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I absolutely 100% with everything you’ve just said!! I thought he was going to be Bellamy’s side kick in the first few episodes but after he got hanged it all changed for me!!

His trauma is sooooo over looked as well! If the Ontari situation happened to another character like Bellamy or Clarke I think it would have been spoken about so much more😭

Nobody can convince me they aren’t the best ship on the 100, and Murphy had the best character development in the series

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Ethan Winters trivia

• Ethan is a trained software engineer.

• Ethan is infected early in RE7, which explains his uncanny resilience to injury throughout both games.

• Three years after resident evil 7 Ethan lives in Eastern Europe under protection from Chris Redfield.

• Ethan died during the events of RE7 (killed by Jack Baker). He has been kept alive by the Mold, essentially functioning as a walking bioweapon.

• Ethan’s voice actor is Todd Soley.

• Despite being the main character Ethan’s face was hidden for years.

• Ethan hand is mutilated multiple times. (Chainsawed off, hand cut off by Lady Dimitrescu, pieced with nails, and bitten by lycans.)

• He was never a trained soldier.

• He’s the first RE protagonist to have a child.

• He always wears gloves in third-person view.

• Ethan’s final act is a sacrifice, (At the end of Village, Ethan chooses to stay behind and die to destroy the Megamycete.)

• His final words are, “You tell her, Rose… that Daddy loves her.”

• Ethan has cameo in RE7’s Daughters DLC (A voicemail in the Daughters DLC, which takes place before RE7, has Ethan calling Mia—confirming he was trying to reach her just before the Bakers went insane)

• Capcom originally planned to kill Ethan off earlier in resident evil 7.

• you can partly see Ethan’s face In the Shadows of Rose DLC ending. (Ethan appears in full, carrying Rose. His face is shown briefly but partially obscured—still keeping some mystery intact.)

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.

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Shout out to my bestie @starogeorgina who is being my beta reader, and cheerleader while I rewrite another old 100 WIP!

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“What sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?”

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Kneecap being banned from a Scottish festival is just disappointing. I know a couple songs, not a die hard fan but this isn’t about their music, it’s about their ongoing support for Palestine.

They’re performing in one specific controlled environment, surrounded by barricades and fences whereas football fans get to roam around Glasgow starting fights, smashing things up and leaving a huge mess behind as they go.

Safety concerns my ass.

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Nobody can convince me they aren’t the best ship on the 100, and Murphy had the best character development in the series

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🏳️‍🌈𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡🏳️‍🌈

“Whilst Princess Rhaenyra misliked her stepmother, Queen Alicent, she became fond and more than fond of her good-sister Lady Laena. With Driftmark and Dragonstone so close, Daemon and Laena oft visited with the princess, and her with them. Many a time they flew together on their dragons, and the princess’s she-dragon Syrax produced several clutches of eggs.”

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🏳️‍🌈𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡🏳️‍🌈

Happy pride to:

• Jon Connington

• Oberyn Martell

• Daemon Targaryen

• Rhaenyra Targaryen

• Renly Baratheon

• Loras Tyrell

• Nymeria Sand

• Daenerys Targaryen

• Visenya Targaryen

• Rhaenys Targaryen

• Rhaena Targaryen

• Elissa Farman

• Jeyne Arryn

• Alysanne Blackwood

• Daemon II Blackfyre

• Daeron Targaryen

• Irri

• Ellaria Sand

• Satin

• Laenor Velaryon

• Cersei Lannister

• Xaro Xhoan Daxos

(And all characters whose name I can’t remember)

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🏳️‍🌈𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡🏳️‍🌈

Happy pride month to our horror favs!

• Audrey Jensen — MTV Scream series

• Mindy Meeks-Martin – Scream

• Dani Clayton – The Haunting of Bly Manor

• Jamie Taylor – The Haunting of Bly Manor

• Emerald Haywood – Nope

• Theo Crain – The Haunting of Hill House

• Peter Walken — Resident Evil: Resistance

• Aaron — The walking dead

• Eric Raleigh — The walking dead

• Jesus — The walking dead

• Tara Chambler — The walking dead

• Denise Cloyd — The walking dead

• Ellie Williams — The last of us

• Lana Winters — American horror story

• Lafayette Reynolds — True blood

• Jesus Velasquez — True blood

• Pam De Beaufort — True blood

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🏳️‍🌈𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡🏳️‍🌈

Happy pride to my OG moot who I love, and has always supported pride!

