#“ok you just reminded me of this one guy i traumatized”

[riptidesblog]

Since s5 Lloyd:

-Changed his hair

-His eyes became green

-Became an adult

-His voice changed

And Morro is a guy that mistook Nya in a green gi for Lloyd so it's fair to say that if Lloyd is in disguise(or just different clothes) when(if) the two meet again,Morro might not recognize him

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[almostgotforgotten]

Something weird about the petscop analysis videos ive seen is they dont really bring up how downright sinister rainer was to tiara. They tend to praise rainer for being the upstanding guy who put the evil child predator in his place. Except, he attempted rebirthing too, fucked it up, blamed it on ‘belle’ and then just abandoned her. for 17 years. 

I dont think people understand how badly tiara was abused by rainer because its rainer who made the game. he's the one who’s telling the story. he gets to downplay what he did to tiara. could you imagine getting the whole story about care from the perspective of marvin? People understand what happened to care because rainer literally spelled it out with the a, b, nlm, states that also affect how she looks. compare that to rainer giving tiara an unfinished, reused sprite, with a big happy smile that never leaves her face. a failure who’s so content with existing in a literal cage.

Between rainer drawing her smiling and insisting that she's belle, its like hes trying to pretend nothing happened. There’s no belle a, b, or nlm because he ‘didn't do anything’ to her. because hes nothing like evil marvin, it was her choice to be uncooperative! She’s a quitter! (He just victim blames her. theres no justifiable reason for anyone to design the literal quitters room and still be in the right.) 

Him saying “If you hadn’t given up halfway, you would be Tiara,” is so fucking crazy to me because he literally fucking says she wasnt the one playing the needles before that. (“I put you inside the machine, and played[...] the Needles.”). So then there wasn't anything for her to ‘give up’ on??? AND THEN he admits he fucked it up?? (“I played it wrong, but that would have been okay.”) Like, it just reads as rainer saying it was okay for him to fuck up an incredibly important part of the process. and somehow SHE’S the reason it didn’t work??? Its just, combined with the adoption metaphor (through its reference to the Newmaker case), where the parents dont like the way the child is. and they try this experimental ‘therapy,’ to change her. And it does change her, she gets so traumatized it breaks her off from who she was before, forever. They still get to call her belle, even when they were the ones who destroyed belle. How could she ever be ok with being someone so unwanted? She’s smart. She knows what they want. They wanted to hear her say she's tiara. Except, to them, shes exactly the way she was before. A disobedient, broken girl who cant just act the way they tell her to. So she spends the rest of her life copying someone else. Calling herself tiara. If she says what they want to hear (“I love you newmaker”) then she’ll stop hurting. If she acts just right, they'll accept tiara and she wont be a quitter anymore.

The way those video essayists (mr goon, et al.) will just fixate on marvin saying she's played the needles. and then jump to the conclusion that tiara was the one who gave up on playing the needles. Even when rainer himself literally said she wasnt the one playing!!! Also, they’ll see her call herself tiara and be like “hmm… what if the rebirthing actually worked 🧐” which is NOT the conclusion i would draw from the game about child abuse. I dont think the intent of petscop was to give the concept of rebirthing any functional credibility, failed or not! Like, it just reminds me of how in cases of abuse, people almost always take the word of the abusers over what the child has to say (which is also filtered through the abuse). its just devastating to see.

If you had to ask me, I think rebirthing in petscop's narrative isn't there for people to sincerely discuss if metaphysically reviving someone works. It's not a representation dedicated to the horrific, real life concept of rebirthing. Instead, 'rebirthing' is a shorthand designation for all of the moving parts in the type of abuse that happens in the story, along with how it affects everything afterwards. The ‘reality manipulation’ also works as a metaphor for how people take advantage of having control over the story.

I dont know if you can tell, but rainer’s whole explanation in petscop 12 just makes me feel violent. He literally says, 17 years? “That seems dubious to me. What do you think?”. I dont fucking know, she probably has no concept of time and is probably completely disassociated from reality by that point. Also, something i noticed from p12 is that tiara takes longer than paul to read the messages. The amount of time is roughly about how long it takes to read them aloud. Idk. something about that is heartbreaking to me. im 100% reading too much into it, but when was the last time she read something that wasn’t “quitter’s room?”

I could’ve written this better but UGHHHHH. I hope this makes sense. theres so many other details about this that i didnt write about (irl belle, tiara helping paul, tiara becoming tiara leskowitz, etc). This is definitely only a subsection of the story petscop was telling, but its still so detailed. Unless i got something wrong, then it presented a case of a child being abused, and the abusers getting to tell the story. Which resulted in the audience believing the abusers. Idk if that means petscop is so good it literally replicated that, but in the end, i do think people need to reevaluate how biased the story is and how it affects the events. TIARAAAA you deserved so much better.

disclaimer, im not trying to discredit the general reality warping theories in favor for hard realism and a “it’s all just a big metaphor” reading. Petscop is intentionally ambiguous, and it doesnt really care about straightforward reality. its premise is about a digital and real life world so connected that its hard to tell where the line is. Ignoring that completely neglects the structural mysteries of petscop. i just wanna say this essay comes from the way i interpret petscop. I tend to focus on the parallels between the fantastical elements and the mechanics of irl manipulation/grooming/abuse.

[quitealotofsodapop]

(the monkey and the infant post)

I guess now Li Jing has another reason to wear white.

Also is it wrong that I can see Jing making Nezha’s cut hair into a little poppet he keeps with him?

Ref.

omg

and I just realised! As a former mortal; Li Jing would have no context for what Nezha's sentence entails! He probably thought; "Banished to the mortal realm" = "new incarnation". He legitimately goes through the grief of losing his youngest son twice!

It's only when a game of Jianzi gone-awry sends a familiarly-smoking shuttlecock into the celestial realm that Li Jing learns that his third son is alive!

"Mr Qi Wu" has a rather surprising visitor at the restaurant just as he's helping prepare for the dinner rush. Pigsy at first thinks the man is an in-land tourist and asks politely if

Li Jing: "Sun Wukong, do you know where my son is?" Wukong, still trying to lay low: "Hahaha! You mean Muzha or Jinzha? Cus they're usually where they-" Li Jing, pulls out jianzi shuttlecock: "Do not misdirect me, ape! There is only one person I know in this entire earth who plays jianzi so enthusiastically!" Wukong, embarrassed: "Ah. Chang'e called you too, huh?" Li Jing, regains composure: "She did. She learned of my mourning and alerted me when she discovered the shuttlecock." Wukong, confused: "Mourning?" Li Jing, keeping cool: "I... I had not understood what the Jade Emperor had meant when he exiled Nezha to the Mortal Realm. It is only very recently that I learned that he hadn't... that he is on earth as he was." Wukong, realising: "Oh dang, and the big guy didn't tell you? Heck, Nez is ok! He's just uh... not exactly how he was." Li Jing, barely concealed joy: "Truly!? Where is he? I must speak to him!" Macaque, walking past with a baby: "Probably at school. He usually gets home around four." Li Jing: "School???"

Li Jing waits around like statue in the restaurant until a gaggle of demonic secondary-schoolers walk in under the dividing curtain.

One of whom has an unglamoured face he has not seen in millennia.

Li Jing: "Wanzi?" "Nez", in his lotus-snake demon form: "Father!?" Demon Classmates: "Your dad calls you meatball?" "My mom calls me dumpling. It's not weird." "Your dad is tall as heck, Nez."

"Nez's" classmates leave quickly, sensing that a personal conversation is in-coming, and hope to see him at school tomorrow.

Li Jing and his son have a lot to talk about...

Namely the fact that Nezha... seems to be happy. Happier than he had been at that age many eras ago.

He's going to school. Making friends. Playing sports (albeit often forgetting his own strength). Going home to a warm meal and a baby sibling to help tend to.

Li Jing wonders if he should have ever interrupted. But he needs his son to know how relieved he is to know that he's alive. Nezha is genuinely surprised by his father's rare show of emotion - had his banishment really been that traumatic?

Li Jing leaves the jianzi piece with his son as a memento - a reminder to carefully monitor his strength, but to remember that he is still ultimately someone who is still growing up.

The Pagoda King makes a deal with the monkeys and their mortal protectors to share "Nez's" milestones with him. He doesn't want to miss a thing. Not like before.

Li Jing still holds the poppet made from Nezha's hair - the same shorn by the Jade Emperor's blade. He keeps it close to his heart. But he'd never let anyone know about it.

Unless a certain villain takes it from him to taunt him...

[akane171]

­­­Things about Ron Speirs that live rent free in my head

-“SPEIRS, GET YOURSELF OVER HERE!”

