#[redacted] would faint seeing her like this

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

[lazybutsmexy]

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 1: The Snare

Series masterlist > Ch. 2

Warnings: kidnapping, drugging, violence

Summary: It is a beautiful autumn afternoon to go for a last run before reporting back to base, until it isn't.

Do not read if you're under 18. This work contains mature and triggering themes.

Word count: 1400~

Task Force 141 member sheet

Name: [REDACTED]

Call sign: Canary

Rank: Corporal

Specialty: Sniper. Infiltration.

Status: On medical leave until November 18th XXXX

November 17th

Socked feet padded across the cold ceramic floors, a soft amber hue bathing the living room in the late afternoon sunlight. Canary readied herself for her run, the last one before her reinstallment in the task force after a two-month medical leave.

There was now only a faint scar where her shoulder injury had been, a reminder of a mission almost gone terribly wrong. She had been lucky, nonetheless, as she was allowed to carry most of her leave at her own apartment. She appreciated the six weeks of almost-civilian life she was granted, being able to buy her weekly groceries at the nearby farmers market, and catching up with old friends. But to say she was anxious to return to her military routine was an understatement.

Besides, she would be able to see her lovers once again after so long. Just as she was hospitalized, both Simon and Johnny had been shipped off who knows where. All communication had been nonexistent ever since, and every day she dealt with the dull weight in her chest of not knowing where or how they were. One of the reasons why she had requested to carry her leave out of base, was actually not being able to sleep at her barrack, knowing that the one next to hers was quiet and empty. Price had assured her that they would be back around or at the same time she returned to her duties, which may or may not have caused her to count the days down until her leave was up.

Canary whistled a tune that resembled a catchy pop song that had been playing non-stop on the radio for the past week as she secured her running shoes with a double knot. She felt light and airy, all her belongings were packed and her fridge had been emptied. The apartment was sparkling clean and ready to become unused again for who knows how long. The only thing left to do was to get herself takeout dinner on her way back and go to sleep early, to be up at 4 AM sharp to report an hour later on base.

She grabbed her running hoodie - which had been Johnny’s until she refused to give it back - and her gloves. She took a moment to admire these with a blossoming smile.

~~~~

Canary had just sat down on her bed when the door knocked. After an awfully eventful day as a newly appointed corporal in the infamous 141 task force, she barely had any energy to take off her boots, but she still swallowed the groan that nearly escaped her and called out for the person to walk in.

An instant later, Ghost - her Lieutenant and the protagonist of her dreams as of late - was inside her barrack. She stood up straight, but he dismissed her before she got to salute him. Was this a surprise inspection? Canary resisted the urge to look around her own room to see if anything was out of place. She felt a wave of panic rise when she realized she couldn’t remember whether or not she had picked up her dirty socks from under the bed.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” she asked, almost regretting it when he locked his stare on her eyes and her heart rate spiked.

“...I came to bring you this,” he said after what seemed like hours - but were probably just a few seconds - and extended his arm to her, on his hand was a box roughly wrapped in yellow paper.

Canary gingerly took the box from his hands and inspected it, before looking up at him again with a questioning tilt of her head. She thought she heard him gulp before crossing his arms over his chest.

“...It’s from me,” he explained, “and Soap.”

She blinked and nodded, carefully unwrapping the box and opening it from the side, sliding its contents onto her open hand. They were a pair of tactical gloves with bone designs - a replica of his own, she noticed. She looked up at him again, this time there was a slight warmth on her cheeks. She wouldn’t know until much later, but the same flush sat on his own cheeks, beneath the balaclava and skull mask.

“...Happy birthday, Canary.”

~~~~

Whenever she thought back to that moment, the warmth returned to her chest. And whenever she slid the gloves on and adjusted them to her wrist, she imagined Simon and Johnny holding her hands.

With her gloves adjusted, she secured her ponytail and walked out the door, saving her keys in the pocket of her hoodie. She greeted Marian, her elderly neighbour, and left on her run.

Her route wasn't a complicated one, it was a long road that crossed the University campus and ran through the forest, then turned before the bridge and led back into the city. In total, it was about 10 kilometers long. It was often frequented by other young people, mostly university students, who chose it to exercise. This didn't bother her, she tended to prefer this as it made her running route less solitary.

However, an unusually long weekend and the closeness of final exams made the route more solitary, as students either traveled home or shut themselves into their homes to cram. Canary didn't mind this at all, taking the chance to do more sprints and put herself back into the mindset she would be in during her missions soon enough.

Her rhythm was good, cutting through her route like a sharpened knife. She imagined herself at times doing a sprint race with Johnny, like they would during training. It wasn't the same without his taunting and their bickering, but she knew they would do it in no time, any day now.

Canary crossed a few people during her run, but the crowd dwindled even more when she crossed the forest. The trees blocked most sounds from the city, allowing her to enjoy the chirping of some birds that hadn't migrated, and the brush of a breeze in the forage. It was a calm day, the sound of her breathing and the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her feet being the only disturbance in the area.

Out of nowhere, the hairs at the back of her neck stood and a chill ran down her spine. She was being watched. Canary stopped and looked around, trying to find whoever was looking at her. She decided to continue this time being more mindful of her surroundings, although her instinct screamed at her that she was walking into a trap.

As she got closer to the road near the bridge, Canary felt a sharp pain on the right side of her back. She swallowed a cry and reached for the object that pierced her skin. It didn't feel like a bullet, but something with a needle. Her blood turned cold when she pulled it out and examined it.

A tranquilizer dart.

Judging from the direction from where it was shot, she realized it had come from the forest. Soon she heard a rustling of leaves, and she now had only seconds to reach the road and hopefully flag down a passing car for help.

Canary abandoned the trail to run in the muddy grass, nearly slipping twice. She was still gripping the dart in her left hand, when she realized that the drug could knock her out at any moment now. Her pursuer was gaining terrain on her, and a quick look over her shoulder didn't help her nerves. She unfastened her glove and secured the dart in it to make sure she wouldn't lose it, when she felt a weight being thrown on her back.

Both her and her assailant tumbled down violently onto the grass and she struggled against him, only to find out her legs weren't moving. In her panic, she tried to move around to try and get a better look at the man, but her face was shoved down in the mud. Soon, her arms felt numb as well, the only feeling was the sensation of being zip-tied, and a fog began clouding her eyes and mind. She tried to scream for help, for Simon, Johnny, anyone, but her voice was hoarse and weakened, her breathing growing shallow and heavy under the weight of her attacker.

She barely caught the sight of a gray van pulling up in a hurry, and male voices shouting to each other, then her world went black and silent.

Do not repost, translate, or transcribe any of my works in this or any other social media. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated though ♥️

[yuesya]

I honestly don’t know what pairing you have for Shiki, but imagine, in another AU, Shiki was just born a normal girl in the JJK universe, she goes to school, is friends with Itadori, still has her MEoDP, nonchalantly doesn’t bring up the fact that she knows curses exist and probably refers to them as “demons” or “monsters,” yeah, typical Shiki stuff. I wonder, if in this AU, if it’s okay with you, that Shiki and Itadori becomes boyfriend and girlfriend sometime before the Sukuna events happen? Like, they’re basically an opposites attract couple?

If that were to happen, I can imagine Sukuna probably being frustrated by Shiki’s presence or intrigued by her, mainly because of her ability.

See FAQ regarding pairings.

I think 'being normal' contrasts greatly with 'having MEoDP,' so if we do have an AU where Shiki is 'just a normal girl,' it would probably be a world where she never had an accident because [REDACTED] and so we have Shiki living a normal life without MEoDP.

... Or at least, as normal as someone like Shiki can be.

Shiki goes to school, but it's still hard for her to form connections with others. She also realizes very early on that there's probably something off with her when a late-night test of courage with some classmates results in them coming across a dead body, and instead of screaming her head off Shiki's only reaction is faint fascination. She wonders what it would be like to trail her hand through that red, red blood... but has enough awareness to realize that it's not something a 'normal' person would do.

And Shiki is normal, right? So she does her best to tuck away all her sharp corners in a neat little box to act like a normal high school student. One who doesn't have any fascination with blood, or sees strange monsters from the corner of her eyes. She's heard enough from her parents to know what curses are, and that her parents don't want any involvement with the world of sorcery. They don't want Shiki to be like her uncle, who turns up every once in a blue moon with scars all over his body, who's involved in dangerous work.

Shiki loves her parents. She knows she does. And this is what you do when you love someone, right? You do your best to meet their expectations. You want them to be happy.

... I don't really see Itadori/Shiki working out here, unfortunately. Itadori is fundamentally someone who cares about others, who tries to do good and help where he is able to. This clashes horribly against Shiki, who doesn't really care at all, and it's even worse in this 'verse because she doesn't have anyone who gets her, unlike in zenith. Itadori is many things, but he's not someone who would understand Shiki at all, much less this particular version of Shiki.

Unlike Ryougi Shiki, who wished to experience the happiness of a normal person, OC-Shiki has no such desire.

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Meggy's Story

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For today's post. I would like to talk especially about three things

This is going to be a long post.

There is some more violent and graphic content in this post that is not for the faint of heart. Read at your own feet.

I would like to thank Glitch Production and the writers of the SMG4 series. I will be attempting to retell one of their most important arcs for the blog. I apologize if I mess up or have anything unsavory. I'm trying to mesh The SMG4 existing canon with my interpretation and my additions to the Mario universe.

Enjoy with your own caution and my warning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For some reason. Meggy wanted to hang out last night.

They were gonna have some holiday gala thing at the castle. So Meggy needed to get out.

And apparently, her friend Tari is in New York for a Game competition. so she won't be back until next week.

Garth: Is there any reason why you wanted hang out with me. I think the splat arena is open.

Meggy: Yeah. But its mostly younger kids. It's not really a challenge.

Garth: Oh. … So what do you want to do.

Meggy: eh. I don't really care. As long as I can get back after my dad thinks he can do a "Backwards Long Jump" up the stairs.

Garth: Wait what?

Meggy: never mind. Why don't we go to your hometown and not talk about that.

Garth: Uh...Sure.

We used the warp.

We are both feeling kind of hungry so we just had decided to head to Jumpy' Sweets.

I ordered a Funnel cake and Meggy ordered an elephant ear

Meggy: This elephant ear is... The best thing I have ever eaten!!!