Also happy pride to all that gay & bi characters that live in your wonderful fics💕

Thank you so much my love😭😭 brb I’m away to cry because of how sweet this is, but happy pride month everyone!

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What we found, Murphy x reader x Emori

Have I finally finished writing a 100 WIP? Yes

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Different days

Pairing| Leon S Kennedy x Claire Redfield

MINORS DNI. 18+ only!

“Fuck,” Leon hissed.

He had somehow managed to break into the police station to rescue Claire without being caught, and she was gone.

“Where’s Claire?” The young girl asked, confused.

“She’s not here, Sherry, fuck!” He yelled . They needed to get out of town pronto, but he wasn’t leaving without Claire.

The young girl was upset. She had grown really fond of Claire and was disappointed she wasn’t there. As she looked at the vent through which she had escaped the day before, she squinted her eyes. Something was different.

“Leon, what’s that?” She pointed at bits of wall plaster lying on the ground.

Signing Leon leaned down and shone his torch on it. He was surprised to see something carved into the wall above the vent; Claire had left them a one-word clue.

“What does it say?” Sherry asked, crouching down next to him.

“Irons, it says Irons,” he gulped down.

“Just put your thumb here and push down,” Leon says, unsure.

He was trying to teach Sherry how to use a lighter, which seemed like a beneficial idea when he suggested it. But now watching the young girl holding the lighter, he wasn’t entirely confident she wouldn’t burn her fingers.

He had come up with a plan, a very basic plan that could easily blow up in his face, but it was all he had.

“Are you sure about this, Sherry? If you don’t want to or change your mind, it’s fine; we will find another way,” he said sincerely. The last thing he wanted to do was put a child at risk for no reason, but the young girl was hell-bent on helping him find their red-headed friend.

“Claire would do the same for us,” she said, smiling weakly. Sherry felt scared but was trying her best not to show it.

“Okay, then, we should try and get some rest before nightfall,” he said before putting the small orange lighter on the table.

—

“Please let me know once you’re ready,” Leon said, while Sherry checked she had everything she needed.

The young girl took a deep breath before nodding, “Ready.”

Leon hoisted her up to the vent that she escaped from previously. He had scouted the area out to make sure nobody else was about, and waiting until it was nightfall helped him. He was surprised the police station didn’t have many security cameras on the outside of it—lucky for them.

“Okay, I’m going forward,” the young girl called back to him.

Sherry had crawled to the changing room; once realizing it was empty, she came back to let Leon know.

There would be some cops in the building on the night shift, but hopefully a lot fewer since the rookie set the abandoned car he had ‘borrowed’ on fire a few blocks away and called the station from a payphone to report a robbery happening on the other side of town. They waited until they saw officers leaving before sneaking down towards the back alley.

In the changing room, Sherry pushed one of the small panels of the wall and waited for a moment to see if anybody would come. When nobody appeared, Sherry fumbled for the lighter; she was nervous. She was scared of dropping it or burning herself. Regardless of her fears, she took another deep breath and stuck her arm out. Her thumb lit up a small flame as she held the lighter underneath the fire alarm.

Once the water began to pour from the sprinklers, she quickly made her way to the front reception and would remain in the vent until she got the signal to get down.

Hearing the firing alarm go off, Leon went in through the front door. The advantage of a police station in a deserted town was its minimal occupancy. Not seeing anyone in the reception area, he told Sherry it was clear.

After safely helping Sherry down from the vent, the young girl led him in the direction that Claire should be the best she could. In the cell, they could hear a lot, including constant footsteps; Claire quickly realized it was underneath the main building.

After finding a locked door to a stairwell, Leon kicked it in. He hoped nobody was nearby to hear all the noise he had just made. With only a gun, a pocket knife, and a few flash grenades left, Leon was reluctant to use any of them, especially since he was hesitant to use the gun against the living.

“Claire, can you hear us?” Leon said loudly.

They walked into darkness; all the lights in the room had been turned off. Leon turned on his torch and scanned the room for the familiar face he was looking for; it was pointless. She wasn’t there.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed, pissed.

