#delusion is my armor

[mikhardwheat]

My favorite part of the movie was when Liam and Theo decided not to participate in it and instead spent their honeymoon in Japan, where they met Hikari - a friendly ramen shop owner - and Liam went full-on history nerd mode, talking about Japanese culture, trying his best with foreign terminology. The museums? Kira's cameo? Perfect sequel, guys, we keep winning!

[jenhoneys]

guys I can't believe the armorer and bo katan got gay married and lit the forges as one wow the lesbians stay winning

[timmie15]

Kissaroos <3

Designs by @beth4short-blog (besides my 621)

[monochrome-genesis]

Ac6 character designs

[shellibisshe]

baldur’s gate 3 | corinne faera, half drow oath of the ancients paladin

a tag list (ask to be added or removed): @loriane-elmuerto @queennymeria @statichvm @jackiesarch @chuckhansen @risingsh0t @nightbloodbix @confidentandgood @leviiackrman @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @blissfulalchemist @socially-awkward-skeleton @roofgeese @unholymilf @indorilnerevarine @poisonedtruth @innocuous-lemons @strafethesesinners @nuclearstorms @inafieldofdaisies @heroofpenamstan @deputyash @katsigian

[commander-goo]

thinking about this specific outfit combo a lot.

[m1d-45]

🍄, i dont know whether i should be horny or scared.

*glancing at scaramouche, tartaglia, capitano, kaeya, diluc, alhaitham, cyno, enjou*

-🥘Stew

i- you come into MY HOUSE, simping over NPCS-

enjou is literally the fuckin DEFAULT MAN but you- the internets monsterfucker brain just has y’all by the rib cage doesn’t it.

scara, fine, tartaglia, i’m with you, capitano is a stretch but i’ll let it slide, but. cmon. enjou?

[kleyamarki]

hear me out

wayseeker jedi Armorer

[earths-core]

Everytime my mom tells me to work harder because the world isn't kind to people fresh out of uni my girlrot brain goes "why? why isn't it going to be kind to me? world look at me this isn't you, you'll change for me wont you?"

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[franouo]

LISTEN... listen, I have context ok, last night I was there chilling while drawing, when an idea came to my little mind...

WHAT IF (in an AU) Larissa survived Marylin's atack (SHE'S ALIVE) and needs protección AND somehow Brienne shows up, maybe a portal or time travel (idk how yet) and they start this kind of dry relationship in the begging for mutual interests, like Larissa needs protección (maybe debelop panic atacks after all the trauma) and Brienne needs help to come back to Westeros and the only person who can help is Larissa because all the principal of a "Magic school" thing like Brienne says but with in the time pass they break each others walls and start falling for each other.

It's nuts I KNOW, this was a midnight delusion ok it's kinda dumb, anyway I've never draw Brienne digitaly and I really like how the armor turned out, pls ignore my delulus and enjoy 🫂

(eng it's not mi first lenguage sorry for any mistake)

[thatdeadaquarius]

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

:)

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

OH

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

[the-raven-lady]

(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 1]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Fear Inoculum - TOOL [YouTube] [Spotify] “Enumerate all that I'm to do / Calculating steps away from you / My own mitosis / Growing through delusion from mania / Exhale, expel / Recast my tale / Weave my allegorical elegy.”

Warnings: Violence, explicit and detailed blood and gore, disgusting and disturbing imagery, terror and dread, fear of death, all of the warnings you should expect hearing the words ‘Night Lord’ bestie this is the “I love murder” legion.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: The long awaited Night Lord claiming + womb tattoo series. This part is primarily exposition and setting the scene. Also new dividers? Raven Lady's getting fancy.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender

The slosh of brown water on the floor splashes away from your washcloth, and you overextend your shoulder trying to catch it before it runs too far. Hissing at the sudden spasm, you sit back on your heels, rolling it out to soothe the ache. You’ve been on your hands and knees for what feels like far too long now, and your joints are starting to protest. It seems the other serf helping you isn’t faring much better. A glance in her direction reveals her sitting like a child, knees bent and feet flat on the floor, using the full weight of her body to scrub between the seams of the floor panels. You shake your head and return to pushing around the rusty water, struggling to remove the grime from the floor. 

