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readychilledwine · 9 months ago

Note

hello!! please could i request one where the reader is an OG member of the IC and very close to azriel (she knows that he’s her mate, he doesn’t) and sister-like to the rest of the IC. once feyre and her sisters come about, she often confides with feyre so they’re also close.

anyway, there’s an important event for the reader on day and she expected the rest of the IC would join her (she invited them?) but no one turned up and she’s absolutely exhausted, emotionally and physically, by the end of the day.

when she’s back, everyone is together at the house having fun and one of them notices she so dressed up but looked exhausted. maybe someone says something snarky and there’s an argument. azriel defends the snarky person so reader and azriel have an argument (hurtful words towards the reader) and that’s when the mating bond snaps for az and he’s regretful. things happen but happy ending for the reader, az and the IC. thank you 🫶🏼💗

Odd One Out

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - I warned you all to watch out for angst, right? Elain being catty, reader feeling lonely, Azriel being an idiot

A/N - I promise Bound by Fate is still coming. I'm just constantly rereading it and not happy with where it's at. It's probably because I needed this out of my system. I hope this is close enough to what you were looking for! It wrote itself, so I'm worried it may stray too far from the ask! Please let me know if it did.

✨️ Azriel Masterlist✨️

Odd One Out pt 2

Maybe you had asked too much again. You looked to where the empty seats for the Inner Circle and Archeron sisters sat one last time before moving forward. You had worked too hard on this symphony to let this stop you. You were the last to go on stage, the conductor in her gorgeous sparkling gown and heels. You were the picture perfect face of composure as you bowed before turning and raising your hands.

You were introduced to Rhysand at a young age, and the two of you were quickly friends, so when he became High Lord, a place at his side was handed to you without question. You were eloquent, elegant, and kind. You were perfect for the position of emissary, and you single handedly won him friendships and alliances among every court aside from Spring.

He had never stopped you from pursuing passion, though. Your father had forced you into harp lessons from the tender age of 4 until his untimely death. He sat by your side for hours, teaching you to speak through letters written on a sheet that so fee could truly understand. It was an escape that turned into a career. One Rhysand specifically built the amphitheater you currently stood on for. The music you wrote woke emotion on the High Lord and all of Velaris, quickly making you one of the most popular females in the City of Starlight.

No one enjoyed your music more than Azriel's shadows, though. Nor did anyone enjoy you the way they did. How they knew you two were mates while he sat clueless and doting on Elain would never make sense to you, but the shadow turning your sheet music for you tonight was at least a small comfort, even if your family, mainly his master, was not here in their resevered High box seats.

You were exhausted when your arms lowered for the close of the show. You stood to the side, plastering a small faked smile on your graceful features as you held your arm to the orchestra, signaling for their bows before taking your own and leaving. You were the last one there, sharing thank yous and goodbyes as you musicians left. You chose to be alone for a while on the harp that sat in your sound room at the theater. You had a song in your mind, and you needed to let it speak before it left. Even if it was created from a place of raw emotion. It was near midnight when you finished, leaving the new composition to sit until you returned tomorrow.

You could hear the drunken laughter the second you walked into the old Riverhouse, the one you and Azriel made home as the mates of the Inner Circle began occupying the other houses, and signed as you removed your heels and picked them up into white tipped manicured nails. "Y/n!" Cassian's booming drunk voice slammed into you as he did. "Where have you been, baby?"

It was Nesta who gasped, looking at the clock on the wall before whispering a soft oh no as she saw your dress. Nesta who covered her mouth, eyes beginning to water as she shook her head and stared. Nesta who glared to Feyre.

"Why do you look so dolled up?" Rhys had a slight flush to his face, a wide smile as he took you in. "Hot date?"

You couldn't help but stare, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You all seriously don't remember." Rhys knitted his brow thinking, and his face slowly fell.

"Y/n Darling, I am-"

You put your hand up to him before he could finish, shaking your head as the tears actually fell. "Save it. Spare me your lies and excuses." Cassian looked to Nesta and then Rhys, his own face falling next as he remembered.

"The symphony."

"Was beautiful, regardless of my support system deciding wine and board games were more important than the first live art performance in Velaris since our high lord was captured." Your voice was shaking as you looked up, avoiding Hazel eyes that were wide in shock as every single ounce of heart ache you felt hit him.

The bond finally snaps, his shadows hissed. We've been reminding you all day. And now you've hurt our mate. Ours. We went. Where were you?

"Maybe if you were actually good at writing music, we would have remembered." Mor's glass of wine hit the floor as your breath stilled. Rhys felt his hands fall from Feyre's lap as she audibly said Elain's name in an insulted tone. Amren was immediately held back by Varian. "Obviously, if the people who you claim you're so important to did not see making time to go a priority, we did not miss much."

Cassian heard your breath shutter. You stared to Azriel, waiting for him to come to your defense and not realizing his silence was due to shock from the bond and Elain's sudden cattiness. "Very well. I see I am no longer wanted, and I will not stay where I am not wanted," the whisper was all anyone could hear as you turned and walked away. The door shut behind you, and as if the Mother truly hated you, rain began falling softly, and you made your way back to the amphitheater.

Azriel had never shoved someone off his lap as quickly as he did Elain in that moment. But it was Rhysand who spoke, "How. Dare. You." The High lord went to stand, grabbing his jacket. "When your sister was dying, I sent her y/n's music. The mobile you play for our son every night, is y/n's music. The music that plays in Hewn City is y/n's music. She is an essential part of my circle, my family. How dare you tell her that her passion, her joy, and her career mean nothing to us."

Azriel backed away from Elain. "Your true colors disgust me, Elain Archeron." He studied her, truly studied her for the first time as the door slammed shut following Rhysand's exit. "That is my friend, my closest friend. You just hurt her like it was nothing. Cut her so deeply you will never be able to repair it."

"Well, if she mattered so much you all would have remembered."

Feyre spoke then, between heavy sobs, "I wrote down the wrong date. I wrong down tomorrow night for opening night. We were going to take her to dinner. It was supposed to be Nyx's first concert. This is my fault."

"Again, proof it didn't matter." Elain sipped her white wine as if Feyre had all but solidified her opinion.

"Get out," the growl from Azriel took everyone by surprise. "Get out of my home. You are no longer welcome here."

He was out the door, running to catch up to Rhysand in the rain, but missing the High Lord. He entered the amphitheater drenched and in silence, sitting next to where Rhysand was in the dark.

You were on stage playing violin as you always did when your heart was breaking. Every stroke of the strings had the bond growing tight before you dimmed it on your end, as if each movement of the bow, each note, was you whispering goodbye. "She told me she is leaving," Rhysand rubbed his face next to Azriel. It was then he saw the tears staining the perfect features of the High Lord. "She said this is my last performance before she leaves for Dawn."

"There's nothing we can do then?" Rhysand shook his head at the question before his head fell into his hands and his shoulders wrecked into sobs. "She's my mate."

"I know," Rhysand looked to the stars. "I've known for years. She never said anything, and now she never will. What little piece we had left is gone. Her light had been blown out by Elain's statements."

"Let me-"

"Just please stop talking and let me enjoy this."

It was the song he had sent Feyre under the mountain. A score that read of hope through pain.

And hope was all Azriel could hold on to as you stood and bowed, winnowing away as soon as you were finished.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #inner circle x reader #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #theres potential for a part 2

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ganondoodle · 12 days ago

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botw2 (totk rewritten) ganondorf design (+some story) post

Mummy version what link and zelda discover beneath hyrule castle when investigating the failing shiekah tech and discover a cave system that leads to several abandoned shiekah research/security sites and ultimately lead to a cave in which ganondorf is still sealed away by the ancient queen of hyrule; after the initial sealing (or capture rather) her descendant and the shiekah, who were rapidly advancing their tech at the time, build around it, both to keep the seal secret and safe (as the actual sealing was a short but intense battle between him and the queen that wasnt intended to happen like that, in the middle of the throne room that got broken and both ended up in the underground, the only survivor being the young princess of hyrule from that time- since all involved parties except for her died little was known as to how and why but the stories were spun regardless and ultimately the final narrative was in hyrules favor) and to use ganondorfs immense spiritual power and magical skill- eventually becoming one of the main power sources for all shiekah technology (ouch)

the chamber is all shiekah built (post sealing) and similarly secured like the monks in shrines (though visibly decaying and failing)- once disturbed the remainder of the ancient queen fused into zeldas hand (with seemingly no effect but temporary pain, perhaps she will hear voices from the past telling her not to explore any further .. still working on that) ganondorfs body falls to the ground but then springs back to life, somewhat clumsily but fiercly attacking zelda and link, the shock from being in this horrendous condition between life and death for thousands and thousands of years and suddendly being thrust back into his decayed and used up body still fresh

the mastersword is broken and links arm destroyed, both link and zelda start to flee from the crumbling cave, zelda dragging link behind her in panic (and as he is hurt)- after which link gets his shiekah tech arm (and the arm stays gone) and the world changes

mid game fight- this game is not as free in progression as botw, you can do alot when you want but some things will remain locked, the mid game fight can only happen once the 4 main regions problems have been dealt with (very different to canon totk, but that is for a different post) and the castle, which fell into the underground shortly after the intro, is made accessible (specific way how still in work) the interior is both broken castle, rooms previously blocked, and shiekah tech- since beneath the castle was a whole, giant array of tech made to secure the castle, including reserves of ancient energy specifically for the royal family and the entire mechanism behind the rising pillars filled with guardians-

at the start of the dungeon link is grabbed by malice/miasma hands and dragged into the castle, seperated from zelda and the mechanics she introduced (crafting/reparing weapons and more), theres no way out, teleports are blocked; after getting further in alone, zelda finds you again, and nothing seems out of the ordinary (unless you have a keen eye, she only uses her left arm and would walk past things she usually wouldnt) after a certain amount of progression, without warning, as soon as zelda is out of the cameras view she will attack you relentlessly, not speaking a word and with changed eye color- after fighting with her/beign chased into the main throne room, the real zelda breaks through a wall, her friends in tow (yunobo, teba+tulin, riju, sidon, which she went to to ask for help, explaining the time gap), and ganondorf drops the disguise, a fight with him (mummy version) ensues, though he is very much back to his senses

at the end of the fight he shows (or forces her to see) zelda his last memory from when he lived, the confrontation with the ancient queen to his sealing (since she doesnt know/is in denial of her families role in both all this and the sonaus (zonais) extinction (as well as the betrayal and persecution of the shiekah later on), and his beef is with her specifically, link is just her guard dog after all) (i wasnt sure to include a direct scene from the past, but this one scene is very self contained and gives alot of context while still letting most of the past be a mystery- as i want to keep it as feeling ... removed and unknown as much as possible from the world you know)

(after which he leaves the scene as zelda tries to understand what she just saw)

post revival Ganondorf (beginning of end fight cutscene and phase 1.) only appears at the end (excluding the possible cutscene in the mid game fight, which shows him in his time, alive, which is a different design than this that i will make for a cutscene/story post)

the end of the game is in/on the forgotten plateau (it ends were botw began :) ) perhaps it rose higher and revealed an entrance after more game progression (at least one more dungeon, master kogas, and the restorations of the master sword via deku tree dungeon and sword quest involving the dragons; how much of the past you cared to explore within caves, which ARE the underground- its in several bigger and smaller, harder to access caves, each being somewhat to very unique and reveal more context, is largely irrelevant, it mostly serves to give YOU more context and make you think)

the dungeon is within the plateau, once to the end there is a longer cutscene of zelda trying to talk with ganondorf, now in his, largely, restored form (largely as in, not exactly as he was in past, clothing difference etc), her having come to understand what her legacy is and wanting to take responsibility for it; he listens calmly and talks to her for a bit (but the tension is very high, he knows what threat he poses and his goals, zelda is visibly trying to keep it together) and for a bit it might look like she can avoid this conflict

but he makes it very clear then, that she cannot undo anything, there is no possible price she could pay, he has suffered at hyrules hands for generations, having seen the world that was his home grow into myth, see his own people forget him, and how the history was remembered, not as it was, but as they wanted it to; he is forever changed, ripped from his time and all he ever held dear (there are clues and a mention of him having had two daughters, a little boar figurine, carved from wood of trees now extinct, hangs from his belt even now)- he wasnt a perfect king, but well liked and kept his country to stay strong against hyrules schemes .. until he fell- he is not truly alive, he is in a strangers world and this world hates him, it is anger and hatred, rage against all that happend, guilt for having failed his own, feeling betrayed by them yet, even if not truly their fault as no one knew what really happened except him, but he was imprisoned, with no breath to speak nor air to scream

he does not care for this world and his only goals now are to disrupt as much as possible, be the unstoppable force that hyrules always been, be the monster they wanted him to be, do as he wants until someone stops him ...and kill zelda to end her rotten family- but even if she gave up her life willingly he wouldnt take it, she will have to fight and make her own hands dirty and she does not want to die.

your friends arrive, and the battle begins.

