#mmm armour...

[stiwfssr]

[isurrendertoclones]

Ok so Haunted Clone Week inspired me and my spouse today!

Shinies are given “reused” armour, meaning it was collected from the battlefield

And of course not every set of armour is intact, and non-vode don’t really understand why it would be important to keep a set together

So the armour is haunted. By multiple ghosts.

[ashtxeman]

Coming in Hot you are the best song on the ost... I love you..

[thunderjackal]

no art for a little bit as I'm still working on christmas stuff for my friends also going feral about the new epic the musical saga takes priority

[tobeholyistobeempty]

you’re drunk - simon ghost riley

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

based off a request i got - tispy simon riley x drunk reader. simon is a man of morals, even when you make it very very hard for him to exercise them. 18+. lots of detailed dirty talk.

————-

it’s honestly not even your fault.

you’ll blame it all on soap, if anyone asks - he’s the one who had a tab open, a devil on his shoulder, and kept pouring shots as if they were free. now you’re blackout-adjacent, stumbling through the hallway with simon’s arm wrapped around your waist in some makeshift tourniquet while everything spins like a goddamn carousel.

simon always gets stuck on clean-up crew. mostly because he’s the only one who can handle their fuckin liquor.

needless to say, he’s used to this by now. used to the way you’ve been rambling on about nothing for the better part of five minutes - doesn’t say much when you stop and get distracted by something stupid for the billionth time. doesn’t complain when you grab his arm and lean a little too hard into his side, as if he’s a lifeline in the sea that is the floor beneath your feet.

he’s tipsy, sure, but somehow still annoyingly steady. classic simon.

“jesussi—you’re big.” it’s slurred and breathless, broken by your own laughter as your head drops lazily onto his shoulder. “like, industrial grade. military-issued big.”

the corner of his mouth tilts. if you were sober you’d see the smirk he’s biting back.

“tha right?”

“mmm. like a fuckin tank,” you hum, fingers kneading the muscle under your palm. it’s involuntary - just like it’s involuntary when he twitches. “or an armoured vehicle. y’should come with airbags.”

simon bites his cheek. the devil in you is dancing in the waves of tension rolling off him.

maybe he’s not as used to this as he thought - because this isn’t just drunk-banter. this is you, murmuring compliments with all that heat behind them. personal. stupidly involuntarily honest.

hes not used to compliments. not ones that sound like that.

“you’re drunk,” he breathes.

you grin. “so’re you.”

“not even half as much as you.”

you let out a giddy little laugh that makes him glance down, at that. it’s quick and brief, the way his eyes flick over you, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t stripped mid-hallway. it’s just the bickering that gets you. makes you warm inside.

“m’not that drunk,” you lie through your teeth with all the drunken confidence you possess. “i mean—i am, but not like…memory loss drunk. i’m still gonna remember how wide your shoulders are tomorrow.”

it’s only seconds after that and your fingers are moving again, crawling down his arm to where leather edge meets skin.

“..and how insanely big your hands are,” you sigh in continuation, unable to help yourself. “like—biblically destructive. ruin-her-life-in-a-single-night kind of hands. anyone ever tell y’that?”

and that might just be precisely when it starts - the feeling in his gut. brought to life through the filth you’re beginning to feed.

“don’t.” he says, and it’s torn. “not now.”

he’s all but begging you - and however miraculously, his pace doesn’t break. still steady as ever even as you switch from squeezing to tracing his tattoos with your finger. the only response he gives is a devastating clench of his jaw as he keeps you moving - steering past flickering lights and sterile walls.

“y’ever choke a girl out with them?” you press, unfettered. “not like, unconscious, but like. in bed?”

he exhales. slow. almost a growl.

“jesus. stop talkin’.”

“why?” you blink up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, far too innocent for someone who’s very much not being innocent. “am i makin’ you nervouuus?”

his head tilts just slightly, just enough to peer down at you again.

“no,” he says, and even drunk you hear the grit in it. “you’re makin’ me hard.”

he says it like he hates himself for it. like it slipped out - cut from the meat of some deep place the inebriation in his veins simply won’t let him keep inside.

and you?

you blink slow, lips parting in surprise.

“fuckin’ finally.” you exhale with a smile. slow and crooked and dangerous. “thought i’d have to be on my knees and naked for you to admit that—“

he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

“fuck’s sake, y’little minx.” he’s dragging you now, as if he’s realizing the dangers that are surfacing the more this conversation continues. by this point he’s half-carrying, half-hauling your giggling form down the hall like you weigh nothing. “y’need to stop talkin.”

“you like it,” you slur between unsteady steps. “y’like me like this cause you’re a freakkk—“

his grip tightens. morals in tatters. control evaporating.

“i’d like you more if y’were unconscious.” he huffs, hard. “or duct-taped.”

that makes you giggle more. worse, it eggs you on.

“was that supposed t’be a threat?” you ask, lips glistening. “cause if so, it’s workingggg.”

he grunts - some deep, violent sound in his throat like that one hit a nerve. “bloody hell.”

by the time you make it to your door, he’s breathing heavy. less from exertion and more from sheer fucking restraint. it takes two seconds before he throws the hinges wide, kicks it shut with his boot, and all but drags you onto your bed.

and you hardly even realize you’ve reached it until the cotton caresses the side of your cheek. but that feeling is quickly forgotten when simon, the gentleman that he is, leans over you - one knee braced on the mattress as his hands go to work on the laces of your boots.

your thighs tense. he notices.

“fuck, simon.” you can’t stop yourself. not even god himself could, at this point. “i’ve been into you for ages, y’know.”

he pauses. boot in hand.

“…what?”

he says it low. like a warning - like a don’t you fuckin start. but you’re too drunk to care - especially when all you smell is him and all you see are those shoulders, leaning over you while you’re flat on your back beneath him.

your lashes flutter.

“jus sayin- since, like. you’re in my room, on my bed above me like one of my codeine fever dreams.” you slur, brain sloshing. the room spins with it. “thought y’should know.”

he looks at you like you’ve hit him with a brick.

your head lolls. glassy eyes dragging up over the length of him. “used to think about it—you—when i couldn’t sleep.”

he swallows, and you watch his throat work with it. the grip he’s got on your ankle could shatter bone.

“….you tellin me y’think bout me when y’touch yourself?” he asks.

“god yes.” you don’t even realize you’ve said it. “you. your hands. bending me over the sinks. in the showers while muttering filth in my ear, tellin me to behave—“

“—fuck.” it punches out of him like it hurts.

the silence falls heavy. he doesn’t blink, breathe, or move for what feels like forty minutes, when in reality, it’s like forty seconds - just long enough for him clamp the leash back on whatever beast is tearing through him.

not fully, but enough.

you stretch like a cat, oblivious to it. arch your back. sigh. “d’you think about it?”

he doesn’t answer. not at first. then—

“only when i breathe.”

your stomach lurches. your thighs twitch. “you mean that?”

he looks at you, finally - eyes darker than the devils deal, filled with filth and heat from the fire you started without even trying.

he shakes his head, his jaw clenches with the effort of keeping the beast at bay. “i mean, if you don’t stop talkin, m’gonna fuckin’ fold.”

the alcohol in your blood just roars, at that. fuel to the flaming fire inside you.

“tell me.” you murmur. “you think about fucking me? what i’d sound like moaning your—“

before you can finish that thought, his hand is over your mouth. it swallows your face, makes you twitch in all the wrong places — and he sees it.

“enough.” it’s barely a whisper. “christ. fuck. you’re gonna make me do somethin’ stupid.”

you moan against his hand - it spills out of you, vibrates against his fingers. he curses.

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

his palm silences everything but your pulse, which is roaring, at this point.

your fingers come up, shift a few of his digits until your voice finds room to leak out. “please.”

his eyes snap shut.

“y’dont know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart,” he mutters, grabbing the edge of the blanket with his free hand and yanking it over your hips. “ain’t gonna wake up with you hatin me.”

even drunk you realize he’s a man of morals.

“you think i’d regret it?” you whisper. stars in your eyes. he doesn’t respond. “simon. i just told you i’ve fantasized about fucking you. i wonder how big you are, if it’d hurt—“

his palm tightens over your lips again.

“one more fuckin’ word and i’ll forget every goddamn reason why i shouldn’t touch you right now.” he spits. “if y’even remember this tomorrow, y’come say it to me sober. promise on every grave i’ve ever stood over i’ll bend y’over on the spot and fuck the idea of regret right outta you.”

then he pulls back, moving slow like it hurts, and you smile.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“mhm.” he hums, take a step or two toward the door. “fuckin hope you will.”

[sczawr]

a story about of how Lady Nimue and Sir Pelleas first met!

written by @mmm-asbestos, edited by @latbak!

if you have hard time reading, here's the writings under the cut!

Nimue emerged from her watery lair. Her garments and quills were pristine, and in the dark of the night she was glowing faintly, like a moon. Nimue's rest was disturbed by a visitor.

On the shore sat a blazing creature, covered in heat and flames - a sun at midnight. It resembled a knight kneeling in desperation, engulfed in fire. Her first instinct was to exstinguish the intruder,

but as she saw him closer,

she paused.

The lady studied his armor, fascinated by her unusual guest. His armour was lacking in signs of allegiance, made of dark metal she never laid her eyes upon before. It left her to wonder of his possible origin. Nimue couldn't recognize him as any lord's knight she's aware of.

Is he a knight at all?

The visitor's armour was constructed in a way that would make it a nightmare to wear and to behold - covered in spikes, bent at weird angles, impractical to anyone of flesh and blood. And yet, all she could say was:

"You are beautiful".

[ink-pen-rat]

little knight sketches

[arc-misadventures]

The Little Girl in the White Coat

Ruby: Ahh?!

Summer: What's wrong, Ruby?

Ruby: I burnt my marshmallow...

Tai: Give it here, Ruby. You can have mine, mine is nice, and brown!

Ruby: Yay! Thanks, Dad!

Qrow: How's yours coming along, Firecracker?

Yang: It's great! If Mom would stop stealing my marshmallows!

Raven: What?! I take offence to that! I did not steal my daughters marshmallows!

Tai: I can see the chocolate on your cheek from your last smore, Dear.

Raven: Ahh crap...

Qrow: Hahaha!

Tai: Alright girls, it's getting late, we best head to bed.

Ruby: What?!

Yang: No!

Tai: Come on girls it's late.

Ruby: Not until you tell us a story!

Yang: A scary ghost story!

Qrow: Well... we are around a campfire, and it is late at night. Its a perfect time for scary ghost stories!

Summer: Okay, but only one ghost story then off to bed with the both of you.

RY: Yay!

Tai: So, who has a scary ghost story. Ray, you got a scary ghost story to tell?

Raven: G-Ghost story?! N-N-N-No! I don't have anything to share!

Summer: Is, Raven...?

Qrow: Afraid of ghosts? Absolutely!

Summer: Oh? Oh that's good to know~!

Tai: What about you, Qrow?

Qrow: The clan didn't really tell scary stories. What about you?

Tai: Dad, never told me any stories around the campfire.

Summer: Well, looks like it's up to me then.

Ruby: You have a ghost story to tell, Mom?!

Yang: Is it scary?!

Summer: Mmm... It is a ghost story, but it's not a scary ghost story.

