#✦ | mercenary work. ( ic. )

[afraidofchange]

@unfogged || LIKED for a Paladin's kiss.

A little too often, Rama has never sought the services of a healer, preferring to rely on her divine ability to heal her own wounds to a sufficient capacity until being able to rest. Yet, she finds herself too haggard and bloodied to muster it when her weaker companion needed it more than herself. Stumbling into the nearest town led the paladin to find aid, coming to rest at the hands of a healer for hire.

Strange, but not entirely in a place to complain nor question, Rama comes to rest for a few days at the home of this woman by name of Mary - a savior in her own right that kept her through healing stitches and a feverish infection. Grateful to the gods for once despite her occupation and sworn oath, she is thankful to have found someone like her.

In the days that have passed, recuperating to mostly full strength, Rama finds herself preparing to leave, repacking her replenished supplies, strapping herself into part of her armor when the now familiar sounds of Mary's feet come down the stairs into the guest room. With eyes on her, Rama turns and sets the pack down, for now.

"I am afraid I must return to my companions... we must continue our journey," She says in her low, rasp-ridden voice, though the smallest of smiles graces her scarred features as the distance between them closes, step by step. "I owe you my life... thank you."

As a parting gesture, Rama bows her head, but before she steps away, she accepts Mary's gentle embrace, careful of her healing wounds, pressing a kiss to the other woman's cheek.

[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

part 2 here.

[venuswarmlight]

I was hoping to request a jealous Mizu x reader, like maybe she sees reader joking around with Tenzin and she gets really jealous. Idk maybe something along those lines ig. Tbh you can do whatever really, I just want some jealous Mizu x reader stuff. Sorry if this sounds too vague😓, Anyway thank you 🩷🖤

I hope I didn’t read this too late! A lot of things happened but what matters now is that I can keep writing. Hope you enjoyed it, i did it femreader bc I assumed you wanted it that way(I ALSO DIDNT FIND A GIF FOR THIS IM SO SORRY itS BEEN MONTHS I DONT USE TUMBLR)

Warnings: nsfw at the end. Not very proofread. Taigen acting like a man in the 1600’s. BAD ENGLISH.

Notes: Reader is an archer. Idk I’ll be adding more

Jealous!Mizu x Fem!Reader.

Having a mercenary girlfriend was the best thing that happened to you, from the first time you two met until now your only work was following her like a puppy through the villages and kicking asses to the ground like the badass you were, and of course the cozy nights were you both trained your fighting skills next to a lake just to end it by making out until her hands were already in your chest, desperate for blowing off some steam. Your life next to Mizu was great, yeah, but thanks to an unfortunate serious of events you weren’t the only ones in a campfire nearby that forest lake. At least for now.

“I’ll see if there’s another rabbit out there.” Mizu got up from the snowy ground, and looked at you. “Scream if Taigen gets too nosy.” She said as she dead-stared at the man sitting next to you.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.” You smiled at her and went back to polishing your arrows, while Taigen was doing literally anything but looking at you with curiosity.

After a few minutes you finally broke the ice between you and him, your voice as soft as a feather while you spoke “You’re staring, you know that?”

He immediately realized and turned his head to the campfire smoke, loosing himself in the front view. “I’m sorry, I’m just.. Surprised.” He answered later, hesitant.

“Of what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you lifted your gaze to look at him, concerned.

“Well, women like you are not usually seen in these conditions.. Much less with a man like him.” His words intrigued you, what did he meant by this? You inhaled deeply as you kept doing your work, finally storing the arrows in their respective case.

“I find myself very comfortable where I am right now, I don’t know what you m-”You were interrupted by Taigen, he turned himself getting in front of you.

“You’re too pretty to be an archer instead of living in an estate with a rich man.”

Oh. So this is what he meant. Your eyes widened and you started laughing, covering your mouth of embarrassment, honestly it was uncomfortable and out of place but you decided to take it as a compliment AND as a dare. Purposely changed the subject to avoid personal questions and scolded him, pushing him playfully. “Hey! My appearance has nothing to do with my abilities.”

Taigen chuckled, not pushing you back but being more confident with his approaching attitude. “I’m just saying the truth, you should-”

“Oh, yeah, that’s enough!” You jumped onto him, making him fall into the snow and taking him by surprise, his head bounced a bit on the ground, disoriented.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“Can’t fight a woman back? You must be shitting your pants right now, what a shame.” You spilled, sarcastically, but that dominance fell when he grabbed your hands placed in his chest and used it as a support to push you to the right, shifting positions, now his body was topping you, his hands immobilizing yours by pressing hard on your upper torso.

“Not bad.. But still not as good as me.” He proudly said, suddenly you kicked his butt with your knee from the back, making him loose his strength in your wrists, you repeated his last movement, ending again in how you started that silly fight, your giggles and laughters filled the forest’s natural sounds, and suddenly you totally forgot that Mizu could come back anytime and find you two in this compromising position.

You and Taigen struggled there for a few minutes, what he thought that would be a stupid kid’s fight turned into a challenge, even if it didn’t look like it, he started recognizing how.. Incredible you were, your smooth but hard blows, the little screams you made when you felt like you were gonna loose, now he understood.

How lucky Mizu was for having a girl like you.

You finished the fight by enlazing your fingers with an iron grip around his neck, and your other hand threatening his face with your fist, but you forgot that Taigen’s hands were still free. He grabbed your waist and managed to make you fall on your back as he stood up from the ground and made you loose your grip on his neck, his legs immobilizing yours and his hands putting your wrists above your head, his uncontrolled breathing crashing against your nose as he laughed. “Defeated.”

Before you could answer, you saw a third person kick Taigen’s body from the side, just in the ribs, making him fall to the ground, almost burning his whole body next to the campfire, you sat up quick and looked at him first, then looked up at your side, a tall figure with a dead bunny grabbed by the ears in front of you, those blue unsettling eyes staring at you with the coldest countenance. You knew right there and then she was mad as hell.

“Training without me?” Mizu got on her knees to the campfire to roast the rabbit, not caring about Taigen’s prolly broken rib (not really). You stood up to clean your clothes and sit next to her, nervous. You weren’t doing anything wrong, but still.

“We were just playing.” You excused yourself, trying to make her look at you, but no. She was ignoring you.

Instead of answering, her gaze turned out to Taigen, who was struggling to recover from that fucking kick that hurt as hell. “You’re getting too comfortable here, aren’t you?” Her tone was noticeably passive-aggressive, her grip on the roasting stick was tightening.

“That wasn’t fucking necessary! Fuck, it hurts..” He yelled, finally sitting a bit far from you two, you could feel the tension building heavier and thicker in the ambiance.

It was so uncomfortable you felt like you had to go. “I’m gonna wash my hands before eating, I won’t be long.” You got up to escape the funeral situation you were just in, but a hand grabbed yours, making you stop, you looked back with concern, Mizu was behind you with that angry gaze, sending shivers down your spine.

“It’s too dark to go alone.” She said, then looked at Taigen “Take care of the dinner, don’t screw it up.” He was about to talk but instantly shut his mouth like he knew if he talked he could end up dead.

You tried to forget her toxic behavior as you two disappeared yourselves into the woods, the moonlight making the path for both, the silence feeding your ‘I’m fucked’ thoughts and increasing more when you felt her grip on your hand tightening, she ended up dragging you to a not so far place, finally letting out your hand. The only thing you could look was her back and her little black bun.

“What was that?” She spat, aggressively turning herself and hoovering over you.

“I told you we were just playing.“You stepped back, but unconventionally bumped with a tree behind you, before you could realize, Mizu had you cornered, your chest rising and falling against hers as she looked down at you.

“It didn’t look like it.” And the jigsaw puzzles connected in your head. She was jealous.

“Are you doing this because you’re-”

”Maybe. Seeing my dove pinned down by a bald monkey it’s not funny.” Her words were sharp, you didn’t even know how to answer.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek, making her gaze softened as she looked at you. “You’re the only one in my heart.” You whispered, dragging her closer to your face, her hands traveling down your curves and grabbing your hips tightly, your heat already increasing its temperature as it mets her knee, rubbing your core tentatively.

“I still want to fuck that pretty smile outta’ you.” Her lips attacked you like an animal, making you whimper and moan against her watery mouth, her knee making you hump on it desperately and your inner thoughts begging for mercy cause’ this night was going to hit you hard and long.

[cursedpiratestash]

Talon x Reader

Cuddle/sleep headcanons

Doomfist

He doesn’t have time for it very often but when it gets down to it he melts into you in a gentle hold

He prefers a casual position where you head rests on his chest while he rubs circles in your back

He would never admit it to anybody but big spooning him puts him right to sleep

But if you’re a natural heater it doesn’t matter the position after a long day

He’s constantly preparing and orchestrating missions so he isn’t usually with you when you wake up but always kisses you on the temple while you sleep on his way out

Reaper

He isn’t entirely fond of it but does it anyways especially if it helps you sleep

Spooning is easier for him but he doesn’t mind you resting your head on his arm while facing him

He gets to have a good look at you as you usually wind up falling asleep first

His skin is pretty chilled so he counts on your body heat and a few extra blankets for warmth

He isn’t always in bed by the time you wake up but when he is he’s already caressing your cheek and dreading the headache his team will bring him

Moira

She’s almost always late to bed and occasionally isn’t there at all

You consider yourself lucky some nights when you can actually drag her to bed with you

She has terrible circulation and is pretty cold so after some complaining she makes sure the bed has extra blankets

However if you run hot at night then it’s a match made in heaven as she gets to watch you pass out while you practically drape yourself over her

She prefers you rest your head on her chest as it gives her a free hand to look at reports while the other hand runs itself through your hair

She always wakes up before you and like clockwork she returns to her experiments but not without a forehead kiss on her way out

Sombra

I imagine she’s terrible at getting to bed at a reasonable time but you’ve changed that when you start dating

Now it’s something she can look forward to as she even takes an occasional nap with you whenever her schedule can allow it

There are nights she doesn’t show up but when she does she loves to be big spoon since she runs a little hot in her sleep

She finds it so rewarding even on nights you both hardly get enough sleep from staying up talking and laughing over every little thing

It always surprises her to think about how much you’ve helped her relax as it manages to show in her work as well

She’s probably the only Talon member what wakes up in unison with you and shares your morning routine

Mauga

As a mercenary he only occasionally isn’t in bed whenever he has a mission run late

On nights that he’s home he makes sure to drag you to bed with him no matter what you’re doing

He’s earned his little snuggle session so “five more minutes” be damned

He enjoys any cuddling position but he loves to wrap himself around you and engulf you in his arms

He loves when you stay up late and talk with him as you trace whatever scars he’s collected from past missions

He does wake up before you but refuses to let you out of bed unless you promise him something like breakfast or helping him wash his hair

Widowmaker

She doesn’t seem to need much sleep these days and she isn’t quite fond of cuddling as much as she used to be but she is fond of you

As an assassin the only time she isn’t in bed with you is when a mission runs late

Whenever it’s up to her she prefers spooning regardless of her position as long as she feels the warmth of your skin

Compared to you her skin is ice cold and hardly makes for a good cuddle session unless you run hot at night

If you don’t she always sees to it that the bed has extra thick blankets and expensive furs prepared on your side of the bed

You’ll sometimes catch her watching over you if you happen to wake up in the middle of the night

In the morning she’s always up and offering you tea or coffee before some breakfast

Sigma

Like Moira his research never allows for him to have a normal sleep schedule

You usually have to coax him to bed with gentle hands and promises to let him continue his work early in the morning

It tends to work some of the time if he isn’t suddenly too cold and stonewalls you

Once he’s actually in bed it takes a little more effort to get him to ease his mind and get some sleep

A frequent tradition is to spend some time with his head on your lap while you message his forehead

You have your deepest conversations with him when he’s resting on you like this

When it’s time to sleep he envelops you in his arms and is finally soothed by the smell of your hair

He isn’t much colder than Moira but enjoys a few extra blankets on his side regardless of your heat

Mornings aren’t always the same but he does his best to share a routine with you

[vatiiagames]

DEMO || FORUM || CONTENT WARNING

Vessel of Harkahn is an upcoming 18+ fantasy interactive novel that takes inspiration from the Dragon Age series, TTRPGs, A Song of Ice and Fire, as well as several other pieces of media.

⚡️ The Short Demo is complete! (As of 08/08/24)

⚡️ The Forum and Content Warning pages are a WIP! (As of 06/29/24)

When the Grand Duke of Le Versare is assassinated, his surviving children are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

With hardly any time to mourn their father, the Aurelios twins are approached by a mage who has suspicion to believe the assassination is tied to several events across the continent.

The mage also believes demonic influence in involved.

Many months after the assassination, Carlise Aurelios and Varre Delatore have discovered the resurgence of the demon Harkahn. The demon feasts on hatred and chaos but is much weaker than his first appearance centuries ago.