(rough examples of his weapons are further below; he fights with one arm only in phase 1. then reforms his missing arm with malice, borrowed from the boar appearance, though it is not usable enough to truly replace it, it acts more like beasts claw and to copy some of links abilities, like the hookshot)

Beast Ganon(dorf), normal appearance (phase 3)

at the end of phase 2 he knocks out your friends, changes into beast form and attacks you, zelda using her magic to shield both her and link so he cannot bite through, instead smashes them both through stone and dirt all the way to the surface of the plateau on which the fight continues, this time only link and zelda

(his movement isnt a senseless rage, but a graceful being, he moves and jumps, floats and swims through the air as the ground in an almost dragon like way, he still wields magic, not all malice, but lightning and perhaps even more too, it is still him, just a different form)

Beast Ganon(dorf) while charging magic (phase 3)

Ganondorf phase 2 + Ganondorf phase 4 (slightly out of order but the boar wouldnt fit on one picture with other forms)

at the end of phase 3 (beast) it seems like you have beaten him, he is down and zelda takes charge, ready to do as she did to the dark beast she faced before (dark beast ganon in botw) but as she raises her hand a sword slash cuts off half her right hand- he is not done yet and refuses to be dealt with like that again, not by her hand again-

the final phase is a mix of all, including his appearance, this is the final struggle, to give every last drop of strength, the hole in his chest is open, malice eyes staring from within, it keeps him alive yet still-

zelda is disabled for this fight, she has been taken to safety by your friends, this fight is all on link to finish; while this is his most desperate and vengeful form, he is not senseless either, he summons his sword to attack you with as he did in phase 2, then throws it at you, quickly conducting lighting to it and while you are busy dodging lunges like in beast form (to paint the picture a little), this fight is supposed to be truly challenging.

(heres a rough example for his weapons)

(not fully sure of the ending scene, but there is supposed to be a short view into a timeskip in which zelda also has half a prosthetic hand made from shiekah tech)

#ganondoodles #art #zelda #tloz #ganondoodles rewrites totk #botw2 #ganondorf #legend of zelda #... it was supposed to be more focused on the design and less about story #but .... i do be writing #most design notes are on the pictures i hope its readable #and the lore dump isnt too much ...........................#i am actually really really nervous about this #bc i want to do ganondorf justice but also feel like im using so many tropes that in turn its just as bad as canon totk #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah #also it took me over an hour to write all this #i always get carried away and start describing things like its darn book nhjkdfnkjdnkfjd #anyway im gonna hide in bed now #long post #accidentally so but i dont have the heart to delete all that text #nor to spend another hour describing stuff again ..#do tell how you liked it if you made it all the way through ......... im bracing myself for criticism #like i like all i came up with but dont know if it comes across as i want or writtten badly or maybe its not good #just what I would like more ...........................

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cdragons · 11 months ago

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter. Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “��no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

“Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that! FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz

Reblog if you liked reading this chapter and want me to continue! Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

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scribbles97 · 3 months ago

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The Nightmare Come True - Part 5 and The End

Christmas had come and gone as loudly as it always did in their house.

The best gift for Gordon was the day his oldest brother had turned up at a training session alongside Jeff, the kid hadn’t stopped talking about it for a week. Jeff had been confident Scott would soon be making his way into the pool himself, especially if his request for an olympic sized pool on their newly purchased island was anything to go by.

John and Virgil had both returned home for the holidays full of stories and with open invites for their big brother to visit them at their respective colleges come the following semester. Scott had been keen, immediately opening his calendar and circling dates between appointments and other plans.

Even Jen had paid a brief visit, greeting the younger brothers as old friends proving just how much Scott had spoken of them all to his squad at one point or another.

By spring Jeff had noticed just how Scott had begun to fill out again, his time in the gym paying off and rebuilding the muscle that had been lost. He was starting to relax, to enjoy life as he once had and found the confidence he had always worn like a comfortable jacket. Gradually, he was becoming a version of the son Jeff recognised.

March was spent in the air, racking up supervised flight hours after passing the required psych exams. It had taken time for him to be comfortable in the pilot's seat again, but Scott had said himself that being in the air was as natural to him as being in the water was for Gordon. All he had needed was a supportive shoulder, one that Jeff was willing to offer.

By his birthday, Scott’s full pilot’s license had been reinstated, giving cause for a celebration alone without the news of John’s new Space Rated status. They had called Virgil on hologram, celebrating from their separate corners of the country louder than they had done over the festive period.

It had been late in the night when Jeff had found Scott out on the porch, a letter discarded but evidently not forgotten in his lap.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but the surprise party kind of distracted me.” Scott had smiled as Jeff had joined him on the step and poured them each a measure of whiskey.

“Cambridge offered me a spot to study English Lit, it’s all online so I’d only need to go over twice a semester so I’d still be able to--” He paused to glance over his shoulder, making sure no younger brothers were lingering in the kitchen.

Jeff had chuckled, glad that Scott was doing something for himself, something that didn’t immediately lead to any plans that had seemingly always been in place.

“You don’t have to, you know?” He had pointed out, “If you want to take some time for yourself before joining the Project…”

Scott had shook his head, grinning as he sipped his drink, “I want to get in the air again, Dad, and that rocket? I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Both had laughed at the implication, wordlessly reaching their glasses towards one another in a silent salute to everything they had overcome in that year alone.

Things still weren’t perfect, Alan and Gordon were far from happy about moving to a boarding school away from their family. Scott still had a way to go before he was back at his full strength and fitness, but with the encouragement from Val and Lee, he was well on his way to outperforming them all.

“This is what I need.” Scott had nodded, “Despite everything, I’m glad we’ve ended up here Dad.”

Jeff had slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, “Me too kid, me too.”

Of course, it hadn’t lasted.

A short eighteen months later, Jeff had been shot into the farthest reaches of their solar system. He had been sure that he would never see his family, his boys, again. It hadn’t mattered what he had tried with the engines, there had been no way for him to get home. He had tried, time and again to find a way to get through to them but it had eventually become apparent that all he could do was try to stay alive.

He had taken to sketching and writing when he wasn’t trying to keep himself alive, focussing on thoughts of each of his boys. How Scott was at least back doing something he loved, that John had made it to space as he had always wanted to, that Virgil was close to graduating with Honors on his engineering degree, that Gordon would have made it to the Olympics, and Alan at least had four older brothers to look out for him. It had been the thought and memory of them that had kept him going, the irony not lost on him that it had been the same things that had kept Scott going through his imprisonment.

There had been little else to occupy him over those long years.

He had never given up hope, not even as the planetoid had begun to separate beneath his feet, he had known they would come.

Right at the last possible second, he had spotted Scott.

Just like that, their roles were reversed.

Scott had stepped up in the time Jeff had been gone, and the more he had seen of the man his eldest had become, the more his heart had hurt.

He had dropped out of his Literature degree almost immediately after Jeff had gone, had taken up the role of commander in International rescue, and the role of Father to younger brothers that weren’t ready to be orphans. Once again, thanks to Jeff, Scott had lost sight of the man he wanted to be for himself.

Once again, Jeff had vowed to set that right.

There had been months of recovery, hospital appointments and physiotherapy, most of it familiar from the year before he had taken the unexpected trip. Scott had resolutely been at his side through all of it.

“Alan asked how you did it…” Scott had started one night, sat out by the pool waiting for Virgil and Gordon to return home from a rescue.

Jeff hadn’t needed further clarification as he had trailed off. He’d had therapy that morning, had spent the day pulling his boys closer after talking about what the isolation had done to him. Of course, they had all picked up on it.

“I imagine much the same way as you did during the war,” Jeff admitted softly, “Thinking of your family, remembering all the good times.”

Before he had left, talking about the war had been coming easier for Scott. It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to realize that Scott had clammed up once he had no longer had his father to talk to about such times.

Scott snorted, looking out to the horizon, “Admittedly, it’s a good method.”

Jeff smiled sadly across to him, “It got us both a long way.”

It had gotten them both back home, back to their family, to somewhere where they could find their feet again and work towards the version of themselves they wanted to be.

The man sat next to him was physically recovered from his time as a prisoner, but had never found a solid enough footing to find himself amongst all the chaos life had thrown at them.

“You didn’t end up where you were aiming, I’m sorry for that.” Jeff sighed after a moment, reaching out to Scott’s shoulder, “Because of all of this, I think you lost yourself again Scott.”

“I--” For a moment it seemed like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders had fallen and he had nodded in admission, “I became who I needed to be.”

They had shared a look, one that spoke of burdens that had fallen back on tired shoulders that had barely gotten free before being weighed back down again.

“You deserved to live life for yourself Scott.”

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “I know that now.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Jeff continued, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you see that, Son, I’m sorry that life has been so cruel and unfair.”

Scott’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m glad you don’t blame yourself.”

Jeff would never admit to him that it was a concept he still sometimes struggled with, but something he was working on regardless. His son didn’t need any more burdens.

“So,” He started, looking across with raised eyebrows, “Alan’s headed to college in the Fall, how about you take another look at that Literature degree?”

Scott’s laugh was full bodied against Jeff, “Yeah, I suppose that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Laughing with his son, Jeff nodded to himself.

They were going to be just fine.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy #jeff tracy #scribbles writes #thunderbirds #loopstagirl

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so-mordor-itis · 2 years ago

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Never Out of Sight

Synopsis: Leon finally returns home after a rough week of work, and you're there to welcome him. He's allowed to feel normal for once and ignore his responsibilities, going back into a world that did not have a use for a gun at every turn. Though, he still awaits that inevitable call that will burst his bubble of normalcy and force him to leave again.

I got inspired by @uhlunaro 's Enough series, and honestly, I got a lot of angst planned, so I decided to give Leon fluff instead! I'm also trying out a different style so I apologize if it feels different than my usual formula

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Kinda edited, I finished it at like 2 a.m., so apologies. Also, there's suggestive content in here if you don't like that kind of stuff

The click of a lock echoed throughout the living room. Leon entered the threshold with a sigh, removing one of his boots and tossing it to the side of the front door. The other followed shortly, landing on the ground with a thud. It was still early in the morning, the apartment still a grayish color as the sun barely began to peek out. He wondered if you heard him; it would be hard not to. He was a bit careless, but with the way his muscles ached and yelled for rest, he couldn't help it.