RY: Nawww...

Summer: But, it's also a story of a hero!

Ruby: A hero?!

Yang: A ghost story about a hero? That doesn't make sense.

Summer: Yes! This is a ghost story about the, Rusted Ghost!

Yang: The Rusted Ghost...?

Ruby: Can ghosts get rusty?

Summer: No, this is just the name of this particular ghost. Now then, you've all heard of the, Rusted Knight before?

Yang: Yeah! From that, Ever After book you read us!

Ruby: The Rusted Knight is the coolest!

Summer: Well, what if I told you a story about how the spirit, the ghost of the, Rusted Knight appears in this world too!

Ruby: What!

Yang: Is that true?!

Summer: Yes! Now then, this is a story about a young girl, no older than you, Yang. A young girl traveling through the woods, she was dressed in her favourite white coat, caring loafs of freshly baked bread to give to her loving grandfather!

Ruby: Bread? Why not smores?

Tai: You can't have another smore, Ruby.

Ruby: Nawww...

Yang: Keep going, Mom!

Summer: Well, as the little girl in the white coat was making her way through the woods, a pack of, Beowulf's jumped out of the bushes surrounding the little girl in the white coat!

Yang: Ahh?!

Ruby: Beowulf's?!

Summer: Yes! Beowulf's! They had come there to steal the little girl with the white coat basket! The evil, Beowulf's wanted all of her freshly baked bread for themselves! But, as the little girl in the white coat was cowering away from the, Beowulf's clutching her basket of bread in her hands. A rustling from the bushes was heard, and out from the bushes emerged, the Rusted Ghost!

Summer: The Rusted Ghost wore stunning pale white armour, he wore a helmet with slit groves in it. The ghost wore an off white cloak billowing in the wind. The ghosts armour was covered in gold that filled crevices in his shattered, and broken armour. The gold bled off across the armour, giving it the appearance of rust! He had a longsword, wrapped in a faded deep blue cloth along the hilt rested against his hip.

Summer: As he neared the monsters he pointed at the monsters, he spoke in a silent yet booming voice demanded that these monsters leave her alone! The Beowulf's all pointed, and laughed at him, they said they weren't going to do anything. That they were going to take the little girl in the white coat bread, and eat it all up!

Summer: But, the Rusted Ghost merely sighed as he drew his sword! And, as the Beowulf's saw this, and they charged him!

Ruby: No?!

Yang: They attacked him?!

Summer: Yes! They charged at the, Rusted Ghost! They bared their fangs at him, but the, Rusted Ghost stood it's ground! As the first, Beowulf lunged at him, his rusted blade flew through the air with a white, and golden blur as it sliced through one, Beowulf after another!

Summer: And, as the last, Beowulf fell, it's body fading into black smoke, disappearing, and blowing away before it even reached the ground! The Rusted Ghost looked around before sheathing it's blade, it walked along the ground with heavy, yet silent steps as it came closer to the girl in the white coat. The Rusted Ghost knelt before the girl, and ask if she was alright.

Summer: The Rusted Ghost asked the little girl in the white coat if she was alright, she said she was fine. The Rusted Ghost asked why she was alone in the woods, she said she was on her way to give this bread to her grandfather. The Rusted Ghost said it would protect the little girl in the white coat all the way to her grandfathers home.

Summer: So, the little girl in the white coat walked alongside the, Rusted Ghost. They walked towards her grandfather's home, as the little girl in the white coat saw her grandfathers house in the distance she ran towards it. She knocked on her grandfathers door, and her saw his dear grandfather. She leapt into his arms as she told him the story of her encounter with the, Rusted Ghost.

Summer: But, as the little girl in the white coat pointed towards the, Rusted Ghost, she pointed towards an empty path that lead out of the woods. The Rusted Ghost was gone! The little girl in the white coat cried out that it was just there, but the grandfather just laughed as he rubbed the little girl in the white coat hair, and brought her inside into enjoy some strawberry jam on a slice of freshly baked bread.

Summer: And, while the little girl in the white coat was sad that the, Rusted Ghost left, the Rusted Ghost was needed elsewhere. For there were other little girls, and boys out there in the world that needed the help from the, Rusted Ghost.

Summer: And, that my girls is the story of, 'The Little Girl in the White Coat, and the Rusted Ghost.' What do you think?

Ruby: That was an amazing story mom!

Yang: That was a great story mom!

Ruby: Another! Anoth... yawnnnnn... another story...

Tai: I don't think so, Ruby, looks like your body is saying it's time for bed. Come on, let's get to bed.

Ruby: But, I don't wanna... Zzzzz...

Qrow: Haha! And, she's out like a light!

Raven: Come on my little dragon, it's time for you to go to bed too.

Yang: Alright, Mom. Goodnight, Mommy.

Summer: Goodnight, Yang.

~~~

Tai: Okay, the girls have been put to bed.

Raven: And, since the kids are asleep, the drinks are out!

Qrow: Yes! Toss a can here!

Raven: Here ya go little brother. Tai, you want one?

Tai: Sure toss it here.

Raven: Here you go. Sunny?

Summer: Hmm?

Raven: You want a beer?

Summer: Oh? No, no thank you.

Raven: Suit yourself.

Qrow: Ahhh! Now this is how you finish a night: Sitting by all your friends around a campfire, drinking a beer under the stars!

Tai: It sure is.

Raven: Ahh~! That hits the spot... So, Summer?

Summer: Yes?

Raven: 'The Little Girl in the White Coat, and the, Rusted Ghost...' You know, I've heard plenty of stories about the, Rusted Ghost, but I've never heard that one before.

Tai: You've heard ghost stories about the, Rusted Ghost? I thought you bandits would tell horror ghost stories around the campfire, not stories about the, Rusted Ghost.

Qrow: No, we've heard quite a few stories about the, Rusted Ghost. but, I've never heard that one before either.

Raven: Did you just make that one on the spot?

Summer: On the spot? No... Well... I... I just tweaked it.

Raven: You 'tweaked it?'

Tai: What do you mean by that?

Summer: Well... The little girl in the white coat, doesn't sound so different than the little girl in the white cloak.

Qrow: The little girl in the white cloak?

Tai: The white cloak?

Raven: Wait, was this story about you?

Summer: Some of it, the real story is actually rather... dark.

Qrow: What do you mean by that?

Summer: ...

Summer: This story takes place when I was fourteen. I was in a small town with my grandfather, I was training to become a, Huntress, and my grandfather took me to this small town dealing with, Grimm attacks.

Summer: While my grandfather was talking to the mayor, two men came to me panicking, they told me they saw some, Grimm. Not thinking about it I followed them, but as we got deeper into the woods, three more men came out of the trees, and jumped me.

Qrow: They what?!

Tai: They jumped you...?!

Summer: Yeah... Two of them forced me to the ground holding my arms as I struggled in vain to get them off. Another kept there hand over my mouth so I couldn't scream for help as another man loomed over me...

Summer: He said I was stupid little girl... A wanna be, Huntress falling for such a simple little trap. Wanting to be the hero, not thinking about running straight into danger.

Summer: His companion... one of the men who tricked me into coming into the woods told the man to shut up, and get on with it already...

Summer: The man standing over me laughed as he told him to shut up, that he was just, 'savouring the moment.' After that, he ripped up my corset, then he tore off my skirt, next was my undershirt... Then lastly... he ripped of my bra...

Summer: Three men were holding me down, another was standing by watching, and the last one was kneeling over me, stripping me naked... In that moment... even after years of facing down hordes of, Grimm, I've never been more scared in all my life. Even now, just talking about it sends chills down my spine...

Tai: Summer... Y-You don't need to continue if...

Summer: No... No, you three are my family... You deserve to know this story. Besides... as scary as this all was, it ends on a somewhat pleasant note...

Raven: How the fuck does a story about almost being rapped end pleasantly?!

Summer: Because I wasn't rapped.

Tai: Oh thank gods...

Qrow: Gods... You scared the shit out of us, Summer! Gods, Raven hand me another beer, I'm going to need it.

Raven: Okay, but I get the other one. Hell, I think I better break out another six pack.

Tai: Good idea...

Qrow: I hate to saying this, but... can you please continue, Summer?

Summer: Okay... Well as I was struggling in vain to break away, there wasn't much a fourteen year old could do to get four fully grown men off of her. A voice, a voice as silent as the nights sky, but boomed with the echoing roar of a thunderstorm spoke up.

Summer: It asked what was going on, the man standing by the side told the man to go fuck off. The voice spoke again, asking what they was doing with that girl, to me. The man laughed as he said that they were going to have some fun with me. In a quiet yet commanding voice I heard the words, 'I see.' I then heard the sound of shuffling of metal as heavy, yet light footsteps neared me.