The act was pointless. Everyone knew that it wouldn’t be another week before the armory would be so rancid with dried bodily fluids that a cleanup crew would have to scrub it down again, but you knew better than to make a comment on it.

The racket of raucous laughter nearby shoots ice through your veins. You and the other serf instinctually freeze at the sound, and it doesn’t even cross your mind to check on her before abandoning your post, scrambling off of the wet floor in a flash to hide behind a large crate. The cold metal at your back would shield you from view, you know, but the hammering in your chest and shuddering of your breath would be beacons for a bored astartes. Silently, you will yourself to calm down at any cost, holding your breath for so long your lungs begin to burn from the effort.

Their heavy footfalls eventually fade into the distance, off to another area of the ship. Still, you remain in place for another few minutes until you’re as certain as you’ll ever be that they’re gone. You dare not risk yourself getting caught by a group of Night Lords, if experience has taught you anything.

You’ve become jaded to the rags of tanned hide displayed proudly on their armor and the grotesque corpse art that lines the walls of Nightfall. The smell doesn’t even get to you anymore, having been surrounded by abundant death and decay for so long. Everything reeks of it. Even if you did take the time to think on the dreadful feelings that stir when you see them, your body wouldn’t be able to afford losing any more meals with how sparingly you’ve been fed.

What has never left you are the screams. The gush of blood pouring from a weeping laceration. The crack of breaking bones. Desperate cries from the poor targets of the Night Lord’s insatiable appetite for ‘entertainment’, sobs and begs for their lives— No, no, no, please! I’ll do anything, please, just let me go–!— eventually turning into pleas to be put out of their misery, shown mercy, as their captors only laugh and croon. No mercy flowed through them; they were never quick with their kills. It was all a sadistic game to feed off of the tears and terror for as long as they could. The Night Lords wouldn’t stop their fun until their playthings had been bled dry– literally or figuratively.

You peek out from around the crate, surveying the dim armory. Empty. 

The serf you had been working with was missing as well, likely sequestered off somewhere for safety. The utter silence of the room causes your gut to tremble with anxiety. It was a dangerous game to be alone: lone serfs were prime prey, and you by no means wanted to make yourself an easy target. 

With no small amount of horror, you realize it’s outside of your power to do anything about it. Your lungs deflate, and you give yourself a false reassurance before returning to your station on the floor, taking up the soiled wash rag and wringing it out into the water bucket. Pieces of slimy rehydrated skin pass over your fingers. You return to your efforts with the intent to finish as quickly as possible. The desire to flee to your cot is all-encompassing, driving you to redouble your efforts and get the job done just passably enough that you won’t be killed for it. 

A thought stops you, though. Where had your companion gone? It’s not that you particularly cared for her safety (you didn’t know her and caring is a luxury you could not afford), but to be gone without a trace was peculiar. You don’t remember hearing her footsteps, but you had also been preoccupied with yourself at the time.

You look around the empty room for anything out of place. Nothing appears to have moved since you last checked. Her brush and bucket are still on the floor, right where she had left them. You had seen her put them down there, right?

…Hadn’t you?

You dismiss the thought. She was probably still hiding somewhere, and for that, you couldn’t fault her. There was no loyalty amongst serfs of the Eighth, just an understanding that it was safer together than apart. Wanting to determine how much longer you would be here, you observe the areas the other serf had already worked.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The surfaces of the floors, storage units, and walls were visibly much cleaner than the rest, but she had done a horrible job wiping things down as she went. The steady dripping of a poorly dried surface unpleasantly fills your ears, slowly becoming the only thing you can focus on. You frown. It was amazing how you could begin to miss the ever-present dull thrum of the ship’s electrical systems when it was covered by something even slightly more annoying. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You shake your head and get back to working around the floor grate at the center of the room. Its placement makes it convenient to push the disgusting wash water into. As expected, the seams around the drain are compacted with hair and dried flesh, and you have to soak the mass to begin to scrape it free. The spongy texture is a nightmare to work with, but it wouldn’t be such a chore if you had some help.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Annoyed, you decide you’ve had enough of it. Water sloshes in the bucket when you wrench your washcloth to go wipe down whatever it is she had left unfinished, rising up to your feet. With some luck, you’d figure out where she had run off to. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if she had abandoned you altogether, leaving you to finish the task and fend for yourself.