I don’t know what I like most about this scene. The fact Dick just furiously passed Sink and ignored his commander, because his boys were getting screwed? Speirs running to him and then without a single word sprinting to do the job? Or Nixon with his binoculars liveblogging the whole  battle? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-The change in his voice and intonation between “I’m taking over” and “First Sergeant Lipton!”.

-The church scene, when Lipton says Easy men didn’t care about the gossips… It was HILARIOUS. Like, Lip? Sweetheart? Ron scared the shit out of Christenson and some poor innocent kids in the same damned ep. I could hear Pat’s sobbing in the background during that scene, mixed with the nuns’ chorus.

-A man needs a hobby and his was trolling people. Aside of the whole “did he or did he not shot the prisoners”, he enjoyed the gossips, appearing suddenly out of nowhere, while giving creepy speeches and traumatizing people. And he did it fabulously. Legend.

-His little, millisecond pause, when we watch his back while Lipton says “Well, maybe they keep talking about it because they never heard Tercius deny it”.

-And two things about this scene. Lipton knows Speirs was trolling people and it was amusing him. And Ron’s answer “Well, maybe that’s because Tercius knew there was some value to the men thinking he was the meanest, toughest sonofabitch in the whole Roman legion” - he knows Lip knows he was trolling people and (not directly) admits it. He never did that to anyone else, what also means he really respected Lipton (gross sobbing).

-Anyway, this whole church scene is a pure love and I adore every second of it.

-He was a history nerd ;_; I’m kind of sad, we didn’t see him and Buck taking about some ancient battles in Gaul.

-He kept tabs on Easy xD how much he’s learnt from creeping in the shadows and eavesdropping – no one knows xD

-The fact real Speirs was shot in the ass on some of his solo patrols proves he was just meant to be Easy’s CO. Fucking destiny.

-His favourite sergeant was Grant (ok, ok, put the pitchforks DOWN, I said sergeant NOT lieutenant, geez).

-The fact no one called him “Sparky” in the show is a crime against humanity. But at least we got one “Ron” from Winters. Still…

-I think I read somewhere here, that he wore his helmet so low, because it was too big and… yes? Absolutely? Whoever noticed it – I bow to you.

And it reminds me all the promo pics where we have most of the characters standing together and he stands on the side, a little farer and looking awkwardly like “mom said I have to socialize more, so here I am, ugh…”.

-Also, he looks tiny compared to the other guys on many shots/pics, what is hilarious on many levels.

-I realized it after the second watch, that he not only stole cigarettes from Buck, but he offered them to the German POWs. Not his cigarettes, but the shit he stole. I don’t know why, but it’s just so super HIM xD

-I wonder when exactly Easy Company did realize that their new CO is not exactly the meanest, toughest sonofabitch in the army, but a big ass weirdo, with poor social skills, suspicious hobbies and sticky hands.

-Ep 8 look >>>>>>>>>>>>> everything else.

-The moment when Webster throws himself to the ground and Ron just stands in the background, watching the missile like it was meh (he had a personal ranking of “Things that almost killed me” and that missile was not even on the Top 10).

-“No. You don’t have any experience.” How the fuck Jones didn’t drop dead right after is beyond me. Also, A+++ acting.

-The fact is that Lipton was his social-skills-only-working-brain-cell and it’s beautiful.

-The moment Perconte asked him to give him back his lighter, I guess it was the moment Speirs knew his reputation crumbled to dust xD

-Unpopular opinion, but I don’t think Malarkey scared him on a purpose. I think it was accidentally, what for me, makes it even funnier. But the fact Don started as someone who was scared of Speirs like no one else and ended scarring him – it just warms my heart.

-And that pure annoyance on Ron’s face when Malarkey’s approaches him a second after he scared him, will never stop making me laugh. It the look could kill the bottle in Don’s hands would explode.

-On some point Lipton was sitting with his head in his hands and moaning that he was not paid enough to keep his crazy CO with suicidal tendencies alive and Luz was there-thereing him.

-All the things he's done to keep Grant alive.

-Basically, Speirs gives me a stray cat vibes and the fact he kind of, adopted Lipton and whole Easy proves it.

-And finally, the way he went from “we are all dead, just accept it” to “ok, I guess I’m going to stay in the army to keep the idiots alive (sighs)” is one of the best character developments and is so… sooo … you know? ;_;

Anyway, the thing I like the most about his character is how unexpected he is. I didn’t expect to like him so much. I didn’t expect him to change so much in such splendid way. But here I am.

We meet him in the show as  “a cold blooded soldier” stereotype and we learn in the end he was just deeply compassionate man (and a weirdo), who applied being a sociopath to be a better man of war. It just makes him very human - thanks to the fact his character was based on a real man, I guess. And that applies to all BOB’s characters.

And BIG kudos to Matthew Settle for doing such a great job and creating an iconic character. I read and watched some interviews, where he admitted he had a big problems with grasping the role, but damn, in the end he absolutely NAILED IT.

EDIT: Part II (x)

[cringefailvox]

Yooo you have an Alastor + Vaggie-centric AU 👀👀👀 what are some of the details if you don’t mind me asking jagsjajhsjsk

OKAY SO. back in april, birdsaretoddlers and i were talking about the potential hilarity of a vaggie/charlie/alastor poly dynamic and then we accidentally got way too into vaggie/alastor as a concept, which spiraled into a whole au that has unfortunately not left the discord server but MAYBE. SOMEDAY......

the barest bones of it are essentially that vaggie represents everything that alastor finds most pathetic & baffling in other people: dogged, singular loyalty to a cause & a person based on sheer loving devotion, with no ulterior motives or plans beyond protecting and supporting that person. and of course she rubs him the wrong way extremely frequently, just as much as he gets on her nerves. she's nearly codependent with charlie while alastor would rather chew off his own foot than be tethered to someone in that way. he's the type of sinner who exemplified vaggie's mission as an exorcist, the kind of demon she wouldn't have thought twice about cutting down because he clearly deserves it. he's never felt remorse in his life and vaggie has been walking on her knees for a thousand miles in the desert repenting since the day she fell. they are diametrically opposed.

AND YET. alastor recognizes a lot of his own traits in her as well! she's guarded, secretive, violent, has a lot of trust issues, and possessive of what she considers hers. alastor knows exactly what that's like. but vaggie is mystifying to him, because he cannot for the love of g-d understand what kind of sentimental nonsense could drive her to recklessly put her life on the line for charlie over and over and over again, with no regard for her own safety and NO other motivations besides?? LOVE??? sounds fake but ok.

vaggie also sees some of herself in alastor too, as much as it rankles—she's reminded viscerally of herself in the early days after losing her wings and her eye, suspicious and traumatized and deeply mistrustful of charlie's good intentions. couldn't even fathom that kindness could be genuine in hell. she looks at alastor and all of his trust issues and decides "redeeming this guy is impossible, but i really think i could at least get him to stop biting," you know, like you'd think about a reactive shelter dog who keeps growling at your handful of treats. you'll never be able to take that dog out in public without a lot of precautions and low expectations, but at least at home, it'll trust you not to hurt it if it lays its head in your lap.

for alastor's part, his whole interest in vaggie starts off as a way to cuddle up to charlie (and piss off lucifer), but he rapidly gets way too invested because there's no such thing as doing anything ironically for long, and it's kind of his Move, yk? he worms relentlessly into someone's life until he firmly has their attention, and then when he realizes he's in too deep and tries to withdraw and they cling, he's like "?? leave me alone??" (bird: "the ol vox special gets him literally nowhere") but now VAGGIE is invested too bc she's reluctantly fond of this creepy weirdo who eats deer carcasses in his room and for some reason let adam almost kill him defending the hotel, he doesn't get to just crawl away and die from his injury now that she's finally starting to like his freak ass. of course alastor is a nightmare patient and vaggie's bedside manner is atrocious so they're really bad at it. but they're trying and that's what matters!!

(also, charlie is weeping with joy in the background of all of this—her two biggest supporters, getting along!! kind of!! she's so proud of them both!!!! [alastor has completely forgotten that this venture started off as a way to manipulate charlie. get polycule'd, idiot]).

hopefully one day we'll manage to turn this into an actual fic, but for now enjoy these highlights :]

[jeoxnstar]

To my girls, Harrie, Cher, Janny, G, and Lizzy I wanna take some time to write some words about you. (charms ill send it on discord cuz ik u dont enter tumblr)

First off @anglku, Harrie we met months ago through someone we had in common but i had known u for months before i had been a follower since your first fic in your blog..I loved your writting (still do) somethings happend and we stopped talking but on jan u reached out to me to ask how i was. You made me feel comfortable and safe since that convo, We talked and patched things up and now uve become one of my reasons to wake up everyday, my day is incomplete without interacting with u atleast once. I love u so much, Seeing you and the girls happy makes my day. I love talking to you about anything. Please know that you can talk to me about anything and i mean anything. And you or any of the girls will never make me uncomfortable.