Summer: The voice said one thing, 'Let the girl go, or die.' The man laughed, and told the man to fuck off. Then, I heard the sound of the drawing of steel, then I heard a small thud, followed by an even heavier thud. The man who tore up my clothes then got up, he pulled a dagger from his waist, and told the man he had fucked up. He then screamed, and fell to the ground clutching the severed stump where his hand once was. Then I heard another sound, the sound of a mans throat being cut.

Summer: As I saw that man's body fall, dead upon the ground, I finally saw my saviour... It was just as I described him to the girls...

Summer: Dressd in full plate armour as white as bleached bones... Antique gold running around the trim of the armour, and filling in the cracks of their broken armour, fading off the white giving it's rusted hue. A long sword with a white blade, and golden antique pommel, and handguard, with a faded deep blue leather around the hilt. He wore a matching bone white cape with gold bleeding off of it that flapped in a calm breeze.

Summer: What stood out to me the most was it's helmet. It was a faceless, emotionless, and yet... I could feel an intense gaze, a silent rage, that held an absolute authority, and control over this situation.

Summer: I had heard stories, even heard rumors, but in that moment all of them were true. That the, Rusted Ghost, no... that the spirit of the, Rusted Knight was real.

Summer: One of the men that was holding me down let go, and charged at the, Rusted Knight. He fell after the brush of one swing of it's sword. The other two men let go of me, pulling out their knives, and charged him. The first one fell when a sword was thrusted through his chest, his body fell onto the ground the, Rusted Knights sword still buried in his chest.

Summer: The last man was grabbed by the throat, and hoisted into the air, turning his body around before slamming his body on the ground. He cried out in pain, and then in fear as the, Rusted knights armoured boot slammed down, crushing the mans skull into a pile paste...

Tai: He crushed his head with his foot?!

Qrow: Damn... talk about a brutal takedown...

Summer: The Rusted Knight's back was facing towards me when it did this, but I distinctly remember the sound, and the way the mans blood splashed about...

Summer: After this mans... execution. The Rusted Knight pulled out it's sword from the dead man's body, flicking the blood off it's blade before sheathing it. It walked over to me, and knelt down in front of me. I covered myself the best I could with my cloak to give myself a modicum of dignity.

Summer: His voice was so calming, even though it felt so cold... But, it said to me... 'Little girl in the white cloak... are you alright?'

Summer: I said I was fine. Well, mostly fine. I was almost rapped just then... But, the Rusted Knight asked if I could stand, and I did after I steadied my nerves. The Rusted Knight then said it would guide me back to the town. The Rusted Knight never spoke another word after that, and yet, despite this intimidating, and commanding aura that the, Rusted Knight had. I've never felt more safe with the, Rusted Knight than in all of my life.

Tai: What? I thought you felt safest in my arms?

Summer: Oh, don't be so jealous, Dear~! There is a difference in filling safe within your lovers arms, and a knight in shinning armour. Much less one of myth, and legend.

Tai: Still bet you feel safer with me... You feel safest in my arms don't you, Raven!

Raven: Are your arms my wife's arms?

Tai: N-No...?

Raven: There's your answer.

Tai: Ohh...

Qrow: Pff! Hahaha! Suck it, Tai! You're not your wife's knight in shinning armour!

Tai: Shut up...

Summer: Hahaha. Well, after we reached the edge of the forest to the village, the Rusted Knight stopped, and gestured towards the town. That this was as far as it would go. I saw my grandfather, and I ran towards. My grandfather saw me, and came running towards me, grabbing me, and then screaming at the residents of the town as he saw the condition of my clothing. I told my grandfather that despite my appearance I was fine, I told him that I was saved, saved by the spirit of the, Rusted Knight.

Summer: My grandfather said that was ridiculous, but as I pointed to the woods where I came from, the Rusted Knight was no longer there. And, while my grandfather didn't believe me about the whole, Rusted Knight bit, he was forced to believe that someone did save me when he found my would be rapists mangled corpses. After that we went home, and that's the end of my story.

Tai: Whoa... That's... That's a hell of a story...

Summer: You believe me?

Tai: Of course I do, we all do, right guys?

Raven: You're my wife, Summer. I know how good of a liar you are.

Qrow: Or, more correctly, how bad of a liar you are.

Summer: I'm not that bad! R-Right...?

TQR: Ahh-hahaha!

Raven: No, you're worse than that.

Summer: Hey!

Qrow: So, did anything happen after you were nearly... Uhh...?! A-After you met the spirit of the, Rusted Knight?

Summer: Well, I never strayed far from my grandfather, or my teammates after that. But, one day when I was on another mission with my grandfather. I saw this old lady at a shire, it was a shire dedicated to the, Rusted Knight. I told my story to the old lady about my encounter with the, Rusted Knight. She was one of the few people who believed my story about my encounter with the, Rusted Knight.

Tai: Did this old shrine lady believe in your story?

Summer: Yes. She was one of the few people to believe my story wholeheartedly. After that she gave me this charm.

Raven: Oh, so that's what that pendant you hang around your neck is.

Summer: Yep, it may be nothing more simple than a simple copy of the, Rusted knights helmet, which bares a striking resemblance to the real, Rusted Knight's helmet.

Qrow: Does it now?

Tai: It is a nice design...

Raven: So, it's a good luck charm of sorts?

Summer: It certainly is to me. I was wearing it when I was made team leader. I was wearing it when the three of us became a couple, I was wearing it when we got married, and when I gave birth to my adorable little rosebud! To me, this charm, meeting the, Rusted Knight has been the greatest possession I've ever been given. Well, second only to my wedding ring~!

Tai: Pff... Now you're just saying that to butter me up.

Summer: Is it working~?

Tai: ...

Tai: Yes...

Summer: Hehehe~!

Qrow: Well, looks like we got our scary ghost story after all...

Raven: I would have preferred a scary monster story than that. But, it's still a hell of a scary story...

Tai: I'll say...

Summer: Well, even after all that had happened, I still wish I could see the, Rusted Knight one more time. I never got to say thank you to him for saving me. I was so in shocked over everything that had happened that it never crossed my mind.

Tai: Wait, did you say, 'Him?'

Summer: Oh, yeah I did.

Tai: What makes you think that the, Rusted Knight was a guy?

Summer: W-Well... The body's shape, and the voice were certainly a mans voice. But, what mostly stood out to me was the, Rusted Knight's eyes...

Qrow: Eyes? The Rusted Knight has eyes?

Raven: And, you saw them?

Summer: I did. When the, Rusted Knight knelt before me, he was at eye level with me. I saw the most beautiful blue eyes~! They were a deep cerulean blue that glowed with an ethereal beauty that was captivating to behold... I fell in love with men having blue eyes that day onward~!

Tai: Oh, so that's why you fell in love with me, because I have blue eyes?!

Qrow: Damn talk about being jealous.

Raven: Even I'm a little jealous... Oh well, maybe there is still a chance you'll see the, Rusted Knight in the future, Summer. In one way, or another.

Summer: One way, or another? What do you mean by that?

Raven: One of the stories we were told is that the, Rusted Knight exists on a whole different plane of reality.

Summer: Wha...?

Raven: They say that, Rusted Knight existence is on a whole different plane then ours. Sometimes they appear as a child, an old man, or the knight we all know. They say as a child the spirit of the, Rusted Knight brings joy, and happiness. The old man brings wisdom, and knowledge to those in need. And, the Rusted Knight is the warrior that protects all those that are in need. They say that there are even more forms than that.

Qrow: Yeah, I've heard a story that, Rusted Knight is a spirit that reincarnates into a new body every generation. So who knows, you may meet your, Rusted Knight in another way in the future.

Summer: Oh well, considering the circumstance under how I first met the, Rusted Knight, I would prefer that's how I meet them again.

Qrow: I'll say...

Tai: Well, if by some miracle you do meet again, do let us know how it went.

Summer: Will do. Now then, let's all head to bed, It's getting late, and the girls have school in the morning.

Qrow: Damn... I'd like to stay up more, and chat. But, Sunny's right, we best get to bed. Dealing with the girls antics is already hard enough with a hangover. I don't want to imagine dealing with them when I'm also sleep deprived...

Raven: Now that sounds like a nightmare, and a half.

Tai: Well, you heard the little lady: Off to bed everyone!

Qrow: Sweet dreams guys. And, Summer, don't dream too much about knights in rusty armour saving you. You don't want your husband, and wife getting jealous now do you?

Summer: I don't have that many dreams about the, Rusted Knight saving me!

TR: Say what now...?

Summer: Uh oh...

