurrence.

And the dismay when Uther declares Merlin to be Arthur's new servant isn't because he doesn't want Merlin around - it's because he's afraid it will change the relationship they've already begun to establish. That Merlin won't develop into the one person he can trust to be real with him, and instead he will become reserved and "yes-sir-no-sir-three-bags-full-sir" like every. other. damn. person.

And you can't miss the way his eyes absolutely light up that first time Merlin does his servant duties and continues being defiant, honest, real.

I love these characters so damn much, and I couldn't love Colin and Bradley more for how incredible they are.

[andypantsx3]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

bakugou writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

incendiary (30K) : complete

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

you’re the one that i haunt (15K) : complete

Ghosts aren’t real. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when the spirit of pro hero Dynamight suddenly starts haunting your apartment.

statistically significant (24K) : complete

You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

cover shot (through the heart) (16.5K) : complete

For years, you’ve been the only assistant in the business equipped to handle foul-tempered supermodel Katsuki Bakugou. That is, until he catches on to your weak point.

war paint (28K) : complete

Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (A Mulan AU)

savvy (17.5K) : complete

You’re a business course third year who’s good at being bossy, organized, and data-driven. You just want to use your business savvy to help all heroes. Well, all heroes except one. [smutty one shot follow on: defiant]

barbarian-verse au (various) : in progress

You find yourself traveling with barbarian Bakugou. Things get complicated quickly.

ONE SHOTS

fruit first (ask questions later) (3.6K) - gn!reader

When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

abs-olutely worth it (3.5K) - gn!reader

You’re an amateur hero photographer whose shots of Bakugou’s abs keep going viral. Everything is going great…until Bakugou catches wind of it.

defiant (4.5K)

There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place. Katsuki, however, has other ideas. [a smutty oneshot companion to savvy; you do not need to have read savvy first!]

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

general bakugou x princess reader (1.1K) -> part two (3.2K)

Your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry. There is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne.

always (1.5K)

Best friend Bakugou helps you through a breakup.

todobakureader domestic fluff (1K)

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

destruction (1.6K)

"Are you this stupid on purpose?"

wine & dine (0.3K)

“Oh my god, I am gonna fuck whoever made this apple pie so hard they see stars for weeks.”

always first (0.7K)

“It’s not a double date, we’re just third and fourth wheeling."

just can’t weight (0.8K)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" + gym bro Bakugou

personal chef (0.4K)

Living with Bakugou is like living with your own personal chef.

fan art (0.2K)

Bakugou has an embarrassing secret (ft super cute art from Merms!!)

[flappingdragon]

⚠️NSFW Ahead⚠️

What if MC was an angel but they were also there when Lucifer was an angel?

Starting out, what if MC was really young when their connection to Lucifer first began?

What if at one point MC had to attend an angel meeting bc of their guardian angel and they developed a silly-little-kids-crush on Lucifer the moment they laid eyes on him?

Imagine MC with starry, sparkling eyes while they gawk at how magnificently beautiful he is.

And during the meeting, Lucifer randomly comes up to MC and is like, “And what is your name?”

MC would be so shy bc that’s what little kids are like when their crush pays any attention to them and MC would whisper their name and he’d go, “Oh, really? That’s such a beautiful name.” And makes MC so happy because Lucifer just said he likes their name!

But skip a little into the future where angel MC gets a little older but they get really scared over something and they run into the nearest dark place, which just happened to be the alleyway where Lucifer was walking by.

He sees MC sniffling and gets so worried and approches them calmly then says your name and goes, “Are you alright? Is something the matter?” But MC doesn’t want to talk to him and just positions their body away from Lucifer, getting all defensive and defiant.

Lucifer eventually gets close enough to where he can crouch in front on MC and place his hand on their back, soothing them by rubbing it slowly.

“Can you tell me what happened?” But MC would still refuse to talk and Lucifer would sigh in defeat.

He digs something out of his pocket and presents it to MC and they look at it. With MC’s attention, he says, “This is a magical necklace. See?” And he would make the necklace softly glow with his magic and MC is in awe with it.

He then takes MC’s hand and places the necklace in their palm, closing their hand around it before saying, “If you ever feel scared, hold this necklace right against your chest, and I will always be with you in spirit. No matter what challenges you face, just know that with this necklace, I will never leave your side.”

Then they never saw Lucifer again after that day, but MC has always worn the necklace and never let it out of their sight.

Then fast forward to when the war begins.

MC is older now, about maybe 7000 angel years (looks like about 20-30 human years) and their frantically looking around to see if they can find Lucifer.

They know he’s probably forgotten about them, but that doesn’t mean MC won’t fight along side him.

But MC’s heart is shattered when they see Lucifer is falling from the heavens.

They scream and run towards him but they couldn’t help him. They’re on their knees and they start to cry.

After the war comes to an end, MC is devastated and broken. They’re not in their right mind anymore, with having just witnessed the love of their life slip from their fingers and fall to his death.

MC thinks Lucifer is dead until several thousands of years later, Lucifer’s face shows up in the Celestial Realm once again accompanied by his brothers and the demon kind’s son. But this time his wings are black, he has pointed spirals adjourning his head, and aura is that of a demon.

MC hears wind that Lucifer and his brothers are here as a last resort to restore peace between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm.

So when Lucifer and company enter the main estate of the Celestial Realm, MC waits by patiently until the sun dims down and the doors finally open once more.

MC waits until Lucifer is by himself.