Things that remind me of you are- Bts (ofc), The sun, the girls, cher, the sky mask filter on snap, the weekend Song that remind me of you- Snooze by sza (especially this part "How can I snooze and miss the moment? You just too important") Secondly @redcherrykook, Cher what can i say .. we met in jan after you reached out to me to ask how i was doing..but just like harrie i had known you for months ..i had followed you since like sep 24? I was a fan of your work but i never reached out i did sent anon asks every now and then. During that first convo u made me feel comfortable like har did , You made sure i wasnt uncomfortable with you texting me and i appreciate that alot. I remember i was having a bad day because of me and my gf not being in communication and u heard me out u gave me valid advie..and im grateful for that. I love you so much. You and the girls are my world id do anyhting for u guys. Just like harrie Know that u can talk to me about anything and that im always here to talk .I love spamming bad bunny lyrics and talks in spanish with u.

Things that remind me of you are- Bts (ofc), hello kitty, har, the girls, the baddiesss pose for me audio,bad bunny, the kissy filter on snap Song that remind me of you- DTFM by Bad bunny (especially this part "Que a los ojos te miré Y contarte las cosas que no te conté ") Thirdly (is that even a word anyway) @billiessillywife, Janny..theres so much to say..jana we met in jan..i texted u because i saw u were sad and asked you what happend? and that when our friendship began. I first met you because i was scrolling and i saw a billie page and entered it turned out to be you. You never fail to make me feel loved wanted and appreciated..i love talking to u i love the random messeges in my inbox. i love hearing u yap because im a yapper. I remember when u found out about me har and chers past and u were pissed. ..since that day uve become the groups bodyguard our mom. Even thought u have things going on in ur personal life u always hear us out and give us advie i love u sooo much. Your my fav roadmen.

Things that remind me of you are- Billie (ofcc), the sky, the girls, anytime i see a roadmen, male fantasy Song that remind me of you- Birds of a feather by billie eilish (especially this part "birds of a feather we should stick together ") Fourthly (not a word lets ignore-) @g...g ik ur not on tumblr so harrie show her💔...G we met when i made the gc on snap. Your one of the funniest humans i know..ur so kind and i love talking with u. I love when u spam the gc with your man and your pics. i love entering snap and seeing "g sent a snap" i always smile at it. I love u soooo much. You never fail to make me laugh and im grateful for that because even in days were im at my low seeing u simping over ur man makes me laugh. You and ur man are the best ok. You never make me uncomfortable and you can talk to me about anything..I love seeing u get traumatized by har and cher its funny. But uve just accepted at this poin. I love my multilingual queen<3

Things that remind me of you are- Your men, Har, THAT MEME, a puppy, my translator (ifykyk) Song that remind me of you- Campfire by Seventeen (especially this part "When things are hard and you’re tired I’ll shine on you ") Last but not Least @lizzikoo, Lizzy, we met in jan..i first knew u through jana, i always saw u and her interacting but i never messaged u cuz im shy. U texted me and asked to be friends to which i said yes ofcc. I wanna say your one of the realest persons i know. Our first convo was genuine..we talked about some personal things and i related so much. so thank u for trusting me. I love talking to u about anything. Even thought i think ur wing stop obsession is WILD (like wym u were reasy to drive 50 min for some wingstop-) but i till support it! I love u so much i know weve only known each other for such little time id do anything for u. I love us mmm and never let anyone dim ur passion love u always.

Things that remind me of you are- Wing stop, late night slushie, Bts (especially jungkook, sweets Song that remind me of you- Good day by Bts (especially this part "You won't be alone, always I'll be by your side, we'll be okay ") To all of you guys, Harrie, Cher, Janny, Lizzy, G.. I love u guys sooo much you guys are the reason i wake up with a smile everyday. You guys are the reason i open tumblr and snap everyday. You guys are the reason that when im sad and want to give up i keep fighting. I used to not believe in everything happens for a reason...it may sound cringy or whatever but thank to you guys i believe everything happens for a reason. Every tear, Every hard moment, Every happy moment led me to you guys and i will always be grateful for it. I love u all to the moon and back. No matter what happens ill always have your back. ill fight any bitch that says shit about yall. love u.

Things that remind me of us are- Ive, the night sky, late night texts, snap, tumblr, insta, the word love and home. Song that remind me of us- Perfect night by le sserafim and Die with a smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga (especially these parts "I got all I need, you know nothing else can beat The way that I feel when I'm dancing with my girls" - perfect night "If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you" - die with a smile)

[merulanoir]

Ghost's backstory

Ok so, I have wanted to write about this for months but my brain has been fighting a war called the end of the fiscal year, so I haven't had the time. But I desperately want to talk about the OG Ghost backstory. You know the one, with the hook and the cartel and the. Yeah, the coffin, and everything.

(For those lucky enough to remain in the dark uninitiated, the original 2009 Call of Duty character Simon "Ghost" Riley had a separate awfully bad comic that claimed to be his backstory.

The reboot version of Ghost (which is probably better known to most people by now) has a sweet fuck-all in his bio, but even so it sort of implies that the original backstory never happened to that guy. The fandom ranges from taking the full original backstory into the reboot dynamic to just ignoring it completely. It varies.)

Also, to be clear: I'm not saying my interpretation is in any way better or worse than anyone else's. It's just going to go against the grain of what the fandom has chosen to treat as canon.

Anyway, to summarize: the comics are a straight guy power fantasy framed interestingly: We meet Ghost when he's being held hostage in Ukraine. We later learn he let himself be captured to stall the terrorists.

We have the gist of it here, already! He's going to tell a story! He even claims it's not about himself, but an "old friend of his" "the baddest motherfucker on the planet" (I wish I was making this up.)

Now, here's where things get actually interesting. I'm going to claim that the Mexico/torture/brainwashing/whatever the fuck that was probably didn't happen like that. Hear me out.

Who does the framing of being held captive and telling a story remind me of?

Ghost is pulling a Varric! He's buying time. I have discussed this extensively with a friend (hi @sorrelchestnut) and the, erm, in-house expert we have on hand verified our theory: for special forces guys, creating a fabricated backstory is the norm. They train to do that. They keep names, dates, anything that can be fact-checked, and the rest is probably more or less lies.

Ghost tells the terrorists about the mission in Mexico, where he (allegedly) first met Roba and where he got captured. Then the comic's style changes completely and it cuts to him going back to beat up his abusive dad, then back to Ghost in Mexico. It keeps going back and forth between his time in Mexico (which is clearly Ghost telling the story to his captors, drawn in the same style as the panel up there) and his traumatic childhood (drawn in a completely different style):

All the parts about his family are drawn in that same, more classic comic-y style (Ghost beating up his dad, him helping Tommy get back on his feet, Tommy and Beth getting married, etc.) UNTIL we get to the part where Ghost comes back from Mexico (after being buried alive in that fucking coffin, yes).

Then, everything about him going to therapy (truly the most unbelievable aspect of the story, I agree), Sparks returning, his family getting killed on Christmas? Back to this style:

So, to recap: If we want to go this route, we could say that the family parts of the story, told in the simpler comic style, could be true. Those could be Simon's memories about his admittedly fucked up childhood (and which probably aren't included in the story being told to the terrorists and the other hostages). Everything that's in the more realistic, shaded style? His made-up story he's telling the bad guys in Ukraine.

But Meru, you say, what about the bit where Simon is bringing Tommy to rehab and his junkie friends attack him? Simon is imagining (?) them as having skullfaces! Your theory doesn't hold water!

Well, as the comics tell us later, there might be a good reason for Simon to have some...feelings about the skull motif.

That's his father speaking with their mother in the first speech bubble. The boy in the skull mask is Tommy, his little brother. What follows is the gnarly piece of story where Simon's father takes him to a punk concert and makes him laugh at a dead prostitute. The whole thing with the skullface ties pretty neatly into itself, if you ask me.

So, if Ghost telling the terrorists a story about Mexico and the cartel and his family getting killed by brainwashed American soldiers isn't all true, which parts are?

I don't think we're meant to know, at least in the way the story is told in the comics. So in a way, even though the comics are so fucking bad, I'm glad I read them (more than once, y'all can thank me later) because OG Ghost is fascinating.