~~~

Years Later

~~~

Summer: Now then... Where are our girls?

Raven: This place hasn't changed much since we attended, Beacon.

Summer: Considering, Ozpin is as stagnated as a mountain, it's not a surprise it hasn't changed.

Raven: There's certainly a lot of people here. I didn't know that many people came for parent visiting day.

Summer: That's only because you, and Qrow hid in our dorm room because you don't have any parents to visit you

Raven: Oh shush you! Now then, let's go find our ki...?!

: Mommmm!

Summer: Hmm? Ooph?!

: Mom! It's so good to see you!

Summer: Ow... Oh, Ruby? Oh it's good to see you too my little girl~! You've gotten stronger, you nearly knocked me down with your semblance.

Ruby: I've been training really hard! Me, and my teammates are doing really good!

Summer: Oh, and where are your fellow teammates?

Ruby: Oh, well, my partner's older sister came today so she's spending time with her big sis. Yang's partners mother came by so she's speaking with her.

Raven: Speaking of, where is my little brat?

Ruby: Oh, she's talking with her partners mom, getting gossip so she can tease her with later. They're in the cafeteria.

Raven: Ahh, that's my girl. Now then, I'll go see what my little brat is up to. I'll see you girls later.

Summer: So, besides your teammates have you made any other friends?

Ruby: Oh, yeah I have! I've made friends with a fellow team, Team JNPR! I'm especially close with their team leader! His name is, Jaune Arc!

Summer: Oh, how close are you two? Can I expect him to visit us all at home any time soon?

Ruby: Mom?! I'm not... We're not like that! Besides... his partner already has dibs on him...

Summer: Oh~? Well, maybe you can share him, just like your mom, and Raven.

Ruby: Mom?!

Summer: Ah-hahahaha!

Ruby: Ohhh!

Ruby: Hmmm? Oh there's dad! DADDDDD!

Summer: Whoo?! My, she’s gotten faster! Well, I'm glad to see she's enjoying herself here.

: Hmmm? You look like an older, Ruby. Are you perhaps, Ruby's mother, Summer?

Summer: Hmm? Why yes, I am. My name is Summer Rose who are... you...?

: Hello! I'm a friend of, Ruby's. My name is, Jaune Arc! It's a pleasure to meet you!

Summer: L-Like wise...? White armour... A longsword with a golden guard, and pommel wrapped in blue leather... And, glowing deep cerulean blue eyes...

Jaune: Is something wrong, Mrs. Rose?

Summer: N-N-No! Nothing's wrong, it's just... your armour, and weapon... It looked similar to someone I knew...

Jaune: Oh really? Anyone I'd know?

Summer: Not likely. The person I knew existed long before my daughter, or you were born.

Jaune: Oh, that's a shame. Ahh well, if there's nothing to be done about it, then that's that.

Summer: Did... Did anyone ever tell you that your eyes... That your eyes seem to glow?

Jaune: A few people have actually. I just think I have bright blue eyes that just makes them look shiny.

Summer: Ohh... that makes sense... Hmm? Oh, your bracer, was it broken?

Jaune: Hmm? Oh yeah, it was broken. Well, cracked would be a more appropriate description. My fellow classmate, a brute with a large war hammer crashed down on my bracer during a training bout, cracking it. But, as you can see, I repaired it.

Summer: But, how did you repair it? Normally when you repair armour that's been cracked you reforge it, right?

Jaune: Normally yes. But, my ancestor learned about this technique in, Mantle called, Kintsugi. It's usually used to repair broken pottery, and the like. But, my ancestor figured out a way to use it to repair armour, and weapons. Despite how it looks, it actually makes my gear stronger than it originally was.

Summer: Oh my, that's an interesting technique, I would love to learn it.

Jaune: Sorry, I'm afraid I can't tell you, Mrs. Rose. It is a family secret after all.

Summer: Then perhaps you could marry one of my daughters, and have one of them tell me?

Jaune: I doubt that would work. Ruby is more likely to ask me to marry her for my families chocolate chip cookie recipe.

Summer: Ah-haha~! Now that sounds like my little girl.

Jaune: Yeah, a lot of our bets are, Ruby demanding cookies from me. I'm getting a little tired of baking cookies, but it's not as bad as my teammates pancake obsession, so I'll take what I can get.

Summer: Well, there's always that one teammates with food obsession. My husband has this strange obsession with pickles.

Jaune: Pickles? Never really cared for them myself, but to each their own.

Summer: Yes, that how things...?!

Tai: Qrow?! No picking fights with the, Schnee girl!

Raven: Fuck her up little bro!

Summer: Haa... I best get going, the last thing I want is my teammates being called to the principles office, especially since we've all graduated.

Jaune: That'd certainly be funny as hell though.

Summer: Yeah it would be... Well, I best get going, it was a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: It was my pleasure...

Summer: Okay what are they up...?!

Jaune: Little girl in the white cloak.

Summer: Wait, WHAT?!

Summer: How do you know that... Name...?

Summer: ...

Summer: What...? Where did he...?

Ruby: Mom! Come quick! Uncle Qrow is tearing up the courtyard fighting my teammates big sister! You got to stop him!

Summer: What, but... Where did, Jaune go?!

Ruby: Oh you were talking to, Jaune?

Summer: Yeah, he was just here. But, I turned my back to him, and he was just disappeared...

Ruby: Oh yeah, Jaune does that sometime. Honestly I think it's his semblance, or something.

Summer: D-Do you think I could talk to him again?

Ruby: Yeah, sure! But, why do you want to do that?

Summer: I just... I just wanted to say thank you...

[hellfiresky]

That cursed Kaminoan sex ed

The downtime between missions was always a drag. Delta Squad spent their time lounging in their barracks, doing whatever they could to rest, and fill in the mind-numbing hours. Scorch, naturally, was never content to let a dull moment fester.

“Oi, vode,” Scorch, sprawled across his bunk wearing his ill-fitting red cadet fatigue as his top and full armour from his waist down, piped up. “You lads remember that kriffing awkward repro health module from Kamino? What class was that? Sentient Bio 101 or some dwang?”

“Sentient Reproduction and Biological Sustainability Efforts. Worst hour of my life. Long-necks droned through it as if it was some kind of sick droid sex.” Hunching over his datapad, and slicing through some random codes he picked up from their previous op, Fixer didn’t even look up.

“Ah, yeah, that’s the one!” Scorch’s grin was delightful. He yanked his own datapad from his pack, fingers excitedly tapping across the screen. “Guess what, vode? I still have it.”

“You kriffing didn’t,” Fixer finally looked up, his face was a perfect combo of disgust and resignation. “That thing’s foul. Why would you keep that?”

“Mmm why not?” Scorch hummed, scrolling his datapad to no end. “Oh, here we go! Jackpot!” The bleached blond haired RC stood up, and walked towards the broken holotable that was coated in dust in the middle of the room. “Ahem. As his anatomical conduit—”

“His dick,” Fixer cut in, deadpan, still typing binary codes at his datapad.

“—enters the designated receptive structure,” Scorch continued, voice shaking with barely contained laughter.

“Pussy,” Fixer chimed again.

“Scorch is,” Sev coughed from the corner. He pushed himself to focus on the array of weapons in front of him - clearly trying to stay out of this but failing miserably.

“—a critical phase of sentient synchronisation is initiated,” Scorch plowed on, finger jabbing the air.

“He’s pounding,” Fixer supplied with another non-lab grown definition of the act.

“Ugh, find a better word, you di’kut,” Sev lobbed a rolled-up towel at Fixer’s head. It missed and thwacked Scorch’s shin instead, but the demo expert didn’t flinch. “—This interaction, facilitated by coordinated muscular responses, creates a platform for genetic exchange within a controlled environment,” Scorch kept going.

“That’s literally just a corpo way of saying ‘he’s mounting it in,’” Fixer groaned, finally tossing his datapad aside to entertain his brother. “Who writes this stuff? Droids?”

“Really, vod? Mounting it in?” Sev snorted. “You’ve never gotten laid, have you? Kriffing mounting. What are you - describing two banthas fucking?”

Scorch, ignoring his brothers’ continued bickering, powered through to the end of the passage. “—The interaction typically resolves in a peak state of high-intensity release of all tensions!”

“They come,” Fixer said as a matter-of-factly.

“Yep. Both finally blow the hatch, game over,” Sev groaned.

The scattered laughter that followed was broken by the thud of a datapad hitting the floor. Boss, who’d been quietly suffering in his little corner by the window, finally snapped. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT YOU LOT?!” he shouted. “I’m trying to finish our report - cause NONE of you did it, and you’re over there reading Kamino’s sex ed instead of helping me?!”

“Maybe you should get your anatomical condui—“

“SHUT UP 62!”

—

There you go @orangez3st!

[sopuu]

Imma be real for a second and say I love the way Jesse has scars on your art??? Love it when someone gives a character who's been through a lot of physical (and mental) trauma some kind of scar. It just emphasizes to me that they went through that. And the effects of that stay with them.

Sorry I'm rambling

Tldr mmm scar art prettyyyy

exactly!! jesse’s gone through so much that i’d be surprised if he didn’t have any scars. and i like to think he’s confident enough to show them off not as injuries to his body but as a part of who he is, like a collection of experiences and battles he’s overcome. hence why i have his sleeves rolled up most of the time (and also rolled sleeves…so gender…)

he’s got a bunch of other scars i never get to show off so here’s some scar headcanons as a treat! i wanted to give each major one a backstory so it’s not just there for aesthetics. the others are normal battle scars tho

ramblings about the f-bomb scar and the face scar under the cut bc there’s a lot oops. ty for the ask!

can we talk about the damage the f-bomb did to him in game. or the lack of damage even. because there’s no way this man got out of a close explosion from the strongest bomb with ONLY ringing ears for a few seconds?? not that im complaining i’m glad he’s okay bfjkfh

either the order’s armour is made of impressively strong cloth and metal or minecraft block people are very tolerant to damage. although the logical explanation would probably be the damage can’t be shown realistically within the limitations of a minecraft game (not just on the pg side of things but also they are. made of a few pixels) idk it’s something interesting to think about lore/game development wise

if it weren’t for canon depictions i’d probably have the scar cover half of his body,, but i like keeping designs close to canon depictions so a big shoulder scar it is! i had it cover more of his back since he turns when being fished down to try and shield himself

as for the face scar! i’ve debated for a long time whether to have that as the origin bc i thought it was too cruel but it stayed in the end- it’s probably the hardest one he’s had to overcome despite it being the smallest major scar. every time he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of how he failed reuben. how can it be that he only gets a small scrape while his best friend loses his life? all because of jesse’s mistakes?

some OLD art incoming so shield your eyes but these are a few doodles exploring that! i was also testing the f-bomb scar on the face for funsies

eventually though, as he learns to accept his many scars he comes to see this one as a mark of the turning point of his life, both the good and the bad, and how much reuben and jesse meant to each other that they faced the world’s end together, knowing full well of the consequences. in a sense he carries reuben’s memory through that scar :]

anyways this is so long i’ll shut up now LOL

[decembermidnight]

The sweetest reward

Summary: You take care of the Mandalorian when he comes back after a wearying hunt.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Din, sub!reader, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, teasing, body worship, cock worship, praise kink, mando'a speaking kink, masculinity kink (I guess?), creampie

GIF by @thefrogdalorian

A/N: The inspiration came from this beautiful gif set made by @thefrogdalorian 💕 I kinda got Ner Mircet'ad vibes while writing this (Din's old armour, the Mando'a dirty talk...) so feel free to check that out too! See the end for Mando'a translations. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian is comfortably slouching on the makeshift seat made up of ammo boxes and blankets in the hull of the ship, his legs spread wide, tired after his last hunt.

He's still holding the pulse rifle in his hands after unhooking it from the strap on his back. The mere vision of it sends a spark straight to your core.

Warrior, bounty hunter, beroya.

Strong, brave, fearless.

You could observe him for hours in reverential adoration as he cleans his weapons and armour, but the need for him is too strong and aching.

He tilts his helmet towards you when he acknowledges your presence. You, in turn, greet him with a sweet smile and he immediately lays his rifle down when he sees you after so many days.

You look breathtaking wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe that barely covers you, leaving nothing to imagination. 

As you get close to him, he takes his gloves off. He wants to get lost in you, in the softness of your skin, in your delicate beauty after so many days of nothing but dirty cantinas and ugly mugs.

He doesn't say a word when you stop right in front of him and his hands start caressing your thighs, finally something warm and giving after knowing nothing but blasters and knives for what felt so long.

He loses no time in grabbing you by the waist and making you sit in his lap.

His hands immediately start to wander, caressing your body, making you feel worshiped under his gentle touch.

You stay there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as his hands give you goosebumps all over your body, making you hum and claw your fingers in his cape as he's reminded how soft you are and how much he missed holding you in his arms. The smooth fabric of your silk robe feels so precious to his hands, nothing like he's used to.