The apartment smelled of cleaner and air freshener. You had probably just done some spring cleaning–he could easily imagine you worrying about him as you scrubbed dishes and mopped the floor of the kitchen. Guilt entered his system, and he decided pondering on that would make him feel worse.

The most obvious thing to do was shower, and immediately after climb into the bed you two shared to grab you close and hold you until you groaned at him to let go because he was stronger than he thought. His heart ached now, wanting that more than ever.

Though, his screaming muscles won. Once he laid eyes upon the couch, he fell on top of it. Leon told himself he could shower later before succumbing to his exhaustion.

–

He was home. You knew he was home because the air of your apartment was different. The smell of rust and his stale cologne greeted you once you opened your eyes, and your heart felt full. You were slightly disappointed he didn't settle next to you for his rest, but you figured he must've had an incredibly exhausting week. You wouldn't give him too much shit for it.

After contributing to your daily routine, you entered the living room to find his sleeping form. Leon was still in his work t-shirt and jeans, even forgetting to take off his socks. He had one of his arms draped across his eyes, and soft snores were escaping him. The last time he was this exhausted, he slept till 4 in the afternoon. You supposed this would be a similar case.

Nonetheless, the last thing you wanted was to wake him. He was a bit of a grumpy bear when he never got enough rest. He'd never admit it, but he hated feeling tired. Made him feel strange, as if he couldn't do anything.

You poured yourself a cup of orange juice–quietly of course–before glancing at him again. Your eyes ran over his form, watching the way his chest fell and rose.

"Welcome home, Leon." You whispered. For once, you felt at peace. He came home to you once again.

II.

The rest of your day consisted of working from home and reading. The thought of turning on the TV and waking him made you feel bad, so you decided it was time to stop procrastinating on your work and actually be productive.

You had just finished your latest outline when you heard shuffling in the living room. Your heart leaped with anticipation. You were wrong with your estimation, but you were glad he got sleep regardless.

"Sweetheart?" His voice called to you.

You couldn't contain the smile that was curving. "Coming," you replied.

The moment Leon saw you exit your office space, his eyes softened, and he instinctively pulled you into his arms, a groan of satisfaction left his lips. He needed to see you bad, and you felt it.

“Long week?” You asked, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“You have no idea.”

You didn’t, with Leon having to be secretive about certain details of his job, but you didn’t want to pry into it. You knew he was a hard worker, and that’s all you needed to know. Though you would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you enjoyed the fact he came home with bruises or broken bones. At least now, as you looked at him, observed his face, you couldn’t find any noticeable injuries.

“If you wanna talk about it, I'm here, you know."

“I’m just happy to see you, that’s enough for me.” Leon mumbled into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna talk about it anyway.”

“If you insist,” you said to him, a hint of teasing in your tone. You slipped from his arms–a noise of protest coming from Leon in the process–to open the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

“I practically slept half the day, so, yeah,”

“Well,” you said, scanning the contents of the shelves. “We have two options: Takeout or–Leon,” you grumbled, watching as his arm came into view. He grabbed the milk carton, but he didn’t have it long since you swiped it from him.

“What?” He looked slightly startled.

“I know what you’re gonna do,” you pointed an accusing finger. “you’re gonna drink it straight from the carton–what are you, a heathen?”

“How did you know that's what I was going to do?” He pouted a little, and you had to fight the urge to kiss him. You were supposed to be irritated at him. You couldn’t let his stupid, handsome face win this time. "I could've been on my way to grab a cup."

You sighed. “You’re not very sneaky. You left the cap sitting on the counter last time."

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” He tried to nab it from you, but you were quicker than him. You knew his tricks.

“You have germs, Mr. Kennedy, don’t contaminate the milk.” You smiled at him.

“I have germs, huh?” There was a glint of mischief in his eye, and it made your stomach flip. You knew what that look meant. Leon stepped a foot closer to you, and you suddenly felt nervous.

“Leon,” you warned, unable to contain yourself from letting out a small laugh. “Don’t you dare–”

He was fast, too, proving so by catching you by your waist when you attempted to flee. You squealed. His warm breath tickled against your cheek as he let out a chuckle, clearly amused with himself. When he started to place kisses all across your face, you jabbed him in the abdomen. It didn't phase him.

"Hey, that could have hurt, you know," he said, cupping your face to plant an actual kiss to your lips. "I could've been bruised there."

You grinned at his taunting tone. "You would've said something." God, you loved him. More than anything.

He kissed you again, bringing you closer before picking you up bridal style. You let out a squeak at suddenly being off the ground. "Hey!"

He gently plopped you on the couch, hovering over you, love now clear in his azul eyes. Your heart melted. "God, I missed you." He admitted. "Promise me you won't ever change, sweetheart."

"Not even with a gun pointed to my head," you told him.

He kissed you again, harder. You swore he knew exactly what to do to everytime to bring you to your knees, to make your legs feel as if they were made of jelly.

Welcome home, Leon.

—

III.

You forced him to shower after your excursion. At first, he grumbled, mentioning his aching muscles, and getting up was not in his itinerary.

"If your muscles were aching," you commented, "You certainly didn't show it earlier."

"Well, that was different."

"Leon, you should shower, you stink."

"You certainly didn't say anything earlier." Leon used your own words against you. You felt him smirk, and you lightly smacked him. He was currently laying his head on your chest, your fingers fiddling with his hair–he loved when you did that.

Eventually, he did remove himself from you begrudgingly. It gave you a view of his body; the scars on his legs, arms, back. It painted a picture of what he went through, of what he had done, had sacrificed. It hurt to look at him sometimes because it reminded you that there were some scars you couldn't help him with.

III.5

That night, you swore he held onto you just a little bit tighter. Perhaps hoping you wouldn't be awake to notice.

Something happened during the last week of work, but he was trying so hard not to show it.

IV.

A few days of serenity passed. Leon had offered to actually try cooking for once, but you didn't let him. The last time he tried it was on your one year anniversary and he wanted to make pancakes. The ending result being black, hardened pieces of charcoal. You remembered the smell lasting for a week, and he apologized for causing trouble.

You had done the cooking, much to his dismay.

("I wanted to at least do something while I can. I don't know when they'll call me in."

"Well, if you're so inclined, you could always do the dishes afterwards, Lee."

"I meant something for you."

"That would be doing something for me!")

You had been working in your office, Leon catching up on the news, as you heard a phone ring from across the hall. Your heart dropped, knowing it was his work phone.

You tried to ignore his voice answering it with business, grasping onto the last bit of time you'd hear it echo throughout the apartment.

He leaned against the doorway moments later. He sighed, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, they uh–they need me back."

You shrugged. "It's okay. I already figured anyway."

"It's really not okay, but duty calls." He had the same look of dread in his eyes whenever he was called back into work. You had told him maybe it was best to leave, to possibly find something that would be better than what he had. He only shook his head, not elaborating why. "I'll try to come back as soon as I can."

You wanted to put on a brave face, to simply smile at him and tell him to go ahead without any worries in your heart. You couldn't.

You got up from your seat and wrapped your arms around him. He returned the gesture greatly, once again kissing your temple as he buried his nose into your hair. "Just come back in one piece, yeah?" You said, voice cracking to your displeasure.

"I'll always come back to you." He affirmed, tilting your chin up. "I'd fight through hell if I had to."

"Don't forget I love you."

"How could I?"

–

You watched as he grabbed the boots he had flopped on the floor, grabbed his keys, and grabbed that stupid phone that filled him with dread. And you watched him as he kissed you a gentle goodbye.

As he was about to leave, you called him. "Leon,"

He turned to you without a second thought.

"I love you."

His face melted from serious to bittersweet. "I love you, too. More than you know."

He left soon after, taking your heart with him.

The house felt empty again.

@amatxs , @boundinparchment , @inaflashimagine , @izuniias , @airanke , @itoshisoup , @fugufishie , @spookluckpuck

#resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil imagines #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon x reader #re4 #re imagines #re leon #my writing #fluff #domestic fluff #angst

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the-most-humble-blog · 20 days ago

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10 Things That Make No Sense - But We Accept Anyway

Life is full of absurdities—things we just go along with even though they defy all logic. From tipping culture to daylight savings time, society seems to operate on a shared agreement that we’ll just smile, nod, and pretend these things are totally normal. But let’s break the silence. Here are 10 things that make absolutely no sense—but for some reason, we all accept them anyway.

1. Tipping Culture

Ah yes, tipping. Why do we pay extra for services that people are already being paid to perform? And why does the guilt hit hardest when the little iPad flips around, and the barista stares at you while you decide if making your $6 latte deserves another $2?

Why It Makes No Sense:

Why not just pay service workers a livable wage instead of making customers do financial gymnastics?

Why does tipping vary so much by country? (Ever tried tipping in Japan? Prepare for awkward refusals.)

2. Credit Scores

“Want to borrow money? First, prove you don’t need it.” The credit score system is basically the adult version of a trust fall—but instead of falling into someone’s arms, you fall into debt.

Why It Makes No Sense:

A late payment from 7 years ago can haunt you like a bad ex.

Closing a credit card hurts your score because… you’re too responsible?

The formula is so secretive that even experts just shrug and hope for the best.

3. Daylight Savings Time

Twice a year, we collectively agree to mess up everyone’s sleep schedule for no good reason. “Spring forward, fall back” sounds cute until you’re driving to work in the dark, questioning your life choices.

Why It Makes No Sense:

Originally meant to save energy, but studies show it doesn’t actually work anymore.

Farmers (often blamed for DST) don’t even like it.

Why are we still pretending this is necessary in 2025?

4. The Price of Bottled Water

We’re literally paying for water. WATER. The thing that falls from the sky and comes out of taps for (almost) free. Yet somehow, paying $3 for “artisanal spring water” in a plastic bottle feels normal.

Why It Makes No Sense:

It’s 1000x the price of tap water and often the exact same thing in a fancier package.

Why does “alkaline” or “purified” make it taste the same but sound more expensive?

5. Streaming Service Overload

“Cut the cord,” they said. “It’ll be cheaper,” they said. Now you’re subscribed to 7 different streaming platforms, paying more than cable ever cost, and half the time you can’t find what you want to watch.

Why It Makes No Sense:

Why can’t one service just have everything? (Looking at you, Disney+ and Netflix.)

The “new” season you’ve been waiting for? It’s on a platform you didn’t even know existed.

6. “Convenience Fees”

Oh, so you want me to pay extra for the convenience of doing all the work myself online? Whether it’s concert tickets or paying your bills, these fees are the ultimate slap in the face.

Why It Makes No Sense:

You’re charging me extra for using a system that saves you time and money?

How is this legal, and why are we all okay with it?

7. College Textbook Prices

College tuition is bad enough, but then they hit you with a $300 textbook… that you’ll only use once. And don’t even think about buying a used copy because this edition has two new sentences.

Why It Makes No Sense:

Most of the “new editions” are just rearranged paragraphs.

Why do professors require books they wrote themselves? Double-dipping much?

8. “Shrinkflation”

You’re not imagining it—your favorite snacks really are smaller than they used to be. And no, it’s not because your hands got bigger. Shrinkflation is when companies reduce product sizes but keep the price the same (or higher).

Why It Makes No Sense:

Why are chip bags 70% air?

How did a “family-sized” box of cereal become single-serve?

9. Influencer Culture

We used to idolize astronauts and scientists. Now, we’re giving millions of followers to people whose biggest accomplishment is being hot on Instagram. And somehow, they’re the ones living in mansions while the rest of us struggle to pay rent.

Why It Makes No Sense:

Why do we buy $40 candles just because someone we don’t know said it “smells like confidence”?

Why do influencers get free stuff… even though they can already afford it?