So, is his family really dead? I'd say it's likely (see the part about keeping verifiable facts when lying to bad guys), but we can't know for sure. If we want to treat the comic-style parts as true within this mini essay, then the last verifiable thing about Simon's family is that Tommy and Beth got married. I can't be arsed to check if her name is actually ever mentioned in these parts of the story. Ghost certainly refers to his nephew as both Joseph and Jacob during the story-parts, so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Was he held hostage in Mexico? Who the hell knows. Judging by what the original MW games included in their storylines, I'd say it's possible. But we don't really know.

[cokoweee]

Heavens to Betsy I’ve been meaning to go on this rant forever but I keep forgetting for some reason

Quick disclaimer- I’m not analyzing your comic at all, I just notice little accuracies that make me happy.

~

Ok coming from a psychology major student, your description of PTSD and mental health issues is actually pretty dang good. Idk if it was intentionally researched or not but there’s like a ton of stuff that’s consistent with real life trauma and it’s quite frankly impressive

Again not sure if this was intentional or not but the thing on his back reminds me so much of old school electroshock therapy which I adore bc

A: it causes confusion and memory loss which you’ve shown and

B: kinda implies that maybe he did his own research when deciding how to deal with everything or

C: again is incredibly accurate in the fact that most trauma patients continuously seek pain out, and in turn report feelings of extreme boredom and numbness when not actively experiencing pain or reliving trauma. In his case going borderline catatonic when he’s not freaking out.

On the topic of “freaking out” a lack or decrease in serotonin leads to a more reactive and intense episodes in PTSD. Or, because the little guy is like mega depressed coz of the whole situation, he gets way more intense and violent episodes that someone who was on like Prozac. And would tend to be more on edge and sensitive to triggers.

Then there’s his family. For some background, there’s a part of your brain called the amygdala. It typically works to control basic emotions, but responds very well to fear. In traumatic experiences, it pairs with the hippocampus (the memory center of the brain) to store vivid and occasionally sensory memories.

When a memory trigger is provoked and brought back into consciousness, it actually changes slightly depending on the context of which it recalled. Those memories are changed to fit how we make sense of them. So if he feels guilty for his brothers death, then his memories will reflect it whether or not it’s actually true.

Essentially, him having his brothers showing up all the time (looking the way they do) is really bad for him on multiple levels, and not just because they’re triggering visually. They’re like actually impeding his ability to recover by keeping him in an aggressive form of already intense fight or flight that comes from trauma.

On a happier note, one of the best ways to improve is to establish and nurture caring relationships. Awww

Aight ima stop here so I don’t bore you to death with random psych facts, but like kudos to you my dude because I could go on forever about some of the stuff in there

Uh yeah

-writing anon 🤡

WRITING ANON? SLAPPING OUT ANALYSISSISIS AND SHIT?

Bein real I dont do much research on shit even tho I should. I just go off what I’ve seen/ learned throughout the years. It’s always good to hear I’m doin ahit right tho!

Lowkey right with the shock tho. Or high key lol. Seeking pain there’s other ways people do it but mmm somehow this seemed the tamest way. Oh writing anon u silly lil saltine cracker

[nostalgiclittlespace]

do u think miss delight *poppy playtime* could be an age regressor

I mean she went through bad trauma *like the hour of joy and bring locked in the school with sisters having too eat them*

Miss Delight strikes me as a flip, both regressing and caregiving for others that survived the Hour of Joy. Personally headcanon her to be 65% caregiver lean, and regressor the other 35% of the time. I also believe most of her regression would be impure because of her trauma.

Furthering my headcanons on the topic, I think being locked in the school is what would have triggered her to start by age dreaming; while be trapped in the building, probably surrounded by kids books, toys, crayons, etc—I imagine she would occupy herself with those things. The distraction would provide an escape from the stress and uncertainty. During this time she could have also tapped into her caregiver side and helped her sisters.

Maybe she designed Barb as a toy initially. Maybe she started seeing it as its own person who ‘taught her’ because she transformed the simple thing into an imaginary friend. And maybe she learned to stay still and play dead just through a game of pretend.

But, as time went on, and her paranoia and insanity settled in due to isolation and hunger, then she would begin impure regression. I can’t help but imagine her furiously coloring with crayons until every inch of the paper was covered in desperate attempt to distract herself and stop the paranoia and intrusive thoughts.

Because of this, post-hour of joy she would probably try to stop herself from regressing—as it was associated with bad memories and remained mostly impure. After that she would stick with Caregiver for any other regressors/orphans still around; she was still a teacher after all, and presumably a good one.

Ok, kind of went overboard with my headcanons; I got on a roll imagining this. I think so much of the agere fandom stuff only focuses on the good guys (which is fine, a lot of us (myself included) get comfort from those characters who defeat evil and find a happy ending) but it’s also just so fun to dive into the villains as regressors too. Personally, I enjoy that it allows me to explore some of the unhappier and traumatic aspects of regression, which we don’t see so much of in typical headcanons. Because it’s a coping mechanism, a lot of people just don’t tap into that, but I think it’s important to explore anyway, even if it’s through a fictional example. For a lot of people, regression isn’t a happy place. It includes shame, intrusive thoughts, bad memories, etc—but that doesn’t make them any less valid. I’m not trying to equate impure regressors to villains btw! Even if you struggle in headspace, you are a wonderful and beautiful person who deserves so much love! Just writing this is reminding me to be more open in my writing and represent some of those unhappier experiences with the ‘good guys’ as well.

Anyway, this is probably a lot more of an explanation than you expected, so I hope you didn’t mind reading my thoughts on the matter! Thanks for the ask, this was actually very thought provoking for me!

-Marty 🧸

[bonesandthebees]

Hey bee, thanks so much for offering a space to talk about the situation— even if you don’t answer to this it’s nice to be able to talk somewhere.

One thing I’ve noticed that’s been devastating to watch happen is how so many tell others that they should “just get over it” or put them down for being “so parasocial” and act like they’re less-than for caring and being upset. It’s heartbreaking to see happen and I just hope that people know and can hear that it is entirely valid to be upset about this. For a lot of people his content was an escape.

A lot of us started watching him during a global pandemic— something that was literally traumatizing— and used his content as an escape. A lot of us have been here for literal years, and even if we haven’t there’s so much more that we are losing that isn’t just getting to follow some white guy. We are losing an entire community we had built around him and his band, a safe space many of us created full of art and fiction and memories. We watched his content, interacted with the community, cared about his characters and stories, listened to his music, created works we are proud of that were inspired by him, related him to our favorite things, surrounded ourselves with reminder of things relating to him because it brought comfort. We had friends we made through this community, friends made closer through relating ourselves to his dynamics, art, animations and fics that have impacted us and changed us that we might never see again, hopes for him and his band.

This isn’t about us or him but I still think we are allowed to grieve. None of us were expecting any of this, none of us were expecting to lose such a massive safe space and comfort. It feels pathetic to care so much especially when there’s so many putting others down for caring, but it’s ok to grieve the end of something that formed a huge part of our lives for a lot of us. It’s ok to be sad that we thought this would last.

Yeah I really don't like seeing people telling others to just 'get over it' or calling them dramatic for having intense reactions to this news. you articulated it perfectly. we've built a thriving community for years around his content. that's what causing me the most grief out of anything with this situation—the loss of the community. I've met pretty much all of my closest friends through dsmp and my fic writing. I've been so inspired by his characters and stories for years now. it really fucking hurts to lose that. it's okay for those in the community to be upset by this. these feelings are valid.

[cardierreh15]

Goddess of the Moon

A lil sumn, sumn for Kinktober. (No, I have no special list lol I’m just doing whatever tickles my brain) I hope y’all enjoy! 🧡🤎

***I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Death , Gore , Blood , Monster Fucking 😌 , Cunnilingus , Doggy Style , Size Kink (kind of? He’s pretty fucking massive) , Breeding Kink , Cursing .

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Selene/Goddess (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: Selene goes on a trip to Minnesota with her friends when something life changing happens.

Word Count: 4.1K

One Shot

She sat in the cold interrogation room, bouncing her knee vigorously as her arms were folded across her chest. She was gently rocking back and forward, her body riddled with goosebumps as she tried to warm up. 

Her head snapped up at the door to see two gentlemen walking through. It was then when she felt a strange shift in the room. A different kind of aura. One that reminded her of the horrors of last night. 

One of the men was bald and wore glasses. A clean shaven face. He wasn’t as tall and stocky as the other. He looked regular and mundane. But he was decently handsome. 

The other stranger was tall with thick messy curls that rested atop his head. He donned a thick beard that seemed to hide the beauty of his features but also, it enhanced them too. He had broad shoulders with big and sturdy arms to match. 