Why don't we have this on Panko.

Garth: FDA I think. [Redacted information] has made [More Redacted Information] more sought out after [Even More Redacted Information]

Meggy: If I could eat this. I'm willing to not eat DonMichaels ever again.

Garth: I mean I guess if you do it in moderation. You can still have both.

Meggy: Yeah but if I ever want to when splatfest for... Wait have i ever told you the story?

Garth: What story?

Meggy: The story of how I decided to win splatfest.

[Flashback: Summer 2009]

In an orphanage, Inkopolis

A young inkling was setting up her new bunk.

She had lost her parents to a car crash 3 years ago.

With no close enough relatives, she was put into foster homes and orphanages across the city.

~

Garth: Is that you?

Meggy: What do you think?

Garth: Sorry.

~

Recently there was a string of kidnappings happening

Only inklings and Octolings were being kidnapped.

So it was highly encouraged that they would only be outside with an adult or in heavily populated.

The orphanage was actually on lockdown.

???: Hey dweeb

Meggy: [Sigh] Desti. What do you want?

Desti: Me and some of the other kids were going to sneak out to the range to practice tonight.

Meggy: And?

Desti: We wanted to see if you wanted to come with.

Like a dumb[redacted]. I decided that that would be a good idea.

Desti: {Shoots ink] So what do you want to do when you grow up.

Meggy: I dunno. maybe be a Professional Splatfest player.

Desti: Really. [Snickers] Good luck trying. I'm going to be better than you.

~

I'm going to cut in here and give an abridged version since I can't remember the entire conversation.

It boiled down to light teasing and how they both want to win Splatfest. Meggy was a bit more casual while Desti was competitive. It was a bit nerve-racking yet a bit sweet.

~

Yet. Like a couple of sitting ducks.

Desti and Meggy: WHAT IS THAT!?!?

We were captured.

We did not know who kidnapped us. But it was a terrible thing to happen to us.

They kidnapped us. and transported us for what felt like forever.

When we were finally allowed out of the buckets. We found ourselves in a makeshift jail cell.

Desti: Where are we

Meggy: I'm unsure. but wherever we are. It sure is creepy.

There were lots of other inklings, outflings, and other Inkana citizens. Anyone who could produce ink.

We saw them as a group of people. not particularly threatening It was mostly nerds. But there were a few other people. But the most notable one was a large lizard in a shirt.

They grabbed an inkling by the neck. Forcing him into a cartridge. They used a device. I'm not sure what it was. But it looked like a giant ink pen.

???: Get It ready. I want to have this up and running. The

???: But Francis Are you even sure it will work.

Francis: If it doesn't. Increase the EMP Frequency with that Axolotle. Then demand the proper instructions again.

Whatever was going on. It was not good.

They forced a bunch of inklings and outflings into chains. Allowing them to drag them to who knows where.

They had come for us.

They were going to drain us of our ink. Ourselves.

~

Garth: Wait. Isn't ink getting removed from you all the time? Like sweat or carbon dioxide? I mean, You would realistically lose a lot when in a turf war or any other time when you use ink.

Meggy: Okay. One stop interrupting me, and two, it's okay if an inkling expels a little bit of ink. Even a decent amount if they replenish it quickly. Now let me get back to the story.

~

After they had tested the device.

They had dragged us to these large tubes. All bunched up together

It was not looking good for us. They had decided to drain us like leeches. Using us for ink until we were almost dead.

Francis: Let's drain this batch. My waifu is losing its luster and I need a new one.

They were using our ink.

For Waifus.

Apparently, there were also some people who wanted to use it for cheap work or something.

But it seems like they were using it for Waifus

They were going to use the ink pen thing on us.

Lucky us. They slipped up and broke our chains with the pen's ink. It made a large sword.

Those of us who could get out made a mad dash to get out of there.

Not all of us made it however.

They had this glass wall that closed.

Meggy: Desti!

Desti: Meggy!

The wall closes

Meggy: Don't worry. Ill find help.

Desti: You better. Just promise you'll come back.

Meggy: I promise. Keep fighting.

I ran like Underwhere.

I was being chased through the sewer.

Luckily, there was a manhole cover up ahead

After I jumped out into a place. It was called...Something Aurora. I managed to hide in a nearby bucket of paint.

That was the last thing i remember before falling asleep from being tired.

~

Garth: What happed to the other escapees?

Meggy: i don't know. I think some were caught, others went down the same path as me.

Garth: Have you tried getting in contact with them.

Meggy: I think so. I went to the retirement party of an old woman i escaped with.

But lets get back on topic. And stop interrupting me

~

Mario and Peach had just gotten off of recent political discussion. Citizens from Inkana had been kidnapped. but immigrated citizens had also been attempted to be kidnapped.

To get there minds off of it in order to destress. They decided to do some painting.

Wall Painting for some reason.

They opened up a can of paint to find...

Mario: An Inkling?

Peach: What?

Mario?: I found an inkling in a can of orange paint. She seems unconscious but otherwise okay.

After i had woken up. I was to tired to even talk.

~

Meggy: i had spent Grambi knows how long in a bucket. Its a miracle i did not get brain damage or stunted growth.

Garth: I didn't even say anything that time.

~

They treated me like a kid. I hadn't felt like that in years.

To be honest. It felt nice.

Even if they were calling authorities for missing persons report.

They still made me feel comfortable.

I remember that after the day i had. It was quite possibly the best day i had in years.

They sang me a lullaby before putting me to bed.

But in the morning. I had finally gotten my voice back.

And first thing (totally not after a delicious breakfast) i had explained the entire situation

Mario and Peach: FRANCIS!?!

Meggy: You know him?

Peach: I had to go through a [shudders] dating sim.

Mario: 2003 was a horrible year. But you know where he is?

Meggy: Something Aurora. i went through a sewer. Red bricks.

Mario: You must be talking about Port Aurora The 17 Street and Coconut Avenue Intersection.

Meggy: Maybe that's it. But i'm unsure if that is the location.

Peach: I'm sure of it. We actually had gone on a walking tour of the sewers on our honeymoon.

Mario: and you wanted to go to Isle Delphino.

They got help and headed to the island. They blocked off the sewer and proceeded to storm it.

Mario: Meggy, are you sure that you want to come with. We could manage to find their base.

Meggy: I made a promise to my friend. and I'm going to keep it.

Mario: Okay, you can come with, but be careful.

We stormed the base.

Mario: THIS IS THE SUPER AND AN ASORTED BAND OF HELP AND HEROS! GIVE YOURSELVES UP OR THERE WILL BE DIRE CONSIQUECES!

Meggy [Sitting on Mario's Shoulders: What he said!

Francis: Hark. Is that a band of loud mouthed dorks. Shall i give up....Get the Shonen protagonists and JRPG.

A fight broke out. It was like a world war. It was not pretty.

But we had managed to get to the main draining room.

Desti: MEGGY! you came back. Help me get out of this tank.

Mario: Is that your friend. Lets save her.

We freed the inklings and started breaking up the wei...i mean evil tech stuff.

Francis: [Grabs anime sword] IM NOT LETTING ANYONE MESS WITH MY DREAM. [STARTS SWININGING VIOLENTLY]

Mario: Go break the lock on your friend's cage. I'll take on this anime lover.

I ran to the tank that my friend was in.

[Robotic voice: Ink Still in subject. Do not open until all ink has left.]

As a split second decision. I decided to enter the device.

Desti: [weakly]: Meggy what are you doing.

Meggy: I'll give up some of my ink if it means we can make it out.

I turned on the device . Which would remove enough of my ink in order for both of us to escape.

The last thing i remember was a giant explosion. apperntly the

I don't know what happend next

But when i had awoken. Me and Mario were mostly alright. But Desti was...

She was dying.

Desti: Meggy. Im not going to make it.

Meggy: Don't say that. Well get you help.

Desti: Come close. i can see the light getting the way. And i don't know if its me. But you look diffrent. But what ever happens I want to do something for me.

Meggy: Anything. I'll do it.

Desti: I want you to win Splatfest. For both of us. I want you to win for the both of us.

Meggy: I will Desti.

Dest:

Meggy: Desti! Desti!!! DESTI!!!

~

...

Garth: I'm sorry that you lost some one important to you.

Meggy:...Thanks. Even if she is gone. she still lives on as a part of me.

And im still trying to win splatfest and live life.

Garth: That's good. but what happend next.

Meggy: Well. We held a funeral for Desti. We actually had dedicated the beach we sent her coffin away at.

Mario and Peach agreed to foster me until further notice. Eventually adopting me.

All the Inklings and Octolings were give the choice to go back home or see where they wanted to go.

That Axolotl guy got back his ink pen thing.

Garth: Thats good. But why did Desti say you looked diffrent.

...

Meggy: You can't be serious.

Garth: No. I am serious.

Meggy: You seriously don't know.

Garth: Know what.

...

Meggy removed her beenie.

@buddy-boi-420 drew this piece. They do great art.

Garth: Your Half Starchild!!!

Meggy: I feel like the story already established that. But yeah. I'm half Starchild.

Garth: But. I've seen you without your hat? and you had tentacle hair.

Meggys: No. You've seen artwork without my hat but with tentacle hair. I'm unsure why your friend draws me like that. The artist one I mean.

Garth: Oh.

I think she was talking about my friend @shootysturs / @poyo-shooty-art He draws great art.

Meggy: But you did see me without my hat at the Valentine Masquerade Ball.

Garth: ... That was you?

Meggy: Yeah. You act like you didn't know it was. I know it was you. Even if you were wearing a donkey mask.

Garth: [Blushes]

Meggy: You didn't know didn't you.

Garth:...

Meggy: [gets a notification on 1nk Phone] I got to go Dad broke the stairs.

Garth: What?

Meggy: Dad partied too hard. And he thought he could Jump backwards and through walls. I sent you a screenshot of the video.

Art also drawn by @buddy-boi-420

it's Mario before attempting to backwards long jump. Miyamoto is recording on his phone.

Garth: Dang.

Meggy: You do not want to see the aftermath. I'll tell you about it later though. See ya

...

I think I'm in love with my best friend.