A cursory glance over the bench, lockers, and racks reveals nothing out of the ordinary. They were passably clean and– perplexingly– completely dry. You ran a hand along them to be certain and, surely enough, it came away much the same. Odd. You were certain that you would find something. Continuing your search leaves more questions than answers.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Checking around a wall of storage cabinets, you carefully inspect each of the gaps for signs of water or some other liquid that could be leaking. You find nothing. 

At the end of the lockers, a shadow dances in the dim candlelight. Fear grips you for just a moment as you focus in on it, but it is much too small to be an astartes. At the realization, the chill in your blood is replaced with a simmer of frustration, and you stomp down the hall towards the figure.

Your eyes lock with the other serf’s. “Are you just hiding to–?”

You stop. It appears she had been too preoccupied with hanging from a bracket on the wall to come to your aid. The side of her neck is torn open with loose strips of muscle and connective tissue fanning over her shoulder. A glistening metal finial of Nostraman design pokes ornately through her spine and sternum, partially coagulated blood pooling at the tip.

Drip. 

Drip. 

Drip.

“About time,” a voice spits.

You’re suddenly dragged by the back of your robes, hoisted up into the air by an unseen force. The scream that leaves you tears at your vocal cords, but it’s choked off by the fabric of your neckline biting into your throat. Thrashing your head from side to side, you catch sight of a colorless face cackling, bloodied lips curled into a grin. You desperately kick your legs in an attempt to free yourself.

“Feisty little pet, aren’t we?” he asks. The Night Lord turns you around easily as you struggle, splitting red as he talks. “Good. Your friend was far more boring.”

You rake at the fabric around your neck, trying to alleviate the pressure preventing oxygen from getting to your head. The action only makes him laugh harder. “Oh, how precious. Poor little serf can’t breathe?” He tilts his head as he taunts you, and a cruel glint crosses his eye.

“How about I help with that?”

A half turn and your back slams against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your gasp of pain ignites a malicious glee within your captor, a row of bloodied yellow teeth peeking from behind his lips. At least like this, pinned to the wall, you have the ability to catch your breath, ragged and shallow. Each rough huff eases the ache in your diaphragm.

A hand roughly snaps your head forward, forcing you to focus on the face at your front. He suffocates you with his presence, leaning in far too close. “You know,” he starts, “I had been just about ready to walk in there and drag you out myself.” Despite the melodic quality of his voice, you only feel discomfort at the astartes’s words as he uningenuously laments. “I could only stare at my masterpiece for so long.” 

Briefly, your eyes linger on the silhouetted corpse of the other chapter serf. You hadn’t even heard her scream. Hadn’t heard the attack. Hadn’t heard the bones crack when she was unceremoniously mounted on the wall. You had managed to miss every detail.

…Or your captor had been skilled enough to mask them. You shiver.

He follows your gaze, scoffing when it lands on the body. “Your buddy is as pretty as she is stupid, trying to run all the way back to the hole you serfs call home.” The image of the other serf running down the hallway and getting caught as you did passes through your mind, and you grimace at the thought of whatever game she may have suffered through to end up where she is. The sing-song cadence of his voice draws your attention back to the Night Lord in front of you, “You humans fall so easily to your emotions. Not the brightest of you lot I’ve had, but certainly the best bait.”

Bait. The word is sour in the air.  

“So unwilling to have fun–” 

She had just been bait. 

“–but you’re eager to play, aren’t you?”

You were the game.

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening as you process everything you had missed or ignored up until now. Black blurs the edges of your vision. “Oh, don’t be like that,” the Night Lord shakes his head, but you know better than to believe it. This is exactly what he wanted. “We can be great friends—” 

Self-preservation takes a hold of you. Your adrenalized brain screams to overcome, persist. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot out before you, and you manage to jab your fingers into his dark eyes and claw. The astartes snarls, ducking away and dragging you with him off of the wall as he stumbles back. With a shake of his head, he regains his senses. He growls.