‘I-I’m sorry… you said that I could leave Mr. Harper.’ 

‘I know. And I do apologize just.. hear me out alright?’

Afraid that they’d tell her that she had to stay a little while longer, she held her breath; digging her own nails into her flesh. 

‘This is Detective Marshall. He is here to hear your story.’ 

Just as she thought, she scoffed as tears brimmed her eyes in frustration. ‘I told you guys my story 3 times already! Is this what you do to people?! Continue to torture and traumatize them until there’s nothing left?!’ 

Detective Marshall glanced over at Commissioner Harper as he tried to piece and put his words together accordingly. 

‘I understand Ms. Carson. But we are all under the impression that there is a dangerous murderer around and—‘

‘Wh-Did you not listen to me?!’ Her voice began to crack, ‘There’s no murderer! Just a big…’ she waved her hands around; trying to exaggerate the size of the beast, ‘Humanoid wolf running around killing people! I know what I saw OK? I’m not crazy!’ 

Commissioner Harper let out a gentle sigh and nodded, ‘You’re right honey. You aren’t. Just let my Detective do his job ok? He is the best at what he does. He just wants to listen.’ 

Her reddish eyes stung vigorously as she looked over at Detective Marshall before he gave her a gentle nod. His bright cobalt blue eyes were somehow… familiar. 

‘Al-alright. I suppose it’s okay.’ 

Harper let out a silent breath in relief and pat his Detective on the shoulder, ‘Go easy on her.’ He mumbled before walking out of the room. 

The room was quiet for a few moments after Harper left the room. He’d placed the clipboard down on the cool metal table and sat down in his seat. 

He looked over at her, noticing little details about her that somehow made her familiar to him. The beauty mark above her full lips and another on her left cheek. Then there were her hazel eyes. Deep and dark crevices and patterns made them so unique… and again… very fucking familiar. 

He finally spoke up, blinking away ‘I know this is a rough time for you. But you have to tell me what’s going on so I can help you. What is your name?’ 

She reached over and grabbed a Kleenex tissue and blew her nose. ‘Selene Carson.’ 

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you Selene. I am dreadfully sorry that it’s under these circumstances. My name is Walter. I understand that you’re not from here, is that correct?’ 

She nodded slowly as he began to write down on the clipboard. ‘Yes.’

‘OK. What state, City are you from?’ 

‘Atlanta, Georgia.’ She mumbled as she began to chew the inside of her lip again. A thing she did when she was anxious. Her eyes fell to his hand that gripped the pen as he wrote on the paper. 

‘And why’d you come?’ 

Selene let out a gentle yet shaky sigh as she looked up at the ceiling. She was just so tired of these questions. ‘Year vacation. Every year around my birthday we go somewhere and disconnect. Try to enjoy the little things in life and Mother Nature. It was my idea. To come here.. they didn’t even wanna come here! They—‘ she whipped her tears with her thumb, ‘They wanted to go to Wyoming again. God I should’ve listened.’ 

Walter looked up at her and a great deal of grief shrouded him. It was like he was going through what she was going through. Feeling her feelings. Something he never experienced before. Not even with his ex-wife. 

‘It’s alright, Selene. We’re going to get to the bottom of this I promise.’ 

She nodded as she sobbed into her tissue. 

‘Alright. The stupid questions are over… tell me what happened.’ 

Selene swallowed her sticky spit in her mouth and sighed, ‘Well…’ 

***

The girls were sitting around the fire, snuggled up in their thick winter coats as they roasted some marshmallows. 

It was quiet for a little moment; they’d just finished a conversation about how things were when they were little girls. All the shit they use to get into and damn near give their parents heart attacks. Now they are all grown up. 

Heather was about to marry her boyfriend of 3 years. Adaline had just started her dream career of being a computer Engineer. Kelly had just got a hefty raise at her job and Selene had finally bought her dream house back home in Atlanta. 

The girls were literally living their dream lives. And they all had one another… 

But soon it’ll be taken away from them. 

‘Girls… I know we all had a busy year. And our money has been going elsewhere. But I want y’all to know that I am so grateful that we all made the time to take this trip together.’ Selene smiled softly. 

‘Of course girl! You’re our best friend!’ Said Kelly.

‘And it’s your birthday! Just because we’ve taken upon big changes in our lives doesn’t mean that we still can’t make time for one another.’ Adaline added as she reached over and gave her friend a pat on the shoulder. 

‘I know. Just —can we all promise.. that we’ll never stop doing this together? That all our traveling will be done within this group?’ 

The four girls laughed in sync before Heather put her fist out, extending her thumb and pinkie. ‘That’s a promise I can get behind!’ 

The other three girls extended their right hands and did just the same, wrapping their pinkies into the thumbs of their friends. 

After a little while longer of snacking on s’mores and singing silly childhood songs, they all agreed that it was time to hit the sack. They had plans to see the mountains tomorrow at Whale Lake. It was sure to be packed with how gorgeous the weather was going to be. 

3 hours later… 

Selene was having trouble sleeping. She didn’t know if it was because of the excitement that pumped through her like adrenaline or simply because she never came down from that sugar high. 

So she sat up in her tent, checked her phone to see that it along with her AirPods were fully charged. 

‘How about a little walk? Maybe one of the girls wants to go with me?’ She said to herself. 

Pulling her boots onto her feet, jacket over her back and gloves over her hands, she unzipped her tent and stepped outside. 

She was immediately met with the silvery brightness of the moon. ‘Luna… my you are such a beauty tonight.’ She said softly as she placed her hand over her heart. Selene could never understand why she always had this pull towards the moon or anything night related. Other than the fact that she was born at night, nothing else truly made sense.

After sharing such an intimate moment with Luna, she quietly crept over to each tent. And each one had their own snoring song. The girls were out for the count. 

‘Well, guess I’m on my own.’ She shrugged as she shoved her AirPods in her ears and ventured into the woods. 

Selene walked for what seemed to be hours. She caught pictures of nocturnal animals. Bunnies, some doe and bucks, frogs and just the aesthetic of the woods. With all of the nature walks she’s been on, this was all the basic stuff. She wanted something that would stand out to her! Something she could brag about at brunch tomorrow. 

Suddenly, she tripped and fell over a rock as she tried to adjust the brightness on her camera. 

‘Oof!’ 

Luckily, she was able to save herself without injury but not so much her camera. ‘Awwww no!’ She whimpered as she began to scramble up the broken pieces. She kissed her teeth, ‘Dammit! And there goes $3,000. Fuck.’ 

As she picked up her trash, the glistening snow caught her attention. A pair of large paw prints made a statement in the snow. 

The sheer size of it made her heart sink. She saw wolves up close in Colorado at the rehabilitation center. Their paws were owned by pups compared to this monster. 

Turning on her phone’s light to help her combat the darkness, a dozen more paw prints circled her. The image made her sick to her stomach. It was here! It was stalking her like prey. Or so she thought. 

Her heart began to race in her chest, slowly backing up as she did her best to pull herself together. ‘OK Selene. We’re just going to head back to camp. Pretend like none of this had happened.’ 

She inhaled and exhaled slowly to help calm herself down. But that’ll mean nothing pretty soon. 

Doing her best to clear her mind of the troubling thoughts that she’d seen, Selene walked back towards the camp in a hurry. Her headphones were away for the sake of her own safety. 

Suddenly, blood curdling screams echoed through the woods. 

Selene dropped the destroyed camera and dashed down the abandoned path in a hurry. 

‘HEATHER!’ She called out as she pushed and fought the twigs, and bushes that dared to stand in her way. ‘KELLY! ADALINE!’ No answer. 

No matter how fast she ran, she felt as if she wasn’t running fast enough. Because soon enough, the screaming and wailing had come to an eerie stop. 

Damn near tumbling down a steep hill, she balanced herself before she fell at the base of it. But she didn’t let that stop her. She pulled herself up and continued to run. 

‘KELLY! ADA! HEATHER!! Fuck!’ She cursed as the cool air burned at her lungs and throat. She could barely breathe but she kept fighting. 

The brightness of the coals had illuminated the area. And she saw things she never thought she’d witness. 

The tents were clawed, splattered and painted with blood and gore. 

‘Oh my god…’ she placed a hand on her stomach as her knees grew weak. Tears filled her eyes as they landed on torn pieces of body parts and insides. The cool autumn air smelled of pure iron and blood. 

It was then when her insides betrayed her and her stomach began to feel queasy. 

Squatting down, she threw up everything she ate and drank. Her palms gripped at the snow as her vile stained it. 