[astarab1aze]

➥ Black Magic Woman

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Lady Nagant   [ My Hero Academia ] 04. Voice Claim. Erica Lindbeck

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. [ Redacted ] 02. Alias. Rivyn, Revyn, Rivy, Revy, R, Pepper 03. Sex. Female 04. Gender. Female 05. Age. [ Redacted ] 06. Birth Date. [ Redacted ]   (but she's an Aries sksksk) 07. Blood Type. Sub-type V-HAB- 08. Race. Vampire & [ Redacted ], American by nationality ; Unclear ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Widowed   [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Demisexual   [ Heteroromantic ] 11. Residence. She lives beneath Cedric and Claire's manor in New York state, in the cellar, where all her shit is.

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Rivyn has a mop of choppy shoulder-length black and teal hair, sans a long, thick braid comprised of her underlayer, fading black to teal, shiny and soft to the touch. Her eyes are heterochromic, with her left eye being gold and the other bright red, framed by long lashes. She is ghostly pale, though paradoxically seems more alive than some of her other vampiric counterparts, a faint scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose but otherwise unblemished. There is a black mark in the shape of a hand on the nape of her neck that spreads upward onto her scalp, as if grabbing the back of her head, and it serves as proof of ownership by the Red Hand. Her body is very...tightly wound, springy, like a viper constantly ready to strike, and nearly always on display in some fashion. Lots of skin showing, outfits skimpy, lots of buckles, leather, latex, stylized combat boots, generally her spin on vampire goth, etc.

13. Equipment. She generally keeps only what would aid her in a fight, such as her custom Sako TRG 22A1 rifle, range of silver alloy & magic-infused rounds, tungskin vials, explosive powders, silver-plated tactical knife, her malachite & bloodstone palmseal, several infinite pockets, compact mirror, Bottled Blackwyrm, and a cellphone. 14. Occupation. She maintains employment as a hand-picked Red Hand security specialist trained by the Morteatum International Private Security firm - this means her job doesn't really stop at security, as she is often tasked with quite a bit of dirty work... By this same token, she is secretly working in conjunction with the Montgomery twins and Keres Morteatum to bring down the Red Hand. 15. Job Performance. Highly valued, impossible to replace, in both positions. 16. Parents. [ Redacted ] 17. Siblings. [ Redacted ]

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Long walks on the beach, midnight, dawn just before the sun rises, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, freshly-baked anything, pina coladas, petrichor, reading, privacy, baby bats, and really...not much else. 19. Dislikes. Most aspects of vampire culture, vampires, Sanguinarians, Keres, Claire, pointless sacrifice, the smell of blood, being a vampire, the concept of eternal life, that she can't eat real food, cigarette smoke, bloody delights, reliance on human blood, spider lilies, water, people who think they're smarter than her, being touched,

20. Positive Traits. Deadly accurate. Considerate. Well-mannered. Respectful. Generous. Sympathetic. Self-questioning. Protective. Effective. Sentimental. Gentle. 21. Negative Traits. Closed off. Distrustful. Emotionally unavailable. Workaholic. Impersonal. Distant. Unforgiving. Secretive. Blunt. Indifferent. 22. Goals. Like Keres, to dismantle the Red Hand and put an end to the Sanguinarian chokehold on vampires as a whole - but her reasons for doing so are different. She doesn't wish to usher in a new world of mutualism or peace where yet another Montgomery gets to play-pretend on Night's Throne, she wants to get her enemies out of the way so she can see to a world without vampires in it. 23. Desires. [ Redacted ] 24. Alignment. Chaotic Neutral

25. Personality. In terms of demeanor, she comes across as incredibly cold, almost statuesque, but with a sullen, somber air about her. She is a woman in unspoken, long-held grief, though she uses it as motivation to achieve her truest goals, using this image in part as cover to better hide them (as much as she hides herself, which is ironically predicated on the Vampiric Stoicism Principle). She is covetous of her secrets and cannot be readily known, distrustful of any and all, including the only vampire she gets along with in truth. There is an anger in her that is cold- and long-burning, smoldering within her, but just as she is likely to burn others, she is capable of warmth. Slow, cautious, gentle warmth, all buried beneath thick layers of agonizing loss and honed steel. She is stubborn and oftentimes sharply tongued, but if given the chance, she might fall to her knees. Above all, she is tired, and alone, and hateful of all those who turned her into a monster. Without hope, cynicism and lies her only friends in a den of vipers.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Affinity, Talent, etc.

26. Affinity. Light & Necrotic - her ability is so fine-tuned, she is one of the few vampires capable of daywalking. 27. Shapeshifting. No transformation abilities whatsoever. 28. Utility. Ritual magic, alchemy, poisons, healing, leeching, daywalking, sealing, illusions, divination, Dispel, hexes, curses, herbalism, barriers, exorcism, cleansing, blessing, and enchantment. 29. Specialization. Holy, Summoning, and Possession - of the Necrotic and Light affinities; Paradoxically turned with the ability to wield opposing affinities, she was chosen to serve among the Red Hand's elites for this reason and thusly honed finely as a conduit for either. 30. Graduate School. Night's Cathedral - one of the eleven nightfolk schools in North America, focused on the education of vampires only and specifically ; This school is well-respected among vampires as an institution, the arbiter of vampiric education, but is simultaneously a churner of extremely dangerous Red Hand agents 31. Classification. Turned/Lower Vampire, Night's Paladin ; Lower vampires are a class of non-noble vampire generally bearing lesser strength or mastery over themselves, their appetites, and magical inclinations, but the circumstances of Rivyn's vampirism are miraculous in themselves as is one of the very few vampires capable of wielding Light as an affinity, thus making her a prime candidate for the militant / espionage arms of the Red Hand - graduate of Night's Cathedral as its Paladin, under oath and everything.

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.

Her early life is entirely [ Redacted ].

She was married to [ Redacted ] and had [ Redacted ], unrelated to the internal or external goings on of the Red Hand. Her village was beset upon by [ Redacted ] in the year 15XX, under [ Redacted ]'s express command, in search of, offically, lost cargo and the traitors responsible for it. This occupation quickly turned sour and resulted in a weeks' long [ Redacted ], furthering an already vicious cycle of [ Redacted ] between the [ Redacted ] and [ Redacted ]. [ Redacted ] tragically perished in the [ Redacted ], crushing her spirit, and by the end, the Red Hand arrived with offerings of aid to the injured and burials for the dead. In exchange for this help benevolently given to her people, the woman now known as Rivyn traded her fealty and service to the Night.

The Red Hand fed, clothed, educated, and housed Rivyn, often adapting to her specific needs in order to raise her to her best and keep her at her most comfortable. [ Redacted ] until her most unique and valuable of affinities were revealed, scientific fascination born anew due to the qualities of her [ Redacted ], the promise of a new age on the horizon - the ability to [ Redacted ]. And with grace, she offered her [ Redacted ], a new life for her saviors in return for her own, and with respect and gratitude, she was baptized in Night Eternal, blessed with immortal life.

Many [ Redacted ] took place between her gift and her turning alongside rigorous training and education in the ways of the Bloodweaver's Paladium, subject to bodily [ Redacted ] and mental [ Redacted ], testing her limits for candidacy as a vampire with express consent and recipcrocal interest. When they'd taken of the [ Redacted ] she had so kindly given, she was then blessed. Following her turning, however, yet more [ Redacted ] were performed in an effort to further test her limits both physical and magical, and she was frequently exposed to [ Redacted ] and [ Redacted ]. This was to doubly ensure her ability to adapt and survive in the Night, to best prepare her for her role as a Paladin in the service of the [ Redacted ] and [ Redacted ] families.

[ Redacted ] oversaw much of the [ Redacted ], and were thus the orchestrators of her second chance at life among them. The Red Hand had long endeavored to propogate her continued life and growth as a general rule, generous and kind in their efforts to assist a kindred spirit, and the more they gave, the more she offered in return.

Over the course of many centuries, Rivyn had become a formidable and highly prized addition to the Red Hand and vampire society as a whole, despite primarily operating in [ Redacted ]. As of this filing, Rivyn is [ Redacted ] and permanently employed by the modernized Morteatum International Private Security in accordance with the United States Department of Regulatory Sorceries' specifications.

[starwolf479]

Scrapped Scene from my New Story

This is a small scrapped excerpt from my story [ERROR] [REDACTED] [REBOOT] I've been working this story on and off for about six months now, and am finally getting to the point where I feel like I have enough done to start posting. To celebrate getting to this point, and honestly just because I am excited, I wanted to share some of it with everyone, This is a little scene that I loved, but couldn't get to flow in the original story. Context: This is set between season 4 and 5. The ninjas are going to Borg's Tower for the first time since Zane was brought back from Chen's Island.

The bustling city really never did sleep. The sun had only finished rising an hour ago, but the traffic was already bumper to bumper along the highway, especially now that a lot of Borg’s inventions had been phased out.

Zane’s new visual processors were more advanced allowing him to see some of the onlookers in the higher buildings pointing at The Bounty as it flew overhead. None of them would be able to see the ninja themselves, and the other ninjas couldn’t see them.

It was a private, uplifting sight for Zane alone.

And maybe it was because of city folk smiling and waving, or perhaps it was from the chill of being so high in the sky, or it could have been from the familiarity of being on a flying ship again after all the years, but as Zane stood at the helm of The Bounty the tension in his shoulders started to relax.

He leaned into the railing, letting the wind catch his hair and the sash of his gi, the rolling concrete jungle under the ship passing by in a blur of colored lights.

Well, the view wasn’t Zane’s alone, but that actually caused a pleasant buzz when he noticed; in the shared portion of their mindscape, the other android’s avatar was also enjoying some people watching. He could see P.I.X.A.L.’s face change from a soft smile to a full grin as she saw a boy, no older than six, jump up and down while pointing at the ninja’s boat. His mother, who was holding his other hand, smiled up at it too but before long her head was tilted down to give that loving look to her son instead.

// This is- This is amazing, Zane. //

// You never do quite get used to it. It is only a small portion of Ninjago, but the people are… they make everything worth it. //

Borg’s Tower was finally within view now, if only for the nindroids. P.I.X.A.L. going rigid and eyebrows pinching in a doleful expression even as her smile remained.

// It is going to be alright, P.I.X.A.L. Cyrus is going to be ecstatic to talk with you again. //

// I have never been away from my inventor for so long. I know it is illogical to be nervous, but I cannot quell it. //

// Your nervous because you care about him, but rest assured he cares about you too. //

The two said nothing for a while; Zane choosing instead to listen to the faint creaking of the ship’s wheel as Nya steered it over the buildings. Deleting his thought queue, he began to focus on the energies of the world around him.