“You stupid bitch!”

The Night Lord tosses you like a ragdoll, uncaring of how your head impacts the nearby bench before hitting the floor. The world spins around you. “I’ll gut you like a pig for that, you impudent rat!” he roars, ceramite boots stomping closer. His eyes are wild, red around his enlarged pupils from where you’ve managed to burst blood vessels. Uncoordinated, you scramble backwards on the floor, staring up at the approaching astartes in terror. 

This is it. This is where you die: surrounded by filth, hyperventilating on the floor as a pissed off Night Lord tortures you within an inch of your life until you perish from the stress. All for one measly act of courage. Your back hits a wall as he rounds the bench, and you find yourself unable to watch any longer as fate unfolds before you. You curl up in a ball, turning away and protecting your head with your arms, then wait for the inevitable killing strike.

And wait.

…And wait.

But the blow never comes– no white-hot stab of pain, no sting of a kick to the ribs, no blunt ache of broken bones– just a sickeningly sodden crunch of flesh and bone. A wet spray paints your back. Your tattered robes easily soak up the warm liquid, causing you to flinch from the sudden moisture. Even through the rush of confusion and fear, it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is. The scent is unmistakable.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you struggle to catch up with your surroundings. By all means, you should be dead: the newest addition to a Night Lord’s skin cloak, or at the very least in excruciating pain. But you aren’t. 

Tentatively, trembling, you withdraw your head from the cage of your arms, turning just enough to peer behind you. You gasp at the grisly sight. 

Crimson rivulets of blood drip down over massive navy blue gauntlets. A single enucleated eye dangles from the gore between its digits. The terminator, more mountain than man, holds the unmoving body of your persecutor up by what remains of his cranium and neck. It is little more than ribbons of meat now.

Bile rises in your throat. You struggle to force it back down. 

Bolted armor caked in blood– both dried and fresh, sunken deep into the recesses of the ceramite plating– gives off an aura of wrought iron and decay. The metallic tang permeates the air around him, hanging heavy in the poorly ventilated armory. His scarred skin looks sickly pale. Greasy. Dehydrated. Aside from deep black eyes that watch you as a predator observes prey, the most prominent feature on his face is a wicked scar: a tear in his upper lip that exposes maxilla and sharp teeth alike. The shock of black hair on his head still has the impression of his helmet on it.

Without so much as a sound, he had come up from behind and grabbed the smaller Night Lord by the face, yanking them back into the crux of his chestplate and pauldron with enough force to shatter the hardened skull of an astartes. 

The massive marine throws the limp corpse of his former brother aside. The impact of metal on metal causes your ears to ring as a thousand pounds of lifeless ceramite strikes the wall, immediately followed by a disgusting wet slop of pulverized brain matter spilling onto the floor. If you had been on the Nightfall for any less time, you would have screamed. The shock almost prevents you from registering that you’re being spoken to.

“Get up.”

The terminator’s voice is that of rolling thunder and coarse gravel, resonating deep within your chest and leaving your heart fluttering with trepidation. His words had been spoken no louder than conversational, and yet they had you shooting up to your feet as if they had been shouted. Your wobbly legs nearly give out beneath you from how quickly you rise from the floor, croaking a shaky, “Yes, my lord.”

He removes his helmet from where it is magnetized to his belt with a click, placing it down on the bench you had been cowering behind. The tusks on it are as long as your forearm and nearly as thick. A faint decal of a skull is painted around the red lenses, chipped and fading but almost cartoonishly cute in contrast to the rags of flesh and weathered bones decorating the rest of his armor. 

The new Night Lord doesn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing as you do. He pushes the helmet in your direction, and you clamber to catch it before it hits the ground, not wanting to incur his wrath by dropping it so soon after he had just saved your life. The metal is heavy in your arms, tusks dangerously close to puncturing your throat.

“Clean it,” he barks. 

You grab your wash rag from the floor and shake it out. You do not have to be told twice.