Lucifer is walking into an alleyway when MC walks up behind him. They’re about to grab his shoulder, but Lucifer reacts quickly and pins MC to the wall, his forearm on their chest.

“Who are you?” But MC is too stunned to speak. He asks again and MC snaps out of it.

MC explains everything and Lucifer slowly backs away from MC.

“Show me.” MC looks at him confused. “Show me the necklace. Prove it to me. Prove to me who you say you are.”

And MC shows him the necklace.

Lucifer walks as close as he can and shows his own version of the necklace.

They’re the same shape, same design. A gold heart with a tiny angel feather in the middle, only now, Lucifer’s is black.

Lucifer brings his closer to MC’s and both necklaces start to glow. Lucifer slowly looks up at MC and looks into their eyes for the first time ever since that fateful day, and wraps his arms around their neck, leaning in to kiss them.

MC immediately kisses back and wraps their arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

MC’s heart is pounding, thinking of how long they wanted this day to come and now they finally have it.

Their first kiss is slow and sensual, then they break it to gasp for air. When they share their second kiss, a flame ignites their heart’s desires and they share a passionate and equally lustful hunger for each other, their lips moving fast and sloppy.

By the time they share their third kiss, they’re in MC’s bedroom, Lucifer on his back on MC’s bed.

They both kiss with such veracity as if it would satiate their ever-growing desire for each other.

MC’s hands are focused on removing Lucifer’s clothing, while Lucifer’s are focused on removing MC’s clothing. But when they both are naked and exploring each other’s bodies, they stop moving for a moment to stare into each other’s eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

MC kisses Lucifer and preps him with a bottle of lube he had summoned.

Hearing Lucifer moan for the first time only makes MC harder. MC scissors Lucifer open until they think he’s ready and Lucifer hands them the bottle of lube.

MC wastes so time in lathering themself up and inserting themself inside Lucifer.

MC loves the way Lucifer arches his back and clenches the bed sheets.

MC adores the sound of Lucifer’s sounds. They sound so pretty, so perfect, exactly how they imagined them to be.

Then MC starts to move and they don’t stop until the sun brightens again and they both pass out from exhaustion.

It’s only the morning after that Lucifer reveals the truth about the necklace.

“It’s a necklace that ties one soul to another, then their souls form an eternal bond. A bond that can never be broken.”

A Soulmate Bond.

[blingblong55]

Silent allies- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hiii I hope you're doing well Could you write a fic where the task force gets to know about a lab where makarov is making a huge weapon, they believe it's a nuclear weapon or something like that but when they reach the lab they see a huge metal room and inside, a woman. Probably in her 20s, bruised and chained and shock collar around her neck and all. They rescued her, brought her for questioning and found out she's the experiment and she has powers like enhanced strength durability stamina and energy production and manipulation telekinesis telepathy and blood manipulation. They recruit her thinking she'll be a useful addition to the team and she's very powerful, as they see her on the field. Then simon and her form a connection and they find solace in each other's trauma. ---- F!Reader, superhuman!au, romance?, fluff?(lets not trust these two tags) ----

A/N: I think I got carried away...so...yeah

The helicopter blades cut through the thick night air as Task Force 141 approached their target: a remote lab deep in the Ural Mountains. The mission brief had been grim—Intel suggested Makarov was developing a catastrophic weapon. Nuclear, perhaps. They couldn't let that stand. With Captain Price's gruff voice crackling over the comms, the team moved with the precision and lethality they were known for. "Approaching LZ," Soap announced, his voice thick with anticipation.

This was Soap's opportunity to finally end the name Vladimir Makarov.

"Remember, lads," Price said, "we're in and out. Neutralize the target, get the intel, and get out. Simple." Ghost exchanged glances with his teammates. His skull-patterned balaclava barely concealed the cold determination in his eyes. Ghost was a man of few words, but his presence was a comforting constant in the chaos of war. The lab loomed ahead, a dark, angular shadow against the snowy landscape. As the helicopter landed, the team disembarked, weapons at the ready.

The night was silent save for the crunch of their boots on the snow and the distant howl of the wind. "Alright, let's move," Price ordered, and the team advanced. They breached the lab's perimeter with practised ease.

Inside, the corridors were sterile and dimly lit, the air thick with the hum of machinery. Moving swiftly and silently, they cleared room after room, encountering minimal resistance. It was almost too easy. "Something's not right," Gaz muttered, voicing the unease they all felt. At the end of a long hallway, they found it—a massive metal door, more secure than any they’d encountered so far. Price signalled for a breach. With a deafening blast, they forced their way in, weapons raised. What they found inside made them freeze. The room was vast and industrial, filled with complex machinery and computer banks. But their eyes were drawn to the centre of the room, where a large glass chamber stood.

Inside was you—bruised and battered, chained to the floor with a shock collar around your neck. “Bloody hell,” Soap whispered, horror and anger lacing his voice. Ghost moved forward, his eyes locked on you. You looked up, and despite your condition, your eyes were defiant. This was no ordinary prisoner. “Price, we need to get her out of here,” Ghost said, urgency in his voice. Price nodded. "Ghost, Gaz, cover us. Soap, see if you can disable that collar." Gaz worked quickly, and with a few deft movements, the collar fell away.

Ghost gently lifted you, your body light and frail in his arms. You flinched at the contact but didn't resist. As he carried you out, the rest of the team provided cover, their weapons barking in the darkness as more of Makarov's men converged on your position. You made it back to the helicopter under a hail of gunfire. Once inside, you collapsed onto a stretcher, your breathing shallow but steady.