He had somehow managed to break into the police station to rescue Claire without being caught, and she was gone.

“Where’s Claire?” The young girl asked, confused.

“She’s not here, Sherry, fuck!” He yelled frustratingly. They needed to get out of town pronto, but he wasn’t leaving without Claire.

The young girl was upset. She had grown really fond of Claire and was disappointed she wasn’t there. As she looked at the vent through which she had escaped the day before, she squinted her eyes. Something was different.

“Leon, what’s that?” She pointed at bits of wall plaster lying on the ground.

Signing Leon leaned down and shined his torch on it. He was surprised to see something carved into the wall above the vent. Claire had left them a one-word clue.

“What does it say?” Sherry asked, crouching down next to him.

“Irons, it says Irons,” he gulped down.

Chief Irons was the bastard who burst Claire’s lip, sent her on a wild goose chase, and took Sherry. But he was dead, wasn’t he?

Leon purses his lips together; his death wasn’t part of the plan.

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Have I finally finished writing a 100 WIP? Yes

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“I love you, dad.”

“I love you Carl.”

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you, Carl. I love you so much.”

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Smut, violence, swearing

1.08

You stare at the hot wax dripping onto the surface of the scroll in Alicent’s hands; the colour of the wax nearly matches the green shade of her gown. As always, the queen’s hair and clothing were immaculate; however, the smugness on her face was tainting her natural beauty.

You had gone to speak with Gwayne at his quarters due to his request to speak in private, but moments after you arrived, three members of his house appeared, and now you had to fake interest in anything they had to say. You found it awfully odd they came instead of meeting him elsewhere.

Alicent’s lips curve into a smile, but her brown eyes remain still as she says, “I do hope we haven’t interrupted anything.”

“Of course not.”

“Actually," Gwayne stands behind you and places his hand on your shoulder. “I was hoping to have some alone time with my wife before the celebrations for Prince Daeron’s name day start this afternoon.”

Lady Lynesse giggles, “we shall leave you to it; after all, one cannot perform their duty with an audience.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

Still forcing a smile on her face; Alicent remains seated while her two aunties stand to leave. “When are you going to Winterfell princess?"

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” her eyes move from you to her brother. “I thought you may have been joining the princess on her travels. You haven’t been introduced to the lord and lady of Winterfell yet.”

“I’m sure Lord and Lady Stark’s attention will solely be on Princess Meera,” Gawyne pats at your shoulder lightly. “And from what I’ve heard, they dote on her.”

The look on the queen's face is hard to read. Smoothing out the skirts of her dress after she finally stands, she addresses her aunt Lynesse, “Lord and lady Stark are still reeling from the death of their eldest son, Lord Edric.”

You swallow down the bitterness burning at the back of your throat at the mere mention of Edric. Clearing your throat, you get to your feet. “Speaking of my daughter, I should be going. She should be finishing her lesson right about now and is yet to pick a dress for tonight.”

Gwayne gives you an apologetic look.

You kiss him on the cheek, “I will see you tonight for Daeron’s name-day celebration.”

—

Grinning, you continue to grind your clit against Criston’s cock. You let the knight slide the tip of it between your folds, coating him in your slick but not allowing him to go inside you fully.

It would be a few hours until Raya arrived to help you get dressed for the festivities, and since Rhaenyra had taken your daughter to her son's nursery to play, you were taking full advantage of having Criston all to yourself.

“…Princess… please…”

Kissing the side of his neck, you fake innocence and ask, “please what?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he whines. “I need to be inside you.”

Deciding that you had teased him enough, you lower yourself onto him, panting in high Valyrian as his thickness stretches you out. He moans into your skin. Your fingers curl into his thick dark hair while he holds onto your hips, keeping your body close to his while thrusting up into you.

“Oh,” you gasp. “I’m almost—there.”

“I know; I can feel it.”

A slurry of incoherent words falls from your mouth when Criston lets go of your hip and brings his hand between your legs to rub at your sensitive clit.

“Gods—fuck!”

Pressing your lips to his, you can feel him smirking into the kiss, probably because of the way your thighs were shaking. Only moments after you come apart, Criston reaches his peak, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he comes inside you.