[Part 2]

[midtwentiescrisis]

Fave Bucky Barnes Series

here are my favorite series that I reread time and time again. I truly don't know what I would do without the amazing writers that exist on this platform. thank you to all the writers out there that takes the time to write such master pieces that allow us to escape reality one chapter at a time.

**some of these writings contain mature content, so please read the content warnings for each fic!

• ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° •

[Series]

Safe With Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Guiding Light by @wkemeup

@pellucid-constellations

For the Love of the Game (college athlete!bucky) Undisclosed (lumberjack!bucky)

Out of Bounds by @foreverindreamlandd (soccer! bucky)

Knight in Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes (knight!bucky, alpha!bucky)

Coming in Hot by @nexusnyx (mechanic!bucky)

@sinner-as-saint

You Were Made To Be Mine (pirate!bucky) Power Over Me (soft dom!bucky)

@buckybarnesowl

To Serve and Protect (social worker!bucky) It Never Ends (college!bucky)

@likeahorribledream

Missing Piece Bad Reputation (biker!bucky)

@all1e23

Heart & Soul (alpha!bucky) Swallow (biker!bucky)

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters (biker!bucky)

Just Try by @waiting4inspiration (alpha!bucky)

One Last Job by @sunriserose1023 (bodyguard!bucky)

A Touch of Ink by @deamstellarus (tattoo artist!bucky)

Double Agent by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

The New Girl by @omnomsauruswrites (biker!bucky)

Mess is Mine by @scrumptious-delusion (boxer!bucky)

Blink Twice by @simmerandwrite

• ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° • ° •

to be continued…

updated july 2023

[Fave Bucky One-Shots & Two-Shots]

[mikyur]

My favorite~

Yandere oc (Duke) x Fem/Reader

Warnings: obsession, romantic delusion, many wives, reader trapped in a mansion, Yandere stuff in general.

It's been a week since you've been trapped in this crazy duke's mansion. The good thing is that he lets you out of the room, that shamelessly the room he makes you sleep in is his room.

And he lets you leave like that because there's a strange magic around the house that means only whoever he wants can leave here, and obviously you can't get out since the door just won't open.

At this moment you are walking in the back garden which is even more beautiful than the front part of the big mansion, you are not alone he may even let you walk around but not alone, He always sends one of his wives to accompany you and now Lily is the one accompanying you, she's really nice, she's kind, cute and lively.

You really don't find all this strange? Like, he has some kind of power and he holds you and now me here. I question her again.

No, no, I think that's amazing! He's just protecting us from the outside world. She says smiling.

Protecting from what exactly?

Of all things, he said that the world outside is very dangerous, there are many types of monsters, very scary. She says with a serious face but it was supposed to be more cute than serious.

So he plays the knight in golden armor? You ask jokingly and laughing.

Yes! But he is as beautiful as any knight that could exist! She speaks again with her usual smile but this time there is a certain passion and admiration in her expression.

And have you by any chance seen many knights? I question her, really wanting to know the answer.

No, I haven't told you that I don't remember anything from my past, neither do I nor the other women, only you who are different and remember. She says thoughtfully.

Sorry, I must have forgotten and that must be his doing too. The last part I say to myself.

What did you say? She asks, stopping walking.

I just said it's a beautiful day to walk. I laugh nervously.

That's right, either way you're very lucky! She says smiling and I thank her for being naive.

Lucky? Why? Question getting confused.

Because you've just arrived and you're already sleeping with Mr. Duque! She says excitedly.

Oh- is that it? Well...if you say so... I feel embarrassed after her comment.

I only slept next to him 5 times... but we only slept ok!!! Now it was her turn to be embarrassed and it makes you laugh at her.

Ok, you just slept, I don't doubt that, relax, ok?You say, laughing, running your hand through her soft hair.

I just-just thought you might think the wrong things... sorry. She says softly, moving her own fingers with her head down and you can see that she is still blushing.

No need to apologize Lily. You say calmly to her and smile when she lifts her head to look at you.

Thank you for not being mad at me. She says smiling awkwardly.

I don't think I could ever be mad at you. You say to calm her down.

He really likes you. She says suddenly and you are confused.