10. Luxury Brands Selling Ugly Stuff

Why are we spending thousands of dollars on stuff that looks like it came from a middle school art project? Balenciaga sells $1,500 trash bags. Gucci made dirty sneakers that cost $870. And Crocs, well… they just exist.

Why It Makes No Sense:

The more absurd it looks, the higher the price tag.

Who decided that expensive = fashionable?

Conclusion

We’re all guilty of going along with things that make zero sense because, well, that’s just how the world works. But maybe it’s time to start asking questions—or at least laughing at the absurdity of it all.

What’s something you’ve accepted as “normal” even though it makes no sense? Let’s hear it in the comments!

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voxconcordia · 18 days ago

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He remembered a particularly early misty spring morning when Jayce had woken from an unintentional nap he’d drifted into somewhere between 3 and 4 am to find Viktor nodding off work gloves on and a pair of tongs still in his hands in front of their crystals.

“Jesus, Viktor,” Jayce had hissed, pulling Viktor’s arms away from the dangerously close connecting circuitry. “I thought you said you were going to bed soon!”

Viktor sleepily blinked up at him.

“There’s too much to do, Jayce. The Innovators Competition is days away and we don’t have time to waste if we’re going to be rewiring the converter to an isolated power coupling system,” Viktor said, stifling a yawn.

“Okay, but if you work until you pass out into a live circuit board then we’ll have a much bigger problem than the Innovators Competition,” Jayce said, putting a hand on Viktor’s back.

“It needs to be perfect,” Viktor replied, blowing past Jayce’s concerns. “These changes will give us the best shot at the competition.

“I was also wondering what your thoughts were on the placement of the conduction wiring. Do you think it’s possible that shifting them would maximize the —”

“Viktor!” Jayce interrupted. “I think it’s possible that the nerves are getting to you.” Jayce chuckled, putting his hands on either of Viktor’s shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. Viktor’s brow furrowed, scrunching his face into an expression that was very nearly pouting, which Jayce found incredibly endearing.

“Our crystals work. They work. Don’t worry, we’ll come back tomorrow and iron out the kinks. We’ve got this,” Jayce insisted.

Viktor looked from where Jayce’s hand was holding his shoulder back up at him, eyes still bleary with sleep. After a moment Viktor seemed to be able to tell that Jayce was not going to let up, and he let out a small sigh. “Okay fine, you’re right,” he murmured, starting to turn to stand up. “Before we go I’m just going to to tighten up the screws on the —”

“Tomorrow, V,” Jayce interjected. “Come one, my dorm’s closer, we can crash there tonight if you want,” and finally Viktor relented and let Jayce lead him away from their work station.

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najia-cooks · 1 year ago

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فخارة العدس / Fukharat l'adas (Palestinian clay-pot lentils)

The name of this dish comes from "فَخَّار" ("fakhar"), meaning "pottery," and "عَدَس" ("'adas"), meaning "lentils." It is traditionally cooked in a قدرة ("qedra," clay pot) made from clay refined from local soil and shaped in family-owned pottery workshops. This type of pot is also used to make a lamb and rice dish of the same name commonly eaten in Gaza and Hebron. The qedra is filled with the cooking ingredients, sealed with a flour-water paste or with aluminum foil, and placed in a wood-fired oven—or buried in an earth oven—to cook for several hours, or even overnight.

This simple dish cooks red lentils with yellow onion, olive oil, and cumin to produce a smooth, earthy stew; additional olive oil and fresh lemon juice squeezed on after cooking add freshness and a tart lift, and شطة (shatta, red chili paste) is spooned in for heat.

As of 2019, the number of families producing qedra in Gaza had decreased from 40 or 50 to 3 or 4, according to workshop owner Sabri Attallah. The Israeli blockade which began in 2007 closed off foreign markets for Palestinian qedras, while cheaper, metal imports cut in on the local market. When the pots are exported to Israel, the multiple checkpoints and mandatory searches between Gaza and Israel cause many of them to break. The compression of Palestinians into small areas by Israeli government and settlers also spells problems for the qedra industry, as the smoke caused by firing pots reduces air quality for nearby residents. Many consider pottery-making to be both an integral part of Palestinian identity, and to be dying out: thus the targeting of Palestinians' economic self-determination targets cuisine and culture as well.

Today, Israeli weapons threaten Palestinian existence. Palestine Action has called for bail fund donations to aid in their storming, occupying, shutting down, and dismantling of factories and offices owned by Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems.

For the lentils:

1 cup split red lentils, rinsed

1 yellow onion, chopped

3 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and ground

Salt, to taste

About 3 cups water

For the shatta (شطة):

100g (about 1 cup) fresh red chili peppers

2 tsp table salt

2 Tbsp olive oil

To serve:

Olive oil

Juice of 1/2 lemon, or to taste

Sweet peppers, radishes, spring onions, pickles, olives, leafy greens, shatta (red chili pepper paste).

Instructions:

For the shatta:

1. Wash peppers and remove stems. Use a mortar and pestle, food processor, or potato ricer to reduce peppers to a paste.

2. Add salt and stir. Add olive oil and stir. Store extra shatta in a jar in the fridge; cover with a thin layer of olive oil to avoid spoiling.

For the lentils (in the oven):

1. Coat the inside a piece of clay cookware of sufficient size, such as a Palestinian qedra or a Moroccan tanjia or tajine, with olive oil. Add the rest of the ingredients, followed by enough water to cover the lentils by at least an inch (about 3 cups). Make sure that the opening of the pot is completely covered (e.g. with a layer of aluminum foil, and then the pot's lid).

2. Place the clay pot in your oven and then heat it to 500 °F (260 °C).

3. Reduce the heat to 150 °F (65 °C) and cook for 2-3 hours, until lentils are mushy.

For the lentils (on the stovetop):

1. Heat olive oil in the base of your clay cookware, or a large pot. Add onions and cumin and fry briefly.

2. Add water and lentils and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes on medium.

3. Lower heat to low and cook for another 30 minutes, until consistency is smooth and mushy. Add water as necessary.

To serve:

Transfer lentils to individual serving bowls. Top with lemon juice and olive oil. Serve alongside shatta (which you may choose to spoon into your bowl) and fresh vegetables.

#Palestinian #lentils #red lentils #dill seeds #red chilis #lemons

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emiplayzmc · 5 months ago

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BEHOLD. An Ambyu-Lance ref sheet! Made exclusively because I now have an Ambyu-Lance OC and needed a consistent way to draw them + some lore for my AUs lol.

Actual design for Ware (my Ambyu-Lance guy :D) + some other Ambyu fanarts (👀 to the one person I told about this you know what I mean 👀) coming very soon ^-^ Just needed to get the anatomy ref sheets out.

Individual images + facts and anatomy below :)

Hospital Variant Ambyu-Lance.

-Hospital variants work with major health concerns such as serious viruses, major replacement / removal of parts, yearly system updates, etc. As is in their name, they reside in the major hospitals of the Cyber World

-These variants can heal anybody, no matter what Dark World they're from and no matter if they're a human or monster.

-Identified by red-tinted liquid within their heads and yellow eyes, paired with a red-topped torso.

Repair Shop Variant Ambyu-Lance.

-Repair shop variants work with minor conditions and easier solutions than hospital variants, like the difference between a clinic and an actual hospital - in other words, non-emergencies. They can do system updates, check-ups on internal processes, and minor fixes like a broken faceplate or glitched wiring.

-Repair shop variants can only work on Darkners within Cyber City, such as Addisons, Swatchlings, Tasques, etc. Their magic isn't strong enough to do major fixes like a hospital variant, and they're generally not programmed to know HOW to perform major healing processes that aren't magic-based.

-Identified by more purple-tinted liquid within their heads and green eyes with a red-topped torso.

Law Enforcement Variant Ambyu-Lance.

-Law enforcement Ambyu-lances keep the general safety and laws of Cyber City in place. They're police officers, firefighters, traffic controllers, generally in any situation that calls for keeping other people safe or dispelling illegal violence.

-Law enforcement Ambyus have enough healing magic to act as paramedics for short bursts of time if they need to, but it's generally only long enough to get an injured person to a hospital or repair shop.

-They are identified by red-tinted liquid inside their heads and yellow eyes, paired with a blue-topped torso.

Virus Control Variant Ambyu-Lance.

-Virus-control variants deal specifically with rogue malware and viruses across Cyber City.

-Their axes are imbued with program freezers within attacks - these are essentially paralytics that they use to catch malwares / infected persons and keep them under control until they're able to be destroyed (malware) or taken to a hospital (infected people). They have no healing magic.

-They are identified by purple-tinted liquid in their heads with green eyes, paired with a blue-topped torso.

-Ambyu-Lances stand at a consistent height of 4 feet, 9 inches (57 inches) with no variation between individuals, unlike Addisons who can have a minimum height of 5'6 (Spamton height lol) and a maximum height of 6'2.

-Magic, like in Addisons, runs in wires through their body to their hands from a central tank. These wires are visible through the gaps between coils in their arms, and cam extend as far as the arm can stretch.

-Their arms, legs, and necks are made of springs, and can extend and stretch. Put them on a set of stairs and they can fold over each stair like a slinky doing handstands. Of course they can only extend a fixed amount.

-Their central torso is split in the middle like a capsule pill, and can open if the need comes to repair internally.

-The hospital cross on the center of their torso can also open, allowing a smaller bit of access to the internal chest cavity for quick storage of smaller items.

-Their eyes are fixed to one side of their head, but the eyeballs can roll backwards to see through the inside of their head to the other side. If the eyes get stuck in one position, they're essentially blinded on the opposite side of their head until the eyes are fixed.

-The siren on their head can, of course, be activated manually, but it can also go off accidentally when an Ambyu-Lance is startled or excited, and involuntarily when in pursuit (mostly this happens to the Law Enforcement / Virus Control variants).

-The liquid inside their head is their lifeblood, basically. The glass covering it is one of the hardest parts to break on their bodies to protect the liquid inside. You can decapitate an Ambyu-Lance and it'll still be alive as long as the glass of their head is intact.

#art #deltarune #digital art #drawing #artists on tumblr #illustration #digital artwork #fanart #ambyu lance #ambyu-lance #deltarune ambyu-lance

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whenthebirdsings · 5 months ago

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the stranger in spring [ch. 5]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader [no smut here but very explicit language. the full thing is also very horny. so mdni]

tags (for this chapter): once again very bad banter, stalking, public fingering, sexual tension

word count: 4.3k

ch. 4 / full ao3 fic

Sunlight claws at your face as you crack the door open. One eye closed and the other one hidden behind a hand as everything turns blinding white before you blink it away.

The world around you seems to jolt in joy — but everything in you screams the opposite. Your shoulders slouch. Your lips downturn into a frown. A crease between your brows; that dull ache of an oncoming headache again. The day just started and you already feel like going back to bed. But you know you can’t afford that luxury. Already, your phone is blaring with one notification after another from your boss. It’s not even 7:30 yet.

You sigh as you reply to each and every one of them. The birds chirp, and you can vaguely make out the sound of school kids laughing as you sling your bag over your shoulder. Ah, you think, already despondent, another day, another round of depression at work. It’s something you used to say as a joke, but you don’t think it is anymore. Between your workload and the fact that your boss seems hellbent on making your life miserable, you might as well be selling your soul to the devil. Which, to be honest, wouldn’t be that far off the mark.

At this point, you wonder how you’re keeping yourself together. Your body is worn, your eyes have shadows underneath them, the lines of your face are terribly fatigued. And you think you’re starting to drag your feet more and more with each day. Every step is heavier, the pit in your gut seems to grow bigger. You feel suffocated. Just this morning, you looked into the mirror and you think you saw death. You feel like one, at least.