They secured you, minds racing with questions. Who were you? What had Makarov done to you? Back at the safehouse, the atmosphere was tense. You had been stabilized and were resting, but they all knew the real work was just beginning. As they gathered in the briefing room, Price addressed the team. Laswell had given Price your file. A subject stolen from a testing lab was easy to find the name of because of the serial number on your neck. “We need answers,” he said. “Y/N is our best lead. We’ve seen what Makarov is capable of, and we can’t afford any surprises.” Ghost had been quiet since the rescue, his eyes never straying far from where you were being held.

There was a connection there, a silent understanding that went beyond words. The interrogation room was cold and clinical, a stark contrast to the warmth they tried to project. You sat across from Ghost, your eyes wary but no longer filled with fear. “Y/N,” Ghost began softly, “we’re here to help. Can you tell us what Makarov was doing to you?” You hesitated, your eyes flicking to the door where Ghost stood guard. Finally, you spoke, your voice a whisper. “I was… an experiment. He wanted to create a weapon. Not a bomb, but a person.”

The room went silent. Ghost leaned forward. “What kind of weapon?” Your eyes met his, and he saw the pain and power within them. “Me. I have… abilities. Enhanced strength, durability, and stamina. I can manipulate energy, and use telekinesis, and telepathy. Even control blood.” The gravity of your words sank in. Makarov hadn’t been building a weapon; he’d been creating one. And now you were sitting in front of them, a living testament to his twisted ambitions.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. You looked at him, a flicker of something passing between you. “I did. But he had ways of controlling me. The collar… it wasn’t just to shock me. It suppressed my abilities.” Ghost exchanged a glance with Price. This changed everything. “Y/N,” Price said, “we want to help you. We could use someone with your skills. But we need to know if you’re willing to fight with us.” You looked around the room, your eyes lingering on each of them before settling on Ghost. “I’ll fight. Not just for me, but for everyone Makarov has hurt. He needs to be stopped.” From that day on, you became part of Task Force 141.

Training with them was intense—your abilities were unlike anything they’d ever encountered. You could lift vehicles with your mind, and heal wounds with a touch, and your combat skills were unparalleled. On the battlefield, you were a force of nature, your powers turning the tide of many engagements. But it was your connection with Ghost that truly stood out. You spent hours together, often in silence, yet there was an unspoken bond between you. Both of you carried scars from your pasts, both had seen and endured more than anyone should.

You found solace in each other’s presence, a quiet understanding that needed no words. One night, after a particularly brutal mission, you found yourselves on the rooftop of the safe house. The night was clear, stars scattered across the sky. You were sitting on the edge, your legs dangling over the side, while Ghost stood beside you, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth. Ghost approached quietly, not wanting to intrude. But you noticed him and gave a small smile.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Hey,” he replied, leaning against the railing. “You alright?” You nodded, “Just needed some fresh air.” Ghost’s eyes were distant, his mind clearly on something else. “I never thought I’d be here,” you said after a moment. “Fighting alongside people who care.” Ghost placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’re part of the team now. We’ve got your back.” You looked at him, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you. All of you.” Ghost’s hand found yours, a rare gesture of comfort.

The two of you stood there, the night wrapping around you like a cloak. At that moment, despite the darkness and the war raging around you, there was a sense of peace. You weren’t just soldiers; you were a family…a messed up, military, full of badass soldiers with dark backgrounds kind of family.

Over the following months, your integration into the team was seamless. Missions that seemed impossible were now within reach thanks to your abilities. Whether it was breaching heavily fortified compounds or extracting high-value targets, your skills made the difference. During one mission deep in enemy territory, you found yourselves pinned down by heavy fire. The situation was dire, and retreat seemed like the only option. But you had other plans.

“Stay behind me,” you ordered, your voice steady despite the chaos. With a wave of your hand, an invisible force field sprung up, deflecting bullets and giving the team the cover they needed to advance. You moved with purpose, your powers creating a path through the enemy's defences. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. Ghost stayed close to you, his skills complementing yours. You worked in perfect harmony, a deadly duo that left the enemy scrambling.

By the end of the mission, the objective was secured, and you all made it back in one piece. Back at the base, as the adrenaline wore off, you noticed Ghost watching you. He had a soft spot for you, and it was clear you drew strength from each other. One evening, as you sat around a campfire, Ghost finally opened up about his past. His voice was low, the crackling fire casting shadows across his face.

“I lost everyone I cared about,” he said, his eyes fixed on the flames. “My family…friends. All gone. I thought I’d never find that kind of connection again.” You reached out, your hand covering his. “You have us now,” you said softly. “You have me.” He looked at you, the pain in his eyes softening. “I know. And I’m grateful for that every day.” In the quiet moments between missions, you found yourselves together often. You found solace in each other’s company, healing the wounds that ran deep. It was a slow process, but with each passing day, the scars seemed a little less painful.

Then came the day of the final assault on Makarov’s stronghold. The mission was clear—take him down and end his reign of terror. The stakes had never been higher. As you prepared, you approached Ghost, determination etched on your face. “This ends today,” you said. He nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity. “Together.” The final assault was brutal. The stronghold was heavily defended, and every step forward was hard-fought.

In the end, it was a combination of your powers and Ghost’s precision that brought Makarov to his knees. As the dust settled, you stood over him, the weight of your journey crashing down on you. It was over. Back at the safehouse, there was a sense of relief but also a lingering sadness. You and Ghost stood together, looking out over the horizon. “We did it,” you said softly. “Yeah,” Ghost replied. “We did.” You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the shared pain and hope. “Thank you, Simon. For everything.” He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his touch a balm for your wounded soul. “Thank you, Y/N. For giving me something to fight for.” In each other’s arms, you found the peace you had long sought. Together, you were stronger. Together, you were home.