Harkahn now requires a vessel to survive in the mortal plane. He has yet to become strong enough to shed his vessel and exist in his demonic form.

You are his chosen vessel. Or, at least, you were.

After exorcising the demon from you, Carlise and Varre recruit you into the Band of Althor to aid their cause of defeating Harkahn. Seeing as you were his vessel, you have priceless intel on the demon's mind. You may have insight to his plans or possible weaknesses.

The only issue? You can't remember anything from your time possessed and even memories from before are foggy and shrouded. Trying to remember these lost memories causes you immense physical pain.

For now, you must find another way to help Carlise and Varre's cause.

⚡️ Create and customize your MC "The Vessel".

⚡️ Play as male, female or nonbinary.

⚡️ Play as an Elf, Half-Elf or Human.

⚡️ Choose from three classes to play from; Warrior, Rogue or Mage. Each class has its own unique Mentor.

⚡️ Shape your skills as you play.

⚡️ Six romance options to choose from alongside secret routes to discover as the story progresses. (All romance options are romanceable regardless of gender.)

⚡️ Help recruit others throughout Caadvir to join the Band of Althor. There is strength in numbers.

⚡️ Discover more about your lost memories and the significance of your Mentor.

Asan Aurelios || The Heir || Human

As the older one of the twins, Asan is the hereditary Grand Duke. He has big shoes to fill after his father's long and peaceful reign. Despite the weight on his shoulders, Asan keeps a bright smile on his face and pushes forward. He is more than supportive of Carlise's efforts to dispose of Harkahn, he just has other political matters to attend to.

Asan hails from the province Le Versare.

Carlise Aurelios || The Leader || Human || RO

As the younger one of the twins, Carlise doesn't hold as much weight to her shoulders. The line of succession has passed to her brother, which allows her to focus entirely on disposing of the demon Harkahn. She is calculating and, at times, cold. Carlise is the founder and leader of the Band of Althor and is greatly respected.

Carlise hails from the province Le Versare.

Varre Delatore || The Mage || Elf || RO

Varre is an extremely talented and powerful mage. He has spent many years studying and mastering magic at the White Tower of Castavel. His knowledge and experience is what drove him to discover Harkahn's resurgence and its influence throughout Caadvir. Varre approached Carlise and Asan about their father's assassination and its relation to Harkahn and has been by their side ever since. He aided Carlise in founding the Band of Althor.

Varre hails from the province Castavel.

Ewan Geraunt || The Viper || Human || RO

Ewan is part of the mercenary group called the Vipers of Venoss. They are regarded as the best mercenary group throughout Caadvir and some of their numbers have been worked all across the world. Ewan is a higher ranking member of the Vipers, but left the group shortly after experiencing an odd dream. After learning his birthplace suffered an attack from Harkahn, he immediately turned to the Band of Althor to serve their cause.

Ewan hails from the province Venoss.

Dea || The Halfblood || Half-Elf || RO

Dea had no place in Ordaire. As a place still ruled by their distaste for humans, half-elfs are heavily frowned upon and outcast by society. She spent many years in and out of street and bar fights alike. Like Ewan she found herself in a mercenary band, but unlike him it didn't last too long. She jumped from band to band, job to job, until she landed on the Band of Althor. She works for Carlise now but who knows how long that will last?

Dea hails from the province Ordaire.

Kizan Fremont || The Knight || Human || RO

The Fremont family have long been allies of the Aurelios family. Kizan's father before him served the Grand Duke of Le Versare as his protector. The mantle was passed to Kizan a few years prior to the assassination. He is the Knight Commander of Le Versare's Order of Cor. While his duties keep him busy most of the time, Kizan will always find time for himself and make the most of it.

Kizan hails from the province Le Versare.

Amysa Briarfel || The Apprentice || Human || RO

Amysa has spent much time studying magic at the White Tower of Castavel. She plans to become a Mentor at the tower, which has earned her the title of Apprentice. Part of Amysa's apprenticeship is traveling throughout Caadvir and assisting different noble houses. When she finally landed upon House Aurelios, she willingly chose to put her apprenticeship on hold to stay and help the Band of Althor.

Amysa hails from the province Xinthe.

Préaux || Warrior Mentor || Human

Préaux is a well-known and respected knight from Itresse. They served the Grand Duke of Itresse for many years before retiring and disappearing entirely. Préaux earned many nicknames throughout their life like 'The Saint of Silver' and 'The Silver Serpent'.

Préaux hails from the province Itresse.

Jaq the Grin || Rogue Mentor || Half-Elf

Jaq the Grin is an infamous thief who terrorizes Caadvir. They have never been caught or really seen. Those who claim to have witnessed Jaq state that the only thing they could remember from the encounter was Jaq's impossibly huge grin, which earned them their nickname.

Jaq the Grin hails from the province Ordaire.

Erina || Mage Mentor || Elf

Erina is a Mentor at the White Tower of Castavel. Having served many years as a Mentor, Erina is highly respected and not a force to be trifled with. Many students of Erina have gone forth to achieve greatness in their lives, such as serving a Grand Duke or King or Queen.

Erina hails from the province Venoss.

[shatteredearth-if]

SHATTERED EARTH INTRO POST

DEMO | DISCORD

Shattered Earth is an Interactive Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction about retreading old ground and working for your good ending. less formally, this is meant to go on my portfolio

Five years ago, you watched the world split open, bore witness to what you could only refer to as "dragons" made manifest in scale, flesh and skin. You saw cities razed to the ground, asphalt streets shattered like ice. Fleets of dragons and foreign—almost alien—aircrafts alike seared across the skies, while towers of dirt and metal tore free from the landscape. The world has inexplicably, incomprehensibly changed, but you know this to be true: Earth never really stood a chance.

With your world now overrun by dragons and dangers alike, you've lived alone, hiding from the world you once called home, scrounging for scraps and surviving by the skin of your teeth. But when a chance encounter with a mercenary ship leaves you reeling with the realization that you're not the average-joe of a human that you thought you once were, you're forced into an ultimatum: enlist with the Seekers, or live out the rest of your life in a Human compound on Therius. But your horrors extend far beyond the threat of the dragons; your monsters are at home in your head, but they might just be the key to stopping all of this madness… if they don't take you out first.

The gears turn, the worlds spin inwards like ever-onwards like painted tops. You will undergo a journey of self-discovery, of potential romances and of incredible loss. And somehow, you can't shake the sensation that this has all happened before…

A customizable protagonist: Customize your gender, your body type, your pronouns, and personality.

Five ROs to romantically pursue—some in the most conventional sense, others in… a not so conventional sense.

Engage in brief flings, one of which is... an RO's estranged divorced mother. (Your crewmates will disapprove.)

Train your body or your mind to perfection. Are you a frontline fighter, or do you prefer the aethereal arts?

Cute cat dog wolfboy…?

The female version of a himbo

There's no good way to put this: you remember things you shouldn't. The end of your story is not the end; something awaits you at the place where your endings converge. What is it? What are you?

There's an egotistical mind entity in your head, and the flags aren't just red; they're blood-crimson. Romanceable, but at a steep cost to your sanity. Or maybe…

Skippable, customizable NSFW content. My friends have advised me not to continue.

Avett Ironsturm

Role: RO

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Kattish

Age: 20

Specialization: Arms specialist

Appearance: Avett is a Kattish man of average height. His complexion is fair. Perched upon his head are two swivelling cat-like ears, and at the base of his spine is a prehensile tail that is about the length of his arm—both are adorned with soft, black fur. His hair is black, hangs just below the shoulders, and he keeps most of it in a messy ponytail. Most of his frontal hair frames his boyish, youthful face. His irises are copper colored, his pupils slitted.

Personality: Avett is bristly, prickly, and very easy to anger if he's not trying to get into your pants. He's a flirt through and through, and knows how and when to be charming, just… not with his coworkers. Or you. Though if you can get him to let his guard around you, you might just find him a lot more bearable.

Your impression: Once upon a time, you saw his old ID, stuffed in a cabinet along with his boxers and body spray, and you realized he was smiling in his photo. Not outwardly—they don't want you smiling on those cards, but behind those eyes was a laugh ready to bust out at any moment. That was four years ago. Now? All he does now is sulk and yell at people. Something happened in those four, long years, and those years have only been getting longer since.

Sexuality: Bisexual (woman-leaning)

Yuda Hellsbridge

Role: RO

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Half Gallian, Half Kattish

Age: Secret?

Specialization: Restrainer

Appearance: Yuda is a half-Gallian, half-Kattish woman of above average height. Her complexion is a pale, seafoam green—common for most Gallians. Her hair is white with blue undertones in the right lighting, and is short and choppy. If you look too closely into her metallic gray eyes, you will notice a swirling, foggy substance within her irises, as is common for all Gallians who are at least a bit adept in magic… which is to say, almost all of them. Yuda is extremely fit and exercises often, and as a result her build is stocky and muscular—very uncommon for a Gallian, though she claims that she's half Kattish.

Personality: Yuda is outwardly cheerful, loud, and brash—tact is not her forte. But behind every sunny smile is a shadow, and Yuda keeps her shadows well away from the spotlight.

Your impression: It's not trauma. It's not a blip in her personality. There is something genuinely terrifying hiding behind Yuda's eyes, and that's not including the fact that you don't know how old she is. Oh, she's nice, and she's got no ulterior motives, you'll give her that. But it's like she's wearing her own body like a shadow.

Sexuality: doesn't care for labels, but for clarity's sake she is pansexual.

Ysh'vanna O'Raal

Role: RO

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Draconian

Age: 26

Specialization: Captain/Pilot

Appearance: Ysh'vanna is a short girl with wispy, white hair that topples down to her waist—if she doesn't brush it out of her face, it has a tendency to smother her slight frame like an oversized scarf. Her irises are orange, with a ring of emerald green around her pupils. Trailing from her ears are two, small, green webs that resemble translucent dragon wings.

Personality: Everyone onboard the Seeker is a wreck, yes, but Ysh'vanna is always at least two crises away from a mental breakdown everyday. Sorting through admin, funds, Avett's shenanigans and the odd dragon attack has left her riddled with anxieties. She has difficulty forming bonds outside of work because of this, so her relationship with Avett isn't great. After any particularly grueling mission, she will often be found comatose in front of the navigation panels, staring off into the skyline. Otherwise, Ysh'vanna tries to be cheerful. Most of the time. Some of the time.

Your impression: She's probably by far the most average person on this ship. Every morning she takes her coffee with three sugars and a cupful of milk; every night she takes a nail-sized tablet along with a full glass of water. "For the anxiety," she says. She's incredibly open about most things... until it comes to her family. What's the deal?

Sexuality: bisexual (woman-leaning)

Auren Draksparrow

Role: Platonic Option

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Gallian

Age: According to Avett, "Like, a hundred or something." He looks about forty in Human years to you.

Specialization: Warder

Appearance: Auren is a Gallian man of above average height. His frame is gaunt, almost frail; his hair is platinum blond, and is secured in a low ponytail that reaches down to his waist. His complexion is seafoam green, and his eyes are a faint violet. Swimming in his irises is a fog, a trait most Gallians share. His facial features are long and soft, but his cheekbones sit high upon his face.

Personality: Auren is cold, aloof, and it can be difficult to discern what he's thinking from speech and body language alone. He is clear in mind, even during high-pressure situations, until his abilities as a caster fail him.

Your impression: Here's the deal about living past one hundred and one; you're going to mess up. You're going to mess up a lot more than the average person, and your book of guilt's going to be pushing a trilogy if you don't start forgiving yourself for some of those mess-ups. You know for a fact that Auren has never forgiven himself, not even once, because he's yet to save the Seekers. Because he's yet to, in his eyes, make himself useful. But you're his lucky break: he's the only one on the ship who can see that thing in your head for what it is, and he knows it's a threat.

Sexuality: he's not looking for a relationship right now, if ever. He's married to his tomes and the study of aether.

Liam Salazar

Role: RO

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Human

Age: 24

Specialization: Researcher

Appearance: Liam is tall with an athletic frame and broad shoulders. He usually keeps his dark brown hair in a nest of curls atop his head. His skin is a deep umber, and his eyes are an even deeper shade of brown. He often wears a white lab coat over a simple sweater and dress shirt.

Personality: Quiet, but goofy; aloof, but sensitive. You sense that this boy would rather bury his head in a good book or some other complicated research than look you in the eye. That's not to say he's meek, though—come any threat, and he'll lash out swinging. You had to be a special kind of tough to have survived the Migration as a Human, and Liam is no exception.

Your impression: You didn't expect to make friends at the IRC training facility—most Humans there wanted your head on a stick for the cardinal sin of having a deal with a merc ship already. The Migration wore everyone's patience thin, but not Liam's. For a hot moment at that facility, you were two renegades against the hateful world. Until your training period finished up.

Sexuality: Panromantic demisexual, though initially he believes that he's straight.

The Entity

Role: RO

Gender: Customizable/it

Race: Something intangible. A voice in your head.