As his hand trails once again up your thigh, you instinctively spread your legs for him to touch your needy cunt. You get flustered when his hand slides up under your robe and softly caresses your tummy as his thumb slowly, painfully slowly glides down, teasing your lips. He lets out a long and aroused hum when he notices you are not wearing panties.

"P-please" you sigh, incredibly turned on already.

His thumb moves towards your clit and brushes it once, feeling how wet you are for him already. He doesn't go on, though, making you whimper.

"Already so wet for me and I've barely touched you" he chuckles "you missed me, didn't you?" says in a low, husky voice as he draws a few circles on your clit.

"Mmm - yes. Missed you so much. I want you." you mumble in bliss as he gives you pleasure with his expert fingers that know you like no other in the galaxy.

"You gotta earn it, mesh'la. You know that, right?"

“Yes - y-yes, my warrior.” you can barely stutter as you sink in his shoulder.

"Good girl." he praises you as he caresses your face, keeping you there, in his lap, taking all the time in the galaxy to worship your curves while hearing your sweet moans and looking at your aroused expression. Your eyes cross and roll as his thick fingers alternate drawing circles on your clit and thrusting inside of you. He can feel by the way you clamp around him and the way you breathe how much your body wants him, but he doesn't want you to get anywhere close to an orgasm, not yet, he wants to give you pleasure and to build it slowly, to get you nice and ready for when he can no longer contain himself.

"Ride my thigh like the needy thing that you are, show me how much you want it." 

You immediately comply and straddle his thigh. Your body slightly jerks at the contact of the cold plate with your heated core - a detail that he does not miss, tilting his helmet slightly as you adjust yourself.

"Good girl. Like this." he encourages you as you begin to roll your hips and give yourself pleasure using his beskar armour. There's something about coating his precious Mandalorian armour in your arousal, using it for such a depraved, sacrilegious purpose that makes you feel even more eager and turned on.

"I want you, ner beroya. Please, let me ride you. I'm gonna take really good care of you." you pant in between heady moans, your eyes half closed as your swollen, needy clit rubs against the embossment of the plate.

"Yeah? You will?" he passes his thumb on your lips.

You nod mindlessly, smiling as you keep riding his thigh plate, pleasure slowly building up and making your whole body tremble with lust. You softly bite his finger as you let out heady groans that make him throb in his pants in anticipation. The sinful way your stiff nipples peek out from your skimpy robe is making it hard for him to resist.

"Then come here and show me." he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards his body, making you straddle him. You feel hot and flustered and let out a gasp at that sudden movement, at him manhandling you as if you were weightless.

"Go on." he tilts his helmet to the side, his gaze locked on you.

As you start unzipping his pants, his hands unfasten the thin robe tie and you can hear him choking a grunt when the fabric parts and shows him your naked body underneath. His hand trails your inner thigh, making you gasp and gulp until his thumb reaches your clit. Your head rolls back and you let out a loud moan when he does that.

"Hey. Don't stop." he says in a cold, firm voice, as opposed to the throbbing, rock hard erection still trapped in his pants.

"S-sorry, ner beroya." you drawl in a moan as you resume your movements.

Once you free his cock, you start stroking it delicately, barely brushing it with your fingers. It twitches uncontrollably when he feels the delicate touch of your hand. It's painfully hard and veiny, hot in your hand and so sensitive as he didn't dare touching himself while he was away, saving all of his load for you. He stifles a whimper, the sound of it barely picked up by the modulator as he tries to keep his cool and appear impassive while never stopping touching your clit.

You try to lift your hips to go sit on his cock but the firm grip of his hands around your waist keeps you there.

"Please. Please, I want you inside me. Please, my warrior, let me ride you." you plead desperately.

He lets out an aroused hum and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. He surely loves to hear you beg for him.

"Ner kotyc verd, I'm gonna take really good care of you" you say in a husky voice as you spread a drop of precum across his tip with your thumb, making him choke a grunt as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter "I'll be so, so good to you. Ni lidiba gar." your voice is so seductive as you say it. The way you're teasing his cock as you plead for him in his native language is driving him insane, making him rabid like a beast. He has to have you, now.

"Dank Farrik. K'olar. I want to fuck you." he rasps in a broken voice, impatient to bury himself inside of you, bringing you right over his dick and undressing you, letting your robe fall on the floor.

You slowly sink down on his cock and you both let out a long, satisfied moan when you feel it pleasurably stretching your tight, needy walls with his thick girth.

You start to ride it slowly and smoothly, letting his already drenched cock slip out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside of you before welcoming it back in. You move your body sensually, looking so charming and entracing for his pleasure. You grab his hands and place them on your breasts. He follows your lead splendidly, without ever overriding you, trusting you and the gradually increasing rhythm you're setting.

Fuck - it's so perfect. You're so turned on at the idea of being the sweetest reward, the most beautiful thing to come back to, the best part of being a bounty hunter. You want it to be memorable, you want this every single time he comes back. He doesn't often let you ride him, so you want him to understand how pleasurable it can be, as used as he is to take everything he wants the way he wants. You want him to know how delightful it can be to just rest and let you take care of everything. You want him to burst while he looks at you.

His warm, naked hands start to wander all over your body to touch your hips, your waist, your breasts, making you groan and sigh. You hear his low, modulated moans as you feel his cock deliciously gliding in and out of you, entranced at how good it feels to be on top of him after a hunt. He's still dirty and tired but couldn't wait to fuck you. You love smelling his raw masculine scent, the dirt on his clothes and the burnt smell from his guns, all while admiring the sight below you - a deadly Mandalorian in full armour enjoying the way you're taking the stress out of him, enjoying the way you're riding his cock after so many days of lone hunting. He has always been in control, always on top or behind you, completely overwhelmed by the testosterone from the hunt of his bounties, needing your cunt to let it all out, leaving you wrecked, shaking and leaking with his cum afterwards, but this time is different. This time you're in control, and he relishes the way you're taking care of his needs, letting you handle everything.

"Look at you…" he whispers "So beautiful while you ride my cock, damn." he rasps.

"I love it." you sigh mindlessly.

"I see it. Keep - keep going." says, almost imploring you.

The sounds you are making are obscene - your cunt is drenched and dripping with juices and each time you bounce on his dick you can hear it squelching as it sucks it in avidly, clamping around it as if it can never have enough of it. Shit, you're getting dangerously close to your orgasm.

"Hey. You're c-close, I can feel it." he stutters.

"I am. I am, ner beroya."

"Don't come yet. Hold it there for me, mesh'la." his order has the opposite effect, making your cunt spasm even harder around him. A whimper escapes from your lips.

"No. Not yet. You get so tight when you're close. Let me - let me enjoy it."

"M-my warrior - missed you. Missed you so much. Please, let me - l-let come on your cock." you beg him sensually in between moans, overwhelmed by pleasure.

“So, so fucking tight.” he grunts when he hears you plead like that, when he feels your cunt getting tighter, your chest heaving in front of him. His mind gets dizzy at the way you're squeezing around him, bringing him dangerously on the edge, too.

"M-mesh'la, shit, I'm-" he whimpers, the grip of his hands on your waist gets firmer.

"Come inside me, my warrior."

The Mandalorian wouldn't want it to be over so soon, but he can't help it when he sees how much you want it and how you’re begging for him to fill you with his load.

"Mesh'la. Come. N-now." he stutters, trying not to burst inside of you immediately, not before he's satisfied you first.

Hearing him begging for you to come like that draws the orgasm out of you. You completely lose control as you come hard around him, going on riding him as you feel his seed spurting inside of you and dripping down your cunt causing a mess of fluids between your legs and drenching his pants, your voices moaning loudly filling the hull of the Razor Crest for those few seconds of pure, astounding bliss.

You slow down the rhythm as the orgasm fades out and you rest your heated forehead on his beskar helmet, the both of you panting heavily as you hold on tight to each other.

"You… you have been so good, cyar'ika." says in a ragged voice as he starts to rub your clit again, lubricated by both your sleek and his cum. "You deserve another."

His expert thumb circles your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves in such a perfect way that you feel ready for another immense wave of pleasure, gripping the cape on his shoulders tight in your hands.

"Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la." he whispers as he drives you over the edge once again, making you uncontrollably scream and tremble, your eyes rolling up as this astounding second orgasm obliterates you. He grunts when he feels how tight you get around his spent, sensitive cock, still hard for you.

You collapse in his arms and he holds you there, your face buried in his neck while he's still inside of you.

Mando’a translations: I have used mandocreator.com as reference

Beroya = bounty hunter

Ner = my/mine

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner kotyc verd = my strong warrior

Ni lidiba gar = I need you

K’olar = come here

Cyar'ika = darling

Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la = I want to see it again. Give it to me. Good, so beautiful.

[ataliagold]

Keep Me Afloat

For @astrangersummer week 8 prompt 'ocean waves.' Title from Passenger by Noah Kahan.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: G

W/C: 1723

Tags: post-Vecna, established Steddie, Steve is self-conscious about his scars, Eddie loves every part of him, minor angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

Summary: Standing in ankle-deep water watching his friends enjoy a summer beach day, Steve looks down at himself and hates what he sees.

___

“You ok?” Robin murmured to him, hand on the small of Steve’s back, on the one small spot of skin unmarred by the now mostly-healed grazes on his back.

“Mmm hmm,” Steve said through tight lips, arms curled over his stomach.

Robin looked at him, eyes falling to where his hands were folded against his sides, against the extensive scarring there. “The kids don’t care, you know,” she said quietly.

Steve scoffed, something bitter and sad. “Yeah. I do, though.”

Ahead of them, the kids were shrieking in chest-deep water, Mike yelling as Lucas dunked him under a wave, Dustin pointing and laughing until he received the same treatment, resurfacing with an angry splutter and splashing water at Lucas.

Max and El were on the shore, Max’s chair parked up on a flat bit of sand, El content to sit beside her and watch their friends’ antics.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle were wandering to the other end of the beach, scouting out the possibility of an ice-cream stand down there.

None of them were even looking at Steve, at the state of the ugly scars across his skin, but it didn’t matter.

Steve was aware enough of them for everyone.

Robin dragged her foot through ankle-deep water. “It’s warm,” she commented, tone light. “Do you want to go in?”

He did.

He’d love to swim out past the kids, let his feet lift off the sand, allow the water to carry him out deep until he could just float under the warm sun and not think about anything for a while.

But he didn’t think he could.

Even now, with the water gently pulling at his toes, sucking at the sand below his feet, his heart rate was picking up.

Try as he might, he couldn’t help but think back to Lover’s Lake, to freezing water rushing into his lungs, to the slimy grip on his ankle that had pulled him down to hell.

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head.

Robin nodded, small and sad. “Eddie’ll be here soon,” she said, trying to cheer him up.

Steve managed a small smile at that. Of course Eddie had overslept for their beach day, leading to a rehash of their plans when Dustin had rung Steve complaining that Eddie hadn’t picked him up as planned.

He was arriving now, though – Steve heard the whine of his van coming to a slammed halt in the parking lot even from where he was standing in the shallows.

Eddie tumbled out, towel in hand, and grinned when he caught sight of Steve, raising his hand in greeting.

Steve smiled softly, a wave of fondness rushing over him.

Robin shook her head, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Here’s your knight in shining armour.”

Eddie tore his shirt off on his way to the water, balling it up and tossing it at Max who responded by grabbing the towel in her lap and snapping it against his ass. Shrieking, Eddie swore, clutching his butt with one hand as he ran the rest of the way over the hot sand.

Eddie wore his scars unashamedly.