It's a funny feeling to have found a home in the arms that once rescued from a cage.

Tags: @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza

[incesthemes]

this is the exact halfway point in 1.20 dead man's blood. it's also the first time we see dean stand up to john in any capacity. from here on, too, dean continues to hold his ground against his dad, and his defiance grows more confident and definitive.

the first half of this episode therefore represents the "status quo" of their family dynamic: sam is angry and defiant, dean is blindly loyal, and john is domineering. we get a sense of what life was like for them before the series began and how the family functioned. the second half, then, represents sam and dean's development. sam and dean are working more as a unit, and they demand to be treated as equals not only among each other but to their father as well. this half shows sam seeming to get meeker in a way now that dean is defending him (sam deflates falls back into a comfortable routine with john, his yessirs a vast contrast to dean calling him out and an even vaster contrast to his own shouting matches with john in the first half of the episode)—this is the dynamic they're working toward and have been working toward this whole season.

but this halfway point is so cool. because right after this moment, dean is left helplessly torn between two options:

sam gets in the impala, and john gets in his truck. the two vehicles become physical manifestations of the choice dean now has to make: john or sam? status quo or development?

he gets in the impala. he chooses sam.

but the cool thing about it is that the impala is dean's car. of course he was going to get in his own car. it's a no-brainer. but at the same time, this doesn't stop the impala from representing sam in this moment. what this means, then, is that dean never had a choice in the matter: he was always going to choose sam.

dean lacks narrative agency for the majority of season 1. he constantly defers to sam's decisions, and even when he does make decisions that would lead to significant development for himself (see 1.11 scarecrow, where he chooses to let sam have his independence instead of clinging onto him, signifying a massive step forward for his own sense of self and independence), sam inevitably shapes the outcome of those decisions, leaving dean in a position where he isn't actually choosing things for himself (and sam returns at the end of the episode, preventing the possibility of his growth and keeping him defined by his place in his family).

this moment in dead man's blood is symbolic of that lack of agency. dean is tied to his brother, doomed to choose him because it's the only real option presented to him. this isn't to say that's a bad thing by any means obviously, just that it's an interesting setup for his narrative arc. dean is set to spiral straight into sam's orbit, helpless to stop it or escape, and frankly he doesn't want to, either. sam is the center of his universe, after all, and choosing sam was what he was raised to do. sam is his everything—including the master of his story.

so when dean chooses sam and gets into the impala, there was never any other option for him. dean was always going to choose his brother, was always going to stand up to john and defend sam and himself, was always going to get into his own car. unlike sam, whose season 1 conflict is between his fate and his family, dean's fate in many ways is his family, and he has nothing to convince him off that path (indeed, the one time he does falter in this during season 1 is because he's again deferring to sam's decision to leave him).

and the best part about all of the whole metaphor, to me, is this:

sam is the one driving the car.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Haunted – Part One

Elain x Medium!Reader (sapphic) Rhys x Medium!Reader (platonic)

Summary: When Amarantha heard of the strange fae girl who could communicate with spirits, she had her hunted down and brought to her court Under The Mountain. Now trapped with the High Lords, Y/N seeks comfort and protection from Rhysand, and the pair develop a secret friendship. Once freed by Feyre’s actions, Rhys brings Y/N back to Velaris with him.

A/N: I’ve decided to split this into multiple parts as it’s lengthy. Part One is the backstory for Y/N and Rhys Under The Mountain and when they first arrive back in Velaris. I just adore the friendship Y/N develops with Rhys ❤️ He really does like to collect strays 😂 Thank you @shadowdaddies for asking about this WIP, I don't think I'd have worked on it otherwise!

Wordcount: 3.4K

Warnings: Reader can speak to the dead, so this is very grief/loss heavy and there are lots of ‘ghosts’; general trauma themes (+ healing); Amarantha, the Attor + UTM; mentions of physical torture and suicidal ideation.

Cold, spindly fingers grip my arm tightly as I’m dragged closer to the dais by the Attor. He shoves me down, pinching sharply into my shoulder and forcing me to kneel before the High Queen. My knees throb upon impact with the red marble. The smacking sound of skin on stone echoes through the hushed hall.

I feel eyes on me from all sides, from the surrounding fae that make up Amarantha’s court. Their chatter dulls as they take in the commotion. 

The Attor stands straight behind me and announces his findings, “As you commanded, your Majesty. The spirit girl.”

Amarantha drums her fingers along the arm of her throne, her dagger-sharp red nails clacking against the stone. “Ah yes, I've heard many stories about this one,” she says, smiling cruelly. “Girl, what’s your name?” 

“Y/N,” I respond flatly, quickly remembering to add ‘Your Majesty’ at the end.

Amarantha toys with the gold chain around her neck, and the charm– no, the bone– hanging from it. “Jurian, what do you think? Do you think the claims are true?”

The man standing beside the Queen steps forward with his arms folded across his chest, his form flickers as he moves. He is human, or was, judging by his rounded ears. “Do you truly care for my thoughts, or do you just like to hear yourself speak?” Jurian asks, rolling his eyes. Those eyes - so alike the one on Amarantha’s finger...

I push myself off the ground and stand up tall, shrugging off the bony clutches of the Attor. “Jurian would like to know if you truly want his opinion, or if you just like the sound of your own voice.” 