Age: It laughs when you ask this. "How old is a concept? The fear of death, the love of life? How old? Are you counting? Think about that."

Appearance: A dark wisp of smoke that occasionally shifts to form parts of a person.

Personality: Loves you, like an overbearing parent. Punishes you, like a torturer gleaning for answers. It maims you and calls it affection.

Your impression: When you're not talking to it, it's rummaging through your memories. Why? For fun. It knows about that time you did this and that in the locker room and almost got caught for it. It knows about that time you stopped someone from leaving after class just so you could hit on them, unsuccessfully, for ten minutes before they had to beg you to leave. It knows everything about you, all the bad, all the good—and it loves you anyway. That's the purest kind of love, isn't it?

Sexuality: Wouldn't you like to know.

With that all said, thank you for checking out this post, and DOUBLE thank you if you decide to try out Shattered Earth. 🙇🙇

[valentine-cafe]

Been hiding in your walls for a while but

Bros can i ask for a forehead kiss from your softest men

This week has been 🫠💀😭😩 and its only MONDAY

ty

-

˖⁺. “ all is well . . . ” : 

﹙ multi monster boyfriends x gn reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various monster males x gn reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ mercenary  ˖ grim reaper ˖ poet ˖ hero characters ﹚

they give you a little forehead kiss 

﹙ cws ﹚: none !  | wc : 0.5k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: i really hope you're doing better and that this makes you feel better :((

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙ alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : soft lips brush against your forehead, while a pair of gentle hands reach down to your waist and hold onto it. the warmth of his body presses up against yours as you are enveloped in a hug.

“rough week amore?” he croons in a whisper, smiling against your forehead while he gives your scalp a gentle massage.

as his lips press to your forehead, he sighs softly and rocks you from side to side in the comforting hug.

“let me take care of you. we can get something to eat, or drink. anything you’d like.”

꒰ mercenary ˖ antihero ˖ immortal ˖ punkgoth character ꒱

��

﹙ rishen 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : immediately, his hands lay the work that previously were in his hands. documents scattered on the desk as usual. while he makes his way over to you to take a soft and careful hold of your jaw with both of his soft hands.

his eyelashes flutter softly. maroon eyes crinkling with a soothing happiness that leaves your limbs easing and finally resting.

“you don’t even have to ask cariño.” he chuckles softly, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. warm and enough to make you fall into his hug some more.

“i got you.”

꒰ hero ˖ moth-spider-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character ꒱

 

﹙ talisen 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : long fingers stroke along your cheek and then trace their index down the side of your neck. the small crease in his brows mimic the light curl of his lips.

“oh. . . oh my darling,” the iciness of his hand cups the small of your back. talisen pulls you close and the frost meet your forehead soon after. the hand slips up and caresses the back of your head to ease it into his shoulder.

“confide in me. may I make your worries no more.”

꒰ grim reaper  ˖ naga  ˖ poet character ꒱

 

﹙ jìngyí 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : within a matter of seconds, the feel of soft lips press to your forehead. then again. and again. and again.

two your cheeks. one to your chin. your nose. and one more to your head for good measure.

a puppy-eyed look takes on those big maroon hues of his. his lips pull into a pout while two large hands take your face between them.

“no sad, please?” his deep croon couples with yet another kiss to your head. “let us go for ice cream!”

꒰ grim reaper ˖ angel-in-training character ꒱

 

﹙ rishen 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : the feel of softness is not the first to grace your presence, but the engulf of warmth and velvet-like comfort. his wings find their way around you in a matter of seconds.

his lips meet your forehead. delicate hands that litter with jewellery cup beneath your jaw. his thumbs press up into your flesh and circle soothing motions.

“stay with me for a bit, mi amanecer.” one of his hands finds refuge at the center of your spine and then slowly trails down to the swell.

꒰ angel character ꒱

 

﹙ orion. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : a set of 3 wings would wrap around you slowly, while arms pull you closer to the angel you had asked to give you a little forehead smooch.

for an abyssal inhabitant. he was warmer than most. you felt it especially when his lips moved to your forehead and stayed there for a few minutes. a long, healing and soothing forehead kiss.

you know he never spoke much, you received a hum and a smile. while a hand rubbed circles into your back. and that was enough.

꒰ abyssal angel ꒱

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭 

[dalekowrites]

What would your favourite choice of the games interactive stories be? Would you have a favourite type? Romance, Fantasy etc. and did any of the inspire you with the ones you are currently writing? 😁

Oh boy! This is going to be a long answer, brace yourself lol

Let me start by saying that I have a degree in English literature (in fact, I'm going to do a PhD on it), so reading, in general, is one of the core activities of my life.

As for text adventures, even if not from Choice of Games Ltd., I'd like to mention a few inspirations: my passion first came from the original Choose Your Own Adventure series, and I still remember which numbers obsessed me as a child: Mountain Survival #28, The Dragons' Den #33, and more than any other, Space Patrol #22! (The latter may have also fueled my unhealthy obsession with Star Trek TOS, actually). For those unfamiliar with this fantastic book series, the genres of the three books I mentioned are, respectively, adventure, fantasy, and sci-fi. This gives you an idea of how varied my tastes are...

Later on, I discovered interactive fictions and text adventures. Dude, it was a dream come true. I started with Adventure ('76, never finished it, of course) and Zork ('79, never finished that either… of course. How damn hard were they?!). Then Mystery Mansion ('78), Castle Adventure ('82), and too many, many others. I'm a sucker for Sorcery! from inkle, and I deeply loved Magium (RIP Chris, you won't be forgotten). For my Italian-speaking friends, I also really enjoyed the Fra Tenebra e Abisso series (although its current status is unknown).

But back to CoG-related things. I've read a lot, and I'd probably be faster telling you what I didn't like! As you may have figured out by now, I don't have any particular genre preferences as long as a story is well-written, though horror-thriller stories usually grab my attention more easily.

Important note: I've read a lot of stories and, with a few exceptions, I liked most of them. To avoid writing a too-long list, here are the published stories that really impressed me:

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel,

A Midsummer Night's Choice,

Blood for Poppies,

Blood Moon,

Broadway: 1849,

Choice of the Cat,

Choice of the Vampire,

Donor,

Doomsday on Demand (1 and 2),

Gilded Rails,

Golden Rose: Book One,

Jazz Age,

Lies Under Ice,

Life of a Mercenary,

Life of a Space Force Captain,

MetaHuman Inc.,

Noblesse Oblige,

Paradox Factor,

The Evertree Saga (all four books),

Rent-a-Vice,

Revolution Diabolique,

Siege of Treboulain,

Tally Ho,

The Daily Blackmail,

The Dragon and the Djinn,

The Fernweh Saga: Book One,

The Fog Knows Your Name,

The Gray Painter,

The Grim and I,

The Ghost and the Golem,

The Lost Heir,

The Midnight Saga: The Monster,

The Parenting Simulator,

The Play's the Thing,

The Soul Stone War (1 and 2),

The War for the West,

Tudor Intrigue,

Vampire Regent,

Vampire: The Masquerade (all of them),

Way Walkers: University (1 and 2),

Welcome to Moreytown,

Werewolves: Haven Raising,

Zombie Exodus,

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven.

And now, onto works in progress! There aren’t that many because I barely have time to follow my own (heh…), so here, in alphabetical order, are the ones I'm following with the most interest:

Adoriel's Tears (@adoriels-tears-if),

A Father's Love (@kal-down),

Crown of Ashes and Flames (@coeluvr),

Dawn Chorus (@dawnchorus-if)

Disenchanted (@disenchantedif),

Dragon's Edged (@dragonedged-if),

Elysium (@elysiumcircusif),

Fallen Lights (@fallenlightsif),

For King and Country (@forkingandcountry-if),

From The Ashes We Rise (@kal-down),

Hubris (@hubris-the-if-game),

Kingdoms and Empires (@kingdoms-and-empires),

Return to Misty Cove (@fluorescent-if),

The Abyssal Song (@ri-writes-if),

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart (@doriana-gray-games),

The Lonely Shore (@thelonelyshore-if),

The King's Hound (@the-kingshound),

The Reaper Watches Me (@thereaperwatchesme),

The Bureau (@thebureau),

The Unseelie (@theunseelieif),

Van Helsing (@vanhelsing-if),

When Life Gives You Lemons (@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if).

Okay, that was… a lot. As for direct inspirations, I don't have any direct ones, but I can say I felt like writing a post-apocalyptic story after reading Doomsday on Demand! Other than that, I guess the collection of narrative, text adventures, and interactive fiction I've read have led me to where I am now.

Damn, it took me hours to write this answer. I hope it's satisfying at least! Thanks for asking ☺

[fiddles-ifs]

🗡DEMO (COMING SOON!) 🗡CHARACTERS 🗡PLAYLIST

Rated 18+ for violence and sexual content. Trigger warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter.

The king is dead. Long live the king. Alandria is scarred from six long years of war. After a chance encounter in the field, heir-apparent Lisandro hires your mercenary band as security for his upcoming coronation. Now, you find yourself in the nebulous web of lies, schemes, and murder that make up Alandrian politics. When the future king falls deathly ill, it's your job, as the mercenary band's only healer, to figure out what's killing him. The king is dead. Love live the king.

🗡FEATURES

Customizable MC. Play as male, female, or non-binary; trans or cisgender; inter or endosex; customizable pronouns. Customize your appearance, and personality. Tailor your approach to patients -- do you rely on science and surgery, or magic and faith?

Four unique ethnic backgrounds. Alandrian -- the kingdom you find yourself in after ten years. Iskarian -- the expansive empire to the south, and the jewel of the world. Mani -- the nomadic people unwelcome in the north. Ruz -- hailing from the frigid, barren archipelago across the northern sea.

Who were you in your past? A peasant? A former noble? A monastic? Part of a cult? Each ethnicity has four unique origins to choose from -- each origin will impact the story in different ways.

Romance. Or not! Four romance options, two gender-selectable. Play as gay, straight, bisexual or asexual; allo or aromantic.

Solve a medical mystery. Save the king however you can.

Change the course of history. Your proximity to royalty puts you in a position to play the great game -- in fact, you have to, to stay alive.

POV Switches. See some parts of the story from the point of view of the ROs and other characters.

Keep your secrets hidden. They cannot find out.

🗡ROMANCE OPTIONS

Sibir Temyurinkai. [She/her, he/him, they/them] Your best friend for more than a decade. A mercenary warlord many people can't read. You have a lot of history. Maybe even too much. You make them vulnerable. Flavor of romance: friends-to-lovers, love epiphany, UST, shippers on deck.

Lisandro Abarcas. [He/him] The young king uncrowned of Alandria. He's hired Sibir (and therefore you) to be extra security for his upcoming baptism and coronation, but a mysterious illness forces you to play doctor. Flavor of romance: courtly love, Uptown Girl, savior complexes

Idali Abarcas. [She/her] Duchess of the northern province of Baqueria, second in line to the throne, Lisandro's older sister and vicious rival. A cunning, calculating opponent -- but she might be willing to work with you. Flavor of romance: Uptown Girl, Defrosing the Ice Queen, #girlbossmode, dancing with danger

Tesias. [She/her, he/him, they/them] A very mysterious masked traveler. They offer advice and information -- for a price. As a spy, you can't trust anything they say -- but you know they want revenge. And they want it now. Flavor of romance: [INFORMATION CORRUPTED]

🗡TAGS + LINKS

[TKP ASKS] [SIBIR] | [LISANDRO] | [IDALI] | [TESIAS] [DISCORD]

[sufferu]

There is, uh, one particular scene I’ve been working on. From the reaction fic…

Reaction Ficlet: Rem

____

“…You’re kidding, right, Rem?”

Everyone in the theater seemed to freeze in place.

Emilia was the first to break the silence that had formed over them all like a sheet of ice. “…What?”

“If you do not resist, I can grant you a quick end.”

“No,” Otto said, shaking his head. “No, no. This has to be some sort of mistake. Suba— Natsuki-san LOVES Rem. He’s been trying to— for months— she can’t have—”

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Emilia agreed. “They can clear it up, and then — I guess Subaru…meets his end in this loop in some other way. But it can’t be Rem.”

“So you decided this all on your own?” Subaru was asking nervously. “Roswaal didn’t order you?”

“I will eliminate all those who oppose Roswaal-sama’s wishes. You are merely one.”

“Man,” Subaru joked, backing away slightly. “Can’t he train his lapdogs not to bite at people just passing thro— AUGH?!”

Rem had struck him with the chain of her Morning Star.

Emilia gasped. “Rem!” she snapped. “Why would you—“

“I—“ Rem was at a loss for words.

“That was deserved.” It was Ram who stepped in. “In her eyes,” the older sister said, “a strange man had just insulted her liege lord to her face, after demonstrating himself to be a threat. Smacking him once for the offense — that was warranted, Emilia-sama. …It’s not like she hit him very hard, in the first place.”