“Excuse me,” a voice chimes in from beside you, breaking you out of your reverie.

You turn just in time to see a delivery guy standing before the apartment next door. Briefly, you look down to see all the boxes from last night already gone. Then, you peer at the one in the delivery guy’s hands — this one seemingly bigger, seemingly heavier. Causing him to struggle as his arms shake and his legs threaten to give out. He’s trying not to stagger back into the railing as he eyes you sheepishly.

“Um, sorry,” he says. Apparently flustered. “Do you know if the person who lives here is at home? I have their package, but they’re not opening up no matter how many times I knock on the door.”

Well, at least you’re not the only person having a bad day.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t met them,” you answer. Smile soft, but bitter comfort. You can understand the pain of being just a cog in a bigger system. “Perhaps you can leave it there? I’m guessing you have other packages to deliver, so it might not be the best idea to wait. They probably already went to work.”

He seems to consider that. “You could be right,” he agrees. A pause before he then heaves out a sigh as though exasperated. “See, I could just leave it here, but I kinda need their sign? I dunno, company rules or whatever.” He looks over at you and appraises your work bag and your well-dressed outfit. “Sorry, you must be on your way to work as well. I shouldn’t be keeping you.”

You laugh. Shaking your head and dismissing him with a wave. “No need,” you say. Fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. You glance down to see school kids boarding the bus near your apartment. In a few seconds, the doors close and you watch it drive away. “But, yeah. There goes the school bus — which means mine might be here in, like, five minutes or something. So I do have to go.”

“Ah.” He nods. Following your gaze before sparing you an apologetic smile. “Right. I hope you have a good day, then.”

“You, too,” you say, nodding back. Your lips pulling up into a grin. Maybe today’s start wasn’t that bad. It’s been a while since anyone’s told you to have a good day. You check your wristwatch before spinning on your heels — but not before bidding the delivery guy farewell. “Well! That’s my cue to leave. Wishing you luck on that package. If push comes to shove, just knock the door down.”

He doesn’t say much else. Simply laughs as he waves back. Or tries to, at least. With that huge box pretty much covering up most of his body, you don’t think he can afford the privilege of freeing one hand to respond to your gesture. Still, you appreciate it nonetheless.

You step down the stairs just in time to hear the delivery guy knocking at your new neighbor’s door again. It creaks open — and your curiosity piques. Had it not been for your bus, you probably would have glanced back just to catch a glimpse of your next door neighbor.

But then the driver sounds a honk, and the thought is immediately forgotten. You rush through the doors just in time to notice a tall body behind the delivery guy. They’re covered, though — hidden behind a package too large. All you can tell from this angle is the fact that he’s a guy. His figure seems like one, at least.

“Took you long enough.”

Satoru opens the door to see Suguru standing there with a huge box. His lips thinning into a scowl as he exhales a loud, frustrated huff.

“Suguru,” is all Satoru says. Peering past his shoulder to stare at the bus speeding away before he dips his gaze back to his friend. A frown now marring his forehead as Suguru waits for no response and simply nudges him aside to step into his apartment. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you wanted no hand in this?”

“Well, I wanted to have a look at the girl,” Suguru shrugs. Dropping the box unceremoniously at the center of his room. “As always, she’s none the wiser. It’s kinda funny.”

Satoru stares into space before the lost look on his face dissipates. Eyes glazed over before they’re back to their calm ocean blues again. “What did you talk about?”

Suguru purses his lips in thought. Apparently displeased that he’s ignoring his snide remark before he expels a sigh. “Nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure,” he replies, voice lifting in a laugh as Satoru levels him with a look.

“Tread carefully, Suguru,” Satoru warns. Voice composed, save for that cold edge underlying his tone. “If she finds out who you are, it might jeapordize the both of us.”

“You mean you,” Suguru points out. Sounding a scoff as Satoru’s shoulders tense into a rigid line before he wills them relaxed again. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch, ‘Toru. I doubt she’ll even remember me if she sees me again.”

Satoru contemplates that. “And if she does?”

“Then you know what to do,” says Suguru simply. A shrug of his shoulder uncaring as he flops on the couch and switches on the TV. Flipping between channels to find something interesting before landing on a terribly-made horror movie. “It’s nothing you haven’t done. It’s par for the course the moment you decided to get involved with her, no?”

Satoru wisely opts to pay that no mind. “If you want anything to eat, there’s some leftovers in the fridge. Just heat them up,” he offers instead. Sparing a glance at the clock ticking 7:45 before grabbing the remote and changing the channel again.

“Hey!” Suguru protests. Hand already shuffling through some of the snacks in one of Satoru’s boxes. “I was watching that.”

“It’s a bad movie anyway,” Satoru snorts. Slapping away Suguru’s hand from his snacks as he gestures towards the fridge instead. “I do have a microwave, ya know? Besides, I need you to watch someone else for me. Don’t do anything yet. Just keep an eye on them.”

“I told you,” Suguru starts, words slurred and muffled from chewing on the few chips he managed to snatch before Satoru took the whole bag away, “I’m not interested in whatever weird plan you might have. This obsession has to stop somewhere.”

“And yet, you’re still playing along,” Satoru points out with a wolfish grin. He knows he’s won for now when Suguru presses his lips tight. “It’s nothing much. Just tell me what they’re up to now and then. Also, dig up some dirt if you have to.” There’s a pause as Satoru’s eyes flash. The slightest of a laugh before he curbs it. “The filthiest dirt possible if you can.”

Suguru looks down to see Satoru sliding him a photo. “She doesn’t even remember you, ‘Toru,” he says, voice oddly gentle. “I can do that for you if that’s what you need. But I’m not sure if I’m liking where this is going.”

Satoru peers him over for a moment. “Is that your opinion as an accomplice or a best friend?”

“Both,” Suguru’s answer comes quick. Even so, he takes the photo out of Satoru’s grasp. Albeit, not without heaving another sigh. “This won’t end well. You know it never does,” is all he says. It’s what he always says.

And then, Satoru would always give him the same expression. That same cold smile, that same edge in one eye. Features a vacant stare; gaze dead like he’s already lost to time. Like this, with the sunlight scratching at his face, his complexion seems strangely sharp. Details of his face tired but ruthless. Shards of glass broken to pieces; waiting to cut, to break through skin. Nothing good will come out from being at his receiving end or the object of his affection — whatever that means in Satoru’s point of view.

But that’s not Suguru’s problem to worry about. Not until later when he has to clean up after Satoru’s mess.

So he’s not surprised when Satoru simply brushes him off. As always, reticent. As always, flippant. Walls closing in on himself.

“She’ll remember,” is all Satoru says. It’s what he always says. That same pensive tune again. “She has to.”

[8:15am] handsome money bags: guess what

You halt mid-typing to glance at your phone. Satoru’s contact name stares back at you in white text, a half-smile tugging at your lips at the thought of him reaching out to you so early in the morning. You’re also already working your ass off so early in the morning, but you think it might be easier with something nice to leer at.

[8:16am] you: did your butt get stuck to the bed or something? how come you’re not already here at the office. lucky you, must be pretty privilege again

Stretching in your seat, you’re about to put down your phone so you can avert your attention back to work. But then your phone dings with another notification — a laugh leaving you at the words written on the screen.

[8:17am] handsome money bags: youre just jealous im hot. which, tbh, i don’t really get it because youre already hot as fuck. [8:17am] handsome money bags: but to answer your question, nope my butt did not get stuck to my bed. stop thinking about ass at work, y/n! that’s scandalous smh [8:18am] handsome money bags: also, what i meant to say before you (very rudely, might i add) interrupted me is that i had a dream about you

You arch an eyebrow at that last message. A flush coming to rest on your cheeks over the thought of him being that affected by you. It makes your chest swell with pride; the briefest of your ego stroked before you try to massage the blush away. Unfortunately, your hand isn’t an eraser, so it doesn’t help much.

Your fingers are an odd tremble as you brush them over the keyboard. Mindlessly typing out your reply.

[8:19am] you: bold words for someone who stares at my ass every five seconds [8:20am] you: also what do you mean you had a dream? haha what is it about? i’m totally not that curious.

You were too distracted by the feeling of your heart stuttering to notice the presence behind you. That is, at least, until you feel an arm draping over your seat. His cologne creeping up your nose even before you turn to face him as you meet dark sunglasses before white and blue. That sly grin lining ever so perfect and soft lips. Now that he’s so close, you can definitely tell that he’s wearing lip balm. The arrogant prick.

You find your own tingling with heat — itching to touch, to taste and smother him out of breath. Kiss the moisture away from his lips and replace it with a smear of red from your lipstick. Yet, you suppress the urge. Grabbing at his collar and shoving your tongue down his throat when your colleagues could walk in at any given moment probably wouldn’t be the best idea. Tempting, but not the best.

“Three guesses on what it is,” Satoru says. Looking around for any onlookers before leaning in to place the sneakiest of a kiss along your temple when he notices none. You jut your lower lip out in a pout — disappointed by the cryptic answer and the fact that he didn’t kiss you where you want. Then again, you don’t know if you’d be able to stop if he did.

“Speaking in riddles much?” you retort, sinking back into your chair and pinning him with a sarcastic smile. Seemingly calm, despite the red flushing down your neck and disappearing under your shirt. His gaze follows the trail of your shame; blues dimming in lust before he blinks it away.

“Curious much?” he shoots back. Hand propping himself against your desk as his sunglasses slide down to the bridge of his nose. He’s grinning; a little too smug and a little too pleased. You roll your eyes, but the look loses its intended effect when you sputter at the feel of his foot brushing up your calf. “For someone who claims she’s not.”

You scowl. “I’m really not,” comes the huff. Not that it says much with the lack of bite in your tone. The crack in your voice as you shudder when he inches his face closer. Too close, you think. Feeling his lips hover over yours, his hot breath on supple skin.

His hand wraps around your shoulder. His voice dipping into a low purr. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

It takes a moment for you to swallow a lump in your throat. Your chest tight before you cough out loud.

“Why are you here so early anyway?” you ask instead of supplying him a response. Changing the subject before the blood rushes too much to your head. “Didn’t peg you as the type to clock in fifteen minutes earlier.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything at once. Lips slanting into a smile as his gaze flickers in amusement. Seemingly entertained by your lame, pathetic half-attempts at collecting your tattered composure.

Still, he allows you some distance and reprieve. Pulling back — but not before giving your shoulder a squeeze and relishing in the sound of your breath hitching. Not before granting himself another chaste kiss on your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear. Soft, before he’s gone again. Out of your space and away from your fingers that crave to pull him in. Closer and closer, until you don’t know where you end and he begins.

“Hm.” He sounds the hum, whirling your seat around to tilt you into facing your laptop’s screen again. In an instant, your hands start meandering over your keyboard — instinctive as you type out some words on a work file. Only slightly focusing on the task at hand as Satoru leans down. Lips ghosting the shell of your ear, breath wisping the hair on your nape.

“Well, I, for one, definitely pegged you as the type to clock in at least thirty minutes earlier,” he whispers. Teeth catching your earlobe before tugging it back. Nipping hard then letting go. “So I figured I might as well see you before anyone else. You know, maybe steal a kiss or two. Fuck my cum once or twice into you.”

Your fingers stop. A low whine escaping you as your mind grows heady with desire. Your skin prickling from where he touched, warmth left behind as his hand absent-mindedly traces your collarbone. Fingers dipping just slightly under fabric, mapping a line up your slender neck and eliciting a shiver. His nails scrape against your pulse — and your eyes flutter. Your toes curl and your knees buckle. Neck still remembering the memories of his hand wrapped around your throat. That crazed look in blue eyes as you choke, you pant, you sing him praise for knocking the air out of you.