They were in full view for everyone to see – the skin on his sides and torso left puckered and twisted, tattoos warped and some unrecognizable where flesh had been stripped. They were worse than Steve’s – the bats had bitten deeper, had had far longer to chow down on him than they had Steve.

But Eddie bared himself easily, confidently, and Steve burned with jealousy.

He’d asked Eddie, once, on a particular night curled up together on the couch when Steve had been feeling small. How he did it, how he didn’t care if people stared, how he wasn’t so…self-conscious.

Eddie had looked down at him through heavy lashes, had brushed his fingertips over Steve’s t shirt above the scarring on his back. “People have always stared at me, Stevie,” he murmured eventually. “Because of my clothes, my hair, because I play D&D, because I’m too loud or too…weird, or because I’m the Devil, I’m a murderer, whatever it is people think…I’ve been stared at and looked down on my whole life, I learnt to stop giving a shit what other people thought a long time ago.”

Steve had tried, he really had. Tried to be more like Eddie, tried to not worry about what other people thought of his appearance. But truthfully…his appearance had always been important to him. He was supposed to be strong, fit, athletic…the King of Hawkins High, once.

Not this pale, gaunt, chewed up and spat-out version of himself.

Eddie reached him with a loud splash, showering cool droplets across Steve’s thighs and stomach. He shivered lightly.

“Sorry,” Eddie panted, “got here as quick as I could. That little shrimp complain much?” he gestured ahead to Dustin.

“Only the whole way here,” Robin replied. “You’re lucky Nance had room in her car for him too.”

Eddie turned his gaze to Steve, smile quickly fading, replaced by a frown. “Stevie, you ok?” he asked gently, squeezing his upper arm.

“I’m gonna go check on the girls,” Robin said, making a strategic exit back towards Max and El, leaving Eddie and Steve alone in the water lapping at their feet.

“Hey, what is it?” Eddie breathed, stepping closer, trying to catch Steve’s eye.

But Steve kept his gaze fixed on the tiny waves, watching them break and recede again. “I’m fine. Just…you know.” He gestured down at himself, then quickly folded his arms back across his stomach.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured, hands coming to rest on Steve’s arms, not pulling them away but just holding. “You’re with friends here, ok? No one minds, no one’s looking. Well, except me, because you’re my boyfriend and you’re hot as hell and I never want to not be looking at you, but…”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Here.” Eddie coaxed one of Steve’s hands into his own, tugged him gently towards deeper water. “Come with me, sweetheart.”

Steve followed him, because he’d follow Eddie anywhere.

He sucked in a breath as the water climbed higher, over the top of his waistband, up to his chest.

“Eds,” he said eventually, breath coming faster as the water approached his shoulders. “S’deep enough.”

Eddie stopped, turning to face him, hair falling wetly around his neck. Despite Steve’s half-hearted protest because what if someone saw, Eddie pulled Steve to him, hands resting under the water on his hips, cold thumbs rubbing circles across the scars there. Although he was nervous at being in the deeper water, Steve was a little relieved to be out here, where the water covered his scars completely.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie whispered to him.

“Eds…” Steve started, looking away.

“No.” Eddie brought one hand to his chin, keeping Steve’s gaze on him. “You are. I know you don’t like your scars, shit, I don’t like my own either. But they’re a part of us now, ok? And you know what?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, but Eddie waited, eyes wide and earnest until Steve muttered,

“What?”

“They mean we survived. We took everything that fucking place could throw at us, and we made it out, and those kids -” Eddie pointed across the water to the boys playing in the waves. “ – they’re alive because of you.”

“And you,” Steve murmured.

“Sure. And me. And I know it’s gonna take some time, Stevie, but please don’t think you need to hide around us. Your scars are part of you, and everyone here loves you.”

Steve took a shaky breath, hand grasping for Eddie’s under the water, holding it tight. “They’re so…they’re so ugly, Eds,” he whispered, looking down at himself.

“Steve,” Eddie said, with a ghost of a smile, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Scars and all, sweetheart, so please don’t say that.”

Steve floundered a little for something to say, feeling vulnerable under Eddie’s steady gaze.

“Do you think my scars are ugly?” Eddie tried.

Steve shook his head quickly. “No.” Because they weren’t, not to Steve. Eddie was badass, he’d gone through hell and been on death’s door for way too long and gone through a grueling recovery and Steve had kissed every one of his scars, he’d never dream of calling them ugly. They were Eddie.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

Eddie leaned in closer, forehead almost brushing against Steve’s. “When you see my scars, what do you think?”

“I think…I think they’re just…part of you, I love you, they don’t…they don’t matter to me,” Steve stammered, a wave of emotion rising up in his throat because he knew what Eddie was doing. “I don’t care how they look, and I love that you can be so confident about them, but I…I can’t do that. With my own. Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie’s brows knitted together. “Try, for me? Just for today. Try and see yourself how you see me.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I…I’ll try.”

Eddie’s smile was reward enough.

Later, Steve lay on the beach bracketed by Eddie and Robin, stretched out under the sun while the kids exhausted themselves in the waves. He’d still tense up whenever someone else walked past him on the sand, still automatically go to throw an arm across his stomach, but that was ok. It was a start, and just the fact that he was lying there with his shirt still off was progress.

Eddie squeezed his hand whenever he could, fed him with small smiles and soft glances, while Robin kept up a steady stream of chatter that helped distract him.

By the time an ice cream run had been completed, by the time Lucas had talked some other beach-goers into borrowing their volleyball net, Steve was feeling…ok. Not his old self, not by a long shot, but it was getting gradually easier to forget about his scars for a short time and just enjoy himself.

And when he leapt into the air to slap the ball back over the net to Lucas, when he turned to see Eddie’s hot and heavy gaze locked on him, Steve even managed a small smirk in his direction.

He’d get there, he thought. Day by day. And Eddie would be there with him every step of the way.

___

[sarahscribbles]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟒𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The sweet scent of orange blossom greets him the moment he eases open the door to your bedroom. It’s lingering faintly in the air and, when he breathes in, he detects the subtly stronger notes of jasmine. 

It’s a mixture of scents that he associates with you. It paints a vivid picture in his mind of you emerging from the bathroom, all soft and dewy, and slipping between cotton sheets to wrap yourself around him. It’s a scent he associates so strongly with you that he can almost feel the warm weight of your body against his, even though it’s been days since he’s shared your bed. 

He has Nicholas to thank for that.

The Quinjet arrived back at the compound later than he had anticipated owing to some last minute changes to the mission, and he had been delayed further by Thor’s insistence that they celebrate its success. 

He loves his brother, he does, but Thor can be so incredibly dense at times. 

The only way he had wanted to celebrate this mission was between your thighs. 

You magical creature. Day and night you consume his thoughts, but it is late, so he isn’t at all surprised to find you sleeping soundly beneath the sheets. You’ve neglected to close the curtains, so the nights full moon is bathing you in a pearly light. Even in sleep, you look radiant, otherworldly, and for a moment he’s struck dumb with the realisation that you’re his. 

Gods, how he had wanted you make you his again and again until the morning sun crested over the hills. 

Quietly, he removes his cloak to drape it over the chair, taking strange pleasure in how it tangles with the clothes you’ve discarded there. A flash of green dissolves the rest of his armour and leather until he’s dressed in nothing more than a pair of black silk boxers. He can’t contain the quiet snort of laughter at remembering how you always pretend to swoon when he strips off. 

His darling little minx. 

How had he survived without you all these days? The mission hadn’t been overly long, but it had felt neverending without you there. 

Another snort of laughter. If only his younger self could see him now. Hopelessly and unashamedly in love with a mortal. 

He rounds the bed, hoping to slip beneath the sheets and fall into a quick sleep with you in his arms, but he’s barely made it two steps when you speak. 

“Loki…”

He freezes. Surely, he hadn’t made that much noise coming in? He’d even taken off his boots at the door. What could possibly have…

Oh. 

One look toward you tells him you’re still asleep. Asleep, but dreaming of him. A smile tugs at his lips and he doesn’t move an inch. His eyes are trained on you, watching the slight rise and fall of your chest as you travel through dreams. 

But then it happens. 

He watches your brow furrow and your lips part. Something close to a moan drifts softly between them, and your back arches at the exact moment you stretch your neck on the pillow, similar to how you do when he…

“Mmm, Loki…feels good.” Your voice is groggy and slurred and heavy, but you’re dreaming about him. 

And it’s not an innocent one. 

He wills his body not to respond. He thinks of Thor. He thinks of his grandmother. Hel, he thinks of Odin, and it works until you whine his name in your sleep once more. 

Fuck.

He knows he should take care of the issue himself, but…Norns, he wants you. You’ve spoken about it before, assuring him that he always has your consent, but it still feels wrong. 

And yet, he’s already got one knee on the mattress. 

It feels wrong, but he’s peeling back the duvet until there’s nothing standing between him and your body but the tank top and sleep shorts you’re wearing. 

It feels wrong, but he can’t resist kissing and licking the column of your neck until he feels your hips roll against his. 

“Loki…please…mmm,” you hum, subconsciously spreading your thighs wider for him to settle between. 

Norns help him, but the final straws of his resolve snap one by one. 

His hands find your hips to easily begin sliding your shorts down your thighs. They reach your ankles and he’s quickly tossing them to the side and spreading your thighs apart. You’re drenched for him. Clearly, whatever he’s doing in your dreams is working wonders. 

Every inch of you is calling to him like a siren call, but he can’t decide where he wants to touch you first. Greedily, he pushes the hem of your tank top up to expose your breasts and eagerly stretches down to take a nipple between his lips. It’s hard and erect, and your back arches into the feel of his warm tongue swirling over your skin. 

He swears he hears you mumble something more in your sleep - his name or maybe another plea for more - but by now, his cock is aching so badly that your words barely register with him. With a lazy flick of his hand, his boxers become a non issue, and a hand quickly pumps his cock for just a modicum of relief. 

Beneath him, you shift in your sleep, turning your head to the opposite side and granting him a view of the faded love bites he peppered across your neck before leaving. His cock twitches in his hand, desperate to feel your wet heat clenching around it. 

He stretches to graze his teeth once more along your throat, and this time you moan his name louder. “Beautiful creature,” he murmurs into your skin. “Enchanting thing.” 

Unable to resist any longer, he presses the tip of his angry cock against your soaked entrance, easing himself slowly inside you with a stuttered, broken gasp. Norns, you’re so tight and wet and perfect.  His perfect, addictive little mortal. 

His thrusts are shallow at first as he loses himself to the feel of you, but you feel so good and it’s been days that they quickly become deep and possessive. He watches his cock slip in and out of your cunt, and, even in your sleep, you still clench wondrously around him. He can’t help but throw his head back and lose himself in how good you feel. No one, not god, goddess, or mythical beast, has made him feel as good as you do. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of wrapped up in one enchanting mortal. 

He’s so caught up in chasing his high that it takes him a moment to realise that your arms are snaking around his neck, and when he gazes back down at you, your eyes are fluttering open. He knows you’re still half gone to sleep, but he still leans in to kiss you with every last ounce of love he possesses. You vaguely kiss him back, but he swallows it hungrily. 

“Mmm, more…please,” you hum against his lips, groggily wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Oh, my sweet girl, I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you the moon if you ask me,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck and along your chest. 

He can feel his climax beginning to build, but with how you’re clenching desperately around him and gripping his shoulders, you’re already half way to yours. His thrusts become ruthless and barely a minute later you’re arching into him and moaning his name as you come undone in his arms. It’s a vision he’ll never tire of - your parted lips, your wide eyes, your flushed skin. 

By the gods, he’s obsessed with you.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you into bliss, emptying inside you while cries your name into the hollow of your neck. His orgasm rips through him, it makes him see stars and galaxies explode behind his eyes, it makes him clutch you to him that little bit tighter. How madly he loves you. 