Noticeably, when they got close enough to Cyrus’s building that Nya announced it over the comms at the other boy who were inside the cabin, P.I.X.A.L. started talking once more.

// You always had more emotion than I, but I didn’t realize that you felt more physically too. It is fascinating. //

// What do you mean? //

// My body did not register temperature. I could give someone an analysis of it, but I could not perceive it. This is ‘cold,’ correct?” //

// Different beings have differing tolerances. I would say that this is ‘brisk.’ However, I am the Master of Ice. //

“It’s freezing out here!”

“Oh, stop being a baby!”

// And that would be the Master of Fire. //

// Indeed, P.I.X.A.L. //

Zane turned around to watch the sibling show down with Nya batting at Kai who was trying to steal some of her warmth. Zane doubts that she would normally mind, but as she was trying to pilot the ship, he could understand her frustration. From the port side of the railing, Lloyd raised an eyebrow at Zane as they both watched the fussing.

The only thing that would make the scene even more reminiscent of their early years as a team was for Jay to come out humming sea shanties.

[hippolotamus]

find the word challenge

Thanks for the tags @alyxmastershipper @swiftiediaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @elvensorceress @spotsandsocks😘

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

My words are (I just did the ones I had!): gentle, hands, please, stop, sigh, love, scream, heaven, stars, home, peace tugs, sleep, tender, whisper, fall, reach, cries, lick, understand, longing, sweet, night, regret, blue, fear, couch, wall

Words for people I tag: tea, lonely, book, radio, mess

Tagging (if you want to play) my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @rmd-writes @apothecarose @fatedbuddie @shortsighted-owl @alysiswriting @monsterrae1 @vanillahigh00

For anyone that has known me for more than 2 seconds, you know that WIP is a very broad term in my world. Also, there are many words, so under the cut for mine. Off we go!

@alyxmastershipper's words:

gentle (Wait for me to come home) He relearns how to adjust his touch to something more gentle. To keep his thrusts calibrated for someone smaller, lighter. To expect that the hands touching him won’t be calloused and firm, but soft and featherlight. He likens it to returning to a favorite childhood hangout. Somewhere that feels familiar, with mostly good memories, but you know you don’t exactly belong there anymore.

hands (Buddie stargazing fic) Evan scratches the back of his neck, where the grass tickles his skin, before pillowing both hands under his head and crossing his ankles.

please (from S6 midseason spec) Eddie stares, scrunching his eyebrows for a moment, then glances up at Buck with a look he can’t quite decipher. He’s not upset, but doesn’t exactly look pleased either. “That’s- that’s great, Buck. Good for them. I’m glad you were able to help.”

stop (from Buck moving into Eddie's fic) The racing thoughts abruptly stop, replaced with only one. One absolutely absurd memory.

sigh (from [redacted] for @alysiswriting) With a resigned sigh, he finishes filling his plate with an array of raw vegetables, Linda’s BLT dip, and something he only knows is wrapped in phyllo dough. For good measure he takes a second one because he knows Buck’s been eyeing them up. Eddie would gladly hand it over, but he actually wants to try it for himself.

@swiftiediaz's words:

love (from [redacted] for @elvensorceress) Buck enters the apartment, his movements still slow, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the love and contentment that only comes from spending an evening at the Diaz house.

scream (also from the [redacted for Jenwyn]) The hollow ache in his chest that’s always there unexpectedly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart. How can such emptiness feel so massive? As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or cry or something. Anything. But it’s all stuck, gathered in a tangle that refuses to budge.

stars (Buddie stargazing) The line goes dead, leaving him alone with the fireflies. Pinpricks of stars are beginning to emerge in the night sky, forming faint outlines of near recognizable constellations. If she could see them, he wonders if Maddie would see the same sky where she is. Maybe.

home (Stevie/Ruth) Stevie doesn’t need a lot in life, but there’s something to be said for a company car that will take her where she wants. And right now she wants to get home, to the person who will gladly carry every ache and burden she has. Because no matter the geographical location, Ruth is home.

peace (Fashion & Baseball) Patrick wishes his mind would string together something more coherent than flashes of partial words he can’t seem to access. The single language available is David, David, David on an endless loop. He looks relaxed, holding his fingers up in a peace sign, dressed in a black sweater patterned with white flowers, tight black jeans and sunglasses that are probably worth more than Patrick’s car.

@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy's words

tugs (I know all your Secrets) Patrick greedily claims David’s mouth and brackets his palms on David’s waist, tugging their hips together. There’s a renewed urgency to his movements, signaling to David that Patrick wants control now.

sleep (David/Stevie The Honeymoon coda) During the day she parades around with a see-if-I-care attitude, armed with a razor sharp wit, ready to cut whoever gets too close. At night though, fucked out and fast asleep, she tells a different story. It’s present in the way her mussed up raven hair fans across the pillow.

whisper (David/Patrick mall pretzel Patrick) He lets his head loll to the side and shoots her the best glare he can manage. When he’s satisfied he’s glared enough, David drapes his arm across his forehead and knits his brows together. “Stevie.” It comes out part whine, part whisper, all desperation.

fall (Buck moving into Eddie's) Or Eddie holding Buck in the aftermath of Abby coming back, letting him sob and fall apart until he exhausted himself and Eddie put him to bed.

@elvensorceress's words:

reach (Twylexis) “‘Lexis!” Twyla bolts up in bed, orienting herself to the room lit only by a patch of moonlight. She reaches out to the other half of the bed, grasping at air, and it takes her a moment to realize — to remember — she’s alone because Alexis is away. This always happens the first night, but she still isn’t used to it.

cries (Stevie/Ruth) There’s an uncomplicated sense of satisfaction when her key slides into the lock and she pushes the door open. After it clicks shut, there’s a clang from the kitchen accompanied by a string of curses that makes Stevie chuckle. Because really if she doesn’t, she might cry at this point.

sweet (Fashion & Baseball) “Oh, just look at all my sweet boys!” Marcy Brewer coos in the direction of Patrick, Andy, Ted, Mutt and David, all standing in the grass outside the Brewer house.

understand (magical realism cat!Buck) “What does that matter?” Buck asks, tilting his head to the side like he genuinely doesn’t understand. “You’ve been raising him this whole time, you’re an amazing father. Gods, Eddie, have you even looked at your son lately?”

longing (David/Patrick Olive Branch) It‘s as if his efforts to remain professional had wrapped around the remnants of despair and longing only to fray and knot them all together.

@spotsandsocks words:

night (magical realism cat!Buck) Ana slips out the door, turning to smile again and blow him a kiss. The deep red imprint floats through the autumn air, landing on his cheek soft like a butterfly. Then she’s gone in a swirl of lavender smoke and fallen leaves, fading into the night.

blue (magical realism cat!Buck) He can already feel the eyes on him before he closes the door. The bright blue orbs, almost electric with their intensity.

fear (Wait for me to come home) Buck had let him do that. He taught Eddie how to want without shame or fear of rejection. Shannon doesn’t know that Eddie though. Afraid of driving her away from Christopher again he had immediately shut that part of himself down.

couch (Buck moving into Eddie's) People wouldn’t see video game tournaments on the couch, baking cookies with Christopher, Eddie telling him there’s no one he trusts more with his son.

wall (Buddie stargazing) He doesn’t want to, not yet. Out here is calm and relaxing. Inside is stuffy and constricting. It makes his muscles tense, like he needs to move. And in there he’s not allowed to move the way he wants. Mom and Dad have so many fragile things lining the walls, Evan wonders if they aren’t secretly inhabiting a museum. At any rate, as parents, he’s pretty sure their focus is in the wrong place.

[lightbulb-warning]

[MAJORLY uncoherent anecdotal storytine:]

entertainment value: mild

cw: blood exams (not described in detail), vague mentions to struggles that aren't elaborated on, tmi personal rambling written by someone who is loopy from blood loss aka bad grammar/syntax/morphology/yeah also this got long whoops

im feeling mega loopy cuz blood exam (dundnt faint!! how outstanding of me. iamcurrently instanding. batumtssk!!i lie down now.)

but AT the blood exam a newer nurse stopped by and my usual nurse was like "PIVELLA meet [redacted <- (me. im redacted.)] this kid is a STAPLE in this department bla bla" and wow mom look im famius!! it only took me getting my blood displaced and stared at medically and faintinf a lot very often hshahahaah

the usual nurse is so NICE she's been doing my blood check traslocations since ive been like 15 i think maybe earlier?? idk idk i love her she's so nice and a kickass lady and she bullies all her coworkers and also me a lot!!! bully as in teasing she's nice yeah anyway yeah

me having to get my blood checked often is really inconvenient and kinda sucks!!! because i get koed and fuck if i can do anything for the next 24hs blegh but but BUT this lady has seen my grow up and seenbthe fuck up my life became and is seeing me pick up the peices abd whenever she sees me in the waiting room she shouts "its YOU" very dramatically and the staff has inside jokes about me and my dumv unoptimezed blood stats and thats REALLY NICE SOBS

like i dont wanna make a fable moral out of it like live love kaugh kindess uwu because realistacally, when i was fucked up previously (in the way that was bad compared to how i am fucked up now. funny joke. laugh.) i didn't gove two shits about people being nice to me because i was a massive hater and hated myself most (loser behavior!!!! the world hates you already love yourself out of SPITE!!!!!!!!!!) so people going out of their way to make a horrible situation slightly less horrible for me COMPLETELY went over my head "broom broom autopilot kill crush destroy ourselves!!!" (<- that's what my head looked like.ew there's no whimsy and silly in there, gross!! jk baby me gets the reatroactive love myself treatment bc noone els ecan do that for me!! what was i saying) and yeah i wasn't neurobiologically capable of giving two shits about anything, especially some random nurse going out of her way to crack jokes but idk i appreciated now!!! and she realizes i appreciate it now!!! and it's nothing big or grandiose i guess the world is still turning and nothing in the essential state of things changes bc i did a navelgazey testimony of WOW SOMETIMES THINGS CAN BE OKAY OCASSIONALLY HOLY SHIT?? but also!!! if i don't do it!!!!!!! who will!!???????