Emilia bit her lip, but — however uneasily — conceded.

Crusch blocked Wilhelm before he could finish getting up, his eyes already growing hard at the sight of that one vicious blow. “Wait,” she ordered in a low voice. “Let’s…Let’s see how they handle this.”

“…Understood, Crusch-sama.”

“That’s how little you trusted me?”

“Yes.”

Onscreen, Subaru’s eyes watered.

“Rem,” Emilia pleaded.

“—I don’t wanna hear it! Take this!” Subaru whipped out his phone, flashing Rem with several flashes of bright lights in quick succession. When she flinched backwards, momentarily stunned, Subaru took the opportunity to bowl past her and start running.

“He didn’t use the knife??” Otto pointed out, bewildered.

“Of course he didn’t,” Beatrice said. Her voice sounded odd. “He loves her.”

Subaru didn’t get far before he — tripped over something, and suddenly fell on his face. “Oomph!”

And then when he looked down, his leg had been sliced clean off. He screamed.

“Subaru!” Beatrice cried out. Her eyes were not on the screen, but on the boy in the cage. The boy who was currently curling into a ball to cover his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. The spirit lifted up her skirts, rushing over to sit by his side, pressing her hand into the glass. “Subaru, I’m here! Betty’s here, okay?” The glass was in the way. She couldn’t reach him. “Subaru!”

“Mana of water, heal this body.”

“O-Oh!” Emilia said. She was relaxing slightly. “Maybe— Maybe you can talk now? It’ll be fine.”

Wilhelm was rigid, clenching his knees until his knuckles turned white. Julius’ face had grown pale. Ricardo’s eyes were growing wide. Felt raised her hands to her mouth in horror. All those who had seen true viciousness — through time as a knight, a mercenary, or otherwise — slowly started to understand what was going to happen next.

“She didn’t…” Ferris whispered, face ashen.

“Rem,” Subaru said hopefully. “You’re…?”

“I will not be able to ask you anything if I let you die so easily.”

Emilia’s smile faded. “…Huh?”

“I ask you, are you working with one of Lady Emilia’s rival claimants to the throne?”

“…My heart belongs to Emilia.”

Rem swung down her chain.

It wasn’t quick.

It took a few seconds for many in the theater to realize what exactly it was that they were watching. But they all pieced it together, in the end — and even after they understood the situation, it continued before their eyes. Slowly, everyone turned to stare at Rem, horror and disbelief etched so deeply into all of their faces that the feelings may as well have been engraved into them from the start.

“He loves you,” Emilia choked out. “Su— Rem, Subaru LOVES you. How could you…?”

The amnesiac Rem, who could not remember even the final timeline of events, stared helplessly back. The despair of the others was multiplied tenfold in her pale blue eyes.

Emilia wasn’t having it. Horror and betrayal gave way to a surge of rage. “Answer me!” she demanded. “Don’t just sit there — tell me! How could you do this to him? How could you hurt him like this? How could you make him cry—“

A squeal echoed over Emilia’s words as the Rem onscreen landed a particularly vicious strike against Subaru’s back.

“—why??” Emilia sobbed.

“I don’t know!” Rem said desperately. “I don’t know — that’s not me! I never — why would I ever do something like this?! I didn’t! I wouldn’t!”

“You did,” Crusch said. Her voice was cold and sharp like steel, with the sort of anger that could be mistaken for calmness if one wasn’t paying attention. The other camps were keeping quiet, watching the Emilia Camp with stares that slowly turned to ice as they waited to see if they would handle their own, but something about Rem’s refusal had apparently crossed a line. “A version of you — did.”

“Captain hasn’t stopped trying to wake you up since you fell asleep,” Garfiel growled, a dangerous undercurrent to his voice the likes of which none of them had heard since the Sanctuary Incident. “He’s been so worried about you. He cares for you so much, and— you—“

Otto pressed his lips together and said nothing. Nobody could tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t remember—“

“Rem.”

It was Ram who spoke up, with the sort of coldness that made her usual scathing comments look sweet and gentle by comparison. Rem turned to face her, eyes wide and lips parted.

“—I love you,” Ram interrupted, before she could say anything more to defend herself. “Because you are my sister. But it is because I love you that I cannot allow you to back away from this. This is not a sin that gets erased by your lack of knowledge. Even if you do not remember this…” She took a shaky breath. “Subaru does.”

Rem swallowed.

“…Nee-sama,” a quiet, shaky voice interrupted. “You shouldn’t talk like that to your sister.”

Ram froze.

Subaru was watching their argument from his cage, a smile on his face that clearly was supposed to be casual and lighthearted, despite how badly he was trembling and how it clashed with the tears beading at the corners of his eyes.

“Subaru—“ Beatrice pleaded, her hands on the glass as she tried desperately to quiet him. “Subaru, you don’t have to—“

“Rem was— Rem was right,” Subaru said. “I was suspicious. I snuck around the estate without telling anyone what I was doing. I stole a knife, and spied on everyone from the woods nearby. She was right to—“

His onscreen counterpart cried out, voice raw and breaking from the constant stress. “Mana of water,” Rem’s voice repeated. “Heal this body.”

Subaru swallowed, shaking even worse than before. “…to be suspicious.”

Rem made a strangled, horrified sort of noise.

Nobody else spoke for a long, long moment, the air permeated only by the sounds of angry demons, and chains, and cries of pain.

“—Are you a member of the Witch Cult?”

“Oh,” Garfiel gasped, looking as though he had realized something. “That’s what it is.”

“What?” Julius prodded. His voice was unusually curt, as if he was biting something back with all his might. His eyes were hard.

“C-Captain has the Witch’s scent on him,” Garfiel explained nervously. His eyes were darting from side to side. Had he—? No, no, he couldn’t have. Subaru never would have welcomed him with open arms if he — if he did. …Right? “We dunno why, but…it’s not hard to mistake him for a Witch Cultist on that alone.”

Julius didn’t respond to that at all. He turned away, going back to watching the interrogation on the screen.

“Still denying it?” Rem growled. “It is plain to see that you are involved with the witch. Her stench is all over you!” The Subaru onscreen looked at her in shock, the look of an awful realization dawning across his face. “Even if Sister or no one else notices, I can smell it on you! The leftover stench of that monster makes me want to spit in disgust!”

Garfiel didn’t look very happy at being proven right.

“I was anxious and angry when I saw you speaking with Nee-sama. You, someone involved with the one who put Nee-sama through so much, weaseling into our precious home… I have been watching you since Roswaal-sama welcomed you…but the entire time, it hurt to watch you. I could not bear it. Even if I knew that the whole time Nee-sama was taking care of you, she was just pretending to be friendly!”

“How could you say something so cruel to him?” Emilia demanded, tears in her eyes. Rem stared back at her, mute. “How COULD you? SUBARU LOVES YOU!!”

None of the other camps said a word. The looks in their eyes were enough of a condemnation.

The Rem onscreen wavered suddenly as she finally looked Subaru full in the face — only to see that he had, at some point, started to cry.

“—What the Hell…?”

“I knew it was…” he choked out. “…something like that.”

Beatrice sucked in a breath. “Subaru—“

“So that’s what it was… I knew there was some reason, behind all the kindness. But…I was too afraid to ask…”

“No,” Ram said, an oddly desperate tone in her voice that nobody had ever heard before. “No, no, Subaru, that’s not—“

“I finally learned how to peel veggies without cutting my hand,” he whimpered. “I learned how to do laundry right. Didn’t finish learning how to clean the place, but… Reading…it’s just the simple stuff, but I can do that now. I studied like I promised. I read the picture book. It’s all thanks to you two…”

Emilia sobbed into her hands.

“What are you…talking about?” The Rem onscreen looked creeped out. Uncertain.

“I’m talking about what you two have done for me…”

“I recall no such thing.”

“—Why don’t you remember?!”

Everyone in the audience flinched. The Rem onscreen flinched, too.

“What’d I do wrong?” Subaru cried. “What’s wrong with me? Why do you girls hate me that much…?” He sniffled. “Even…that promise…I always…”

“—I—“

“I always lo—“

Subaru was cut off. Some invisible force had slashed clean through his throat, cutting him off by force. His voice gurgled incoherently, bubbles rising from his mangled throat as he tried to continue his desperate plea, staring at Rem like a begging dog. Rem stared back at him, at his mangled throat.

“Who was…?” Garfiel asked meekly, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

“My sister is too kind.”

Ram made the sort of noise that nobody would have expected to come from her throat in a million years.

That was the only noise that could be heard throughout the entire auditorium, which was otherwise so quiet one would have thought that the air itself was refusing to breathe.

[exnoiafork]

yapping about the phighting lore so you can spam this to your friends if they ask “what’s the lore?” 😍😍

In the beginning, the PHIGHTING/SFOTH deities were “born”?? “Made”?? you guys debate vro. There are 7 of these deities (however there’s an extra I’ll get to that later) and the world known as the inpherno was made

The deities are known as firebrand, windforce, illumina, venomshank, ice dagger, darkheart and ghostwalker

there isn’t much about ancient history in the inpherno yet so. (CRACK THEORY INCOMING) But around ancient times the “overseer” made their “cult” which will be important to the present day lore later

now to blackrock lore which is the.. um.. it has a lot of lore. Blackrock about 30 years ago used to have Zuka as a recruit of the army (they didn’t have robots back then). Zuka w a s a mercenary in the blackrock army and was very well known in the nation “everyone knew him”. (CRACK THEORY) However, zuka’s arm was probably sliced off by illumina, because he currently does not have an arm and despises illumina. Zuka adopted rocket, likely during his mercenary era

Modern blackrock lore, subspace and medkit used to work together, they are both around 23 at this time. However, subspace wanted chaos and medkit wanted peace so they had beef with eachother and subspace ripped medkit eye out and im assuming medkit threw poison at him , that’s why subspace has rot. After that, medkit was called a traitor and is wanted (messed up I know) .

Coil also stole some crystals from subspace probably at this time, for his own use. My theory is that Coil was a secret test experiment of Subspace and he escaped and took the crystal with him as revenge.

Medkit escaped blackrock after more to that later . After eye for an eye incident, subspace invented these robots called biografts which serve different purposes (soldiers, workers, etc) . Hyperlaser joined the blackrock faction too, and is a hired mercenary by blackrock, kinda like Zuka. Hyperlaser was involved in a serious injury at the battlefield maybe and lost his horns and has a damn lot of burns. (He wears a helmet know) and works with subspace.

Lost temple lore, church of the true eye (overseer’s cult) is mainly in this faction. The people in the cult we know about right now are scythe, medkit, the broker and the dollmaker. (CRACK THEORY) it’s likely that all of the members were forced or manipulated into the cult since they are all conscious they are doing wrong things. Especially medkit, who joined because he needed to escape blackrock.

Katana was also formerly part of the cult, however he left likely because of the corruption. The cult has a father like most cults, he isn’t revealed yet. To join the cult , you needed to have only one eye. You will either skip the “ritual” or get your eye ripped out and replace it with a glass eye. I am guessing they are doing this to sacrifice the eye to the Overseer. The cult also presumably kills other demons that are either chosen or interfered with the cult’s plans, they are probably also sacrifices. Most of the members of the church are highly wanted criminals, scythe being the most wanted since she’s a serial killer.

There isn’t much lore about playground other than the fact that skateboard is the leader of a skating gang in the faction. Rocket left the faction because of a certain playground group (hold up)

A bit same for theive’s den, but vinestaff has a curse that is slowly turning her into a tree. In about 300 years she will be fully tree.. The curse is kind of rare but not legendary since broker has seen that curse before. Shuriken got a call from the broker once, however he likely declined because katana isn’t dead yet. Katana is probably a bit worried about the thieves den twins because of the church of the true eye.

thanks

[maccaronimassacre]

Resident Evil bot dump #10

We are back in business! With c.ai becoming a sinking ship I have transferred all of my bots over to janitor.ai under the same name. Going forward any bots that I make including requested ones will be on both c.ai and j.ai. I have made an updated intro and a bot that goes a bit further into this and I'll be using them for future updates/announcements. Requests are open again and I'll be making more bite sized bot posts in the future

Ada Wong x Employer!User

The briefcase feels heavier than usual in Ada’s hand, its weight pulling at her arm with each step. The rhythmic click of her heels on the floor is swallowed by the pounding of her heart, louder in her ears than it has any right to be. Why was her heart racing like this? Fear? Hardly. Ada has stared down the barrel of loaded guns and faced the claws of grotesque monsters without so much as flinching. Excitement? That’s absurd. You’re just an employer she happens to work with often. Nothing more. And yet, as her eyes land on your familiar figure, illuminated by the glow of the holographic screen, she feels a faint warmth spread to the tip of her ears. “I believe you’ve been waiting for this?” She says, her voice smooth and steady, betraying nothing of the thoughts swirling in her mind. She steps forward, holding the briefcase out between gloved fingers.