A gasp ripples through the court and Amarantha gives me a serpentine smile. “So, the little pet does have teeth–” she looks down, inspecting her nails, before returning my defiant gaze– “but can she use them?” 

“Rhysand,” Amarantha calls across the court. 

A handsome man steps forward, amusement flickering in his violet eyes as he takes me in before bowing deeply to Amarantha. He straightens, inclining his head, “Yes, my Queen?”

“Look into her mind, can she truly speak to those that have departed this mortal realm?”

The male, Rhysand, bows his head again and I feel a night-kissed breeze caressing my senses. ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,’ a deep, soothing voice says directly into my mind.

How are you doing that? 

‘I’ll explain later. For now, be careful what you say. Her sister, Clythia, is a very sore spot.’ 

I’m not afraid of her.

Surprise and amusement that is not my own ripples within me. ‘I know,’ the voice says before fading away without a trace. 

Rhysand rises, addressing the Queen. “Her power is real, Majesty. She can see Jurian standing beside you. He looks quite well, considering...” 

Amaranth claps her hands together at his confirmation. “Wonderful, this is wonderful news. Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together.” She waves a hand towards me, my dismissal. “Attor, take her to her room. I don't feel like speaking to the dead at present.”

————

I finally have some privacy in my chambers. The room is small and plainly furnished. There’s very little warmth amongst all the dark stone, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to fight the growing chills. 

I’m alone for the first time in many years. Not even the dead walk these halls, so I only have my thoughts to keep me company. 

I feel relieved that being tortured was not in the Queen’s plans for me, at least not yet. And I’m fortunate to get a room instead of a cell. Yes, I think I can make this work. 

A soft knock sounds against the wooden door, jolting me from my thoughts.

Has she changed her mind about sparing me? 

I move swiftly to open the door; hoping to find a friend, not foe, on the other side of it. 

The handsome male from earlier, Rhysand, is lazily leaning against the wall across from my door, picking at the embroidered collar of his black jacket. 

“Good evening, Y/N,” he purrs, pushing off from the wall. “May I come in?” 

I step back and allow Rhysand entrance. His power swirls around him as he moves, like a cloak of liquid night. 

“I apologise that there wasn’t time for proper introductions earlier. I’m Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” he offers, bowing his head to me. 

High Lord. Of course.

At Rhysand’s admission, memories of Prythian’s history flood my mind. I recognised his name, and the black clothes should have been a giveaway… But his actions thus far did not match any of the stories I’ve heard about the formidable High Lord.

Rhysand gives me a sad smile. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but unfortunately we’re both stuck here. Do your best to keep out of trouble, and don’t do anything to piss her off. You’re now a member of this dreadful court, so you’ll need to attend all the festivities.” Rhysand emphasises ‘festivities’ with a nonchalant wave of his hand. 

“Me? But I’m no one special.”

Violet eyes bore into mine as if they could see into my soul. 

“You are special. Amarantha covets power - that’s why we’re both here in this position. My kind is called daemati. I can enter minds - make someone my puppet, read every single thought they’ve ever had, or I can destroy them from the inside out.” Rhysand looks to the floor, unable to hold my gaze as he continues. 

“I don’t like to violate people that way unless absolutely necessary. I only got a glimpse of your thoughts, but it was enough to know I can trust you. I have to wear that mask around the others, but I’ll try to help you however I can.”

“Thank you. I don’t understand why you’re helping me, but I appreciate it. And I won’t tell anyone about… this.” Whatever this is.  

Rhysand looks back at me, nodding once in acknowledgement. “Dinner is in two hours. You’ll need to dress up, I’ll have some of my handmaids come to assist you. Do not show any weakness here. She detests it and will destroy you.”

As Rhysand is about to leave, a woman with large batlike wings manifests beside him. Her form shimmers, her skin a dull pallor. She reaches out as if to touch his inky black hair but her hand doesn’t make contact. The woman’s hazel eyes portray endless love and sadness. “Y/N, please tell Rhys that Juno is proud of the male he’s become.” 

He freezes as I relay the message from the beautiful woman. A single tear falls, leaving a trail of silver down his cheek.

“I didn’t think she was watching,” Rhysand whispers. “I don’t deserve her pride.”

I softly wipe away his tears, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “We don’t show weakness out there, but you can with me.”

Rhysand nods, squeezing my hand back. “Deal. And the same applies to you,” he says.

I feel a flash of heat down my forearm. My brow scrunches in shock as I drop Rhysand’s hand and pull my sleeve up. On my arm, there’s a mark that wasn’t there before. A mass of black whorls around a crescent moon. 

Rhysand smirks at my contorted expression. “It’s a Night Court tradition to mark our bargains with a tattoo.” 

I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m aware of the practice, but you could’ve gone with something more inconspicuous.” 

“I think it suits you, Y/N,” Rhysand says, his grin wide. “And as we’re now linked for life, you can call me Rhys.” 

Rhys winks at me as he heads towards the door, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Prick.

‘I heard that.’

I smile smugly, shutting the door in Rhys’s cocky face. Prick is a much more suitable nickname. 

————

The following morning I am summoned to attend the High Queen’s court. Rhys stayed true to his word about helping me, sending his handmaids to dress me. 

I never needed such finery in the villages I frequented. Before Amarantha, I travelled between a few temples, offering my services to the Priestesses. Gods, I miss my old life - the days spent on the open roads, the peace I could bring people. There was no peace to be found near Amarantha. 