Tenderly, you stroke the back of his head, your fingers threading lightly through his hair. You stay like this until the position starts to cause an aching pain in your legs, making you finally move off him.

Soon as your back comes into contact with the soft mattress, Criston rolls to hover over you. He lightly pecks at your lips, “I’ll need to leave soon.”

“I know.”

“I wish I could stay here, with you.”

“I know.”

A look you couldn’t pinpoint as anger or disappointment crosses his features. The knight gets swiftly to his feet and starts to redress in silence. Sensing his change in mood, you do the same, which seems pointless since you’d be changing shortly, but to keep up appearances, you would put the gown you had on previously back on.

When you’re finally about to tie the fabric at the back of the dress, Criston loops the small pieces of fabric round his fingers and starts to lace it together. His nose brushes against the back of your neck as he asks, “What if there was a way for us to be together more freely?”

“I wish there was, but as we’ve discussed before, there isn’t.”

—

The fake smile that has been plastered across your face for hours finally causes your cheeks to start hurting. Each time you attempted to find your sister, a member of house Hightower would stop and, in different variations, ask why you’ve not had another child yet. As they rambled on, the only thing you cared about was Meera; the hour was late, and she would need to be settled for bed soon.

Letting out a deep breath through your nose, you struggle to hide your irritation as Hobert Hightower and his wife are the latest to quiz you; it’s not until you spot your sworn shield that you finally break away.

You approach the sidelines of the hall with a genuine smile spreading across your face as you watch Rhaenyra dancing with your daughter.

“Ser Criston.”

“Princess.”

There’s a coldness in his voice that makes him sound almost unrecognisable, but it was him. Criston keeps his focus straight ahead, not glancing even a look in your direction.

“Have you—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Gwayne comes over and offers you his hand. “May I have this dance, wife?”

“Of course.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the middle of the dance floor. It takes Gwayne a few moments before he speaks again, “you handled my sister and aunts well today; I know that it must be challenging. But I— is something wrong?”

“No, no,” you smile politely at Gwayne, keeping your eyes firmly on him instead of trying to find Ser Criston among the crowd of moving people. The chill in the air wasn't due to the sun disappearing behind the clouds; it was a sign of something amiss. A change in the atmosphere. “My apologies, I got distracted.”

“It’s alright,” he smiles softly. “The suggestion I made previously about you and…”

“Gods, now is not the time.”

As he keeps in time with the music, Gwayne spins you around and then pulls you back towards him, showing a bit more affection than necessary, which causes you to press against his chest. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ve already got a daughter, and I would be content with that. I don’t feel the same desperation for an heir that my father does. I… at least for a little longer… Perhaps the stress from others breathing so heavily down our necks is what’s causing a delay. When you and Meera return from Winterfell, I want you to join me in old town.”

A piercing scream rips through the hall before you can answer him.

The music stops.

The dancing stops.

The happiness stops.

Gwayne holds you close to him protectively, preventing you from getting knocked over by the mass of people barging by to get to the far side of the room where the commotion is coming from.

“Can you see Rhaenyra? Meera is with her. I need to find them.” Stepping out of his grip, you frantically look around for any signs of them. “Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra!”

“Over there!” Gwayne points to a nearby table that your sister was standing on, holding Meera in her arms.

Guilt smacks you in the gut full force; you should never have allowed your daughter to attend. Several people bash into you as you shove your way through the crowd, and it doesn’t take you long to be separated from Gwayne, who was following behind you. You’re momentarily stunned when an elbow collides with your nose, but Meera’s screams distract you from the pain of it.

Rhaenyra grabs your hand and helps pull you up onto the table, and you take Meera from her arm and into yours. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You kiss the crown of her head, then look up at Rhaenyra, “I’ve lost sight of Gwayne.”

“He got out of the crowd with Otto. I don’t know where Laenor is. He wasn’t with me when the incident started. Father is safe, though.”

Looking in the direction she is pointing, you see your father, Alicent, your brothers, and Helaena being guarded by the Kingsguard.

As the large crowd dwindles, the blood splattered across the floor becomes more obvious. Rhaenyra grips your wrist tightly, her face displaying a horrified expression as she asks, “Who is that?”