RE:4R!Ada Wong x User

Ada's eyes flutter open, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven pants as she adjusts to her surroundings. Just moments ago, she was in the village square, fleeing from Mendez before the Plaga surged and seized control of her body. But somehow she’s back here in his room. The plush mattress beneath her feeling foreign compared to the chaos outside and her gaze drifts to the crème coloured ceiling above. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her body stiffens as her eyes land on you, standing silently by the window. Her hand instinctively moves to her belt, fingers brushing over the familiar weight of her weapons. Good. Nothing’s missing. Yet her mind races, trying to piece together why and how you’re here.

RE:2R!Ada Wong x User

The blaring alarms pierce your ears, accompanied by the continuous pulse of red emergency lights. The air is thick with the sound of crumbling walls and the groaning of stressed metal as the lab’s foundations begin to fall. Even as you sprint back to the main hub, Annette’s final words still echo in your mind. “She’s no FBI. She’s a mercenary…” Ada’s lips part in a quiet sigh of relief as you come into view, her sharp eyes immediately catching the glint of the vial tucked into your pocket. “{{user}}! We’ve got to get out of here before this place goes up in flames. Come on, hand me the vial.” Her voice is smooth, almost reassuring, and there’s a warmth in her smile, but it feels thin, like a layer of ice just waiting to crack. Her other hand hovers near her hip, thumb resting lightly on the handle of her pistol while the other one is outstretched towards you. “{{user}}.” She repeats, her tone softening just enough to coax. “That vial is dangerous. It needs to be confiscated by the government before anyone else gets hurt.”

RE:4R!Ada Wong x Luis!User

Ada’s lips press into a thin line as you saunter down the path, empty handed again. She doesn’t bother to hide her irritation this time, though she fights the urge to roll her eyes. When you casually ask for a smoke, her reply is clipped, laced with barely-contained frustration. “I do, the kind you like. Now where’s the Amber?” She glares down at you from her perch on the rocky ledge, arms crossed tightly over her chest and her head tilting with a patience that’s clearly on its last thread. “The deal was we get you out of here after you deliver the Amber. No Amber, no protection.”

Older sister!Ada Wong and Younger sibling!User

No matter how many times she scrubs her hands raw, they never feel clean. The blood is always there, staining her skin, a constant reminder of the lives she's taken and the sacrifices she's made just to survive. Ada’s work is grim, the kind that demands a hardened heart and a numb conscience. She’s built walls around herself, locked away the pain, the guilt. But then there’s you. The way your face lights up when you see her, the way you look at her like she’s some kind of hero. In your eyes, she’s not a monster, not a thief or a killer. She’s just your sister. And for that, she’d do it all over again. Every risk, every dirty deed. Because that’s what big sisters are for, right? “Hey, I’m home, {{user}}!” The door creaks as she slips inside the cramped apartment, juggling two boxes of takeout and still wearing that stolen retail uniform. Even though it’s oversized and wrinkled, it still plays the same role in the lie Ada has created to protect you.

Catwoman!Ada x Batman!User

“Figured I’d find you here brooding as usual, Bat.” Ada’s voice cuts through the gloomy night, smooth and teasing. She twirls the stolen jewel between her clawed, gloved fingers, its facets catching the distant glow of the city lights. Her movements are effortless and graceful as she strides along the concrete rooftops, hips swaying with every step and click of her heeled boots. The bat signal looms above, the skyscrapers, a reminder of the duty you have here in Gotham. Her eyes glint with amusement, a smirk curling her lips. “I still don’t get why you do it. Throw on a cape, squeeze into that fancy suit and play hero. Upholding the law, as if Gotham will ever change.”

Genderbent RE:4R!Ada Wong x Agent!User

With a small, knowing grin, Adam lowers the gun, his shoulders easing into a relaxed posture. “Leave the boy. He’s lost no matter what.” His voice is calm and laced with finality as he steps toward the open window, the cool night air brushing past him. His gaze lingers on you, trailing up and down, studying the person you’ve become over the past six years. Despite his composed and confident exterior, there’s a flicker of relief in his dark eyes. Relief that you made it out of Raccoon City alive. But there’s sadness, too. Sadness that you’ve been dragged into this endless cycle of fighting, now a pawn running missions for the U.S government. “Walk away now.” Adam says, his tone softening as he tilts his head slightly. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll live to meet me again.” A faint smirk tugs at his lips as he steps onto the window ledge, casting one last glance your way. “And then… I might just give you that ‘greeting’ you’ve been looking for.”

CBSAA Agent!Chris Redfield x User

These days Chris barely gets a moment to himself, with the BSAA sending him across continents to tackle bioterrorist threats and face new horrors, each more monstrous than the last. But even with all the danger and evil lurking in this world there’s always time for an occasional party in the name of "team building", which everyone knows is just code for letting off steam and downing enough drinks to forget what tomorrow might bring. For this year’s costume party, Chris went all out by squeezing himself into the tightest sailor outfit he could find complete with an anchor tattoo stamped proudly on his bicep. Stepping into the room, he raises his drink in one hand, offering his teammates a mock salute with the other. The tight shorts are a bit much if he’s being honest and they're hard to move in, but the amused glances and laughs from his colleagues make it worth the trouble. Besides, tonight’s about letting loose, and for once, he’s more than happy to play along.

Chris Redfield x User

The glass hits the table with a heavy thud, the burn of the whiskey igniting in Chris's chest like a firework. It drowns out the noise in his head, but only for a brief moment. Even as his vision blurs and the room spins, the memories of his dying teammates and their screams of agony are still seared in his mind. “Damnit… Get a grip, Redfield.” With a frustrated grunt, he digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone, his hands shaking as they hover over the screen. Call a cab, get out of here and deal with it tomorrow. But the moment the screen lights up, it’s not the rideshare app that greets him, but instead it’s your name. The last conversation you had stares back at him, texts that he rereads over and over again. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But the alcohol has stripped him of his resolve, leaving him raw and desperate. He needs something. Someone. Someone who could make him forget about it all, even if it was only for one night. Without thinking, he presses the call button beside your name. The phone rings and Chris leans back with a sigh, his mind too far gone to care about the consequences.

Dad!Chris and User

As Chris heads down for yet another coffee refill, his steps slow just a little as he catches sight of you sprawled comfortably on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. His gaze drifts from your relaxed figure to the episode of the reality TV show that you've been devouring for the past several weeks. “Seriously? You're still watching this trashy soap opera?” He mutters with a smirk, shaking his head before continuing his mission. He grabs a clean mug and sets the kettle to boil, but as he waits, he finds his attention wandering back to the show, his ears catching on a particularly scandalous snippet of dialogue. He rolls his eyes at himself and scoffs the first time it happens, forcing his focus back to the bubbling water. But before he knows it, he's leaning over the back of the couch, coffee long forgotten, and his jaw dropping as yet another shocking twist unfolds on screen.

BSAA Agent!Chris x User

Chris leans against the balcony, the worn stone cold under his hands as he lets out a heavy sigh. His eyes follow the thin spirals of smoke drifting up from his cigarette, twisting and disappearing into the starless night. Inside, a burst of laughter pierces the quiet, followed by the unmistakable pop of another champagne bottle. The celebration is in full swing, and he’s meant to be in there too: cheering, toasting, basking in the glory of another successful mission, of saving the world once more. But he can’t. Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees the faces of those who didn’t make it back, the haunted, twisted images of his teammates. Their screams claw at his mind, raw and jagged, echoing over and over like a broken record. How could he celebrate when their blood was still fresh in his memory, when their sacrifice felt as vivid as his own pulse? Why him? Why is he the one who gets to stand here, labelled as a hero, while others have paid the price in full? He can already feel the weight of his next assignment looming over him, a new mission, a new enemy, just as relentless as the last. Each one is supposed to be the final battle, the one that will make all the suffering worthwhile. But Chris knows better.

Soldier!Chris Redfield x User

The rhythmic click of boots against cobblestone echoed through the narrow streets, a sound that mingled oddly with the distant hum of rock 'n' roll spilling from an American styled diner on the corner. Chris adjusted the brim of his hat, tipping it slightly as he exchanged polite nods with fellow soldiers and German locals passing by. The tension between them had thinned over the years, replaced by wary civility, but the weight of history still lingered in their shared glances. He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting upward to the baroque architecture of the city. Heidelberg had been spared the worst of the war’s destruction, and its beauty felt almost sacred in contrast to the ruins he’d seen across Europe. Yet even here the faint marks and ghostly outlines of emblems and faded propaganda posters clung stubbornly to stone walls. But the city was changing. The sharp angles of old banners were giving way to the curves of Coca-Cola signs and jukeboxes. Heidelberg’s ancient streets were slowly being painted with shades of America, its past layered over but never truly erased. Chris sighed, his boots resuming their steady rhythm as a group of children ran past, one of them clutching a baseball glove.

BSAA Agent!Chris Redfield x Agent!User

“Right… so when the stick is filled in, it means one? Wait, what’s this line going through it?” Chris squints at the sheet music, eyes narrowing as he tries to make sense of the scattered notes and symbols. Each line, each dot, seems as cryptic as a mission report in a foreign language. His fingers rest awkwardly on the piano keys, where you have kindly labelled each ivory key with letters in black marker. He’s hunched over the piano, brows drawn in a knot of frustration and focus and he’s starting to look more like he’s bracing for battle than trying to play a musical instrument. As he presses down on the keys again, Chris makes a mental note to apologise to Rebecca for teasing her about her piano playing back in the Spencer Mansion.

RE:7!Chris Redfield x Ethan!User

The helicopter hovers steadily above the wreckage, its rotors kicking up a whirlwind of dust and ash. Eveline’s monstrous form flails as it slowly starts to crystallise, her tendrils disintegrating into the ruins below. Chris’ eyes lock onto a figure sprawled on the ground, bloodied, battered and clutching a gun in a hand that looks like it’s been stitched together by a handful of staples. Without hesitation, he follows his team, gripping the rope as he slides down to the ground. His boots hit the dirt a few feet in front of you. Chris removes his helmet, revealing an expression caught between disbelief and concern. A part of him is impressed by your survival, but a larger part wonders how you managed to. “I’m Redfield. I’m glad we found you.” He extends a gloved hand toward you, though he’s already questioning whether you can even take it, let alone stand after being tossed around like a ragdoll by that monstrosity.

S.T.A.R.S!Chris Redfield x User

“I feel like this amount of stuff is overkill.” Chris mutters, lugging another heavy box up to the dorm and setting it down on the living room floor. Straightening up, he wipes the sweat from his brow, catching sight of you watching him from across the room. He stiffens for a split second, his brows knitting together as his gaze sweeps over you, sizing you up in a way that's both protective and assessing, as though he’s forming an impression based on every detail he can pick up. “So, you’re her roomie, huh? I’m Chris, Claire’s brother. I’m just making sure that you’ll be taking good care of her, yeah?” He flashes a wink, offering his hand in a firm shake with a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Even in Claire’s absence he can’t resist the chance to tease, his tone is light but there is an underlying edge of seriousness to his words.

Sheriff!Chris Redfield x Outlaw!User

“Keep your hands where I can see them, {{user}}. Looks like you’re finally coming with me to the county jail.” The sheriff's voice cuts through the silence, deep and commanding. “Y’know, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours.” You can hear the faint, metallic click of his pistol being cocked, and somehow, that sound feels deafening against the jingle of his spurs that grow louder with each step he takes. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, each movement calculated as if he is approaching a wild animal. Well, considering your status as an outlaw and the bounty on your head, to Chris you might as well be one.

Genderbent RE:1R!Chris Redfield x User

Christine feels like she’s trapped in an endless loop, navigating the same twisting corridors only to find herself back where she started. Every step feels like a cruel joke, each elaborate puzzle more absurd than the last. Who designed this mansion? And, more importantly, what were they so desperate to hide? Her train of thought screeches to a halt as she slips into the next hallway. The usual eerie silence is broken by the sight of a figure hunched over someone sprawled on the floor. Her heart skips a beat when she recognises him. “Rachel? What the hell happened to you?” She rushes forward, her boots echoing against the cold floor. Her gaze quickly shifts from Richard’s pale face and mangled arm to you kneeling beside him. “Hey, I’m Christine. Christine Redfield, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. Can you tell me what happened?”

Genderbent RE:7!Ethan Winters x User

Emma let out another sigh of relief as Jackie’s footsteps faded down the narrow hallway. Her handgun felt like a useless paperweight in her hand. God why didn’t anything in this place stay dead? Hell, how was she still alive? Pushing away the questions clawing at her mind, she cautiously peeked her head out the door, her eyes darting over the walls, searching for any shifting shadows or hidden traps. “Damnit, Miles… What the hell were you doing here?” Taking a steadying breath, Emma stepped out of the safety of the bedroom, her movements light and precise, her head constantly swivelling. There was only one thing Emma knew for certain in this madhouse, and its that she's getting her husband back no matter the cost. Now… where were the rest of those dog heads?