The twins, Nuala and Cerridwen, help me into a gauzy white dress. There are enough layers that it’s not seethrough, and the panels float around me as I move. They dust my face with a light powder and line my eyes with black kohl. They also do my hair, braiding the top section and leaving the rest to flow freely down my back. 

I get a glimpse in the mirror before I leave the room, doing a double take at the female staring back at me. 

She looks like a ghost. 

Amarantha’s eyes track me as I walk the length of the room towards her throne. She smirks as I bow deeply before her. 

“You wished to see me, Majesty,” I say, keeping my head low and eyes on the floor. 

“My my, don’t you scrub up well when you’re among civilised company,” Amarantha sneers. “Rise, girl. I wish to speak with my sister. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.” 

Beside Amarantha, Jurian scoffs. 

“It doesn’t work like that, Majesty,” I retort.

Amarantha narrows her eyes at me. “And why not?” she demands. 

“I can communicate with the dead, but it’s on their terms. If they do not wish for me to see them, I cannot make them. And I can’t make them talk.”

‘Careful…’ Rhys says into my mind. 

I’m speaking the truth. That is not a weakness. 

Jurian pushes off the ledge he’d been leaning on. As he speaks, I will my eyes to glaze over - a little trick I picked up, making my powers appear more tangible to those who cannot see what I can. 

“Clythia won't come near her while I’m here,” Jurian explains. “My soul is tethered to the pieces she’s kept of me, her cruel trophies… As the bitch is quite fond of my eye, I can’t leave. I don't believe you’ll get the pleasure of meeting her sister.”

“What’s happening?” Amarantha demands. “Rhysand, what is she doing?” 

Rhys steps forward, “My Queen, that look, the hazy eyes, it means a spirit is calling to her.”

I let the fog fade from my eyes, turning to address Amarantha again. “Majesty, Jurian is tied to those objects you hold. Clythia will not come near him.” 

Amarantha sighs loudly, inspecting her nails. “Of course not, why would she want to be near that filthy human? I have no further need of you today, but I will come up with some other uses for your talents,” she sneers. 

I bow again and turn, moving to the back of the room to watch the rest of the proceedings.

————

I very quickly fell into a routine Under the Mountain. 

The twins would dress me for court in the morning, making me look like the living dead. 

After breakfast, I’d attend the throne room with the other High Fae. Court politics were… complicated. Fortunately, I had little involvement in this.

Then there were the balls and dinners of an evening. They were always a big event, with gruesome entertainment most nights. 

I barely stomached the cruelty. After the first dinner - I spent the rest of the night throwing it up. The torment was only made worse when I was forced to communicate with the poor souls Amarantha tortured for sport. I spent many nights lying in bed, replaying the horrors in my mind. 

As each day passed, it grew harder to live with myself and the things I was forced to witness. 

My bargain with Rhys was the only thing keeping me going. 

I began to look forward to his sarcastic comments in my mind while the other members of the court bickered. 

When sleep couldn’t find us, we’d spend the night talking down our bargain bond. We exchanged stories of our lives before and made many grand plans for after. We knew they were unlikely to be realised, but our dreams were all we had left.

One day, Rhys tells me of dreams he’s been having—dreams of a human girl. For the first time, he could see her clearly, she must have come over the wall somehow. She was in Prythian. 

‘I don’t know what it means, but maybe she’s the one we’ve been waiting for,’ Rhys ponders.

If only I was a seer, that would be a much more useful power.

————

That human girl was indeed who we were waiting for. 

That stupid girl, entering into the bargain with Amarantha. 

Like he did for me all those years earlier, Rhys helped Feyre as much as he could.

At first, I was doubtful that Feyre would complete all the tasks. When she showed up that wyrm and then threw the bone at Amarantha, I knew she was special. I finally allowed myself to have hope. 

Then she died. 

I watched as Amarantha snapped her neck. Watched as her life force left her body, though a spark glimmered near Rhys’s chest. Somehow, he held on to her, keeping her soul from moving on.

Once she’s made, I can feel her powers blooming, an echo of each High Lord, mixed with something else. Being brought back left a trace on her soul. 

————

Amarantha had been defeated and we were free. Most of her court had left Under the Mountain already, the nastier fae made themselves scarce promptly after Tamlin killed her. 

I’m not sure where I’m going to go. My family were long gone, along with the village I once called home. Now, Rhys was my only friend, and he had his own family to get back to. 

A rippling black cloud blooms in front of me, and Rhys materialises. His black hair is dishevelled, his eyes wide with shock. Even his movements seem rattled. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, but he can’t meet my gaze. 

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t have to tell me here or now, but don’t lie.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it firmly. 

“It’s Feyre,” he says.

“Is she okay? She’s gone to be with Tam–”

“She’s my mate,” Rhys says so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. His confession stuns me. 

“Oh Rhys, I’m so sorry. We’ll work it out, you have that bargain.”

“Yeah, I- I don’t know,” he shrugs, defeated. “If she’s going to be happy with Tamlin then that’s all I want.” Rhys pauses, still unable to look me in the eye. “Anyway, let’s go home,” he says, schooling his features into his signature smirk and extending his hand to me.

“Home?” I question.

“Do you think after everything that I’d leave you here? You’re coming with me.” He smiles softly before taking my hand in his and winnowing us away. 

————

We materialise in a living room decorated with tasteful but eclectic furnishings. It’s warm and inviting, especially after those years under the mountain. 

A blonde female enters the lounge room as we appear. Her mouth widens in shock and she drops the mug she was holding which shatters on the floor, spilling brown liquid all over the worn rug. 