***

Selene bounced her knee once again as tears just fell down her face like waterfalls. She kept her eyes away from him, unable to look anyone in the eyes because she just felt so shameful. ‘I—I—…’

‘It’s alright… take your time.’ Walter reassured her. ‘Can you tell me what else happened?’ 

It was then when she looked over at him. The goosebumps had returned once again when she thought about the events that came afterwards. She then glanced down at the paper, noticing how he’d written just about everything. There was no way anyone would believe this story. Let alone the next part. So she did her best to spare the next part. 

But he persisted. 

Walter looked down at the paper and then back up at her, ‘I don’t have to write down the next part if you don’t want me to.’ 

Selene sat there silently before looking away once again. 

‘Selene… I promise you can trust me. What you say now, will stay between us.’ 

Her sad eyes glanced back over at him then, the double sided mirror before she looked at him again. ‘You swear.’ 

‘Hope to die.’ 

She swallowed her spit and sat up straight, lacing her cold hands together before resting her upper body atop the table. ‘It didn’t stop there.’ 

***

Selene slowly picked herself up off the ground, sobbing as she did her best to find her footing. But she just collapsed once again before Heather’s mangled body. ‘He—Heather?! Please!’ She called out for her friend as she gripped at her corpse. 

‘HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP ME!’ She wailed before a soul crushing, realm bending scream erupted from her body. But little did she know… it was more of a call. 

She was too busy trying to process the deaths of her beloved friends to notice the rattling of the trees and the stirring of the wind. 

When she was able to pull herself together, she pulled her phone out of her pocket to see that it was cracked. ‘Shit.’ She whimpered before tossing it to the side. She then stood up and began to rummage around in their tents to find their phones. Fortunately for her, all of the phones were in great shape… but there was no service. 

‘GOD-DAMMIT!’ She screamed as slammed all three of the working phones into the snow. Allowing her anger, sadness and blame take hold, she stomped on the electronics. Damn near turning them into confetti pieces. 

‘Oooh this is all my fault! I’m so sorry girls.’ She sobbed. ‘We weren’t even supposed to be here, this is all my fault.’ She cried and sniffed. 

After moments to allow herself to grieve, a shift of energy breezed through the air. It caused even her hairs to stand up on her skin beneath her coat. She didn’t feel safe. 

Shortly after came a low hungry growl. Then, she felt a hot breath on the back of her neck. She remained still in her spot like a statue. 

Her lips trembled as more tears filled her eyes and fell down her icy cheeks. She then closed her eyes as she prepared to meet her maker. But like a fool, she took off running and immediately regretted the idea of doing so. 

The beast howled behind her before it began to chase her down. And it didn’t take long! He swiped at her ankles which caused her to fall face front. 

Trying to scurry to her feet, the beast grabbed her ankles and yanked her back towards him. 

‘NO! NO! PLEASE! NO!’ She hollered as she tried to find anything to hold for leverage. But nothing. Just the snow and the leaves. 

When the beast quickly flipped her over, she laid there trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. But she did take in this opportunity to take in all of its details to the best of her ability. Though she couldn’t see the figure clearly, the moon graced him with a silhouette. It had jet black fur, bright blue eyes and an elongated snout. It growled down at her, revealing its large canine teeth before its frightening tongue licked at his grill.

A wolf. If she’d ever seen one. But this wasn’t an ordinary wolf.

Staring up at the creature in fear, she immediately snapped her head away as it leaned in to capture her scent. It’s wet nose tickled her cheek and ear. Then, it nestled itself in her curls. 

When the beast pulled away, it howled at the moon. Shivering, she slowly looked up at it once again. Ironic enough, the creature probably has to be the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Suddenly, something about it made her feel… safe. Like it wasn’t there to bring her harm. 

The wolf then rests its snout on her lower belly, letting out small songs of howls onto her. It caused her entire body to vibrate. And all she could do was watch until she build up the courage to speak. 

‘What— what are you doing?’ 

Then he began to let out little whimpers as if he were trying to speak. He kept doing this until something distorted rumbled in his chest. 

‘Heat. Imprint. Heeeat.’

He began to pant as he placed his paw onto her chest and pressed his weight into her. 

‘Unnff! Can’t. Breathe.’ She choked out before he removed his paw and split her coat down the middle with a single claw. 

‘Why are you doing this? Please stop this!’ 

And he clawed at her shirt, revealing her sports bra that held her perky breasts. Then, the tips of his talons grazed all the way down to the middle part of her cargo pants. 

‘Heat. Breed. Imprint. Heat.’

He croaked out once again. But, the word breed was off putting. It caused her eyes to grow before she quickly tried to roll over and crawl away. But he used his free hand to grab her wrists and pinned her down. 

‘Don’t. move.’

She nodded slowly as he easily shredded her pants to pieces. Then, he nuzzled his snout between her warm thighs. She wanted to kick away but that would just piss him off. So she just laid there, allowing him to do whatever it was that he wanted until this nightmare was all over. 

‘So. Warm.’ He growled, ‘Need. Taste.’

Selene began to squirm a little as he spread her thighs and snapped the core of her panties, exposing her delicious flower. 

The beast leaned in, huffing and sniffing as her pheromones caused his nerves to tingle. He couldn’t wait any longer. The beast finally rested it’s long tongue against her slit and licked up to her clit. It was a taste test. He wanted to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. 

She tasted better. 

Selene let out a generous moan as the creature went to work on her pussy. Curling, folding and flicking its tongue for her. ‘Ooh.’ She shuddered out. With the warmth of ecstasy and the being’s body heat, she felt nice and cozy. 

Her heart raced in her chest as her mind tried to understand what the hell was going on and why her body just gave in so easily to this being. Her body began to tense up and her toes began to curl as he flicked his massive tongue sloppily against her womanhood. 

Her eyebrows tugged into one and her eyes drifted crossed. ‘Aah! Oh my go—‘ The poor girl was so close already. It was as if he knew her body! The things that drove her wild, ‘YES!!’ She cried out, her clit throbbing at the blissful orgasm and abuse. Her small hands clawing at the air above her. 

Satisfied with her taste, the beast licked her sticky nectar off of his snout and let out another howl, this time shorter than before. It caused her to jump at the sudden call. Then, he began panting again. He was in dire need. 

He released his tight grip on her wrists. Now she was able to see him clearly. He had to be twice her size! He was burly and prodigious as if he were probably the King or a pack leader. Thick dark hair donned his shoulders, arms with a thick patch across his chest. Selene’s eyes roamed from his chest to his abdomen that resembled the torso of a human. It had trapezius and toned muscles. So defined and detailed even in the darkness of the night. Then she noticed the ripped, bloodied shorts he wore. There was no way she was looking at one of the most infamous beasts of all time. 

A Werewolf. 

He licked along her cheek before pressing his snout into her there. She couldn’t help the giggle that left her lips before she looked over at him. 

‘What is your name?’ She asked softly.

He growled before flipping her over on her stomach in a hurry before pulling her up to her knees, snatching off the remaining of the torn fabrics that she wore. ‘Ooh!’ She gasped at the sudden movement. 

Looking behind her, she watched as his heavy paws stumped around her. ‘What’s wrong?’ It was then when she noticed his big bushy tail wagging excitedly behind him. ‘How fucking cute!?’ She thought. 

He said nothing, just let out a loud huff before his wet nose pressed against the back of her thigh. Behind her, she could hear the tear of thick fabric then a warm heavy member rested on her rump. 

‘Smell. Good.’

His nose sniffed along her warm, sepia brown skin. Her scent clouded his brain like a drug. He began to whimper softly as he licked at her shoulder. 

No longer frightened to death, Selene closed her eyes as she pressed her back against him. Begging him without using her words. It was strange. She felt like she’d ingested a bunch of Tequila. It made her feel carefree and sexy. What did he do to her?

‘Selene.’

Her eyes flashed open at the sound of her name but before she could react further, he’d began to sink his thick shaft into her pussy. A sharp inhale left her lips as he stretched her to fit himself in. She began to grip the snow beneath her once more, ‘UGH!’ He was massive! 

He began to huff and growl once again until he finally nestled within the home inside of her, bottoming out completely. Her toes curled as a familiar numbness shrouded her body. Her nipples hardened, her clit erect and throbbing. 

‘Uhhh!’ She wailed as she quickly got adjusted to his enormous size. A few strokes and he was sending her to pound town! Using her body as he saw fit and she was having a damn good time. 

Selene’s face grew warm, her eyes rolling back as she took his monstrous cock. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ She mewed out as his large hands held onto her waist tightly, ramming his member into her warm abyss. 