What?

Mr. Duque never stops looking here. She says laughing.

With that you look around looking for him and there he is behind you leaning against one of the pillars staring at you specifically smiling.

How long has he been there? You ask slightly scared.

Since we came here. She says laughing as if this were something normal.

You look at her not knowing what to say and then look back at him. How could he have been there all this time and you didn't notice? It's certainly something you have to keep your guard up about at all times.

I see you're getting along well, and that's great. He says approaching us with a smile on his face.

I hope you are convincing her and stay with us dear Lily.

Of course yes, Mr Duke! He was telling her how dangerous the world is out there and that it's better to stay here. She says, all smiling and blushing, looking like a puppy trying to please her owner.

Really, the world out there is terrible and cruel, here is the best place to stay, here is beautiful and safe and I protect you all. He says in a serious tone and looks at me waiting for my reaction.

There may also be a monster in here. I speak in a mocking tone and smile at him.

This is impossible Y/n! Lord Duke would never allow a monster to be here! She says scared.

Lily is right, dear Y/n, I would never let a monster in here, but... maybe there is a good monster. He says and laughs at you.

Now let's go together, it's getting late and I don't want anyone getting sick here because of the cold. He speaks and I take the lead and Lily soon follows him like a good little dog.

What exactly are you? You ask yourself and find a way to find out before you leave this place.

Sorry for any writing errors 7w7

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

I understand that there is a sizable amount of Jon stans whose delusions can be aggravating. Trust me, I’ve come across my fair share of people who think that the sun rises only for Jon Snow and no one else. But, it’s really annoying when certain sections of this fandom act like reading Jon as Azor Ahai is a result of Jon fans making shit up. No, we’re not. We’re literally reading what the text is telling us. We’re not reading into it, we’re reading it straight up. Mel’s singular ADWD chapter is literally just: hey Mel pay attention to Jon Snow, also there’s random stuff happening all over Westeros, and also pay extra attention to Jon Snow.

Mel’s visions are absolutely correct. What’s not correct is how she interprets them to fit an agenda/make herself appear more credible to others (Jon, Stannis). We already know exactly what this looks like when she sees towers being submerged in water, says it’s Eastwatch by the Sea when asked, even though in her head she’s like “oh it can’t be Eastwatch because that place doesn’t look like that”.

ADWD shows us that Mel looks into her fires searching for Azor Ahai and sees “only Snow”. There’s no other way of reading that other than “oh yeah if Mel is specifically looking for Azor Ahai and is seeing Jon Snow, then Jon is the Azor Ahai she’s looking for”. And the gag with this is Mel’s entire purpose, her existence, is to find Azor Ahai. But she completely misidentifies him so when she encounters the real deal, she’s in far too deep to make the obvious and necessary pivot. And it’s even funnier (and I think that’s what GRRM is going for) when there’s nothing special about Mel’s chosen hero Stannis, but there’s a lot that is special about the one she’s ignoring: Jon. Mel literally tells Jon “you’re a super special magic boy let’s make babies because of how super special you are, and these babies will be even more powerful than the ones I made with Stannis” but at the same time being like “yeah mr not-that-special Stannis is totally the guy I’m looking for”.

Plus, Mel’s “only Snow” is quite literally reaffirmed in Jon XII when he dreams himself atop the wall, armored in ice, and wielding LIGHTBRINGER. This isn’t some ordinary flaming sword. This sword burns “red in his fist”, which literally equates it to “the red sword of heroes” - Azor Ahai’s sword. Not only that but Mel’s ptwp is definitely going to be reborn. She has visions about a grey girl on a dying horse WHICH IS TRUE!! What’s not true is this girl being Arya. It’s Alys Karstark. She then has visions about daggers in the dark, which again happens!! Read the last few pages of Jon XIII ADWD. The one that hasn’t come yet but will (based on Jon XIII) is a “promised prince born amidst salt and smoke”. There’s a reason why GRRM included these things in the narrative. And there’s a reason why they happen sequentially. So unless Winds comes out and GRRM is like sike forget that ever happened, it’s pretty safe to assume that Jon is Azor Ahai.