You haven’t moved since he collapsed on top of you, and a quick glance shows him that you’ve fallen back asleep, but the ghost of a smile is still playing on your lips. You don’t stir when he removes himself, or when he cleans the mess with a wave of his hand. 

You’re well and truly under. 

He kisses your forehead softly and pulls the duvet over both of you, not missing how you hum contentedly when he presses his chest against your back and tangles his legs with yours. He listens contentedly to your steady breathing, feeling his eyes grow heavy with each exhale.

Seconds later, he follows you into sleep.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 7

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Woooooweeeeee babes. Looks like our favourite couple is finally catching a break. Or are they?

Blood and gore under the cut, as well as loads of general 40kness. Apologies for spelling or grammar errors.

If this is your first time here, welcome! If you like the look of this fic but aren't caught up, check out the master list here to see all the parts I've done so far :)

Otherwise, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Gadriel is sure he's lost consciousness at least twice now. This time, rather than spur him back to life with yet another blow to his wounds, Severus allows him to awake on his own. Gadriel's eyes are heavy. His vision, a swirling mess of black and white spots. When the haze fades enough for him to actually see, he finds a a deep, rippling pool of blood at his feet.

The poison still hasn't worn off. Even after... Throne, how long has it been? An hour? A day?

"Hey! Angel!"

Gadriel raises his eyes.

"There you go," Severus smirks. "Stay with me, now. We're not even halfway done yet."

The slaver flicks his right wrist- the mechanical one. The metal joint clanks with the movement, and several, large droplets of blood are sent flying off its pointed knuckles.

"You know," Severus muses. "I'm thinkin' maybe I don't give you to the Drukhari after all. I'm thinkin' maybe I'll just bleed you like a pig, then strip you for parts. You angels got a lot of fun things going on under the hood; things that I bet'll sell real nice on the black market."

He flicks Gadriel's chest with his forefinger. Gadriel's mind is so lost amidst its agony, he doesn't even feel it.

"I mean, you've got what; two supercharged hearts and three superlarge lungs? A layer of subdermal armour as thick as steel and the literal progenoids of a demi-god jammed up in your neck? You're priceless, really! Still a pretentious little shit, of course. But a priceless one at that!"

Vaguely, Gadriel wonders what the dark eldar wyche must think of all this. He'd expected her to argue, or even just react. But when Gadriel casts his eyes to where she's standing at the back of the...

She's gone.

Gone? But where? Did she get bored? Have other duties to attend? Prisoners of her own to torture, perhaps?

Wait. Wait. He remembers something. A feeling, an idea. Formed ages ago, before blood loss and shock had vegetated his brain.

"Mmm. Yeah. Tell me, how's that been working out for you?"

"Not great. But soon, I expect that to change."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"You'll see... "

I'd been waiting, Gadriel realises. Waiting for her to leave. And now she's gone. That means I can...

As if on cue, acidic saliva stings the back of his tongue.

"What else you got?" Severus continues to ramble. "You got a rib plate instead of cage? Surely that will go for something. Oh! And all those little bits of tech that hook you into your armour. Now, to the right people, those will go for bags!"

Dropping his chin to his chest, Gadriel mutters something unintelligible.

"Sorry?" Severus says. "Did you say something?"

Again, Gadriel murmurs. But again, no words are discernable.

Scowling, Severus closes in on Gadriel, turning his ear towards the space marine's face. "Speak up, damn you. Use your words."

"I said," Gadriel mutters. "That you forgot one."

"One of what?"

"One of the organs that seperates a space marine from a human."

Avarice ignites within Severus' black, soulless eyes. "Well, go on, then!" he demands. "Tell me!"

Now, finally, Gadriel raises his head. "It's called Betcher's gland," he says. His voice is little more than a hoarse, croaking whisper.

"Betcher's gland, huh?" Severus says. "Haven't heard of that one. What is it?"

Gadriel locks eyes with the slaver. He licks his lips. "It allows us to spit acid."

As he'd suspected, Severus is slow on the uptake. For all his cruel behaviour and love of technical jargon, the bastard is about as clever as he is brave. That gives Gadriel plenty of time to work up a glob of saliva large enough to hoick into the man's face. It lands on his left eyebrow.

Initially, Severus recoils in surprise and disgust. But before the slaver can curse Gadriel or punish him for his slight, the acid begins its grisly work.

Severus' eyebrow evaporates, the flesh beneath it popping and hissing as it retreats from his skull like melting plastic. His brow bone kisses the open air, then blacken and turns to gluggy, carbon ash. An acidic droplet lands in the centre of his left eye. The entire thing pops like an infected cyst.

Severus drops to the floor. Limbs locked up, mouth ripped open in a terrible scream. He claws at his melting face, but that only spreads the acid to his hands. The fingers of his alien hand remain mostly intact. His organic ones, meanwhile, are stripped to the bone in seconds.

Gadriel watches the man writhe and wail at his feet with half a smile- he's too exhausted to laugh; the exertion of it might just make him pass out again. But Throne dammit if he's not enjoying seeing this bastard is so much agony.

If this is where he is to die, there are few sights he'd rather be seeing. Well, in truth, there's only one.

If it can't be Ellie's face, let it be the face of her tormentor as it's melted off with acid.

Gadriel smirks to himself. Twisted as it is, there's a lot of romance in that. He appreciates it. Surprising how much he appreciates it. Surprising he even remembers what romance is, after everything he-

Throne. I'm loosing it. Can't keep my thoughts straight.

Must be the blood loss. Catching up with him.

How did it take in the end...

Can't see Severus anymore. Just black. Black and screaming. Blood and steel.

How long has he been here? An hour? A day?

Gadriel doesn't know. He doesn't...

"Gadriel!"

That voice...

It's her.

Ellie.

His Ellie.

Gadriel's smile widens a little. How kind of his mind to flash her memory before him as he dies. It would've been nice, however, to have seen her face one last time.

"Gadriel! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, darling. Please, open your eyes."

Gadriel can't. He knows he can't. He tries- how could he not try for her? But his body, his mind, they are lightyears away. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

I'm sorry Ellie, he would tell her if he still had a voice. I'm sorry to abandon you again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gadriel!" Ellicent cries. "Gadriel, can you hear me?"

He doesn't look up. Doesn't even move. His head is entirely limp in her hand. Blood is literally lapping at the sole of her boot. His skin is as grey and clammy as a corpse.

"Open your eyes, darling." Ellicent's voice is meek with tears. "Please, open your eyes."

Nothing. Still nothing.

Oh Emperor, please. Please no. Please don't do this. Not again.

Thundering footsteps behind her. Ellicent looks over her shoulder in time to see Titus enter the room. His helm moves sharply between her and Gadriel. "Step aside," he says. Though it is an order, his voice is surprisingly soft. It's enough to coax Ellicent away from Gadriel and do as the Ultramarine says.

Titus exchanges his bolter for his power sword, activating the weapon with a plasmic whine. With one clean slash, he severs Gadriel's chains.

Gadriel collapses to the floor. The pool of blood beneath him splashes up his front. He lands on his knees, slouches forwards. Both hands clutch at his right side and terrible scream tears through his entire body.

Ellicent drops to her knees in front of him. Grabs his tear-streaked face and presses her forehead to his. "Gadriel. Darling, look at me."

He's trembling in her grasp. His breath, barely more than short ragged gasps. But he's alive. He's awake. And at the sound of her voice, he even manages to lift his head a little.

"... E... Ellie..."

Ellicent chokes on a sob. "Yeah. It's me." Throwing her arm around his neck, she hugs him tight.

Gadriel doesn't have the strength the speak. Nor to lift his arms to return her embrace. Even so, he manages to reply by nuzzling his face into her neck.

Weeping openly now, Ellicent kisses his cheek. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm here. I've got you."

To her left, ceramite clangs against the floor. "Can you walk, brother?" Titus asks, crouching beside Gadriel.

Without pulling away from Ellicent, Gadriel turns his head towards the other space marine. "I..." He's cut off by a grimace, followed by a vicious bout of wracking coughs. Titus touches his shoulder. "I'll take that as a no." Sheathing his power sword at his back, he carefully takes Gadriel's arm and slings it over his neck. Ellicent, taking her cue, gives Gadriel one last kiss on the cheek before releasing him and scampering out of the way.

Titus hauls Gadriel onto his feet with a grunt, putting an arm around his waist. Gadriel cries out with the movement and sags heavily against his armoured brother. Titus, however, holds him up with relative ease. Letting Gadriel's arm hang loose around his neck for a moment, he reaches for his hip. Ellicent notices another holster, from which he extracts a weapon. Small, thick and glowing a bright, humming blue.

A plasma pistol.

"Have you used one of these before?" Titus asks her.

Ellicent nods.

He seems to stare at the side arm for a second. Then, he offers it to her. "Take point," he says. Then, in a tone that's slightly softer:

"Keep us safe."

Ellicent is taken off guard. His allowing her to guide him through the ship is one thing, but to offer her a weapon? That's-

Cut it out, Ellicent snaps at herself. No time for that right now.

She takes the weapon from Titus. It's weighty, but we'll balanced. The fact it's projectiles are energy, too, should make its recoil easy to handle despite her single arm.

Looking back up at Titus, Ellicent nods.

"You've got it," she tells him.

Titus returns her nod. Then, he touches the side of his helm. "Squad Talasa, this is Titus. I've got the sergeant. He is alive, but badly wounded. Have an Apothecary on standby to receive him."

A pause.

"Affirmative. Broadcasting my locus now. Inform me when you are two minutes out. Titus out."

He drops his hand from his helm.

"Is that our rescue?" Ellicent asks.

"It is mine and Gadriel's, yes."

His tone is terse, pointed. Thought Ellicent feels her hackles rise, she keeps her own emotions on a leash. "Fair enough," she answers.

Turning away from the pair of space marines now, she steps towards the door. As she does, her metal foot clinks against something. She glances down. Her eyes widen at what she finds.

It's an arm. A bionic arm. Attached to the shoulder of a human man lying on his back. Half his face is gone. Melted, as if by acid. Even so, Ellicent would recognise him anywhere.

Severus.

She crouches beside him. His mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. His left eye is a watery puddle within his skull, and the flesh of that entire side of his face is entirely eaten away. Only bone remains. And even that is pot-holed and blackened. But his chest is moving. Breath still wheezing in and out of his throat. His one good eye also tilts towards her.

A chill runs through Ellicent's body. It is not, however, from fear. "I knew it was you," she murmurs. "If there was one thing you hated more than the idea of me escaping, it was the idea of my being saved."

Severus says nothing. Just wheezes at her. The contempt in his remaining eye, however, is palpable.

"Who is that?"

Ellicent turns to see Titus looking at her from over his shoulder.

Ellicent glances back at Severus. At his still-melting face. Gadriel must've spat on him; it's the only explanation she can think of. If that is the case, then the acid isn't anywhere near done with him yet. Another few minutes, and he'll be either dead or totally vegetated. The thought brings a smile to her lips.

"Dunno," she says to Titus. "Some kinda serf, maybe. He's too far gone though. Not worth saving."

"Perhaps we should give him the Emperor's Mercy, then."

Eyes still on Severus, Ellicent shakes her head. "No," she says. "No, we don't have time. Besides, the gunshot would alert every xenos still here to our location." She gets to her feet. Severus follows her with his eye. She could be mistaken, but she swears she sees a flicker of pleading somewhere behind it.

Ellicent curls her upper lip in disgust. Then, without a second glance, she turns her back on him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Where are we right now, in relation to the ship's outer hull?" Titus asks.

Ellicent clears the next hallway, sweeping the sights of her plasma pistol across it. Nothing.

By the Emperor, Titus has really aired this place out. "Far," she answers his question. "We're basically in the belly, right now." She looks at him from over her shoulder.

"Can you get us closer? To the outer hull, I mean?"

"Sure," Ellicent replies. "We keep moving down, we'll hit utility. Only walls thinner than those are the hangars."

Titus gives an affirmative grunt. "Take us there."

"Can I ask why?"

"You may. But I'll not be telling you."

Ellicent just smirks at that. Irritating as Titus' continued mistrust of her is, she understands it. And with him being the only one of the two of them who can carry Gadriel, she's not about to antagonise him, either.

With every second that passes, her beloved's condition grows more and more dire. He's slipped out of consciousness again, head lolling against his chest as Titus drags him along. Ellicent has to suppress the urge to go to him. To grab his face and scream at him to wake up.