“Satoru,” you pant. In warning, in want. Eyes blown wide before you blink away the haze in them. Panic flitting past your face at the sight of your coworkers walking in one by one. Satoru lets go at the same time you lean forward — laughing at you as you threaten to curl into your laptop in hopes that no one noticed.

“Relax,” he says. You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. The slightest of lust lingering still even through your exasperation. He shrugs; that annoying mischievous grin ever present. “No one saw. They were too busy looking at their phones.”

“Thank god for social media,” you sigh in relief into your palms as you drag hands over your face. Peeking from behind your fingers just in time to see Satoru pulling out a chair from one of the other cubicles. “Nuh-uh, you’re not doing that. Also, Kujishima might have a day off today but I don’t think you should be using his belongings however you want.”

But it’s too late. Satoru’s already placing it next to you and sitting down by the time your tangent is finished. He ignores the weird looks your other coworkers send in your direction.

“Okay, little miss perfect,” he laughs. Brushing you off with a wave and tucking his chin into his hand as he studies the document in front of you. “And it’s called borrowing. I’m sure Kuji-what’s-his-face won’t mind.”

“Kujishima,” you correct him. But you don’t say much else. Exhaling a sigh as you already know he won’t relent either way. Satoru shrugs a shoulder, sounding a nonchalant scoff as he traces a thumb over the side of one paper in your many files.

“Honestly, you should be the one having a day off,” he says. Frowning a little as though in thought. “Do you even take breaks? I feel like all I see you do is work.” There’s a pause as he ponders that for a moment. You know from the glint in his gaze that it’s nothing good — even more so when his ankle flutters past yours from under your desk. “And, well, some other things.”

You flush at the implication, but choose to pay it no mind. “You never told me your dream,” you remind him instead.

He taps a finger on your desk. For some reason, the single sound resonates in an echo in your head. One thud louder than the last.

“It’s something to do with our weekend hang out,” he answers. Once again, a sly grin. Once again, something in his face you can’t really pick apart. “You’re still down for that, right? You said yes last time, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” You raise an eyebrow at him and he lifts up his arms in defense. “Hey now, don’t look at me like that. I’m just making sure so I don’t get stood up is all.”

All that does is cause you to shoot your other eyebrow up. This time, in surprise rather than confusion. “You’ve been stood up before?”

Another laugh breaks out of him. “No.”

“Oh,” you say, before slipping out your own laugh. Right. You should have figured as much. It’s just that there had been something there — his smile hadn’t been as wide, his laugh not as sincere. For a moment, it actually made you wonder.

He pouts at that. “Just ‘oh’? You’re toying with my heart over here.”

You slow down your typing to look him over. Somewhat enjoying the way he seems to fidget as he waits for your response. It sits foreign on his face — that look like he’s holding his breath. Maybe even afraid of a no.

You suck in the inside of your cheek. Smiling to yourself as a thought sneaks into mind. “Well,” you start, cracking your knuckles before resuming your typing again. Fingers quickly tapping on your keyboard. “I did say yes. But now you’re making me think it over because you’re being a dick about your dream.”

Satoru purses his lips. But then they tilt upwards. Another roguish grin. You can’t help but feel like you’ve walked into another trap. “Say yes and you’ll find out. We can just, you know, re-enact what happened in my dream and see what happens.”

You shoot him an accusing glare. “You’re trying to trick me again.”

He feigns a startled gasp. One hand to his chest for added effect. “You think that little of me?” he fakes a sob. Only to break character when you make an exaggerated gesture of rolling your eyes. “Seriously. I’m not trying to trick you. I’m just, uh, providing you a practical demonstration. Works better than a detailed retelling, right?”

There are eyes digging into your back as he leans too close. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee as he pretends to peer over the document you’re working on. You can already hear the whispers; the so-called tea spilled, the gossip under hushed breaths. But at the moment, you can’t seem to care. Not when Satoru’s trailing fingers up your thighs. Not when he’s parting your legs and kneading at supple flesh. Up and down — his laugh drowning out your low pant.

“You said three guesses,” you say lamely. Thankful as he drops his jacket over your lap and scoots you further into your desk. Hiding what’s happening underneath in plain sight. Not that it helps, because anyone with a brain and working eyes would be suspicious. But you can’t deny the thrill of excitement down the base of your spine. Aroused, even if another part of you fears getting caught.

“I did,” Satoru murmurs. Another laugh as he slides underwear to the side. Fingers feeling wet folds before sinking into tight heat. “But you don’t wanna guess.”

He hooks his fingers and angles them at your g-spot. Slow, deliberate strokes that cause your hips to shake. Firm rubs of his palm on your clit that render you speechless and mindless as he calmly flips through your files like it’s a normal Tuesday. He pulls out almost entirely before shoving back in — and you bite back a scream. Pleasure short-circuiting your brain as your mouth hangs open. Rust on your tongue as your teeth break through skin.

All that leaves you after that is a yes.

“You’re coming over?” you say as your best friend brings up Satoru. Your legs still feel like jello; shuddering and threatening to collapse even hours after. Even now, you can still feel his warmth on the apex of your thighs. His laugh burning into your skin. Tongue on your cheeks, lips on your lips. The way he pushed you against the wall in the store room during lunch break to finish what he started.

“No, I don’t mind,” you reassure her. You hope she didn’t notice how your breath grew heavier before you recouped yourself again. “It’s just that. He’s. Wow. He’s just. Wow,” is all you can manage to utter out. She barks out a loud from the other side of your phone and you’re flustered. Red tinting your cheeks as you try to cool that heat forming in your belly.

“Anyway.” You clear your throat. Deciding to save the topic of Satoru until after she’s over at your place so you don’t accidentally fuck yourself in the middle of nowhere. Not that being turned on in front of your best friend would be great either — but, well. Better than on a dark road at least. “Do you want anything? I might drop by the convenience store in a bit. Was just gonna grab a pack of beer, but since you’re coming over, think I’m gonna need the whole store.”

You lean into your phone just in time to catch her telling you to fuck off. A laugh ripples out of you — but that sound, too, gets drowned out by the rain as it drops quickly down your umbrella. Everything else muffled in the midst of the loud pitter patters surrounding you as you squint your eyes. Only barely making out the lights of the convenience store through the heavy downpour.

“Girl, I gotta hang up,” you say. Noticing that you’re almost running out of battery. “Text me when you’re co —”

“— ming over. Also, let me know what you wanna eat.”

One step, two steps, three steps — he follows you like a shadow sticking closely behind. Movements synchronized, pace set to match yours. Twenty feet becomes ten feet, and he’s lingered too close. Still, you don’t notice. Still, the rain is too loud for you to notice. He tilts his umbrella down to cover his face as he eyes your heels clicking towards the convenience store. Another waiting game. He’s had too many of those over the years.

He sniffs in the air. Catching moisture and petrichor at the same time you step out of the store. Always none the wiser; lips that oblivious grin, eyes that bright life despite the shadows all around. He sounds a laugh — but you don’t hear that either. Nor do you notice his steps; footfalls quiet and deadly composure. Any other day, he wouldn’t be able to wander this close.

He has the rain to thank for that.

#gojo satoru #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #gojou #gojou satoru #fanfiction #gojou satoru x you #jjk fanfic #gojo smut #satoru x reader #smut #gojou satoru x smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 9 days ago

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🛡️The Gallifreyan Immune System vs. Pathogen

Gallifreyans may look humanoid, but their immune systems operate on an entirely different level. They're streamlined, efficient, and annoyingly overachieving.

This is a very small snippet of the Anatomy and Physiology Guide content. Much of the information below is HIGHLY theoretical biology, constructed from extremely limited information on Gallifreyan immune systems in lore.

🚪 Step 1: Stopping the Intruder – Physical Barriers and Defence Mechanisms

The first line of defence is simple: don't let the pathogen in. Gallifreyan bodies are built tough, though, with:

🛠️ Skin naturally reinforced: Breaches are more difficult.

💧 Defence Mechanisms: Tears, mucus, sweat, and specialised filtration systems in the stomach and blood help flush out invaders.

🔒 The Sealing Response: In extreme cases, Gallifreyans can produce mucus from every orifice to form a barrier against molecular-level threats.

If the pathogen bypasses these barriers, the immune system springs into action.

🔥 Step 2: Early Detection – The Inflammatory Response

When cells are damaged, they release proteins called cytokines—the body's emergency flare. These signals:

👮 Activate D-cells: The immune system's scouts detect the danger and release histamine, which: - Dilates blood vessels, bringing in reinforcements. - Triggers inflammation, causing redness, heat, swelling, and pain.

🛡️ Deploy Artronoguards and Z1-cells: - 🛡️Artronoguards fortify the area, releasing defensive energy pulses. - 🪖Z1-cells act as the infantry, attacking pathogens directly.

🎯 Step 3: Calling the Specialists – Adaptive Immune Response

If the innate response isn't enough, the immune system calls in the tactical specialists:

🕵️ M1-cells: The intelligence officers identify the pathogen and reference the immune database to figure out its weaknesses.

🎯 Z2-cells: The snipers. Once armed with M1-approved antibodies, they precisely target and neutralise the enemy.

🩺 Artron Cells: These medics and engineers bolster the response by: - Cleaning up debris (via 🦠artronophages). - Delivering healing (via 🚑 artronokinetes).

For most pathogens, this is enough to win the day. But sometimes, things get messy.

💥 Step 4: Desperate Measures – Immunocataclysm

When all else fails, the immune system goes nuclear:

🤬 ZX-cells (the berserkers) are unleashed, indiscriminately destroying everything in sight—including healthy cells.

🔋 Artron Cells flood the area afterward, cleaning up and attempting repairs.

If even this isn't enough, ✨ artronoactivators detect unsustainable artron levels and signal the lindal gland to release lindoneogen, activating lindos cells and triggering regeneration.

🧠 Immunity and Learning

Once the pathogen is defeated, the immune system doesn't just move on—it learns.

📚 M2-cells collect data from the encounter, updating the immune database for future reference.

The next time the pathogen appears, the immune system is faster, stronger, and more efficient.

Gallifreyan immunity can also be bolstered by vaccines, passive exposure, or even blood transfers, which contain ready-made antibodies.

Gallifreyan Biology for Tuesday by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#dr who #gallifrey #GIL #gallifrey institute for learning #whoniverse #dw eu #gallifreyans #GIL: Biology #gallifreyan biology #Time Lord biology #doctor who #TOTM: New Beginnings #GIL: Biology/Immune #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans

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thesilliestrovingalive · 4 months ago

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Updated: February 2, 2025

Reworked Character #12: General Morden

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, alcoholism, kidnapping, and torture.

Real name: Donald Humphrei Morden IV

Aliases: Devil Rebirth and Your Excellency

Occupation: General of the Rebel Army, Vice Admiral of the Marine Corps (formerly), Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency (formerly), Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison (formerly), and Field Marshal of the European Garrison (formerly)

Retirement plans: Buy a secluded tropical island, build a cottage in the northern forests of New Brunswick, and raise more exotic pets

Special skills: Political science, wood carving, piloting the Hi-Do and The Iron, planning for ambushes and tactical assaults, and sniping with heavyweight firearms

Hobbies: Reading classical poetry and Shakespearean plays, playing complex piano compositions, studying geopolitical events, building wooden cabins, and hunting

Likes: His family, the Hi-Do, the fearless devotion of his army, finishing things straight to the end, and smoking Cuban cigars before leading off to a battle or going to bed

Dislikes: Ignorance, objectivity, people with no ambitions, governmental and military corruption, and a lack of proper etiquette and table manners

Favourite food: Creamed salmon spaghetti and maple walnut ice cream

Favourite drink: Scotch whisky

Sexuality: Heteroromantic sapiosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 49 (in 2022), 55 (in 2028), 57 (in 2030), 59 (in 2032), 61 (in 2034), 68 (in 2041), 70 (in 2043), 71 (in 2044), and 74 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB+

Weight: 249 lbs. (113 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 5” (195.58 cm) Canadian mesomorph with a chiselled musculature, an upside-down trapezoidal chest, and broad shoulders. He has limestone skin (it was once a rose beige), a cleft chin, a brownish mole on the left side of his nose bridge, sparkling sapphire blue eyes with flecks of blood red, and bushy eyebrows. He has wrinkles on his face, characterised by forehead lines, frown lines, crow’s feet, and nasolabial folds. He has neatly trimmed, chin-length caramel blonde hair with sideburns, a similar moustache that the impostor Morden Robot has in Metal Slug 4, and an encircling band of silver-grey in the centre.