aesop would prolly write about foxes and grapes and terracotta pottery and crows and things being okay with time, but ME, a certified "just some guy", is gonna ramble about " it's gonna be okay" semantics because its!! been!! bullshit!! BUT THAT'S OKAY!!!!

shit got SO MUCH worse than what i could've imagined in my catastrophation!!!!!! id wasted my life preparing and planning for all the plans Ds and Gs and Js and Zs because my situation was FUCKED and i didn't have power to fix it, and too bad!!! SHIT HAPPENS AND IT SUCKS!!! time isn't gonna fix SHIT!!!!!! time is just a tracker of when!!! time does no good time does no harm!!!! what time did give my stupid fucking idiot idiot lovely self was time to change!!! not in just "omg change your perspective ✨" (which can be really really really important!! but you shouldn't take anyone's shit just because you see their perspective!!!! no you don't deserve to be treated like shit!!!!!! they don't deserve to get away with treating anyone like shit!!!!! what makes you so special that the world's evil needs to converge upon you?? you're just some guy!! they're just some guy!!! you be nice to you!!)

time is just there!! what does get okay with time is being!!! your enemy is no longer gonna cause you stress once you outlive them!!! you can be better than your yesterday self at any time!!! life goes on if you fuck up everything and you CAN do whatever you want with the peices!!! FAIL!!! FEAR!!! if we're scared we do it scared!!! it's not gonna be okay because its gonna be perfect, it's gonna be okay because it CAN be different!!

im still not """""fixed""""" , im still screwing things up and i still don't really understand what exactly is """""wrong""""" with me and that's okay for now, and hey!! i am capable of having a nice interaction with someone!!!! that's progress.

massive tangent lmao

local tumblr user gets some blood consensually stolen, has a positive interaction with someone, goes home and starts preaching at [unidentified recipient] jesus fucking christ maiora go to sleep this isn't the time for monologues

tl;dr: someone was nice to me just to be nice and im happy because i wouldn't have been able to appreciate it previously and it's nice to see people being nice for the sake of it

im nap now buh bye thanks for reading have a night or day!!!! be nice to you i can't do that for you!!! /lh

<3

[bigmeandragonlady]

tehe, we're back on our oc bullshit, questions off this thing, another one i cant find, and another private one. this time it's my unnamed witch from tvd ([redacted] woods)

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Theft. Murder. Accomplice to murder. She's already done a lot.

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

There's a greenhouse and small garden area at the boarding house she's carved out for herself. If she wants to get out further she fucks off into the woods

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

this one's fun b/c i get to write it happening. she often comes off as timid and faint hearted but is vicious when it comes to protecting herself (and by extention ppl she loves) to the point of violence or murder she has no issue getting her hands dirty and it surprises people. Because of her general demeanor, how much she likes to read, and the time period she grew up in people are also very surprised at how blasé she is about nudity and sex in general.

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

Primarily acts of service. from her it usually comes in the form of food. Physical touch is also important for her. It's a good way to make her feel wanted and/or secure. she runs cold so !cuddling!

📚 : how were they at school? what is their best subject? what is their worst subject? do they have a favourite subject?

Due to the time she grew up and her social status she didn't actually go to a formal school. She got help learning a few 'important' subjects later then she would have been formally taught/later in life. She practically inhaled the books she could get her hands on and has a particular interest in botany and horticulture. She also really likes to study any thing supernatural, regardless of whether or not it's true, and suss out fact or fiction. The gang's in college and she is, as quietly as possible, extremely envious.

✋ Are your OC’s hands smooth, rough, or average? Why? How do they keep their nails? Do they bite them, paint them, neatly trim them, et cetera?

I could 100% see her painting her (short) nails. And then being disappointed with how quickly she ruins them while working. Her hands are rougher then average. She's done hard labor all her life and spends a lot of time rooting around in the dirt so she has some callouses and her hands are just a little tougher and worn.

👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

This is a fun thing I've been trying to figure out. Her setting is an era of fashion I'm not a big fan of and the show has a vibe. I want her to wear things that are a little reminiscent of the time she grew up in, but also stepping into modern, and some nice dresses/skirts. i have a pinterest board here she has a necklace that was a gift back in the 1860s that was returned to her in 2009 which she almost never takes off. She also learned how to imbue objects with magic and wear a couple rings specifically for that purpose.

🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing?

Decent. Not 'I'm a star' level but she likes to sing to her plants while working and her partner asks for her to sing to them when they're sick/hurt

[wemeetby-accident]

Personnel File: Codename Houdini

PERSONNEL FILE

Basics

Name: REDACTED

Codename/Callsign: Houdini

Rank: Officer

Role:Language and Culture Advisor; SpyOps/Intelligence Analyst

Eye Color: Brown-Grey-Hazel

Hair Color: Brown, Currently Purple

Height: 5’3” (is actually 5’2”)

Weight: 148 lbs

Distinguishing Marks: Freckles across bridge of nose (very faint but becomes more apparent during the summer/with sun exposure). Ear piercing (one per ear).

Age: 33

Gender: Non-Binary

Date/Place of Birth: June 13th

Skills and Abilities

Powers:  “Shapeshifting”

Weapon of Choice: Knife. CQC skills.

Languages Known: English, Spanish. Working towards fluency in Japanese, conversational in Irish, Klingon, and Mandarin Chinese. Basic ASL and Arabic.

Other Skills and Abilities: Makeup and disguises. Linguistic analysis. Innate understanding and reading of body language and tone. Dialect differentiation. Ability to hold breath for long periods of time. Sleight of hand. 

Weaknesses to be Concerned About: Interpersonal relationships lacking. Fears connection. Self-loathing varies; requires counseling check-in after undercover ops longer than 1 month.

Personality

General: Hot mess express. Speaks in memes and 2000s era internet culture. Weeb (derogatory). Has an internet history longer than certain dossiers, including a deepweb presence. Ultimately very kind and loving. Unique and slightly eccentric. 

Likes: Pentel .7 Energy Gel Pens. Anime. Cosplaying. Video games. Illusionists/magicians.

Dislikes: Sour cream on her tacos. Room temperature beer. 

Fears: losing the bit of herself that she has found. 

Other: See notes.

Relationships

Parents: 

Father: No Contact since 2007.

Mother: Unstable relationship; little-to-no contact.

Siblings: None.

Extended Family: No Contact.

Ex-Partners: Jack Daniels. 

History

Military Service: Air Force; enlisted at 18 to escape home life. Rose in rank/position after completing undergraduate and graduate programs, plus additional espionage training.

Date of Recruitment: 2007

Education: PhD in Linguistics; Bachelor’s in Cognitive Science and minor in Theatre

Criminal Record: N/A

Medical Incidents: Chicken pox (6); broken tibia (4). Fractured rib (23).

Notes

Fae Houdini’s original name was Fionnabhair; she is a member of the Aos Sí

Actual name: Laura MacGreine

Her dream as a kid was to be a magician - got very good at card tricks and other little “illusions” (spent a lot of time by herself reading a magician’s book and watching magic specials on TV)

Will try to convince her partner to join her in watching anime.

Got her start in translation and language by fansubbing anime in the early 00s. 

If she was not on her current path, Houdini would be a professional cosplayer/Twitch streamer while probably working for YenPress as a translator; her degree path would still result in the PhD but she would focus on theatre and literature instead for her Bachelor’s

Faceclaim: Alison Brie

[tempestmothstorm]

Ough these are all so good may I suggest some more ideas because this post has invaded my thoughts for over a week

Act 1 is gonna be mostly normal, but there’s a few hand written pen notes in the margins making sly remarked about the cheesy writing. I think Monika’s effects can range from directly editing and redacting text to writing with pen when she wants to speak directly with you. For the experience of some rando picking up the book at a library, it might seem like the last owner just vandalized the book to write random editors notes, only for it’s comments to slowly become weirder until it’s revealed that it was write by one of the characters in an attempt to speak directly to you.

This only exists as random quips up until the final part with Sayori where it doesn’t really describe the scene but instead just had mc’s thoughts like a stream of consciousness, up until he starts repeating the word never, where it repeats into the next few pages with a single line made up with that singular word, repeating over and over until is turns into the silhouette of a hanging corpse. Only then does the reader know what happened

Never

Never

Never

Never

Never

Never

And after a few blank pages, the hand writing of the previous owner appears, almost acting as if this was a silly accident.

“Geez, this draft went pretty badly! I don’t even know is where else to take this! Maybe I should just start over?”

After skipping through a ripped page, the story seemingly starts over as if nothing ever happened

This is where act 2 starts, at page 1 again under the ruse of a different draft, making the book seem like an incomplete project you weren’t meant to see. It’s starts the same as the first page, but now it’s got all that house of leaves spooks in there. Some examples or ideas include

When introducing the club, it reads something like this. Similar to house being written slightly different in house of leaves, so will Monika every time her name shows up

And ████, Yuri, Natsuki, and Monika all seem nice enough anyways.

Altered text can be in different fonts similar to the one with Monika’s name

or it could be overlayed onto of the original text, effectively making it unreadable as if Monika tried and failed to replace it

It could also look to be manually scribbled out with pen

Or it could have a whole text box covering a paragraph halfway through it, making pretty clear that the following words aren’t supposed to be there

Also more ripped pages. I think if this existed in real life the book would instantly become way more expensive lol

Maybe some of the secret poems can be in the text boxes, randomly being inserted midway through a page and interrupting whatever else was going on

I think when Yuri starts talking about the portrait of markov it’ll show an excerpt in the first act, but by the second act it becomes the blackout ‘nothing is real’ secret poem

Actually more blackout poems in general as Monika tries to censor more words. Blackout poems are cool

In more of the moments where Monika talks directly to the player like in the big argument scene or one of Yuri’s monologues where she slowly fades in, her dialogue will be written in pen instead of any typeface

Those text files like iiiiiii.txt and stuff also show up as tiny pen notes overlapping the actual text, writing over the scene but faint enough that you could probably ignore it

Those scenes where the game forgets it ever happens (like the play with me and water fountain scene) could have a paragraph get cut off by the page limit with the next page being ripped out and the next not following where the paragraph left off at all

Yuri’s death scene plays out like a normal scene where the narrator doesn’t acknowledge how insane everything Yuri says even is, until it gets to the part where she stabs herself where the text is suddenly cut off by a garbled mess of meaningless words, messed up fonts, redacted text, and several ink splatters. This goes on for several pages until Natsuki shows up for a quick paragraph before leaving, allowing Monika to enter

Yuri pulls out a knife and sta████████

I honestly don’t know how the whole deleting thing works in a book. Logictics wise the story requires a few stretches to make a book, but it could work out. I think in the story, text is the only way the characters can interact with the real world, with Monika being able to edit it herself (this implies she can’t operate a writing program the same way she can’t code. L) I guess instead of the the command panel announcing everyone’s character files being deleted, she’ll just type out that everyone died, with her writing taking over the narrator making the edits a reality.