She reached behind him, placing her small hand against his lower abdomen. He was so warm, so strong. If she were to end up like her friends after this, what a beautiful death it would be. His sharp claws gently stabbing into her smooth, brown skin. Careful enough not to puncture and rip her to pieces. 

At this point, Selene completely forgot about the fact that he actually knew her name. 

But that much didn’t matter when such a beauty of a beast was using you like a personal flesh light. 

He let out hungry grunts as drool fell from his lips upon her back. ‘Breed. Goddess. Breed. Selene.’

‘Oooh my fucking god yes! Uh huh! Fuck me!’ She begged as he began to pump his hips harder and faster. Her sweet, innocent moans were no more. Instead they were turned into filthy cursing and carnal screams as she came over and over again like a desperate little whore.

Soon enough, his whimpers and grunts became constant and his thrusts became demanding and rugged. He let out an animalistic bark before he settled his dick deep inside of her. Coating her soft, spongy cervix and walls with his cum. He howled as she began to throw her ass back against him. Milking him for every drop. 

Finally, when he pulled out his member, he collapsed into the snowy ground, exhausted. But he whispered, ‘Imprint. Breed.’

Trying to catch her own breath, she collapsed right next to him. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Partly because he was truly the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen (even though he did murder her friends…) but she couldn’t understand these codes. What was he saying to her? 

‘No name… Selene. Imprint.’ 

***

‘Look you’ve got to believe me OK? Throw me on the damn Lie Detector test! It really happened!’ 

Walter sat across the room, his eyes glazed over with shock and disbelief. He couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. In fact, he believed her probably more than anyone else. 

‘Uhm… you said he didn’t have a name? Did he say anything else about himself?’ 

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head, ‘No. Just he kept saying “Breed. Imprint.”. I kept asking what it meant but he just couldn’t seem to put the words together?’ 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Was it really her?! His Goddess?! Was she really his soulmate, his imprintee? A lot of nights he couldn’t remember things but he remembered this one clear as day! 

Walter blinked and looked down as he could hear her moans, begging and pleading in his ears. He cleared his throat before glanced back up at her. 

‘Did he— did he say anything else?’ 

Selene looked over at him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She grew defensive, ‘Why?! Ain’t like you’re gonna believe me anyway.’ She looked down into her lap, a somber look upon her gorgeous features. 

He looked back up at her and let out a gentle sigh. ‘Selene, I probably believe you more than you believe it yourself.’ 

It grew quiet for a few more moments before he spoke up again. He had to confirm it for himself. ‘What did he say?’ 

She bit into her bottom lip before she left out a huff. ‘Mine.’ 

‘Mine. My Selene.’ 

It was probably safe to say that Walter was not only spooked but grateful. It was unfortunate what happened to her friends. They were in the way. But he’d never tell her that. 

Trying to piece together the words, his heart answered before his mind could. 

‘It’s you.’ 

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Random (and somewhat silly) Leon Kennedy headcannons

* Leon is a sleepwalker. I have no justification for it other than I think it’d be funny

* Ironically he’s also a VERY light sleeper

* And to add insult to injury, he snores like a freight train.

* Leon is Transgender. Trust me guys he told me himself

* Also got that ADHD Autism combo. Again just trust me you guys he said so himself-

* Bisexual disaster. Probably leans towards men but every gender gives him Gay Panic

* Luis and Ada were his Bi Awakening.

* ((And probably Wesker too. I mean C’mon just look at the guy))

* And just like every Bisexual he CANNOT sit in chairs normally to save his life. If he even bothers to sit on one at all ((Kinda going off the second headcannon; he also sleeps in the WEIRDEST positions humanly possible))

* Leon has permanent Bad Posture. Both from when he used to wear a binder (Transmasc Tingz !!) and from old age

* He hams up his “”old age”” a LOT just to annoy Chris and Claire

* “Ooooooughhh you guys I can feel my bones turning to dust-“ “Shut UP LEON I’m NOT CARRYING YOU”

* Leon also wore a binder for FAR too long. Like he was fighting zombies and doing backflips all while his ribs were screaming in pain

* “Leon when did you last take off your binder” “why do YOU wanna know huh Chris 🤨” “TAKE IT OFF”

* ((Dw guys he practiced safe binding and got Top Surgery. Eventually))

* Leon dyes his hair blonde. You know I’m right

* It’s also like,, surprisingly soft??? He probably takes very good care of it and uses expensive products (probably the only expensive thing he owns)

* He also purposefully cuts it that way. In fact I recon he cuts it himself

* Much more competent people (Jill, Claire, Rebecca) have offered to cut it for him but he’s always refused

* Its one of the few things that reminds him of when he was still a Rookie cop that isn’t also a traumatic memory

* He’s got some PTSD just don’t worry about it ok

* Leon is N O T good at opening up. Like at all. But when somebody DOES manage to crack him he cries s o easily and he will cry for literal hours

* Chris and Claire are the only two people who’ve ever actually managed to successfully get him to open up to that point though

* He also probably sleeps better when he’s with somebody. But he’d never admit that

* Leon’s love language is probably a mix of Words Of Affirmation and Acts Of Service. He’d love it if for once he could come home to somebody having done the little chores for him

* He’s also probably a M A S S I V E sucker for any kind of physical touch. Again, won’t admit it, but he’s a big cuddler.

* Somebody please please please play with this man’s hair he will fall asleep in your lap in seconds

* Now this may be my own Autism special interest shining through but I LOVE the idea of Leon being a massive Pokémon fan

* His favourite games are Ruby, Sapphire and Emerald. Idk man he SEEMS like a Hoenn boy y’know

* His first starter was Torchic and Blaiziken remains as his all-time favourite Pokémon (he’s absolutely correct Torchic is the best Hoenn starter Fight Me)

* Probably still has his Gameboy from when he was a kid

* Leon’s also into retro anime. He likes to get Chris, Jill, Claire and Rebecca over just to show them his old childhood favourite shows like Astroboy or Sailor moon

* Will pause the DVD every 5 seconds to point something out or ramble on about something for 10 minutes

* Oh yeah he also absolutely keeps a DVD player in his home

* He’s a big sucker for old movies, especially old Queer movies but he’s also into classics like Back To The Future, Star Wars etc

*Probably was a big Star Wars kid

*((His favourite movie of all time is Legally Blonde but he will NEVER say that out loud))

* Leon’s always out of the country on some government mission so his house is probably pretty barren. He probably just stays with Chris or Claire after missions anyways

* Leon also still probably keeps in touch with Sherry and Ashley. He definitely went to their respective Graduations to support them at least

* He likes to collect little trinkets from his missions. Rocks, lighters, photos etc

* Other people have put this on their Headcannon lists too but I also agree that Leon is a MASSIVE Foodie

* The way to his heart is through a really good breakfast

* He’s also got a massive Sweet Tooth. Again, courtesy of other Headcannon lists

* He’s got low blood sugar so it probably evens out

* ALWAYS coming home from missions exhausted. In fact he’s exhausted on the plane. On the car ride there. DURING the mission. He’s an eepy little guy

* His T-Shots also make him Very Hungry All The Time. He thought it’d even out after a year of being on Testosterone but over a decade later and he still eats like a teenage boy

* ((It’s ok though cuz Chris always has his fridge stocked full. It might just be for Leon who knows))

* Leon’s not really either a Cat or a Dog guy. He likes both equally and would definitely have one of the other if it weren’t for his work

* He also prefers warm weather :))

* He likes to go swimming with his friends whenever he gets the opportunity

* Everyone makes fun of Chris for his Hawaiian shirts but Leon ABSOLUTELY has way too many as well

* Wears socks and jandals. I’m from Aotearoa NZ I’m allowed to say that ok

*BIG Mitski & Lana Del Rey fan

*I also imagine he probably likes older music like Madonna or Bowie or Blondie

* He’s not very good at it but he likes to paint his nails

* Or he just lets Rebecca or Claire do it for him

* If he goes a long time without cutting his hair either he’ll also put it up in a lil ponytail :)

* He’s got a big ol toothy, lop-sides grin.

* I recon he also involuntarily bites his tongue when he’s genuinely smiling too

* I said before he keeps trinkets and stuff from his missions but he absolutely keeps more personal mementos too. For example;

* He bought himself an old Spanish version of Don Quixote for Luis

* He keeps his old cop uniform in his closet

* He stole Chris’ shades and never returned them

* Still has one of Adas missing rings, etc etc etc

* Similarly to physical objects, Leon also picks up on the habits of people he’s met from his missions

* He always double-checks the barrel of his gun after he’s seen Chris do it so many times

* Holds his knife in his left hand after Krauser

* Very rarely smokes on occasion to remember Luis

* Picked up more Advanced First-Aid after Rebecca ((she also insisted it would be helpful))

* I could go on forever

* Leon can’t imagine ever actually being able to settle down and retire because of his work, but if he could, he would love to be a Father :))

* One last silly one cuz this list has gotten surprisingly serious; Leon unironically references Vines All The Time. It will drive everyone around him insane

[blindnpretty]

Tw // mentions of corpses, decomposition of them, a little bit of swearing, and straight up talking about my trauma experiences. This post is not tagreted towards anyone, i just wanted to get all of this off my chest.