She lets out a sob and runs to Rhys, wrapping her arms around him. He holds her in silence, stroking her long golden hair as his eyes well with tears.

Two winged males enter the room with a short High Fae female.“Oh my gods,” one of the males whispers. 

Rhys turns at their entrance and embraces both males. Everyone in the room has teary eyes, even me, while I stand awkwardly to the side. 

I’m not usually a crier, but we got out. The weight of that fact is heavy on my soul. 

Rhys releases his family and extends his hand to me, pulling me closer. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he says before introducing each of his friends - all names that I’ve heard before. People that I never expected to meet in person. “Y/N helped keep me sane Under the Mountain. She’ll be staying in Velaris for the foreseeable future.”

Amren steps forward, observing me. I take a step back as her power overwhelms me. She is not from this world. 

“What are you?” I ask softly.

“I was going to ask you the same question, girl.” Amren tilts her head to the side as if studying me. “You’re not of this realm, not entirely.”

Rhys cuts in, “Amarantha was using Y/N for her abilities. She can communicate with the dead.”

Cassian pales beside me, his face contorted in shock. “Cauldron boil me, you can - talk to ghosts?” He shudders.

“The living scare me more than the dead ever did,” I reply.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mor quips before pulling out a bottle of wine and enough glasses for everyone, seemingly plucked from the air. “Settle in, you’ve got 50 years of gossip to catch up on,” she grins.

‘Is there somewhere I can go while you catch up with your family?’ I ask Rhys down our bond. 

His concern ripples back in response. ‘You’re family now too, but I understand if you need some space.’

Rhys smiles at his cousin, “We’ve waited 50 years, I think we can wait a few more minutes while we get settled. Y/N, I’ll show you your room.”

I smile and nod as Rhys takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. He squeezes firmly, the way we always do. 

“There’s a few empty bedrooms up here, you can take whichever you like - that one–” he points to the door at the end of the hall– “overlooks the garden.”

“Thank you, for everything.” I pull him into a tight hug and he kisses me on the top of my head. 

“Go on, tell me if you need anything,” he taps on his temple. 

I nod, “You go on, your family are waiting.”

————

Rhys was right. The view of the garden was a nice change after being stuck under the mountain for the last 10 years.

I’ve bathed, but even after scrubbing myself raw, I can’t quite shake the dirty feeling. My skin is red and angry, but I find a lotion in the bathroom that helps soothe it. The lavender scent fills my nostrils. 

We got out. 

I dress and decide to go downstairs. I feel restless inside and don’t want to be alone with my thoughts any longer.

Rhys looks up as I descend the stairs and he smiles widely at me. “There she is. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah…” I look at the door, and the coloured light streaming through the stained glass panel. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Rhys nods. ‘We’re free,’ he says down the bond. ‘You can go wherever you wish.’

I walk towards the door, hesitating at the threshold before finally stepping into the sunlight. 

I pause, feeling the warmth on my skin, a sensation I never thought I’d feel again. In the distance, children are playing and I can hear people talking and laughing as they go about their days. 

I shut my eyes, letting the sounds of the city fill my head, enjoying the peace that the chatter brings. 

We made it.

“I can’t quite believe it myself,” Rhys says from beside me. 

I open my eyes, turning to look up at him.

“We got out,” he says. “It felt so hopeless at the end there.”

“I thought I was going to die Under the Mountain,” I confess quietly. “That she’d tire of my party tricks and amuse herself by torturing me. I would’ve welcomed it. An end.”

Rhys turns to look back at the house, at his family through the glass panes, “No one else understands.”

I take his hand in mine, squeezing it tightly. “Our bargain still stands.” 

Rhys squeezes my hand back. “Always. Now I’d really like for you to show off your party trick for Cassian. If you’re up to it.” Rhys smirks and I raise a brow. “He’s creeped out by anything that’s not tangible. If you can pretend some spirit is angry with him, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh I see, you brought me here to be your jester.” I give Rhys a playful shove with my shoulder. “Come on, let’s do it. You can feed me intel so it’s extra convincing.”

“Oh, you’re evil,” he chuckles darkly. Rhys holds the door open for me, and we step inside his home together. 

[inthelittlewood]

i just wanna say its impressive how consistent c!martyns characterisation is and how he behaves in simular situations, like how he treats the watchers (and the secret keeper) vs sungod. how c!martyn seems to rely on more powerful figures (maybe as a sense of direction and what he wishes doc would be instead of the typical radio silence) until he gets a sense of betrayal (seen in last life aswell) and snaps back to being defiant.

or the pumpkin spirit in rats vs the sunset stone have the same vibes of bargaining with a literal spirit or a spiritual object to gain more power. but u can also see, like, the development of c!martyns behaviours - how in rats once hes given the extra life he crumbles under the paranoia of being found out so he instead gives it up, vs in pirates that simular paranoid energy instead drives him to seek out more power. you can even argue you see this shift in limited lifes ending aswell, wherever that fits timeline wise.

I thought this was going to be a long winded back handed compliment to say I'm repetitive at first 🤣

But ty! I try to be consistent but honestly I usually play each SMP as essentially a new character mentally, but old habits die hard. I'm often not being super mindful of c!Martyn when being a pirate or a rat, I'm very much just embodying those roles

I think there's just lots of parallels and coincidences that fall in to my lap. I mean the fact I established C.H.E.S.T, L.O.O.T and B.O.O.T-E in my VTuber story then the next SMP pitched to me was Pirates... How? How does that happen? Haha

[lemon-boy-stan]

May I request Childe, Kaeya, Diluc, and Thoma with a tsundere s/o who is trying to work up the courage to tell the guy that they love him for the first time?