After a few ripped pages the next empty page has nothing but Monika’s handwritten pen, stating that she’s been the one to write all those notes and that now that she can talk to you directly she’s finally not alone. What follows is a bunch of her act 3 talks, writes mostly in pen with a few things like her poem and hidden text files write in the regular typeface when making edits to the book.

I have no idea how to end this, especially since deleting character files doesn’t translate as well into a book. But yeah act 4 plays out as it does in game before, with Sayori suddenly being able to edit the book and also write with the pen too, just with different handwriting to Monika.

Monika ends up scribbling over the rest of the pages before leaving a few ripped out. The final paragraphs are on the inside of the book cover way after the copyright page where she says her final goodbyes and writes the lyrics to your reality

Ok that’s it this idea is cool

I wonder what DDLC would be like novelised. How they would transition from the cutesty façade into the horror. I could imagine the formatting of the book glitching like the game does, maybe some pages have the wrong page number, the font, color and size of the text changing, seemingly blank pages that have very faint text on them that you can only see if you look super closely, codes hidden in paragraphs, how Monika trying to break out of the story into reality would be portrayed, etc

[romirola]

A David/Angel Sickfic Requested by Itsdaifuku

@itsdaifuku requested a short sickfic as comfort for her own illness, so I come with a fluffy oneshot featuring David taking care of sick!Angel that I would view as a prequel to the recently released David audio. This oneshot will also be posted in my collection on AO3. Hope you enjoy and feel better soon, itsdaifuku! (If this oneshot doesn’t do it for you, I wanted to let you know I’ve got a few other Redacted ASMR sickfics floating around, so I linked them to this post in case you were interested in them. Here’s an Asher/Babe oneshot where Asher takes care of sick!Babe after they fainted, an Asher/Babe oneshot where Asher comforts Babe from a migraine, a multi-chapter fic featuring Milo/Sweetheart as they deal with the sunbound solstice, a fic where Angel takes care of sick!David, and a David/Angel oneshot where Angel comforts shifted!David when he has a migraine.) Thanks for reading! As always, any and all feedback is welcome and cherished!

Rating: G, WC: ~1K, Prompt: short sickfic comfort

When Angel’s eyes finally opened, inescapable heat filled their every sense. They tried to blink themselves awake, figuring the discomfort might’ve lingered from an already-forgotten dream. The more cognizant of their surroundings they became, the more miserable Angel grew. Aches had taken up residence in every muscle of their body. A pounding sensation clunked against their skull with every breath. The sweat they felt break out upon their skin did nothing to cool the rising temperature they felt radiate from their core. Sandpaper lined their throat. Without thinking twice, Angel threw off their covers to regulate their temperature. They flipped over onto their stomach and pushed their forehead into their pillow, as if the pressure from that movement could somehow offset the pressure erupting across their head. 

“‘ngel?” David Shaw mumbled, still half-asleep. His mate’s jerky movements had roused him out of slumber somewhat, but it was the sudden weight of the duvet strewn across his back that prompted him to check in with them. “Y’okay?”

Angel swallowed, cringing at the trail of fire that involuntarily set off down their throat. It was like no matter what they did, they couldn’t find even the smallest reprieve from the pain that was lighting up their body in a million different ways. “Mmm,” they moaned, trying to coax their thick tongue into moving in a way that would make sensible words. 

“Angel?” David asked again, clumsily reaching over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses.  “Angel, what’s wrong?” 

Angel distantly wondered how long it had been since David asked that question. Finally, they found a way to make their mouth obey them and answer their worried mate. “Hot,” they said simply, barely able to track the different sensations coursing through them. “I‘m really hot.”

They let their head fall closer to David as they felt his large palm come to their forehead. “No kidding,” he remarked wryly, keeping his hand in place. “I’ll get the thermometer to make sure, but you’ve almost certainly got a fever.” A frown crossed his face and pulled his eyebrows together. 

“I think… I’m sick,” Angel sighed. “Ugh.”

“I’d say so,” David agreed wryly. “Anything hurt you?”

Angel felt like David’s calm and gentle voice was an anchor that kept them from drowning in the myriad of unpleasant sensations and thick fog that clouded their thoughts. “Throat,” they added. “Head. And just… all over, I guess. I don’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I understand perfectly,” David hastily assured them, figuring correctly that Angel’s fever and fatigue interfered with their rationale. It pained him to see his normally quick-witted mate struggle with expressing their thoughts. He slid his hand from their forehead to their cheek. “My poor Angel.”

Angel hummed a bit, tipping their cheek into David’s sturdy hand. “You feel good.”

Their drowsy gesture momentarily confused him, to be honest. Typically, David had found his value through his actions. He served as his pack’s alpha. He provided security and peace of mind to his clients. He prepared meals for his friends. But for Angel to feel comforted just from his presence alone? For him to be enough to make their feverish aches and pain momentarily recede? Even after years of being together, it was an unfamiliar, though not unwelcome, feeling for David. 

He loved his Angel more than he could ever hope to say. 

He was honored and humbled to see that he could bring Angel a little ease during their illness, but he had no intention of stopping at a mere touch. “I’ll let you lay on me all you want in just a minute,” David warmly chuckled as he watched Angel’s eyes droop just from his simple touch. “But first, I want to get some things to help you feel better tonight.” After giving them a quick kiss, David carefully pushed his pillow into Angel’s arms to make sure that they didn’t want for anything, even for a minute. “I’ll be back in just a minute, Angel. Take it easy.” 

Angel nodded sleepily, torn by sprawling out to give their body the chance to feel cool air against their inner, raging heat and dreading the idea of even moving an inch. 

The bed squeaked as David pushed himself to his feet. He dashed out of the bedroom and Angel closed their eyes and fought to distract themselves from how disappointed they were at the loss. Fortunately, even their high fever couldn’t make them wallow for long because in a flash, David was back beside them. 

“Alright now. Easy,” he softly cooed. As soon as he sat down on the bed, Angel scrambled to push themselves close to David. “Let’s see where you stand with this thing so we can track how it progresses. I’m sure you’re tired, but it’d be best to start medication if you need it as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, Doc.” Angel smiled through their pained wince. “But only if I get a lollipop afterwards.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” David noted, fiddling with turning on the oral thermometer in his hand. “Here, Angel.”

At his request, Angel opened their mouth and grabbed ahold of the thermometer he handed them, dutifully placing it under their tongue and waiting until the triple beeps confirmed David’s suspicions that they were running a fever. David diligently wrote down their temperature on a notepad he retrieved from his pocket and handed them two pills and a glass of water. “So, cherry, grape, or orange?” he offered, helping them to settle backwards so that their head came to rest on his chest.

“Hmmm,” Angel pondered, utterly exhausted at just the small effort to swallow the pills. “Maybe I’ll postpone all lollipop compensation until the morning.” They cuddled closer into David, turning onto their side. “I’m really tired. And still so hot.”

“Shh,” David encouraged as he lightly combed his fingers through their sweaty hair. “Rest, Angel. Don’t worry. I’ll be here to take care of you.” He wrapped his free arm around their back and kissed their forehead. “Feel better soon, Angel.”  

The next morning, Angel opted for a cherry lollipop. David was only too happy to oblige.

[louwhose]

Blind Spots | Scars

AO3 | First | Previous | Next So, on AO3, I changed the rating from G -> T and added the warning "Graphic Depictions of Violence." Because, as I was writing a scene in a later chapter yesterday, I realized that it seemed a little... intense. More will be said about this on the relevant chapter. Also, there are some spoilers in here for anyone who only watches the anime. I don't think there's anything huge, but I'm not sure how good of a judge I am. If you're concerned about that at all, this is your warning.

scar | noun

\ ˈskär \

4 : a lasting moral or emotional injury

-

Twilight had many scars.

There were just as many missions where the stakes were those of physical danger rather than detection, and sometimes, he wondered at how he managed to survive. He was thankful to have those scars, if they only meant another day of life, to keep fighting the silent war he fought to protect others from having as harsh a life as he did.

Though, there was one scar that belonged not to Loid, not to Twilight, not even to Roland Spoofy, but to [REDACTED]. A simple child that lived before war reached him, that tried to pick a rose to give to his mother, and a thorn stabbed him as he tried to pick it up, leaving a faint scar to this day.

Twilight looked down at the scar, then back at the roses in the flower stand, remembering this story. Of course his mother had tended to it and made it better, and of course he went and got the roses later, more careful this time.

He missed her. Someone to give flowers to, for no other reason in the world than to see a smile on her face. Now, there was someone else he wanted to give flowers to, someone he wanted to see smile, but gone was the time when it wasn’t mixed up with conflicting interests.

Flowers. Roses. Thorns.

The Thorn Princess.

Once he suspected something was not quite as it appeared with Yor, it hadn’t been difficult to confirm that she was, in fact, an assassin. A member of Garden, to be precise. The Thorn Princess.

But he had yet to determine what he should do, if anything, moving forward. For the time being, he chose to err on the side of maintaining the status quo, reasoning that everything had gone well enough so far. At the very least, he could keep an eye on her assignments to see if she were supposed to deal with anyone from WISE. Not to mention, at this point in Operation Strix, he could hardly go and find another mother for Anya, and both of them would likely be traumatized in the process.

But he needed to certainly try to take extra precautions, now more than ever. Because if Yor ever discovered that Loid was Twilight, who knew what might happen? Yes, Garden didn’t typically seem to target WISE, but still, it was an Ostanian organization looking out for Ostanian interests.

But even then, was there anything he could do to prevent a potential fallout if his identity was somehow broken? Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned about this at all, but he was living with Yor. And she was often willing to be blinded, but he could hardly count on that working everytime, so it didn’t hurt to come up with something as a… just in case.