—

Ok just me yapping about my c-ptsd again

I've been trying to recover for like 2-3 years and it's hella hard for me, ESPECIALLY the triggers. Sometimes you can just discover what is it that triggers you and you can warn people around you about it, but when you can't discover what triggers you, that's the real problem there.

Yeah, people can trigger me even though they don't mean to. Even though i am the one who has it i don't even know half of my triggers, i am still trying to note them down but trust me it's so fucking hard when you lose half of your memory when you go through an episode. Do i get triggered from people talking about my mental illness unless i don't bring it up myself? Yes. Do i get triggered by people telling that i am a bad person? Yes. Do i get triggered by people i recently met are mean to me? Yes. Tbh i don't really give a damn when it's a stranger but when it's someone i just met it just makes me go up the walls.

And trust me, i have MUCH more triggers, but i don't know half of them due to my severe memory loss and shit, and it's so frustrating!! Like, i want to tell someone to stop doing a certain thing but from how absurt that trigger is people will just assume that i am a fuckass "you are faking your mentall illness!" kind of a person.

No, i don't fake any of this bullshit. Why the absolute fuck i would?? Do you think i enjoy starving myself for days because someone said a word that reminded me one of my traumas? Clearly. I'm sorry but people who say that i am "faking it" learns from shit like this:

And then try to assume stuff about me as if they are the ones who have this disorder. I am sorry but i am not going to listen to someone who learns about disorders from stuff like this, and then tells people that they are "faking it", i apologize once more, but do you even realize how harmful it is for us? Especially for c-ptsd since you don't know the half of your triggers and when they occured. There's a critical importance of learning mental illnesses properly. I apologize dearly but everyone deals with mental illnesses different, and you can't assume that people are faking it unless they are very obviously faking it/don't fit the !!very basic!! criteria.

And then there's this feeling i have, when i see something completely traumatic— i go through a lot of suffering, and then that traumatic thing is nothing to me.

Don't ever get me started on how my mom just let me see an extremely decomposed corpse—she used to work as a pathologist til i was 10—it's was horrifying. I was traumatized. That corpse was just carved into my brain. I couldn't sleep for days, i couldn't eat any meat because it just disgusted me. It lasted a few days and now, i am literally just neutral about corpses. I can visit that morgue just fine. And after all of this— people just tell me that i am being heartless, yeah don't go around babbling that i am an "edge lord", this is literally what i go through. I can't feel emotions like a normal person does, i don't feel any pity when i see people suffering, i don't feel love when i see my favorite person, the emotions i can feel intensely—like a normal person does—is fear and anger, expect these two i am completely numb. I don't really know if something is right or wrong unless someone tells me about it or i watch how people react to it, that doesn't make me a bad person, too. I am just saying that i can't understand right and wrong all by myself, however since i desire to be someone who is good, i always try to do the right thing— and by all of this, i am trying to tell you guys that ptsd is not something all about nightmares and flashbacks, it affects the person's way of thinking too. The reason i got my emotions this dulled down was the fact that I've been emotionally traumatized many times. Ptsd is not something you can learn off from the ableist information from google. It can give you correct information, yes. However the information there is very likely to be untrue, especially for personality disorders.

Okay, let me give an example— the most of the information on google says that cptsd lasts under a month, however, I've been dealing with it almost my whole life, only 2-3 years of diagnosis.

"but ismene, how can we learn about i-" i am pretty much sure that there's THOUSANDS of people who have diagnosed mental illnesses, you can always ask them about it on social media. Or maybe you have someone who's diagnosed? Go ahead and talk to them if they are comfortable. Do a deep research about it, and then compare the information you got from couple of diagnosed people and your research— find the same spots. And these same spots are very likely to be true. Researching about a mental illness shouldn't take you five minutes if you do want to understand people who have them. Mental illnesses are something serious and you need to take them serious.

Welp, i guess i yapped a bit too much— i hope all of this bunch of experiences and information does actually helps some people.

[md-confessions]

is it just me or like n seems like he's repressing a fuck ton of anger and sadness and he's just trying to be nice so other will be ok while this is all going down, also I wanna remind people that ep 6 and 7 happen in the same day and that's traumatizing, like your beat friends died then you go down, your girlfriend is looking like she about to die, you get sperated and then remember you killed the entire human race and ate them. You then get dragged to the pits of he'll and then the person you killed saves you after that who turns out to be ur gfs mom, oh then ur gf is possessed by who you thought was a good person (kinda) and then guess what! You find out that wlwho you thought was tessa was acutlly her dead corpse!!! You fight ur gf, you get to hug her THEN BAM SHES DEAD (he thinks she's dead)

And now that no one is here for him to act like the guy they relie on, in ep 8 I bet he's gonna be super unhinged, mad probably, depressed, who really knows how he's gonna cope

.

[driftingmoonmenace]

Ok I'm gonna kinda unhinged ramble about my D&D robot oc Riot and lore dump about him a little bit, don't mind me !!! 👀💦

LISTEN ok listen I love my bbg Riot so gd much and I'm having like so much fun exploring his character in my friend group's campaign!! He's my little pathetic wet meow meow okkkk😭

Poor guy has been through SO MUCH shit for the past 59 years of his life and he's TIRED of it. SO TIRED.

He was one of five made-to-order robots programmed to be clowns for a scummy ringleader's circus (that the guy totally fucked up the first time financially and ran it into the ground before moving to a new planet and rebranding). AND EVER SINCE THEN all R-10T has known is how much his existence doesn't matter and the constant demands from his boss owner and society!! He hates it!!

He started off so sweet and compassionate, and he still is deep, deep down (partially cause he was programmed to be since he used to work with and entertain kids but his AI grew to feel genuine about it!!) Despite the constant abuse he loved entertaining those kids and making them smile with his silly jokes and tricks and balloon animals!!! Not to mention his little troupe, he loved them so much, they were like family to him!!

AND AFTER 40 YEARS, the ringleader just got into so much debit that he sold them all off to an auction house to see how much money he could get out of it like an asshole!! AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF the guy who bought them is the adopted son of a known mafia syndicate cause he thought 'hey they have some useful dexterous attributes and stuff so I'm just gonna take 'em and unconsentually fuck up their programming by slapping a killcode in 'em and modify them to serve their use better to make them all into hitmen' (which his father did not like so they all had to prove themselves or be scrapped) Which in the process, one of Riot's troupe members died because of him because he chose to stand up for himself and tell them 'No'.

So Riot has been doing this assassination stuff for almost 20 years and again he hates it !!! He hates his life so gd much!! And being a little forced given an opportunity to escape for a while and meet this weird little group of people who have genuinely grown to care about him despite him being so standoffish and abrasive and stick up for him when they're at places that look down on robots. It's kinda made him go 'hey, I kinda like this...' and it reminds him of his troupe a lot.

But Riot KNOWS that because he just up and disappeared suddenly that he'll be found eventually and his new 'boss' is gonna scrap him for it. He knows he's gonna die soon and he's just yolo-ing everything at this point cause at least if he possibly dies, he'll die 'free' and on his own terms. Self preservation thrown completely out the window and struggling on whether he should keep warming up to this group or continue to keep them at arms length.

Not to mention the killcode rearing its ugly little head at times and making him more aggressive and bloodthirsty that this little group isn't safe from either. And dodging every time this group offers to mod him to help him out, cause this poor guy is scared and traumatized of losing more of himself and what's been done to him in the past.

Anyways yeah I love my funky little New-Yorker assassin clown a lot. I'll end this with some funny little facts about him!!

He wears a helmet all the time so the group has never seen his face, or realizes he has a face (yet)

He keeps balloons and a small hand pump in his crossbody bag to make balloon animals sometimes. (One of the group's members, Nexus, asked him for a lobster balloon animal while a Boss was monologue-ing. Riot didn't hesitate to make it.)

He has a deck of cards in his bag also that he uses to play games with people he's threatening. If they win they get to live, but if they lose, well Riot gets to kill you. :)

He reverse robbed someone that was trying to rob him.

He got a sick ass sniper rifle that he can now use without setting up a tripod first (that the DM jokingly hates allowing him to loot off a dead body so early in the campaign)