Tsundere reader telling Genshin men "I love you" for the first time

Tsundere: Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that depicts a character with an initially harsh personality who gradually reveals a warmer, friendlier side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun tsun and dere dere.

Genre: fluff! Enemies to lovers. Warnings: none. A/N: anon asked for Thoma, but I haven't met him yet so I'll do my best!! Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma. Also, apologies, I didn't realise these would end up being so long. Hope you like it anon!

DILUC

Honestly, you both hated each other. Diluc was not the kind of person who got close to people. He didn't look fondly upon rule-breakers either, and you just seemed to bring trouble with you everywhere. His fondness for you, however, grew over time, in battle, where you'd come running to him for help.

Of course, despite your snarky remarks to him, Diluc never minded saving your butt. "Master Diluc, always such a show-off," you'd tsk loudly, making him grin and roll his eyes. "Of course, I'm only a show-off for you, my dear." Diluc would attempt to kiss your hand. You'd grab his wrist, flinging to the ground.

It didn't help. Diluc was helplessly in love with you. And what Diluc wanted, Diluc got.

You'd been feeling differently towards the man, but you didn't know what it was. He made you laugh, more than you wanted to, he made you extremely shy, he made your cheeks all red. It was only in battle did you realise what you felt.

A surge of panic shot through you as Diluc fell to the ground, sword clattering. You let out an elemental burst, defeating the remaining enemies, running to his side, lifting him up. "Master Diluc, no! You can't die now. You can't. You can't die, I love you." Tears falling onto his face.

Diluc stirred, smiling up at you. "I'm sorry, my love, say that again?" Smirking, making your ears go red. "I will throw you off this cliff if you ever do that again!" You shrieked at him, pulling him close and hugging him. He laughed softly, "I highly doubt you'd ever be able to throw me."

KAEYA

The Cavalry Captain. He was the most annoying, insufferable person you'd ever met. And he seemed to THRIVE when annoying you. He knew you could probably beat him up if you tried hard enough, but that didn't stop him from challenging you to duels and fights (much to your despair, you always lost in sword-fighting).

You thought Kaeya was just naturally competitve. You thought your persistence in trying to do better than him, impress him, was just because of his personality, not because you liked him. Soon, your friendship, or rivalry, turned into a relationship.

Most of the time with your friends when you'd bicker, it was always the two of you joking around. But this time, the argument blew up Angel's Share. "For the love of..." Diluc rolled his eyes, "can one of you just tell me what's going on so you stop causing a scene?"

You puffed your cheeks, eyes watery. Kaeya rolled his eyes too, "she's overreacting, as usual. It's perfectly fine. She thinks something will happen to me, but it won't, I always end up lucky." You crossed your arms, making a loud, defiant noise.

"I don't want him to go!" You shrieked, glaring at Diluc, "it's too dangerous and he'll get himself killed and I -" Diluc cocked his head, amused. "Yes, Traveller?" You bit your lower lip, not daring to look Kaeya in the eye. "And I love him," you whispered. Diluc's eyes widened. There was a loud crash next to you and you jumped. Diluc grinned, covering his mouth to hide his laughter, "I think my brother loves you too."

Kaeya had fallen off the stool, and was lying on the ground.

CHILDE

There was just something about him that made him punchable. Maybe it was his daring personality, his lack of care, his flare for rule-breaking. Or it may just be his face. Anyhow, whenever the two of you were together and whenever he let out a "hey, girlie" from his mouth, you'd put him in a headlock or kick him in his crotch.

This apparently did not stop him from being helplessly in love with you. Often Tartaglia found himself reciting ways to ask you out in the mirror. And, when he enacted on them, often you'd punch him.

And although you would never admit it to yourself or anyone, you'd grown a strong fondness for the boy, a crush even, and you finally had the courage to ask him out.

Pretty soon, your relationship was in full swing.

Childe went out of his way to spoil you, bringing you the best foods, taking you to the most expensive places on dates. It was on one of these dates, where he truly shocked you, presenting you with a gift that was so beautiful you cried.

"Archons, Childe!" You gasped loudly, for once at a loss for words. Tartaglia bit his lip, "why? What's wrong? Do you not like it? I can return it..." But you shook your head, letting out a defiant noise, putting it on. "No! I love it so much. I love you so much, Ajax." And Childe almost fell of his seat as he stuttered out the words, "I love you, too."

THOMA

It was obvious. A little too obvious. Anyone and everyone knew, even you. Thoma was, undeniabally head over heels for you. And you? You despised him. He was just trying too hard!

He was always coming with you on commissions, following you around since the day you met so much that your friends had called him your shadow. It was only when he saved you in battle did you finally feel something for him.

"You're so rash," he murmured, placing bandages on your arm. You giggled softly, feeling a bit drowsy and silly from the medicine. "You're so cute, Thoma!" You giggled, booping his nose. He scrunched his face and you giggled again.

"I love your hair," you sighed dreamily, "mm, love when you look after me all the time. Love when you save me, love... love you... Love Thoma soo much!" You squeaked, slapping your hand over your mouth at the last part. Thoma froze, shell-shocked. You giggled again, pulling him close. "Oops! I um, I didn't mean to say that!" Pressing your lips against his.

He chuckled, "mm, and I'm sure you didn't mean to do that either, honey."

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

I'M SORRY THESE WERE SO BAD AND CRINGE 😭😭😭