You feel your heart sink; you finally realise why there was such chaos. Criston was brutally beating Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, his eyes wide with a rage you could never have imagined in him.

—

There was a dampness in the air. The wetness from the grass soaks the soles of your thin shoes that are only meant to be worn inside as you walk across the grass to reach the weirwood tree.

Criston was kneeling in front of the tree; even in the dark, you could see the tears in his eyes as he glanced up at you. He swallows thickly, “princess.”

“I’ve spoken with my father. You’re still a member of the kingsguard and will remain my sworn shield, but you aren’t permitted to leave the red keep, for now at least.”

Chewing on your lip, you look away. If you spoke, your voice would break, and you feared the stream of tears threatening to spill wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

Criston gets to his feet and takes a step towards you cautiously. “He knew and was taunting me for it. I hit him once, then he withdrew a blade—”

“Stop,” you sob. “I don’t wish to hear anymore.”

When you turn to face him, Criston’s brows pull together as he takes in the swelling on your face and the dried blood underneath your nose. “What happened to your face?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You wipe at the tears on your cheek with the sleeve of your nightgown. You weren’t crying because he killed a man; it was scaring you that, despite Criston killing a man, you still yearned for him.

—

When the carriage goes through the gates of the courtyard, you feel a sense of dread, a sickness you couldn’t get over. It’s not until you are finally sitting across from your father in his private quarters that you feel a sense of calm.

“You were in Winterfell much longer than intended. Does this have anything to do with what happened on your brother's name day? Do you wish to change your sworn protector?”

“It’s nothing to do with that night,” you answer truthfully. “So much is changing that I’d really appreciate having the same sworn shield as before. There is nobody I trust more than Ser Criston to keep my daughter safe and…” you pause and place your hand across your stomach. “And he will be a fine protector to mine and Gwayne’s child as well.”

Instead of looking delighted, the king stares at you concerned. “have you been ill because of the pregnancy?

“The day before we intended to come home, I had a dizzy spell in the presence of Lady Stark, who summoned the maester, who came to the conclusion I was unfit to travel, and for the first moon I was vomiting violently, but it has since settled.”

“You’ve been there for nearly four moons.”

You tug at a strand of your dress, feeling a sense of shame. “Finding out I’m pregnant in Edric’s home felt wrong. I owed it to the Starks and to Meera to stay longer.”

“Oh,” he places his atop yours. “I’m happy as long as my daughter is happy. Every child is a blessing.”

“I am happy, as I imagine Gwayne shall be.”

“Does Rhaenyra know yet?”

Your mouth goes dry before the lie even comes out, “no, nobody else knows yet.”

The first thing you did when the maester suggested you may be pregnant was write to your elder sister. You responded back and forth a few times, but as always, everything was kept a secret between the two of you.

As you rise to leave, you kiss your father on the cheek. “If you excuse me, I’m going to find Gwayne and inform him before Meera blurts it out. She’s very excited to have a sibling to boss around.”

“I suppose you’ll be needing to tell your shield as well,” your father says. “So that he knows how vulnerable you’ll be soon.”

You smile and nod as you leave, hoping your father is as blind to you as he is to Rhaenyra.

—

Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to Criston, and it didn’t take you long to find him. You were informed he was in the white sword tower after doing a night shift; he would probably be sleeping, but you wanted to tell Criston in person before he found out from anyone else.

You knock on the door lightly, and a few moments later, it swings open, and a heavy-eyed Criston stands in front of you.

“Princess?”

“Ser Criston.”

He looks stunned for a moment and then scans the area for anyone else that could be watching. Stepping aside, he lets you by before closing the door behind him. “Forgive me; if I had known you were returning today, I wouldn’t have volunteered for the late shift last night.”

“I’ve missed.” It was no lie; you thought about the night every day.

“I must admit I didn’t expect your absence at court to leave me feeling so hollow.” Gently, he cups the side of your face and says, “Do me the favour of not venturing so far and for so long next time without me; I could not find peace wondering if you and Princess Meera were safe and well.”

Smiling, you take his hand and rest it on your stomach.

“Are you…”

“I’m expecting.”

You don't need to exchange any more words at that moment; the look you share is enough to know that you've found each other again.

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😏😏

I hadn't seen it in the fandom yet, so I had to take matters into my own hands.