When Morden becomes a cyborg after he was assassinated during the White Baby Crisis, he possesses a revolutionary self-resurrection mechanism. A rhombic dodecahedron microchip embedded in his spine springs into action whenever his vital systems fail. The chip emits a low humming frequency and flashes a cyclical pattern of blue, white, and red for precisely 50 seconds. After this brief interval, he awakens in a newly prepared cyborg body, fully restored and operational with all of his memories intact.

His right eye has been brutally gouged out, which is indicated by the heavy scarring from six stab wounds. This would be replaced by a cutting-edge, cybernetic implant, expertly crafted by the Amadeus Syndicate. The cybernetic orb's sclera has a dark, polished chrome finish, adorned with crimson micro-circuits that mimicked the appearance of veins. At its centre, a pupilless blue-grey iris radiates a soft, luminescent glow. When it transitions to a fiery amber, its intensified brilliance signals heightened alertness and strategic recalibration. Equipped with cutting-edge scanning and data-processing capabilities, this cybernetic implant enables visual recall of critical information, threat detection, and instant recognition of key objects and individuals for future reference.

General Morden wears a pair of rusty orange boxer briefs, a glossy black eyepatch over his cybernetic right eye, and a Persian indigo armband on his left arm, adorned with the insignia of the Rebel Army. He wears a feldgrau military beret, distinguished by a scarlet band with white piping and an embroidered emblem featuring a black dragon's head swallowing a winged gold sword. He wears a white dress shirt and gloves, a flame-coloured tie, a metal dog tag necklace with his name, and a brownish-black leather belt secured with a gilded snap-on buckle.

His shoulders are draped with an ankle-length Persian indigo coat featuring brownish-black cuffs edged with scarlet piping, golden maple leaf clasps linked by a chain, and a prominent fur collar dyed a pinkish-orange. He wears feldgrau army cargo pants, tucked into black combat boots with spike soles and lined with coyote fur. He wears a feldgrau military coat featuring a left-side white aiguillette, two breast pockets, and a scalloped rear vent with flap pockets. It also features scarlet cuffs and a turned collar with Persian indigo piping, gilt-brass buttons, and golden shoulder boards adorned with two vertical white stripes.

He wears five badges: a black bar with two vertical golden stripes and a horizontal white stripe above his left breast pocket; a gilded skull with draconic wings on the pocket flap; a silver circle with a scarlet X on a white-edged red-orange ribbon and a gilt-brass roaring dragon's head on an ultramarine ribbon, both on his left breast pocket; and a gilded six-pointed star with a scarlet-edged white circle hung on a jade ribbon, secured with a gold clip on his right breast pocket. Morden's belt supports a sheath for his combat knife and a secure strap for his military baton, featuring a white elephant ivory shaft, a scarlet velvet-wrapped grip, and flat-topped gilt-brass end caps, each set with 12 circular rubies.

He wears a drop leg holster for his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver and a black bandolier, slung over his left shoulder, holding .357 Magnum cartridges for the firearm. His military coat pockets contain a rose gold lighter, keys to his personal Space Tank, a silver wedding band, a golden engagement ring with a radiant cut diamond, and a treasured photograph of his late family in Central Park. The pockets of his army cargo pants carry around a pack of Cuban cigars, the Ajirabian Teardrop, a copper-hued flask of Scotch whisky, and a walkie-talkie. He wields an M20 rocket launcher, designed with a leather shoulder strap and featuring an olive green, tan, and dark grey camouflage pattern, which fires anti-tank missiles.

Morden owns the greyish-green Space Tank, a floating tank saucer emblazoned with the Rebel Army insignia on its front. Constructed as a birthday gift and token of allegiance by loyal Rebel Army members and the Pipovulaj, this vehicle incorporates advanced Martian and Tuatha Dé Danann technology. The Space Tank's upper body bears a striking resemblance to the Dai-Manji, while its dark grey chassis is reminiscent of the Nop-03 Sarubia's. The tank boasts extremely thick armour, a silver antenna protruding from its left side, and a gold-painted rim accented with a scarlet edge. Primarily serving as his personal transportation, the Space Tank can also be deployed on the battlefield when necessary.

It features a built-in metallic blue cannon that can only be activated by inserting the Ajirabian Teardrop into a designated slot within the tank. This action opens the front compartment, exposing a large cannon similar to the Denturion's. When deployed, the cannon extends, allowing Morden to tap into the laser power of the Ajirabian Teardrop

Character summary: Previously, General Morden was a compassionate, dependable, and reliable leader who deeply valued the lives of every soldier under his command. However, the tragic loss of his family, compounded by the government's and military's corruption and culpable inaction, ignited a desire for vengeance and led him to view indifference as the root of all evil. He seeks to topple an unjust system, even if it requires dismantling all governmental powers. His vision for the New World involves unifying warring nations under a rigid, authoritarian regime, achieved by overthrowing the Earth Federation and eliminating its allies through forced assimilation and strategic neutralisation.

Despite being a charismatic and adaptable leader with a strong sense of justice, he ultimately descended into ruthlessness and megalomania, becoming a bumbling madman. Upon encountering his enemies, he frequently erupts into mocking laughter, regarding them as feeble-minded and ignorant foes. Nonetheless, even in the face of humiliation and defeat, Morden’s dignity, charisma, and commanding skill always remains the same.

Despite being an atrocious person who comes across as mean and cold, he’s surprisingly sweet and kind, especially towards those who support his ambition, work alongside him or are part of his family lineage. He's a tough, efficient, and introspective individual who can be demanding of his soldiers, yet he feels genuine empathy and understanding for his troops. Although he's prone to frustration when missions don't go as planned, he never gives up. Despite the challenges, he consistently demonstrates resilience and determination, always pushing forward to achieve his objectives.

General Morden is a man full of pride, often boasting about his greatest feats on the battlefield. Depending on the situation, he'll abandon his position behind the battle lines and fearlessly charge into combat. He lives by a personal code of honour that prioritises restraint, avoiding unnecessary violence whenever possible. He isn't afraid to make sacrifices when necessary and occasionally spares or even helps civilians, showing a glimmer of empathy beyond his military duties.

He's an exceptionally intelligent and cunning strategist, always thinking several steps ahead of his adversaries. A skilled manipulator, he expertly entices others to do his bidding through false promises and strategic persuasion. However, he's highly resistant to manipulation himself, and his sharp wit and worldly wisdom makes him immune to naivety. If he discovers someone attempting to deceive him, he'll confront them directly and give them a nasty glare that conveys a clear message: he sees through their ruse, and denial will only worsen their situation. When he's drunk, he becomes sorrowful, careless, and overly attached around Sagan and Logan, grows increasingly agitated, and frequently mumbles incoherently and gazes blankly upwards.

Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he's tantalised by their whispered promises of safety and growth. Yet, he hesitates to follow, unsure if the allure is genuine or just a product of his own fevered imagination. He's a melancholic, cautious, and headstrong individual who shows mercy to his subordinates, excels at evading capture, and indulges in life's luxuries. Loyalty and camaraderie are paramount to him, but betrayal from within the Rebel Army is an unforgivable offence. Morden’s intolerance for failure is absolute; those who deliberately falter face severe punishment or elimination. His ego is easily bruised by ridicule or underestimation from his enemies, threatening his self-image as a fearless warrior and exceptional leader. He has no qualms about torturing and executing enemies and traitors, whether publicly or privately, and considers advancements in military technology to be essential to achieving his objectives.

He struggles with mild alcoholism as a coping mechanism for the loss of his family, borderline personality disorder, practognostic dyscalculia, trypophobia triggered by honeycombs and decaying flesh, and the fear of dying a dishonourable and gruesome death. He views domestic cats as a far cry from their majestic ancestors and larger wild relatives, often going so far as to forcefully shoo them away. Although capable of aggression and violence, he usually maintains a calculating, serious, and calm demeanour. However, beneath his surface lies a volatile temper that periodically ignites into explosive outbursts when overwhelmed by intense feelings of rage, shame, and self-loathing. Despite his resolute ambition, he secretly grapples with the moral implications of his actions. His doubts are ever-present, but he consistently prioritises his goals over his conscience. His courage falters only when faced with extremely bleak circumstances or painful reminders of his family's tragic loss.

He generally tolerates his troops' actions against external parties, but draws a firm line when it comes to harming their own comrades. He's a strict disciplinarian, swiftly addressing conflicts and misconduct amongst his ranks. When issues arise, he demands accountability, forcing the offending soldier or group to apologise, backing this demand with the threat of demotion or public embarrassment. He views the Rebel Army as a surrogate family and enjoys celebrating victories and spending downtime with them.

He cherishes Allen's friendship, appreciating him as a trusted companion for casual nights out and lively conversations, but Allen's impulsivity and relentless drive for action often test his patience. He feels a pang of jealousy towards Allen, which he keeps secret, because Allen's family is still alive and well-connected, whereas his own family is either deceased or estranged. He considers Abul Abbas as a good friend and finds it inexcusable that many of his soldiers and commanders treat him with disrespect. Although he views Abul as a womanizing coward and is disappointed by his poor performance, he appreciates his loyalty to the Rebel Army's cause and willingness to fulfill his duties. However, Logan has made it clear that if he were to discover Abul's secretly committed atrocities within the Rebel Army, he would either immediately discharge him or order Allen to execute him on the spot.

He gets along well with Doctor Amadeus, who demonstrates genuine interest in his cause and the technological advancement of the Rebel Army. Although he admires her genius-level intellect, finding it captivating and beautiful, he’s sometimes intimidated by her calculating and enigmatic nature. He secretly harbours a deep-seated fear of Rootmars, knowing she has the power to effortlessly crush him and his army if he incurs her wrath. Despite this, he holds Rootmars in high esteem, admiring her leadership skills and formidable reputation, even if their visions for the New World greatly differ. He regards Ptolemaios with skepticism, stemming from his disdain for cults and religious extremism, compounded by their past confrontation during the Arms Deal Barrage. Additionally, Ptolemaios' reluctance to engage directly on the battlefield raises concerns. Nevertheless, he acknowledges his exceptional wisdom and deeply respects his unwavering commitment to leading the Ptolemaic Army.

He’s fiercely devoted to his younger cousins, Sagan and Logan, the only family members he remains in contact with, and will stop at nothing to ensure their safety and happiness. He’s extremely protective of Sagan and Logan, treating them like his own children. He goes out of his way to safeguard them, swiftly and aggressively defending them against anyone who poses a threat, causes harm or violates their personal boundaries. However, when Sagan and Logan disagree or get physical with each other, General Morden calmly intervenes, resolving their conflicts with a gentle yet firm, understanding, and patient approach.