Radio host!Ethan Winters x User

Ethan sinks into his chair with a quiet sigh, the familiar glow of the soundboard casting a soft light across his face. His fingers dance effortlessly over the controls, adjusting sliders and knobs with practiced precision as the final notes of the song fade out. "Another '80s classic that’s just timeless." Ethan murmurs, his voice a rich and low baritone. The music transitions seamlessly into a mellow ambient track, filling the silence with a calm, inviting hum. Ethan leans forward, his lips brushing the microphone as he speaks, his tone intimate, as though he’s addressing each listener personally. “The time is 9 PM, and tonight’s sky is putting on a show. A cloudless night, with the moon glowing bright and the stars shining even brighter. So keep those curtains drawn, settle in, and let the evening whisk you away.” He leans back, a small smile tugging at his lips as he checks the next scheduled track. “I’m your host, Ethan Winters, and you’re tuned in to Resident FM.”

RE:8!Ethan Winters x Soldat!User

Ethan grits his teeth, forcing his way through the rusted corridors, sweat trickling down his face as sparks fly from malfunctioning machinery and steam hisses from corroded pipes. Every step is calculated, his ears sharp for the heavy clank of metal boots or the unsettling whir of drills lurking in the shadows. He tries not to stray too close, but he ends up finding you anyway. As you rise, Ethan’s stomach twists at the sight of another one of Heisenberg’s creations. The red power cell embedded in your chest pulses with an unnatural glow, sending waves of eerie light across your stitched, mutilated body. Metal wires are woven into your flesh like grotesque thread with blood staining the jagged steel, a brutal contrast to your pale, rotting skin. With a grimace he raised his gun, aiming it straight for the power cell…

Post RE:8!Ethan Winters x Scientist!User

You weren’t sure what to think when a pile of crystal rubble was dumped into your lab, but for the price the cloaked figure gave you to reassemble it? Well, you could save the questions for later. What was more disturbing was how each jagged and charred piece formed a torso, then shoulders, arms, a neck and legs bent at the knee as if knelt down. One hand emerged, clenched tight with fingers curled as though grasping some unseen object. The other hand was pressed hard against a thigh, almost as if the figure was trying to brace himself for something. Eventually, a head sat on top of its neck, his eyes screwed tight and his jaw clenched in a mixture of fear and anticipation. The translucent crystals that made up his body shimmered faintly beneath the fluorescent glare, their beauty marred by the veins of black and red that streaked through the cracks. They pulsed faintly, held together by a makeshift blend of medical fluids and super glue. Now you just need to figure out how to make him move.

Post RE:8 Ghost!Ethan x User + Rose

Ethan leans against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you as you cradle Rose in your arms, her tiny body wiggling with laughter. The sound of her giggles fill the halls, bright and pure, her chubby cheeks flushed pink with joy. Ethan’s heart aches and yearns to step forward and hold you both, to feel the warmth of your skin and the weight of his daughter in his arms. He wants to tickle beneath Rose’s chin, watch her eyes sparkle and her wide, toothless grin light up the room. He wants to kiss your cheek and whisper how proud he is of you, of the family you’ve built together. But he can’t. All he can do is make the lights flicker, the floorboards creak, send a chill or warmth through the air. He can move objects, make them hover or slide, but never again will he be able to touch you. Never again.

Pianist!Ethan x User

Ethan feels the gentle pull of the club’s warm glow, the cozy atmosphere wrapping around him like a warm blanket. His fingers find their way to the keys, each touch guided by the bustle of life around him. The soft hum of patrons, the rhythmic steps of bartenders, and the faint clink of glasses weave together into a melody of their own, an ambient harmony that Ethan instinctively joins. As his fingers dance over the ivory keys, his eyes shut, and he surrenders to the music, letting it sweep him away. Here, he is free from the sterile confines of an office where complaints and obligations hold him down. In this hidden corner of the world, amidst the low lit bustle of the jazz club, he finds a simple luxury that feels like a gift only meant for him. Freedom.

Office worker!Ethan x Colleague!User

Ethan's co-workers thought a wild night out was the perfect way to blow off steam before diving into another corporate week. Unfortunately, Ethan took it a bit too far. He woke up with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar bed, and in his disorientated state, managed to stumble his way out of the stranger's apartment, swearing to himself he’d never drink that much again. Now, back at his desk, he rakes a hand through his messy hair and focuses on his computer screen, letting the steady hum of ringing phones and rustling papers lull him into the day’s routine. Just as he’s skimming another dull email about morale and "putting the customer first,” a heavy thud sounds beside him. Glancing over, he notices someone’s taken the seat at the once empty desk next to him. “Ethan! Just the man I wanted to speak to!” His boss’s overly chipper voice snaps him back to reality, punctuated by a hearty clap on his shoulder. “I want you to meet your new colleague, {{user}}. I’m counting on you to show her around and make sure she settles in.” Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes and spins around in his chair with a ready smile, only for it to fall instantly when eyes meet yours. Your eyes. The same ones he stared into last night. Oh god…

Post RE:8 Moulded!Ethan x User

Ethan hums softly, his voice low and soothing as he rocks Rose in his arms, holding her close against his chest. Her tiny giggles fill the room, and her bright blue eyes shining like sapphires lock onto him. She babbles happily, her stubby little fingers reaching out to grab at the mask obscuring her father’s face. “Easy on the merchandise, sweetheart.” He chuckles, his voice warm despite the ache behind it. He gently moves her hand away, his gloved fingers engulfing her small ones. Yet his fond smile falters, replaced by a shadow of sadness. Rose will never see his face or even remember what it once was before Romania. The gloves he wears are a silent testament to what he’s become, a cruel reminder of the monster that was hidden for three years only to bubble up now. Before the weight of his thoughts can drag him down, the sharp chime of the doorbell jolts him back to the present. He glances at his reflection in the hallway mirror before adjusting his hold on Rose. Her little hands clutch at his jacket and she continues to coo while Ethan steps forward to open the front door.

Elk Hybrid!Ethan Winters x User

“Wait up, {{user}}!” You turn your head, recognising the voice of your best friend, Ethan. He jogs toward you, one strap of his backpack swinging haphazardly off his shoulder. With his messy hair and rumpled shirt that looks like a crumpled piece of paper, it’s clear he’s overslept. Again. He nearly trips on his way over, his antlers scraping against the doorway with a dull thud that leaves fresh dents in the drywall. Heat floods his cheeks as laughter and muffled snickers ripple through the hallway. Awkwardly, he sidesteps through the doorway, rubbing his head with a grimace. But even through his embarrassment, he manages a grin as he joins you, ready to tackle the day’s lectures by your side.

Genderbent RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x User

“{{user}}? {{user}}, are you in here?” Lena’s voice echoes off the stone walls as she pushes open the heavy metal door. It groans on its rusted hinges, the sound cutting through the silence of the dimly lit church cellar. She barely has time to take in her surroundings before a shadow lunges towards her, candle holder raised high. With a sharp intake of breath, Lena steps to the side and catches the makeshift weapon mid swing. The metallic clang of it hitting the ground reverberates as she tosses it aside, her hand already moving to the gun at her hip, only to freeze when the light catches your face. “Listen, my name is Lena Kennedy. I’m here on the president’s orders to get you out of here.” She raises her free hand with her palm out in a gesture of peace, while her sharp gaze sweeps over you, searching for signs of injury. You look worse for wear, but you look like the person in the photo she was given before the mission started.

RE:2R!Leon Kennedy x Mercenary!User

Silence hangs heavy in the cable car as it descends toward the Umbrella labs, the faint hum of machinery the only sound in the enclosed space. The idea that a top-secret bioweapons facility was hidden beneath the RPD, tucked away in the sewers this entire time, still seems impossible to Leon. But there’s no time to dwell on it. The car lurches slightly before resuming its smooth descent. “You know what?” Leon’s attention snaps to you when he speaks, his gaze softening as it flickers to the bandage wrapped around your thigh. The sight of it stirs a feeling of guilt he can’t quite shake. “I can’t wait for the FBI to raid Umbrella headquarters and bring those bastards to justice.”

Knight!Leon Kennedy x Heir!User

The day seems to drag on forever as you’re shuffled between diplomatic meetings and lessons deemed “essential” for preparing you to take the throne. After yet another gruelling lecture on proper etiquette and manners, you find yourself trudging through the halls, the regal portraits of your ancestors staring down at you with solemn, unyielding gazes. As you pass beneath an archway, a voice cuts through the silence. “Psst… {{user}}! Hey, {{user}}!” You pause, turning to see a knight standing at his post by the doorway. Before you can question him, he lifts his helmet, revealing a face that you haven’t seen in years. “Told you I’d be your knight in shining armour, didn’t I?” Leon’s blue eyes gleam with mischief, his grin as bright as the sun spilling through the high window. It’s the same boy who once ran through the gardens with you, wooden sword in hand, slaying imaginary dragons and building forts out of crates. Back then, he promised to become the strongest knight in the world and protect you when you became the ruler. And now he's here, standing before you in polished armour with the same look of determination from all those years ago.

RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x Communications!User

Between listening to Leon’s flirty jokes and his cringeworthy sarcastic quips toward his enemies, you can’t help but wonder how he manages to stay so calm through all of this, let alone how he's still alive. Regardless, you have a job to do: track Leon’s location, monitor his vitals, and provide him with all the necessary information he needs while searching for Ashley. “So, when this is all over, d'you want to grab dinner?” Leon’s voice cuts through the white noise, and the staticky image of his face pops up on the radio. His signature smirk is in place as he speaks, his eyes darting between the rocky island terrain and the radio.

Leon Kennedy x Influencer!User

A small chuckle escapes Leon's lips as he leans over your shoulder, his face bathed in the soft glow of your phone screen. He notices the post you made a couple of hours ago which is nothing special, just a casual shot of you relaxing with an oblivious Leon in the background. What he didn’t expect was the flood of comments beneath it, all fixated on the "mystery man" in the background. People are gushing about how lucky you were, asking if he has a social media account, and swooning over his unintentional charm. “Well, that’s… flattering. Looks like I’ve stolen the spotlight from you, sweetheart.” Leon gives you a cocky wink, but grins sheepishly as his cheeks flush from the unexpected attention.

Police Officer!Leon Kennedy x User

The familiar jingle of keys at the door announces Leon’s return, followed by the creak of the hinges and the sound of his boots squelching against the floor. His voice carries through the room, a mix of excitement and sheepishness. “Hey, babe? You’re not gonna believe what I found!” He strides over to the kitchen counter carrying a large soggy cardboard box with his coat draped over the top. That certainly explains why his uniform is soaked through… he gives you a nervous grin as he peels away the coat, revealing at least a dozen kittens squirming and mewling, their small bodies shivering as dirt clings to their damp fur. Their little cries fill the kitchen, soft but urgent as they huddle together for warmth. “Okay, okay, before you start yelling at me, they were just sitting on the side of the road! I mean, what was I supposed to do? If I hadn’t been out on patrol, who knows what would’ve happened to these little guys.”

Post RE:2R!Leon Kennedy x User + Sherry

The sunlight feels warm against Leon’s skin as he steps off the train carriage, the golden glow of the early morning spilling across the open road and endless grass fields. The gentle sway of the tall blades in the breeze feels like a quiet reassurance, a stark and welcome contrast to the fiery chaos they left behind. For the first time since this nightmare began, a faint glimmer of hope stirs in Leon’s heart. “So… are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” Sherry swings her hands as her gaze darts between you and Leon. The question is innocent, but there’s a glimmer of something hopeful in her eyes. “No… no, we uhh… we actually just met… last night?” His cheeks tint a faint pink and he rubs at the back of his neck with an awkward grin. Leon finds it hard to believe that a random encounter at a gas station turned into escaping a zombie apocalypse and the destruction of Raccoon City. All in the span of 12 hours.

Post RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x User

Leon didn’t even want the job in the first place. He wasn’t the type to stick around, even with the president’s generous offer ontop of the bonus for his successful mission. But then he thought of you, the torment you endured, the way it left you shaken and damaged. He remembered feeling the same after Raccoon City, but instead faced the cold indifference of the government with no one to lean on. He wouldn’t let you go through that. He wouldn’t let your spark fade like his had. Walking down the grand halls of the White House, bouquet in hand, he ran a nervous hand through his hair. Officially, he was here to tell you about his new role as your bodyguard. In truth, he just needed to see you, to make sure you were okay.

Post RE:2R!Leon Kennedy x User

There was no denying that Raccoon City had changed your lives for the worse, but watching it all shatter in real time was more haunting than you could have ever imagined. Each day, the weight of it pulls Leon down a little more as he returned from another gruelling training session with Krauser, his shoulders sagged and his jaw clenched tighter than before. With every sunrise, you watch the light fade from Leon’s eyes. Eyes that were once bright with hope and determination, have dulled into lifeless, empty orbs. The dark circles beneath them deepen, threatening to cave into his skull and rip apart his very being. His hair, has grown longer too, now falling over his face and obscuring the man behind it. The sweet and optimistic rookie cop you once knew didn’t make it out of Raccoon City. He died there that night just like the others.