Perhaps his best insurance was her emotions. Making sure that she does begin to care for him more and more, but… he also cared for her, so it was likely to make it so that they both just got hurt worse if things do go badly. Then maybe it would be better to put distance between themselves. Hint at her identity, maybe?

Loid glanced at the roses, walked up, and bought them, despite the 20 dalc price tag on the bouquet. He couldn’t quite tell which plan he was going with.

-

“What are the roses for?”

Loid reluctantly dropped his gaze from Yor to stare at the roses. He wasn’t quite sure. Was it to see her smile? To make her smile for his own protection? Or to tell her he knew who she was, subtle though it may be?

“Ah, I saw them on my way home from work.” True enough. He looked back up to meet her eyes again. “And thought of you.”

And Yor did smile.

It was a small smile of gratitude, mouth barely rounding upwards, cheeks flushed. But still, a smile, unmistakeable, breathtaking. Lovely.

And that was the moment [REDACTED] realized that he had fallen in love with Yor.

But that was foolish, Twilight knew. Any unnecessary emotions had to be pushed away. Loid could have them, but Twilight wasn’t quite Loid, now was he?

“Papa and Mama are going to kiss!” Anya said loudly, interrupting the moment.

Loid sighed, looking down at his daughter. Why was she like this? It wouldn’t be surprising if she wanted to have an actual family, but… well, no matter how much even he might like that idea, it couldn’t be.

He shifted the bouquet to one arm to pull Anya away from his leg. “Why don’t you go put your stuff down in your room, and we’ll get a snack for you once you’re out?”

He watched her walk reluctantly down the hall towards her room to do as he asked, grumbling the whole time. Loid turned around once he saw her go through her door, and was met with Yor right next to him once he looked back. It still took him by surprise, how she was able to move without his notice. I suppose it must be useful in her profession, he thought. But still.

Yor tugged lightly at his coat, encouraging him to remove first his free hand before switching the roses to that arm in order to extract the other. As she turned to hang it up, Loid contemplated how… natural it felt. How decidedly normal.

And again, Loid wished that the truth of that, or at least as close to the truth of that as the two of them could get, wasn’t impossible.

Yor placed her hands around the bouquet and Loid loosened his hold so she could take it out of his hands. She smiled at him. “I’ll put these in a vase. Thank you so much for these, Loid.”

Then, softly, sweetly, quickly, she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself before she went onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, lingering just too long to be considered brief. Before Loid had a chance to react, she lowered, turned around, and sauntered off to the kitchen.

He stared after Yor in a daze, hand coming up to linger on the spot she had kissed him, feeling a blush coming on.

There was a movement to his side and he glanced over, met with the sight of Anya staring at him. Since when had she been there? He let his hand drop to his side, the flush starting to creep onto his face.

“Mama kissed Papa,” she remarked, huge grin and lit-up eyes on her face.

That stopped the floodgates preventing his blush. “So? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Anya squealed. “I love it!”

Loid sighed, contentedly. Of course she would want her parents to get along. That’s what any child would want. Something very… reasonable, even. That’s why it would hurt more than he cared to admit when this mission came to an end.

He tucked those thoughts away even as they flitted through his mind, barely even registering them himself, before fully immersing himself back into his role as Loid Forger, the father. “So, what do you want for a snack?”

“Hmm…” Anya leaned her head back as she considered the question on their way to the kitchen. “How about a cucumber!?”

Loid raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “You mean you want something more than peanuts?”

She nodded solemnly, climbing up into her seat at the table. “They’re cool!”

That was undeniably correct, but still, to think she wanted it that much. Loid frowned. “Is it really that hot outside tod—?”

“CUCUMBER!” Anya insisted, slamming her hands down on the table, making the few things that were on it shake as she did so.

“Alright!” he conceded. Loid glanced at Yor coming in with the flowers as he started rolling up his sleeves, glad that she hadn’t placed the vase on the table before Anya caused it to shake. He noticed her start to fuss with it a bit before he headed into the kitchen to get the cucumber, knife, and cutting board. “I’ll get it ready for you now.”

He was just wrapping his hands around it when Anya called, “Come back here!”

Loid huffed in annoyance, wondering what it could be now, but peeked his head back into the dining room. “I’m just in the kitchen to work on your snack. What is it?”

She shook her head. “Not now. I want to see you chop it up.”

“Just let me grab the cutting board and a knife, then.”

When he came back into the room, Loid was met with the sight of Yor gingerly touching one of the flowers on the edge, staring intensely at the bouquet, with a gaze nearly deserving of being described murderous. And Anya was staring at her, in some mix between fascination and horror.

Loid may love his family, but there were certainly instances that he didn’t understand them.

He set the cutting board down before getting to work chopping up the cucumber. The clacking of the motion drew both of their attention to him.

“Oh?” Yor asked. “So you’re having a cucumber?”

“Mmhmm!” Anya nodded.

Yor reached out and took one of the slices before eating it.

“Mama! That’s my snack!”

Loid briefly paused his chopping to do the same. Anya’s jaw just dropped.

Feeling a little guilty, he drew another piece out to slide across the table to her. She reached out and took it, and then paused.

“What’s that?”

Loid froze. “What?”

“On your arm,” Anya said, pointing. She gestured to a spot on her own forearm. “Here.”

He looked down at his arm. Yes, Twilight had a lot of scars, but… they were usually covered, and he didn’t have to think about them much. “A scar.”

“What happened?”

Shrapnel. From my time in the army. Like he could tell the truth.

“I scraped it against the jagged corner of a building when I was a teenager,” he answered as close to the truth as he could, before starting to chop again.

Anya’s eyes sparkled at that for some reason. Certainly, it had been a long time since he was six, but what exactly was so interesting about that?

“What about that one?” she asked, pointing to one on his other wrist, somewhat circular.

That was a more recent one, on one of his other missions. It had been a bit of a close call, getting handcuffed, and for long enough that one of his wrists got bloody. This one was a bit more challenging to explain away.

“My… watch chafed too much.”

Apparently Yor had been interested in this topic, too, because she leaned in and asked, “How did that happen?”

“I… was wearing it a notch too tight,” Loid lamely explained. Not his best work, but hopefully it would surpass their scrutiny.

“That! What about that?” Anya asked, somehow even more enthusiastic than before.

“Accident with a fishing hook,” he answered truthfully, looking down at the small crescent moon shape on the back of his hand. Seriously, that had been years ago. How was it still visible?

He was done chopping the cucumber, and passed it over to Anya to eat. “Is that all? Or do you want to interrogate me more about my scars?”

Anya looked decidedly less interested in it than before. Why? She seemed to like interesting things, and a fishing hook story seemed far more interesting than a watch, to him at least.

“Oh, I’d like to hear about just one more,” Yor said.

Loid spread his hands out palm up offering them to her. “Which one?”

She leaned in, hovering over them to examine. She gently took them into her own hands, tracing her fingers along a few scars, turning his hands over, before settling on the faint one on the pad of his thumb, tapping it. “What is the story behind this one?”

Those red eyes staring intently at him suddenly made it seem difficult to speak. “I was a child. I saw a rose, and wanted to pick it for my mother, but the thorn got me instead.”

Yor seemed content with that, and withdrew to steal cucumbers from and tease Anya some more.

Loid stared back down at it, gaze flitting from in between the scar to Yor. Yes, a rose may be beautiful and lovely, but its thorns made it dangerous to pick up. Yes, Yor may be beautiful and lovely and phenomenal in every way, deserving the world and love, but the Thorn Princess was more dangerous than it was worth.

Twilight closed his fist. As much as he might want to play house here with Yor and Anya, it was too dangerous. This was a mission, it would end. Maybe, if things went well enough, those two could somehow have a nice, happy normal life when this was all over, but he would have no place in it, he was now realizing after he had gotten attached to them already.

The cucumbers were a plot device to make Loid roll up his sleeves so that they could have that conversation about scars. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment! I love hearing what people think about my work (even if I'm not the best about replying)! First | Previous | Next

[aifastic]

Interview With The Spy

Hello everyone! I gladly present you with my piece for INTRUDER ALERT!: A TF2 Spy Zine. We’re having leftover sales until DECEMBER 19th (12/19/22) at 12:00 PM PST, in case you’re interested in acquiring some items!

Link to the store here: https://tf2spyzine.bigcartel.com/

I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed witing it! Thank you @tf2spyzine for the opportunity ♥

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: T Characters: RED Spy, OC’s, RED Team Summary: Lana Hopkins has been looking forward to this interview for ages. Devlin is just scared. The team is nowhere to be seen. And Spy is... Spy.

Interview With The Spy

"Aren't you nervous?" the photographer asked, anxiously looking to the sides and fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. "I mean, he's a murderer. They all are. Oh, dear." He looked like he might faint.

"That's the fun of it!" Lana Hopkins said, barely containing her excitement.

She'd been looking forward to this for ages–after years of wasting all her redaction skills on the horoscope, Hat Wearing Mann had finally given her the opportunity to shine with the interview of her life. At last, she'd be able to delve into the mind of one of the most elusive men in the country, maybe even the world!

Many had tried to learn more from the Teufort Nine, only to disappear after the attempt. But she'd make sure to prevail this time, and get the note that would make her career skyrocket. She would.

The Spy had been previously described as "a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in riddles, lovingly sprinkled with intrigue, express mailed to Mystery, Alaska," and she couldn't help but agree–there were no legal documents to prove the existence of that man. He was a rumor, a deadly one at that, and he made sure not to leave any traces behind, be it of his professional conquests or his romantic ones. His lovers had him in high esteem; his enemies feared him. And that was the extent of the knowledge she had earned from her research.

"Hey!" The photographer waved a hand in front of her eyes, awakening her from her thoughts. "Are you… okay?" He sounded worried, but more so for her mental stability than anything else.

"I'm fine, uh… Dolan." She waved him off.

"I'm Dylan," he said, exhausted. She mentally brushed it off. She didn't have time nor space in her mind to devote it to remembering useless information like the photographer's name.

"Anyways," she said, and promptly started to walk away from the rental car they'd used to get there, heading to the RED base. "Let's get moving!"

-----

The base, anticlimactically enough, seemed empty that day.