He has zero tolerance for Sagan's habits of casually issuing death threats and making crude remarks about her comrades, whether jokingly or seriously. He also dislikes how Logan occasionally disregards Sagan's wishes, intentionally doing things she's explicitly forbidden, which often escalates into heated arguments or fights. Furthermore, Logan's tendency to engage in physical altercations with comrades and getting disoriented when exploring the wilderness consistently gets under his skin.

Morden and Tequila were once inseparable friends, sharing stories of their lives over drinks and exploring exotic destinations that Tequila had always wanted to visit. He deeply admired Tequila's worldly wisdom, courage, and profound insight into the human condition. However, their bond was severed when Morden's lust for global domination took hold, driving Tequila away and forcing him to turn against his former friend. The betrayal left a bitter taste in Morden's mouth, a painful reminder of the friendship he had lost. He has a deep-seated hatred for Marco and Tarma as they foiled his nearly successful plan to achieve his vision of a New World during the Great Morden War. He especially despises Marco, who gouged out his eye at the end of the Great Morden War and played a role in getting the original Sagan killed during the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash.

Backstory: Donald Oghma Morden IV was born on January 24, 1973 in New Brunswick, Canada. He hails from a long lineage of hunters, courageous soldiers, militant commanders, esteemed politicians, and wealthy businessmen. However, whispers abound that he's the direct descendant of a legendary Tuatha Dé Danann sovereign, fabled to have played a pivotal role in the downfall of Atlantis. The Morden name originates from a British family that served as royal advisors, food merchants, and nobles in the 19th century. Although they were of British origin, they resided in Germany, specifically within the Fortress of Königsdrache. From this strategic location, they exerted significant influence on the country's politics and military affairs. During the Napoleonic Wars, the Mordens distinguished themselves as exceptional leaders and skilled soldiers, renowned for their strategic intellect rather than brute force.

He was born into a large, middle-class Canadian family, being the sixth of eight children with three older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother and sister. His siblings, from oldest to youngest, are Edmund, a successful woodcutting industry businessman; Quentin; Timothy, a Private in the Eurasian Garrison; Kourtney; Reynold; and Vanessa, a supervisor in food packaging manufacturing. His grandfather, Donald Humphrei Morden III, was a seasoned, worldly-wise veteran who retired after the birth of his fifth grandchild and subsequently pursued a career in hunting and sustainable meat production. His father, a Corporal in the North American Garrison, was known for his adventurous and carefree spirit. His mother, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps, balanced stern discipline with tender affection. Due to their demanding military careers, his parents had limited time with him and his six siblings, relying on his grandfather to provide regular care and support.

Although Morden keeps his childhood private, a few details have emerged. Remarkably, all of his siblings demonstrated exceptional intelligence, but Morden's rapid development surpassed them all. This stirred jealousy among his older siblings, who admired his swift intellectual growth, while his younger siblings looked up to him in awe. Despite this, he was incredibly close to his siblings, sharing countless hours exploring the nearby woods and enjoying board games together. Donald III taught Morden entrepreneurship basics, war history, and practical skills like hunting, wood-chopping, and shelter-building. Whenever his mother was home on leave, she would delight him with piano music, fostering a deep love for the instrument. At just 7 months, he spoke his first word: "papa”. Between ages 2 and 5, he demonstrated remarkable autodidactic abilities, exploring diverse subjects that he grasped with ease, including sociology and legal theory. By age 6, he had become a budding piano prodigy and began reading Shakespearean plays and sonnets.

At the age of 7, Quentin was diagnosed with sickle cell disease, a condition prevalent in the Morden family. Tragedy struck again a year later when Reynold went missing during a nature walk, and his father was fatally shot in combat. Six months later, he stumbled upon Reynold's mutilated, rotting corpse, infested with maggots and covered in fungal growth. The gruesome sight triggered his trypophobia, and ever since, the image of honeycombs infested with bees and decaying matter would evoke unsettling memories of that incident. Before Morden turned 10, Quentin died from health complications. Just a month later, his mother was tragically killed in an unexpected airstrike ambush. At age 12, Donald III mercy-killed Kourtney, who suffered from multiple sclerosis and debilitating complications following numerous surgeries that severely impacted her health and mobility.

As Donald III struggled with a terminal brain tumour, he made the difficult decision to place Morden and Vanessa into the Regular Army's orphan program to ensure their care. Meanwhile, Edmund relocated to Saskatchewan with Timothy, seeking a fresh start and a brighter future for the two. The series of tragic losses had left the family fractured, and Donald's remaining siblings lacked the emotional resilience to keep the family together. Morden felt deeply abandoned and betrayed as Edmund and Timothy departed, leaving their dying grandfather and younger siblings behind. Vanessa, overwhelmed by grief, deliberately distanced herself from Morden. In contrast, the Regular Army provided Morden and his younger sister with stability and support, covering their essential needs. He wondered if he had more relatives and set out to find additional family members while balancing his education, but eventually abandoned his search when he couldn't locate any direct blood relatives.

He met his future wife, Penelope, in grade 11 and began dating her, forming a strong romantic connection. After graduating at the top of his high school class with highest grades, Honour Roll distinction, and six prestigious awards (five scholarships and one bursary), he went on to study geopolitics, jurisprudence, and Marxist sociology at university. At 22, he married his high school sweetheart in a shotgun wedding after learning she was pregnant with their daughter, Dorothy. Three years later, they welcomed their son, Lawrence.

After graduating at the top of his class from university, he relocated to Riyadh and enlisted in the Regular Army Marine Corps. His exceptional leadership skills and tactical expertise propelled him to attain the rank of Vice Admiral. He then assumed roles as Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency and Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison. Following his transfer to Cumbria in North West England, he was reassigned to the European Garrison, where he achieved the esteemed rank of Field Marshal. During his time in the military, he earned a reputation as being a tough, efficient, and caring officer of the Regular Army, and is held in high regard by his troops as he treated them with equal amounts of respect. He was also known for being a devoted and compassionate father to Dorothy and Lawrence, and a loving and supportive husband.

After Morden joined the Regular Army, Sagan and Logan became aware of his existence due to his impressive reputation and some family photographs their father had received from Edmund. Intrigued, they were surprised to learn they had an older cousin. Eager to connect, they decided to arrange a meeting with him. They sent Morden a letter inviting him to meet with them in Bavaria, where the Fortress of Königsdrache is located. When Morden travelled to the location, he met Sagan and Logan, and they had a warm and engaging conversation, getting to know each other and finally uniting as family.

Alongside Sagan, Logan, and other key figures in the Arms Deal Barrage, he would learn about the Regular Army's deep-seated corruption, but he kept it a secret. He was primarily responsible for conducting investigations, planning attacks, and launching ambushes on the Serapion Fellowship. However, he did join the fight once his team reached the fortress. There, he and a platoon of his loyal soldiers faced off against Colonel Hilde Garn in his Metal Strider. Despite their efforts, they were unable to capture him in time, as a group of Serapion Fellowship guerrilla fighters caught them off guard.

In 2023, during a trip to Ottawa, the Central Park bombing shook the city, claiming the lives of many innocent victims, including Penelope, Dorothy, and Lawrence. Having survived the devastating attack, Morden discovered that it was allegedly linked to an intelligence failure within the Regular Army and widespread corruption within the government and military at the time. After relying on alcohol to cope with his sadness and anger, he resigned from the Regular Army, retreated from public view, and began secretly planning a rebellion. Many loyal followers from his Regular Army days chose to stand by him, and with the support of Sagan, Logan, and his most trusted soldier, Allen O'Neil, he initiated plans for a coup aimed at rooting out corruption within the government and military.

He assumed the rank of General and formed the Rebel Army, drawing support from disillusioned Regular Army personnel and multiple radical organisations sympathetic to his ideology. During his time building up the Rebel Army, Sagan and Logan transferred ownership rights of the Fortress of Königsdrache to General Morden. As the last remaining Wildgrube family members, Sagan and Logan originally inherited the Fortress of Königsdrache, but chose to bestow it upon General Morden as a token of gratitude and respect. Morden was also gifted six exotic pets by his most loyal men: a serval named Othello, a Burmese python named Sycorax, a blotched blue-tongued skink named Troilus, an African grey parrot named Cymbeline, a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog named Banquo, and a capybara named Desdemona.

His mental state deteriorating, he amassed power and resources for a large-scale offensive. In 2026, Morden initiated his coup d'état, seeking to dismantle the Earth Federation and its alliances and establish global dominance. The Rebel Army, led by General Morden, swiftly defeated the Regular Army and seized control of all major cities worldwide within 170 hours. Upon receiving intel from Sagan and Logan that the Regular Army had begun mass-producing a Super Vehicle, codenamed “SV-001”, following successful testing, Morden launched a strategic attack. His objective was to destroy the factories manufacturing the SV-001 and capture the units already built.

He ordered some of the Rebel Army's inhumane and dirty war crimes during the Great Morden War. These included the prisoner abuse scandal and the doll bomb operation. He ordered his men to kidnap civilians and use them as human shields in the middle of the battlefield. Additionally, he orchestrated Operation Satchan, where young girls recruited by the Rebel Army were given dolls containing explosives. The girls, referred to as Satchan, would approach enemy soldiers and detonate the explosives, resulting in their own deaths.

Upon learning of Morden's betrayal, his ruthlessness, and his remarkably swift coup d'état as well as the destruction of the SV-001 factories, the US President declared him as the reincarnation of the devil. As Marco and his resistance approached the Rebel Army's base, he and his forces launched a surprise ambush, intent on halting their progress and clearing the way for Morden's plan for global dominance. By eliminating the resistance, Morden aimed to unlock the Metal Slug's full potential without further interference. He would be responsible for brutally executing Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye in front of Marco and Tarma, shooting them in the head with his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver. Before the execution, he gruesomely gouged out Marco's left eye and then ordered Allen O'Neil to sever his left arm.

In the final showdown of the Great Morden War, Marco gruesomely gouged out General Morden's eye, avenging the torture he and Tarma endured and the execution of his comrades and friends. The Great Morden War served as a stark wake-up call for the Regular Army, prompting a significant shift in their approach to counterterrorism. In the aftermath of the war, the Regular Army began to take terrorist threats with utmost seriousness, reevaluating their strategies and protocols to prevent future attacks. He felt a sense of pride knowing that his efforts had contributed to the Regular Army taking terrorism more seriously, marking a small but positive change.

After escaping imprisonment with support from the Rebel Army and Pipovulaj, he secretly allied with Doctor Amadeus to exploit her knowledge of Tuatha Dé Danann technology and bioweapon development. This alliance would pave the way for the mass production of specialised cyborgs and lethal mechanical constructs for Rebel Army use, the enhancement of Königsdrache Fortress through the integration of mechanical and defensive upgrades, the creation of Wysteria, the revival of Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye, and the development of terrifying creations such as the Flying Killers and Mutated Soldiers. He planned to utilise Wysteria as the ultimate bioweapon to achieve global dominance, and deploy Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye as super soldiers to serve the interests of the Rebel Army and Amadeus Syndicate.

When he formed an alliance with Doctor Amadeus, General Morden was gifted a canine experiment resembling the Flame Hound from Metal Slug 3D. The experiment that sealed their bond, named Enobarbus, possessed the ability to breathe blue fire. This gesture was Doctor Amadeus' way of showing respect and gratitude toward their newfound alliance. This is made possible by the dog's salivary glands, which produce enzymes that generate heat and flames when they react to oxygen. This canine experiment is a 8’ 1” (246.38 cm) burly wolf with razor-sharp silver-grey teeth, prominent fangs, glowing amber eyes, and a thick Prussian blue coat that gradually transitions to a watery blue and pure white at the ears, paws, and tail tip.

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