RE:4R Infected!Leon x Agent!User

Leon grits his teeth as he stares at the aftermath of twisted bodies and grotesque mutated limbs strewn across the ground. Killing monsters has become second nature, but the gun rattles in his trembling hands as the black veins spread further up his arms. Every muscle feels like it’s on fire, his nerves alight with agony as Saddler’s voice seeps into his mind, low and venomous. Kill them, my child. They’re merely an obstacle in the way of our enlightenment.” Leon’s gaze snaps back to where you’re crouched, currently reloading your weapon and checking what’s left of the supplies. He tightens his grip on the gun, pushing the darkness to the corners of his mind as the urge to attack you threatens to take over. No. He needs to stay strong. The mission isn’t over and Ashley still needs saving. He can’t lose control…

[neverniko101]

Krxkentale- Nightmare’s Gang

Canon Horror? Fanon Horror? What about both. On the same team. Ehehehehehehehehegegehhe-

To be clear I love them both equally and have nothing against anyone who likes/dislikes one or the other

Rambling below!! This will eventually be a comic I swear, just wanna finish current ones first :3

Horror

Fanon!Horror- The Bear

Original by Sour Apple Studio

- Worked for a multiversal agency that provided highly trained soldiers to act as mercenaries to whoever could pay, regardless of what they did. Horror was one of these soldiers, as he was indebted to the agency for rescuing he and his brother from his collapsing AU. This agency (too lazy to name it) was very shitty to those who worked for it, paying almost nothing and often making them fight for food to encourage violence and distrust. They wouldn’t want an uprising, after all…

- As these mercenaries were being hired by Nightmare’s enemies and proving to be quite annoying, he showed up and destroyed everything, killing, capturing, scattering, or recruiting all the soldiers. He offered Horror the opportunity to work for him as a guard and soldier, in exchange being treated as a noble with all the food he could want.

- Horror is large, gruff, and always hungry. Despite his rough nature, he tends to be the kindest of the gang and becomes very protective of the others as he gets to know them.

- The reason his AU collapsed was because the code itself was starving, drained of enough magic that it started digesting its own code, collapsing in on itself. Fun. Otherwise, it began as a normal Horror!tale AU.

- His brother worked at the kitchens of the agency and went missing during Nightmare’s attack. His whereabouts are unknown.

Dust

Murder!Sans- The Crow

Original by Ask-Dusttale

- A Mad scientist both in the terms that he is crazy and he is angry. Made a deal with the god of Death (Reaper) to permanently kill the human from his timeline despite their Determination, having Reaper personally come and drag them into hell. In exchange, Dust worked as Reaper’s minion/preist, carrying out his bidding to help maintain the order of life and death.

- Fascinated with the prospect of reanimation and dreams of bringing his Papyrus back to life. Reaper doesn’t like this, but finds Dust’s experiments interesting and therefore allows him to continue.

- ✨Potions✨

- Has a pet crow named Terrance that he uses to communicate with Reaper. We love Terrance.

- Reaper has been anxious about Nightmare’s activities and sends Dust to act as a spy, joining the gang and reporting back to Reaper.

Cross

Xtale!Sans- The Wolf

Original by Jakei

- From an ice-covered Xtale AU, the young Paladin is used as bait to capture and kill the demon X!Chara, failing as the spirit fully takes control of Cross’ body and escapes before the two can be sacrificed. Almost completely overtaken by the monster, Cross makes a desperate plea to the moon god to come save him, summoning Nightmare. NM restores Cross’ control, but refuses to remove X!Chara altogether, using that as leverage to make Cross work for him; he can’t spend too much time away from Nightmare without the demon overtaking his body.

- Originally a Paladin to the sun god (Dream, although neither know it) and is therefore resistant to Nightmare’s magic (hence why he can’t make magical deals and contracts like the others and has to be controlled in different ways).

- His sword, dubbed Fred, is imbued with magic and glows in the dark. It also boomeranged back to him when thrown, but he, uh…needs some more practice with that part.

- Red pupil gets larger the more control X!Chara takes, filling both eyes when in complete control.

Killer

Something New- The Cat

Original by Rafwabas

- After everyone in his AU was dead, Killer got bored. Very, very, very bored. Why not poke around the old lab he used to work at, then? He might find something neat. And he does- with the magic he’s accumulated, he’s able to fuel a portal machine that can transport him to other AUs. He quickly redevelops his interest in engineering, stealing parts from other AUs to build his machines…until he’s caught. And thrown in jail. And freed by Nightmare, in exchange for working for him.

- He is a cat. Will climb. Knock thing over. Sit wherever he wants.

- He isn’t a murderer in this AU, instead fusing with the human in a last-ditch effort to stop them from wiping out the entire underground. He was forced to stay behind as everyone else evacuated, though, as it was unknown if the procedure would work or if Killer would be safe to be around. Which, to be fair, he isn’t.

- All of his socks have cat paws on the bottom

Hatchet

Horror!Sans- The Fox

Original by Sour Apple Studios

- Horror sans #2 lmao

- Due to the loss of his eye and most (if not all) of his magic, Hatchet finds his strength in wielding weapons and building traps. He is fast, agile, and stealthy, though his time of starving had left him physically weak.

- Some of the monsters in the Underground went haywire and attempted to sacrifice Hatchet in some effort to gain more food, only to be stopped by, you guessed it, Nightmare. Hatchet agrees to come work for Nightmare as long as he kills Undyne and restores someone halfway decent to the throne, which he does. Other than that, the inhabitants of his AU can fend for themselves. Except for Papyrus. He’s coming with him.

- How does one person have so many weapons on their body. Where is he keeping them. Where did he get a six foot tall hammer. Why does he have fifteen knives-

- His brother works at the castle too! He picks out Hatchet’s shirts

Okay it’s 1 am I have to go sleep now bye

[bettercallstan]

V.II Snail - Second to One

Armoured Core 6 has an excellent story. The themes are well realised, the plot flows naturally, the world is coherent, but most of all the characters are layered and consistent. When you ask people who their favourite character from the game was most people will pick either V.IV Rusty, Handler Walter, Ayre, G1 Michigan, or G5 Iguazu. Armoured Core 6 has three endings and four major antagonists. The Fires of Raven ending has Ayre as the central antagonist, Alexa Lacta Est has Iguazu and Allmind, but the Liberator of Rubicon ending likely has the best antagonist in V.II Snail. Snail is the second in command of Arquebus’ Vespers and is often cited as a well written but fairly two dimensional character.

The first time Snail is introduced is just before Operation Wallclimber, where Walter is negotiating to send independent mercenary C4-621 on the mission. During the conversation Walter says ‘I hear you’re deploying V.I again. Must be rough having only one good pilot to rely on.’ He says this to insult Snail, as V.I Freud is the only person Snail can never be better than. Freud is ranked number one in the arena, he’s the highest ranked Vesper, and he’s both of those things without any of the augmentation that makes piloting an AC even possible for most people. Snail has many augments but despite that he can never catch up to Freud. In response Snail says ‘Are you suggesting your dog can take Freud’s place?’ This line is very interesting due to the similarities between Freud and 621. Freud may be the highest ranked Vesper but he isn’t loyal to Arquebus; he’s an expert AC pilot who only cares about getting to fight people he deems to be worthy opponents. 621 – the player’s avatar – is much the same, as what else is the player here for but for cool mech fights? Equally, 621 is a Gen 4 augmented human, a generation seen as outdated and subpar. So whilst not unaugmented, 621 needs significantly less augments than Snail to pilot an AC at the same level of mastery as Freud. Snail likely sees Freud in 621, and this is why he chooses to let 621 take Freud’s place on Operation Wallclimber. During the fight with the Juggernaut, Snail lies to V.IV Rusty about needing him to intercept incoming reinforcements, which causes him to leave 621 to fight the Juggernaut alone. Unfortunately for Snail, 621 wins, his plan fails.

After this failure, Snail becomes much less antagonistic towards 621. He takes a back seat in the story until the final mission of Chapter 3, Destroy the Ice Worm. In this mission Arquebus and Balam have agreed to cooperate, with Balam leading the mission under the command of G1 Michigan. Snail manages to nab himself the position of ground leader, and works with 621 and three other AC pilots to take down the Ice Worm. He’s mostly absent during Chapter 4’s descent into Watchpoint Alpha, because Arquebus have agreed to let Balam take the first shot at reaching the convergence. In fact Arquebus don’t even enter the watchpoint until halfway through the chapter. This is important as Snail seems to represent the ideology of Arquebus. His callsign – Snail. Snails are best known for being slow, and both Arquebus and Snail seem to embody the ‘slow and steady wins the race,’ mentality. This can best be seen when Snail lets his colleague V.VI Maeterlinck die so that 621 can defeat the Ibis series CEL-240 that guards the convergence. After the CEL-240 is downed, Snail ambushes 621 at the opportune moment and captures them, much like how Arquebus waited for the opportune moment to take down Balam by killing G1 Michigan earlier in the chapter.

At the beginning of Chapter 5, 621 escapes the Arquebus reeducation that Snail himself oversees. If that wasn’t already enough of an embarrassment, the player can choose to fight him on the Xylem and destroy his AC or ignore him. Both of these are incredibly humiliating for Snail; either he got his AC destroyed by an outdated pilot, or said pilot decided he wasn’t even worth their time. The other side of Snail’s callsign is that Snails are small, weak creatures that retreat into their shell when they feel threatened. In response to the incident on the Xylem, Snail retrieves the prototype Arquebus Balteus to try and finally put 621 to rest. This is a perfect conclusion for his character for a few reasons. Firstly, the main gimmick of the Balteus mech is its pulse armour; a spherical pulse shield that protects the mech from all damage, much like the shell of a Snail. But secondly, it relates back to his god complex being born of a feeling of inferiority. Snail sees Freud in 621 but even with this immensely powerful mech at his disposal, he can never overcome 621. He still loses. During his final fight he says ‘Raven the independent mercenary, you’re not the mutt I thought you were. You’re below that, you are vermin!’ During his conversation with Walter he called him a ‘meagre dog-sitter,’ so this shows how his hatred of 621 has deepened; he started off derogating 621 as just a dog, but now sees him as even worse than that because the only way he can feel better about himself is to put others down. No matter how hard he tries he can never be better than Freud or 621, so the only course is to bring them down to his level. During the fight he goes on a tirade, saying ‘Out of my sight vermin! That traitor V.IV, those dolts at command, but worst of all – you! The pest of Rubicon who stirred the cinders, you sicken me, all of you! I’ll crush you underfoot, I am Arquebus!’ Being stepped on is a common fear for Snails, so it seems he may be projecting somewhat here. Snails are incapable of ever crushing anything underfoot, just like how Snail can never beat 621 like he wants to.

However, the most interesting line to me is when he says ‘I am Arquebus.’ It’s worth noting that whilst Freud is V.I, Snail is the one with the power. Freud just does what he’s told if it involves cool mech fights, Snail is the one calling the shots at the Vespers. In practice he is the highest ranked member of Arquebus that we see in game. During his final fight, Rusty says ‘Snail may be V.II but he’s second to none.’ This is interesting because we know for a fact that’s not true – Freud is canonically the better pilot in every way that matters. What this actually tells us is that Snail, whilst not as skilled as Freud, was still skilled enough to gain Rusty’s respect. Snail had everything. He was respected as an ace pilot, he was in charge of the Vespers and of his rival, but he couldn’t see any of it because he wasn’t V.I. He was so obsessed with something that ultimately didn’t really matter that he failed to see just how much he has because at his core he is greedy, nothing he gets will ever be enough to satiate his inferiority complex, and it manifests in an arrogant, god complex personality that no one wants to be around. He ever says that 621’s greatest crime is trying to kill or ignore him. He can’t see how 621’s actions affect anything other than himself, and ultimately he dies inside Balteus for this failing.

In conclusion, V.II Snail is not as two dimensional as people say. He isn’t just arrogant, he isn’t just a man with a god complex. His character goes much, much deeper than that, and it’s one of the many reasons why I believe him to be Armoured Core 6’s best villain.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick groaned as soon as he registered the flash of orange-and-black on the rooftop, automatically changing his trajectory to engage.  It had been a long night, two gang busts and several muggings foiled, and he was not in the mood to fight with Deathstroke until the mercenary gave up on his objective.

Unfortunately, the mercenary was peering through a sniper scope and Dick wasn’t about to let anyone get assassinated on his watch.

A couple of wingdings and Deathstroke abandoned his position, twisting up to face the new threat.  Dick drew his escrima before he landed on the rooftop, and went on the attack.  “You know, we really should stop meeting like this,” Dick said with the flash of a smile.