"Where are all the mercenaries? I thought we'd get to see them in action!"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my dear," said a voice behind her. She gasped and turned back. The Spy was standing behind them, a cigarette in hand and a smug smirk on his face. When did he–?

"Holy fuck!" Donald yelled, almost dropping the camera.

"Careful!" Lana hissed, and turned to look at their host with what she hoped was her most selling smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir!"

"The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle." Spy grasped her hand delicately and brought it to his lips.

"Where's…everyone?" asked Devin, a twinge of awkwardness in his voice.

Spy looked visibly annoyed for a moment, but he quickly put on a polite smile. "They are currently busy, running some errands." He waved their concern away with a gesture of his hand. "Now, may we head off to my smoking room?"

He led them through a couple rooms–Lana took the opportunity to read every label, examine every piece of furniture for hints of how these men lived.

"Excuse me," she asked, pointing to a closed door that read: 'TRAINING ROOM.' "What's that?"

"It's where we carry out our physical training for battle." A crash was heard inside.

"Wh–who's in there?"

"No one, monsieur, it's just…Some boxes might have fallen off. It happens often enough." Lana thought she heard him mutter: "...Supposed to be soundproof…" But before she could comment on that, he pointed at a door with a flourish. "We are here."

Lana entered the room, taking the room in. It was…Surprisingly bare. There was little furniture besides a fireplace, several framed paintings and double lamps hanging from the walls that gave a soft lighting to the place. There was a bookshelf filled to the top with books whose titles were in a language she assumed to be French; a coffee table with a wooden globe and a half-finished whisky glass on it; and next to it, a red armchair. The only two things that looked out of place, however, were the twin wooden chairs placed in front of the armchair.

"My apologies," said Spy, courteous as ever. "I do not own more armchairs than this one, so the kitchen chairs should suffice."

"It's totally fine, don't worry!" said Lana absently while she stared at a painting of a group of dogs arm-wrestling over a poker table.

"Oh, yes, that one is an authentic Kickasso," Spy said proudly. "No photographs, please, they might ruin the canvas."

The painting wasn't what caught her attention, however: there was a piece of paper attached to the frame with a metal pin with what looked like…a pink unicorn…drawn on it. Did Spy have kids? That could catch the attention of a particular demographic–which she might or not belong to.

"Ahem," Damian cleared his throat with purpose.

"Oh, yes! Let us start. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

-----

"So, first of all I can't believe I've got the pleasure to do this interview. Are you aware of how hard you are to find?"

Spy let out a chuckle. "Yes, and I hope it stays that way. My job requires me to be unreachable, in a way. Though by what means this is achieved, well…That, I can't reveal." He winked.

"Right, professional secret. Alright, um, what can you tell us about yourself that won't get you in trouble?"

"There's not much, really, but there are a few things–otherwise, this interview would be pointless." Lana's grip on her pen tightened. "I was born in France, and espionage has always been a part of my life, in a way. I pride myself in having mastered the art of disguise and the lethal ways of the knife–although other weapons have aided my job, too."

Lana felt frustrated, but decided to press more later on. "About that…What can you tell us about your job? Your current one, I mean. Reliable Excavation Demolition is shrouded in mystery, and there's much speculation about what the Gravel Wars entail."

"Well, it is a complicated matter. Let us say we stare death in the face every day, and the reward for it will never be enough. But there is a good opportunity to grow as a professional here. I believe in that, and that's what keeps me on my feet every day."

"I see."

She stopped jotting down just to think of her next question while Duncan took some photos of Spy. She needed to ask more about his fashion opinions, according to her job, but her curiosity was winning–it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Should she press on more personal details or–?

There was a loud crash outside, and a cluster of footsteps could be heard approaching the room. Spy suddenly stood up, dropping the whisky glass he was posing with on the coffee table. "Oh, no."

"What's happening?" Lana asked, standing up.

"I don't–"

The door slammed open against the wall, and a guy wearing a helmet led a group of seven very angry, red-clad men.

"TRAITOR!"

"Who–" Lana turned to look quizzically at Spy, only to find his chair empty. She looked around–Spy had disappeared in thin air!

"Typical," said a tall man wearing a crooked hat–is that the Sniper? "He puffed away."

"No way! Spy, if you're still there, you can't lock us up for no reason–Wait." The young guy stopped, blinking at Lana and Devon in surprise. "Who the hell are you?"

"We are reporters!" Lana said, ignoring her workmate's desperate hand signals. "We are here to interview Spy–"

"The Ma'am has a No Reporters policy, I'm afraid," a short guy with a heavy Texan accent replied. "I dunno how Spy managed to let you in."

'Ma'am'?

"Great. Our interviewee disappeared and now we're gonna get killed," Devon whined, and Lana elbowed him.

"Not necessarily. Hey, we aren't going to get y'all in trouble. We just need a couple tips about Spy…Maybe a little gossip?"

"Oh, boy, do we have gossip!" Everyone exchanged glances and grinned.

-----

"Come on, Spy, it's a little bit funny. You thought it was Dapper Cadaver."

"You told them I snore?!"

"It's true, though," Sniper said, hitting him on the head with his own rolled copy of the magazine–which Lana had sent them all in thanks.

"That's what you get for locking us up in the goddamn training room. Do you know how long Soldier made us train there?"

"We couldn't afford to waste time!"

"I will kill you all. But especially the one who thought giving them the spycrab photo was a good idea."

"That was me," Heavy said, casually cracking his neck.

"Never mind." Spy deflated against the couch like a fragile Victorian child.

-----

"The boss loved the interview, Dustin!"

"It's Dylan," he replied almost reflexively. "And I'm just glad to have come out alive, to be honest."

"Don't be such a party pooper!" Lana reproached him. "I'm happy that we could unveil a more human side of him."

"I guess me too," he said with a smile.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

[a-lil-perspective]

So uh… would you like to hear about Vigilante!Crosshair?

Well I’m gonna talk about it anyway. XD

So the concept has been spinning in my head for a long time now. I’m only just started to piece it all together and reinforce my points.

The timeframe is set after the war, Crosshair’s got a Cyare and things have settled but he’s more restless, more driven, than he’s ever been. I’ve touched on this in my “Domestic!Crosshair Headcanons” and I did so with this context in mind, because it leads up to his vigilante undertakings.

He does so without his Cyare’s knowledge.

And it causes a lot of strife, in their marriage—he’s gallivanting around the Galaxy and she’s not a clue where he is, when he’s coming home, if he’s coming home. He comes back at all hours of the night, disheveled looking and furtively cradling his weapons. She can only assume the worst.

And this becomes a regular occurrence. He’s stressed beyond belief but won’t utter a peep as to why. He keeps his belongings—weapons and armor and devices—hidden from her. After several months of this, of him shutting her down anytime she asks, of tiptoeing through the house after ensuring she’s asleep, she’s had it. She wants to know what he’s up to.

I’m sure you do, too.

Crosshair has gotten himself involved with the syndicates. He’s entered their world of trafficking—as an enemy. He’s commissioned by families/clans/organizations to intercept and rescue personnel—mainly children—from the clutches of these traffickers.

And so you can see why he keeps this information from his Cyare. To protect her. Because he’s shown his face in that world. They know of the ever elusive sniper with the highest body count, who continuously robs them of men, of credits, of assets. Crosshair can’t let them discover the people he’s associated with. Certainly not his precious wife.

It looks bad, his secrecy, and he ends up hurting her in the process of keeping her safe. I’m writing a whole fic about this; both Crosshair’s vigilante jobs and his marital strife. It’s really heavy and I try to tread carefully with angst nowadays but I’m excited. Not sure when it’ll be finished but. Have a little snippet maybe???

(Also this is Reader insert here and that’s tbd but for now let’s just roll with it XD)

———

He returns at an unholy hour, and this time you’re ready, you’ve anticipated it, your mind has been conjuring up one odious context after the next concerning the nature of his whereabouts. It’s whisked your insides and when he finally traipses through the front door, you nearly keel at his feet.

“Didn’t stay up just for me, did you sweetheart?”

He’s barely set down his pack—his rifle—before you’re throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close, struggling to keep the lump in your throat at bay.

“You smell like gunfire,” you breathe in his ear, accusatory and aghast all at once. It lingers on him, ozone and metal and skirmish. It’s the mediator between you two and your own personal informant, pointing you to his unspoken deeds. You pull him closer, an unconscious act to keep him in the sanctity of your arms lest he slip away again.

Not slip away. Leave.

You suddenly question the difference.

He kisses you in lieu of an explanation, with his whole chest and it’s gallant like you remember, his lips hot and lingering and Crosshair is the only syllable you mewl in the tender space between.

His lips are a tack as they travel painstakingly up your jaw to the lobe of your ear where his low hum is a delicacy reverberating down your spine, making your knees shake. It takes everything in you to cant your neck away, but there are questions in need of answers that are, unfortunately, impervious to his deft love-making.

“Where have you been?”

It comes out with a needy lilt that you loathe.

His arms are loving at your back, a juxtaposition to the blood they shed elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

It’s scripted and frivolous—and downright stupid. He knows this and yet has the audacity to foist it upon you anyway.

“That’s not fair.”

Crosshair separates you from his chest then, and his actions speaks for themself. His hands shift to your waist to establish a modicum of connection, just a faint one. He apprises you of his incentive without ever uttering a word, and it’s your job to assimilate the nuances; it’s just who you were as a couple.

It didn’t make it any less heart wrenching, any less frustrating.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You’re unerring in his sharp gaze, his warm hands that now cup either side of your face. “Don’t keep secrets from me.”

His lips press into a grim line, because it’s a protest familiar in the air, but one he quickly grows tired of. “It’s for your own good.”

You gawk, for only a second, as a stubbornness that only ever flourishes in his presence comes effervescing to the surface all at once before you can redact.

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Crosshair. I am your wife.”

But dammit if you haven’t had it up to here with him, his crypt.

His face pinches in anger at your outburst. He releases you, and takes two measured steps back that feels like he’s created a chasm between.

“Exactly.”

He leaves you in the devastation of your fury, the wet kind that constricts your throat and streams hot and plentiful down your face; the erasure of any affection you might’ve needed from him that night. You suddenly want nothing to do with his secrecy, the makeshift heroism he craves. You go your separate ways then, him to the bedroom, and you to the living room where you remain the rest of the night with only your soft sobs to keep you company, and him his.