Stay focused. The best way you can help him is to stay focused.

As they leave the torture chambers behind, the interior's architecture begins to change. Colours shift from black to grey. The rib-like structures lining the walls gain hard, mechanical edges, and the lighting gets significantly brighter. All are signs that they've finally reached the ship's utility levels. Means they're not far now.

It also means they start encountering the enemy.

Titus never made it down here. As such, the Dark Eldar force hasn't been thinned. When they hear the clang of Titus' ceramite and smell the stench of Gadriel's poisoned, thinned blood, they come swarming like flies. But most of the warriors here carry swords and knives. And Ellicent's fire is as ruthless as it is accurate. Alien heads, hearts and throats all explode under the glare of her plasma pistol. Soon, their wake is littered with charred and decapitated corpses.

In Ellicent's hand, the plasma pistol vibrates like an anxious heart. Its grip is becoming warm. The blue light from its chamber taking longer and longer to dissipate after every shot. She keeps this up any longer and the damned thing is gonna explode in her hand.

"Titus!" she shouts over her shoulder. "How far away is your rescue!"

"That depends," the Ultramarine booms. "How far are we from cargo?"

"This is utility!"

"In that case: two minutes."

"Thank the Emperor," Ellicent breathes.

At the next curve in the hall, Titus sets Gadriel down. He draws his bolter, aiming it straight down the corridor ahead. Ellicent, meanwhile, covers their rear. She glances at Gadriel. Throne, he looks like a corpse. Again, the urge to drop to her knees at his side threatens to overwhelm her. But again, Ellicent makes herself suppress it.

"The hell have we stopped for, Titus?" she hisses.

Titus' reply couldn't have been shorter or more curt. "Rescue."

Ellicent looks at Gadriel again. Her heart rages.

"We're in the middle of a Throne-damned hallway," she growls. "I can hear the xenos getting-"

"We hold this position," Titus says.

"Why the f-"

"Trust me, Ellie."

That makes Ellicent pause.

He knows my name; he used it. Not just my name, but the one Gadriel gave me.

Before she can process the implications of that fact, Titus is shouting at her. "Contact! Both sides!"

Ellicent blinks her head clear. Lifts her plasma pistol and stares down its barrel. It's just as the Ultramarine had said. Drukhari. Dozens of them. Sprinting down the hall with blades in hand.

Ellicent sets her jaw; aims and open fires.

At first, she manages well. The hallway is long, with very little cover. It creates a bottleneck; a funnel, that forces the xenos straight into her line of sight. Means Ellicent rarely misses. And every shot that lands is a killshot. But like a storm rolling over a hill, inch by inch the Drukhari start closing in. Ellicent can't keep up. Worse, the plasma pistol is starting to overheat. Won't be long until it's too hot for her to hold.

Heart pounding, she glances behind her. "Titus! Where the fuck is your rescue?!"

Her voice is almost entirely drowned out by the roar of his bolter fire. Somehow, though, Titus hears her anyway.

"Any moment now! " he bellows. "Hold fast!"

"Emperor save me," Ellicent scowls.

A shriek at her front whips her back around. A Drukhari- a wyche- is mere metres from her now. Ellicent raises her pistol, pulls the trigger-

The weapon shudders, spitting blue sparks from its chamber.

It's overheating. About to blow. Shit!

The wyche cocks back her sword arm. A cackling, sadistic grin contorts her thin, scarred lips.

Ellicent meets it with a snarl as she tosses the melting-down plasma pistol at the bitch's face.

It detonates like a shock grenade. Charging the air, flooding it with the stink of ozone and electricity. The wyche tumbles backwards, her head completely vaporised. She didn't even get the chance to scream.

But she isn't the last. More are coming. And Ellicent just lost her only weapon.

"Titus!" she screams. "I know you said to trust you. But-"

The next sentence dies on her lips as the wall to her left explodes.

The air ignites with fire and shrapnel. Swearing, Ellicent drops to the floor and covers the back of her head. Gale-force winds whip through the hole, howling like a thousand banshees, threatening to grab Ellicent and tear her out of the ship. The sudden change in air pressure make her ears pop and throb.

Ellicent squints through streaming, dust-filled eyes. Searching for Titus; for Gadriel; for anyone.

She can hear ceramite clanking, bolters firing-

Bolters. Plural.

Ellicent wipes her eyes on her forearm. Through the haze, she manages to make out Titus, but with him are two figures also clad in Ultramarine armour. On the other side of the hole in the wall, she catches a glimpse of a ship's open door.

A Thunderhawk, she realises. This is... This is our rescue.

Staggering to her feet, she hunts for Gadriel. There he is, slung between the two new marines while Titus covers them. Without a second thought, Ellicent sprints towards the blast hole. Just as she'd suspected, a Thunderhawk is hovering outside with its backdoor lowered and a squad of Astartes braced inside.

Ellicent stands aside as the pair carrying Gadriel's guide him towards it. Her heart skips a beat as they step outside, but the Thunderhawk is so close they barely even have to jump.

She finds Titus. Bolter still in hand, he goes to make his jump next. When he sees Ellicent, though, he suddenly stops.

"Go!" he shouts at her.

Yet again, the order utterly surprises her. But she doesn't argue with him. Steeling her nerves, Ellicent clambers to the edge of the breach, sets her toes on its edge. Before she can think twice, she jumps. Landing hard on the Thunderhawk's deck, rolling over her side and skidding to a halt. Titus leaps after her. His landing makes the entire ship shake. The moment his boots touch the floor, the Thunderhawk is gone. Tearing away from the gouge it had blasted into the Dark Star's side, its rear doors clamping shut. Ellicent's ears pop again. Her skin burns in the absence of the roaring wind. She has so many questions: who these space marines are, how they get here, how in the hell Titus had managed to coordinate such a daring, dangerous maneuver. But right now, such things are secondary concerns. Right now there's on one thing she can think about.

Gadriel.

He's laid out in the centre of the floor, flat on his back eyes still shut. Ignoring the two enormous warriors already looming over him, Ellicent shoves her way to his side. She drops to her knees. Crawls up to his head and jabs her fingers into his neck.

"Come on," she whispers. "Come on. Don't do this to me."

Her heart stammers. Pulses: a pair of them. One for each of his hearts. Both as rapid as they are weak.

Ellicent chokes on the lump that's formed in her throat.

A large hand grabs her shoulder. She looks up to see it belongs to Titus.

"Move aside," he says. "The Apothecary needs space to work."

Numbly, Ellicent does as she's told. Watching through watering eyes as her spot beside Gadriel is taken by yet another Ultramarine. He has his back to her, meaning she cannot see what he's doing. But she can imagine it. Taking Gadriel's bio readings. Injecting him with adrenaline, stimulants and pain suppressants, then pumping his veins full of blood-replacement fluids. Trying to keep his hearts beating, his lungs breathing, until they reach wherever it is they're going.

Walking backwards until her back finds a wall, Ellicent slides down to the floor. She hugs her legs, drops her chin on her knees. Tears are streaming down her face, but she hasn't the energy left to cry.

All she can do pray.

Please, Gadriel, she thinks. You promised you wouldn't abandon me again. You promised.

You promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Home stretch now, team. Almost time to see if happy endings truly are possible in the 41st Millennium...

Till then, stay safe out there xoxo

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

[rooksunday]

my first effort for flash fiction friday! i made myself sad 😔

not in question (but out of it)

word count: 912 words

theme: two truths, one lie

summary: commander fox is fine, actually.

"I'm fine!"

When Stone didn't move from his position in front of Fox's desk, Fox raised his eyebrows.

"Was there something else?" he asked, in the kind of tone that implied there had better not be.

Stone was one of the troopers that didn't need the shield of a helmet in order to disguise his expression—for that reason, he took a lot of the diplomatic escort missions—but at Fox's question, a brief flash of disquiet twisted his lips. He shifted his weight.

"You refused to see the medics," Stone said.

Fox lifted one shoulder. "I didn't need to see the medics."

"There's still blood in your hair."

Fierfiek. Fox curled his hands around his datapad to quell the instinct to check on his hair. He'd gone to the refresher after returning from patrol. He'd thought he'd gotten all the blood out.

Double down.

"No there isn't."

Stone went blank faced. As good as a you're full of banthashit from any other trooper.

"I see. Sir. My mistake, sir."

Fox decided to be magnanimous in victory. He inclined his head. "Easily done."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Stone had his helmet held beneath his arm, and his armour bore smudges and dust from a long prison shift, while his face showed the bruises of exhaustion that they'd all started to wear. He should've been in his bunk, but instead he'd come to check on Fox.

Fox lowered his gaze to the datapad and suppressed a wince at his reflection. Talk about someone who needed to be in their bunk.

He sighed. Stone deserved more than a brush-off.

Fox wet his lips and met Stone's gaze.

"I'm fine," he said again, more softly. It was the truth.

Another heartbeat. Then Stone nodded, saluted Kamino-sharp, and left Fox to it.

"I'm fine."

"All due respect, sir, but that's the kriffing concussion talking."

Fox tried to poke the closest Thire in the biceps. All due respect seemed like half a spoonful and that spoon had a hole in it. Why wouldn't a Thire stay still for swatting? Mutiny!

"I just don't want you to break your fingers on my armour, you clown."

"'m not a clown… You're a— Gristle?"

Where had Medic Gristle come from? And why did they have a hypo in their hand?

"Yes, sir. Very good identification of the hypo, sir. If you could just keep still so I don't stab you anywhere important, sir?"

"Just stab him. He's used to it."

Thire sounded grumpy. Fox didn't like when Thire sounded grumpy. It made Fox want to give him pastries.

Mmm, pastries.

Before the thing with the explosion, Fox had been on his way to meet with Senator Organa, and sometimes Organa had leftovers from breakfast and, once, there had been the teeniest pastries with little spots of jam that—

"Ow!"

Fox's neck hurt. He tried to rub it but one of the Thire's caught his fingers.

"It hurts because you didn't hold still for the hypo. Because you're a clown."

Thire's hands were warm. Fox tried to squirm his other, colder, hand inside the trap of Thire's, so it wouldn't be jealous.

"What are you— Kriff's sake. Jealous hands… Here, let me. There you go." The Thire glanced at Gristle. "He need anything else?"

"A few hours of observation. Nothing to worry about. Like you said, sir, he's used to it."

Now Gristle sounded grumpy. Fox was going to need to acquire so many pastries. He could smuggle them down the front of his armour, probably.

"Everything all right, Fox? You've gone kriffin' quiet."

Fox nodded. He tried to smile in the Thires' general direction. "Fine! I'm fine."

It was the truth! But Thire just grunted.

"I'm— I'm fine."

If Thorn had been there, he would've bumped his shoulder against Fox's and given him the look that said I know you're lying but that's okay. Then Thorn would've found a reason to redirect their next patrol route through the Senate Gardens—to check on camera locations, or safety hazards, or the new barista at the food cart—and made sure that his and Fox's armour kept crowding together all the while. Grounding Fox on Coruscant, when Fox wanted to be out there, yet couldn't leave.

"No, I am. I promise I am."

If Thorn had been there, he would've let Fox rest his head on Thorn's shoulder and rubbed his fingers through Fox's grimy hair. He would've been sarcastic about Fox's 'fresher avoidance, and said something about have we run out of shampoo again, but then he would've checked Fox's schedule and buffered the morning shifts to add extended slots for Maintenance and Upkeep.

"No one has ever been as fine as me. Isn't that what you always say?"

If Thorn had been there, he would've taken away Fox's datapad and ordered him into the nearest bunk—boots off first, sir, what kind of tube raised you?—in his typical, implacable way. He would've sat at the end of Fox's bunk and read aloud from whatever article had captured his interest; lately, Thorn had been learning about Chandrilan opera. Sometimes he sang.

How many clones had their voice?

Yet Fox would never hear Thorn's terrible singing again.

Fox curled up more tightly on his bunk, the sheets crumpling beneath his dirty boots. He pressed his hands to his greasy hair. His armour enclosed him like a shell no one would ever breach.

But he was fine.

[trustymikh]

Do you have more ideas of overwatch skins like you did with the Moira and Sigma comic you did?

mmm sure! These are very simple but here are a few

ancient caller!Moira is the space mass inside the armour, so hacking her just makes the suit fall apart

this one's simple but all sports skins are intertwined for me, Mauga can hold a polite conversation when he wants to))

need I say more, Sig and Mei both have beekeeper skins, and I think they'd get along very well

one joke au I really ike but didn't have the energy to draw: happi!Genji, festival!Hanzo and takoyaki!Zen co-running a seafood/noodle cafe, sort of a what-if Hanzo joining Genji and leaving the clan instead of the fratricide

(I do have a lot of ideas for starwatch and caller Moira but that's would require me a whole another post to explain)