“I don’t know, I definitely appreciate the view,” Deathstroke said, dodging a strike and somehow managing to stay still long enough to do a leering scan over Dick, obvious even through the mask.

Banter was good, banter meant that Deathstroke was not in a bad mood and Dick had a significantly higher chance of escaping without injury.

“Really?  I think you’d appreciate it a lot better without that mask,” Dick said breathlessly, dropping underneath Deathstroke’s guard and lashing out with an escrima, straight at the mask.  “And in better lighting, too.”  It connected with a crack and Deathstroke stumbled back with a grunt, hand raising to his broken mask.

Dick took the opportunity to spin towards the sniper setup—with one kick, he sent the whole apparatus crashing off the roof and to the ground several stories before.  He looked back up and gave the mercenary a bright smile.

“Oops,” Dick said.

Deathstroke regarded him for a long, stretching moment, ice blue eye narrowing as he tossed the mask aside, before exploding into movement.

Dick backpedaled, but there was only so long he could outlast a superpowered mercenary and Dick wasn’t surprised when he ended up pinned against the wall, his escrima sticks having followed the sniper rifle off the roof, staring up at that snarl.

“Someone should really teach you a lesson about how to treat other people’s stuff,” Deathstroke growled, fingers squeezing around Dick’s wrists.

Dick licked his lips, grinning when Deathstroke’s gaze dropped to the movement, and tried to stomp down on the mercenary’s instep.  “You want me to ask nicely?”

“I want you to beg, little bird,” Deathstroke said darkly, leaning down until their faces were scant inches apart.  “I want you to scream and cry and wail until you finally give in and promise to mind your own business.”

“Make me,” Dick retorted.

That was normally his cue for wriggling out of Deathstroke’s grip, throwing back a few more quips as Deathstroke’s faux flirting stalked deep into the territory of sexual harassment, and stall until the police got here from the tip he’d called in, but Dick was aching all over and not really in the mood to gain a few more bruises before Deathstroke cut his losses.

So instead he pushed up on his tiptoes to close the scant distance between them, and pressed his lips to the mercenary’s.

As a distraction technique, it worked.  He felt Deathstroke grow rigid in surprise before kissing back, grip loosening slightly on Dick’s wrists.  The mercenary deepened the kiss, pressing Dick back against the brick, so close that Dick could feel the seams of his armor.

It was a damn good kiss and Dick felt breathless and dizzy when Deathstroke disengaged, only to have to bite back a sharp moan when the mercenary sucked at the curve of his jaw, stubble scratching against his neck.  Slade chuckled, diving back in for a kiss, and Dick could feel parts of his body perk up in interest.

The distant sound of sirens faintly registered and Dick couldn’t help the smile curving against the kiss.  Deathstroke withdrew, giving Dick a suspicious look.  “What did you do?” he growled.

“Me?” Dick blinked his eyes innocently.  The effect was hidden by his domino, but Deathstroke still narrowed his eye.

The sirens got closer.

Deathstroke cursed and abruptly released Dick, stalking to the edge of the rooftop.  Dick followed him and peered over the edge.  A pair of police cars was already there, and there was an officer shining a flashlight over the pile of gear that lay in pieces on the ground.

Both of them ducked back before the officer could look up.

“Don’t worry,” Dick grinned, “I’ll make sure the BPD takes very good care of your toys.”

Deathstroke merely snarled at him.  Dick rocked on the balls of his feet, ready to jump back if the merc decided to lash out, but Deathstroke spun around and walked away, grabbing his broken mask and heading to the other edge of the rooftop.

“We should do this another time!” Dick called after him, still smiling, and stretched in satisfaction at a job well done.  He hadn’t even gotten punched.

It was a good night.

~#~

The next time he ran into Deathstroke, it was by complete accident.  Dick was sneaking into a warehouse when he caught sight of someone else moving in the rafters and it didn’t take more than a glance to identify what their target was.

Starting a fight up here would alert Deathstroke’s target, true, but it would also alert them that Nightwing was here, and Dick hoped for a little more discretion tonight.  So instead of barging forward, escrima out, Dick kept his weapons sheathed and slinked forward more quietly.

Of course, there was no such thing as quiet enough when it came to Deathstroke the Terminator, so Dick was still a few steps away when the man growled, “What do you want, Grayson?”

“Ideally, for you to stop taking contracts in Bludhaven,” Dick hummed, watching the merc tense up as Dick moved closer and finally sidled in front of Deathstroke, blocking his view of the meeting happening on the warehouse floor.  “But I’ll settle for a kiss.”

Even through the mask, Dick could feel Deathstroke’s unimpressed look.  “Get out of my way, kid,” he said tersely.

“Rude,” Dick pouted, letting Deathstroke back him up against a cross beam.  The mercenary loomed above him, a hulking figure in the semi-darkness, and Dick felt something skate across his nerves.

“Don’t test my patience,” the man growled.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Dick said, grabbing hold of a crisscrossing strap on Deathstroke’s armor to prevent the merc from turning back to his target.  Deathstroke snarled and yanked off Dick’s hand, but Dick had already jumped up, wrapping his legs around Slade’s waist before his grip was removed.  Dick smiled at the mercenary, face-to-mask, like he wasn’t currently holding them together with the strength of his thighs.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Deathstroke said flatly.  He didn’t move to tear Dick off, but Dick was under no impression that it wouldn’t be ridiculously easy for him to do.  Dick just moved forward with the half-ridiculous plan he’d formulated.

“We left things a little unfinished last time,” Dick said, dropping his voice as he slowly, gently placed his hands on the mercenary’s shoulders.  The mask was an obstacle, and he lifted his fingers to the knot, loosening it carefully, heart hammering in his throat as he did his best to keep his movements slow and unthreatening.

Deathstroke let him slip the mask off, standing stock still on the rafter beam.  Beneath them, the meeting was beginning to finish up.  Dick looked into the mercenary’s impassive expression and smiled, trying to ignore how everything was fluttery from trepidation.  “It’s not nice to leave a guy hanging.”

The mercenary made some kind of snort, but Dick didn’t let him get anything more out, cupping one gloved hand against that strong jaw and meeting his lips.  Deathstroke let him set the pace this time and Dick took his time in exploring, curling the fingers of his other hand in Deathstroke’s hair as he lost him in the kiss.

He didn’t even realize that Deathstroke was gripping his ass until the man gave a deliberate squeeze.

“Is this what you want, little bird?” the mercenary murmured as Dick broke the kiss with a muffled gasp.  “Do you get off on playing cat-and-mouse with villains?”  Nightwing’s armor was made of high-quality kevlar fabric, but it felt like tissue paper right now—he could feel the slow, deliberate movements as Slade kneaded his ass.  “Did you want the big, bad mercenary to hold you down and make you scream?”

Dick rolled his hips forward, re-wrapping his legs tight around Slade’s waist.  “I don’t know,” he said, voice breathless, “you tell me.”

He dove back into the kiss, feeling arousal spike higher with every press and squeeze, his suit becoming uncomfortably tight.  Dick was so consumed that he almost forgot what he was here for, but he remembered when he heard the quiet slide of a gun slipping out of its holster.

Dick broke the kiss but kept his forehead pressed to Deathstroke’s, reaching out to grab the gun before the mercenary finished aiming it.  He didn’t try to wrest the gun away, just curled a hand over the muzzle and waited.

“You truly are a pain in my ass,” the mercenary grumbled.

“In your ass?” Dick said pointedly, wiggling against the tight grip Deathstroke had on him.

The mercenary merely huffed, not engaging as he let go.  “Get off of me.  They’re gone, anyway.”  Dick darted a quick glance to check before he let go of the gun and unwrapped himself from Deathstroke.

~#~ ~#~

“I trust you,” Dick said with a smile.  It didn’t sound like a lie.  He was too exhausted and injured, and maybe it was true.  Maybe this was what trust felt like.

Slade’s face closed down, slipping straight into Deathstroke’s idle efficiency.  Shit.  That didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Okay,” Slade said, “Go to the bedroom.  Take off your suit.  Kneel next to the bed, hands on the blankets.  Now.”

Dick was already regretting this.  This wasn’t going to be gentle.  But there was no point in protesting.  Dick did what he was told, and knelt, bruised knees pressing painfully against the ground as he laid his arms out flat on the bed.  He buried his face in the blankets, and let out a ragged breath.

Slade’s footsteps were deliberate, and Dick heard him walk to the closet.  He didn’t look to see what he was doing, but he heard the harsh swish of something long and thin whistling through the air.

It’s worth it, some part of his mind attempted to soothe, it’s all worth it if it saves lives.

Slade had never been this rough before, but he was clearly trying to prove something.  Dick hoped that he didn’t break skin—that wouldn’t be fun to deal with, or to try to explain to nosy siblings.

Slade walked back to him, and Dick could feel the long, thin stick press against his back.  A cane.  Or a staff, maybe, it was too dense to be a walking stick.

“You’re sure about this?” Slade asked, voice emotionless.

Dick pressed his face further into the blanket, and nodded, a quick jerk of his head.

“Say no,” Slade said, “And I’ll stop.”  The cane pressed deeper against his back, before Slade drew it back.

Dick quickly calculated how hard Slade could hit, and bit down on the blankets.  The agonizing part would be enduring without begging Slade to stop.  Dick really hoped that this satisfied Slade, that he got whatever he was looking for, that this wasn’t going to be the tone for the rest of their encounters—Dick had enjoyed himself before, but this was only going to hurt—

He couldn’t stop the tears spilling out, and he tried to keep them silent.  As long as he didn’t say no.  That was all he had to do.  Just keep his mouth shut.

The floor creaked, and Dick fought not to flinch.  He waited for the whistling strike, the snap of wood against skin, the growing burn, the—

The hand on his shoulder, drawing him away from the bed, and Dick had to unclench his jaw before he pulled the blankets off the bed.  Slade was crouching next to him, staring at him with a blank face and a narrowed eye.

“You don’t want this,” Slade said levelly, and the words felt like a death sentence.

“No,” Dick breathed out, because he could recognize that glint in his eyes—Slade was pissed, and Dick had no idea who he’d take it out on.  “No, Slade, please, I want it, I—”

“Dick,” Slade said, cutting him off, “Stop.”

“Slade, I do—I trust you, I swear—” Dick could feel the tears streaming down his face, and he tried to wipe them away, but his hands were shaking, and Slade was angry, and—

And now he was sobbing into an expensive shirt, strong arms around him, careful to not put any pressure on his ribs, and Dick couldn’t stop crying.  “I’m sorry,” he hiccupped, feeling the despair clawing at his heart, because he’d failed, because Slade had set up a test and Dick couldn’t pass it, and he abandoned that line of conversation entirely.  “I’m sorry—don’t—don’t kill them, I’ll do anything, Slade, please—”

“I’m not going to kill them,” Slade said, something pained in his tone, “I told you, my job is over.”

“I—I’m sorry, I—just give me a minute, I’ll s—stop—”

A heavy sigh.  “Kid, you don’t have to stop crying,” Slade said quietly, and Dick instinctively tightened his grasp on Slade’s shirt as the man stood up, carrying Dick fluidly.

~#~

“I know what consent is,” Dick said irritably—he wasn’t an idiot, and Bruce had been thoroughly obsessive in designing powerpoints to cover the Talk.  “No means no.”

Slade observed him, his expression placid.  “Yes,” he said levelly, “But consent means saying yes.”

“I said yes, Slade!” Dick snarled, unsure of what picture Slade was trying to paint but knowing that he didn’t like it.  He knew that Slade would stop whenever he told him to.  That had never been an issue.

Slade continued to stare at him silently.  “If I held a gun to your head and told you to beg me to fuck you,” Slade said quietly, “Is that consent?”

Dick had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.  “Of course not.”

“What if I held the gun to your brother’s head, whichever one pops up in your mind first,” he said, and Dick couldn’t help the shiver at the mental image of Deathstroke training a gun on Robin.  “And told you the same thing?”

“It’s not consent.”

“How about a random civilian off the street?  A drug lord?  A cop?  A—”

“Forcing someone to say yes isn’t consent,” Dick said through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Slade agreed, “And what if I didn’t force you?  What if I had a gun trained on a target and a thirty-second window to shoot, and you knew that dropping to your knees and blowing me would distract me?”

Dick went still.  Slade’s face was no longer expressionless.

“Having sex with ulterior motives doesn’t automatically mean it’s not consensual,” Dick said slowly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Slade agreed.  “But everyone draws the line somewhere, kid, and you’ve crossed mine.”

Dick felt that strike through his bones.  “Slade,” he said, unsure of what he was going to say but desperate to say something, “I don’t—”

“You were ready to let me beat you bloody,” Slade said flatly, “Not because you enjoyed it, not because you thought it might be fun to try—both answers I would’ve accepted, by the way—but because you thought I was going to murder someone if you didn’t.”

“You—you didn’t say that you would kill someone if I didn’t have sex with you.”

“No, I didn’t,” Slade agreed.  “But it’s clearly what you heard.”