#MY MAN'S GETTING TORTURED

[jklpopcorn]

she so ANGY

[suja-janee]

Recent fixation go burrrr

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[s0fter-sin]

codtwt is going off on brainwashed!soap bc of his new warzone skin and it’s making me think of ghost deliberately getting himself captured by makarov bc he knows he’ll be given to his dog to try and break him; knows he won’t be able to resist the irony, the cruelty of being tortured by the teammate he lost

he doesn’t fight; welcomes the chains around his wrists and ankles, welcomes the hands stripping him of his weapons and gear until he's defenceless

he wouldn't use them anyway

when he stalks into the room, the muzzle, the scars, not even the blank hatred or lack of recognition could make him mistake his eyes

that's his johnny

he doesn't flinch as he digs knives into his skin; would never shy away from his kiss even if it's tinged with rusted steel. doesn't swallow his screams; not when he always loved hearing him, when he spent so long coaxing his voice from the grave

frustration joins the anger in johnny's eyes the longer he goes without giving up information

just jokes; dark and puns alike

just advice when he can't get the jumper cables to spark right

ghost's not trying to escape; not trying to barter his return to the 141

he's right where he wants to be

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[stump-not-found]

Sorry if this has already been answered, but does Ford celebrate his birthday? I know its pretty hard to keep track of time when its ... nonlinear in the multiverse but I feel like Bill would know. And to ford every once and a while Bill demands his attention and he comes back to the pyramid to the wildest (worst) surprise party. The cake is human skin, candles are those really long wisdom teeth. Ford hates it.

i'll call out that a main plot point of chapter 4 is the fact bill gets ford presents on his b-day so yah its a regular thing, but they celebrate the day after his b-day

first birthday together bill probably does the skin cake thing but ford just rolls his eyes and sighs . bill almost fucking shoots himself after that response

[frizzle-mcshizzle]

Only my husband knew that so I guess that makes him you

I will fall in love with you over and over again, I don't care how, where, or when

@crymeariveronceagain helped put this image in my head and i learned how to draw blood (and ichor) just her

@kale-of-the-forbidden-cities @winterfireice @the-one-and-only-aroace @art-isnt-arting @nyxpixels @choasuqeen @doodle-do-wop @myfairkatiecat @sophisticated-crow @atmosphericwrites @onemoreattempt @tastetherainbow290 @rxsewqter @permanently-stressed @choatic-bumblebee-agenda

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[tiredandoptimistic]

I'm thinking thoughts about Agent Curt Mega today. Specifically him at the end of Doing This, when Tatiana ends their kiss. I highly doubt that he's ever come out to anyone other than the men he's slept with, and he's still too afraid to say it out loud. But it's not just that he explains through a euphemism ("you're not my type"), it's that when Tatiana tries to say it more plainly he cuts her off ("so you're into-" "yeah"), because he can't even handle hearing it from her. He is fully expecting her to hate him for being gay, and when she doesn't, and just continues the conversation as normally as she can, even saying she still wants to be his friend, he is blown away by positive emotions because this man has probably never had a real friend before. It's just so.

What I love about the ending of the musical, when Curt kills Owen, is that he realizes that he deserves better. He realizes that his relationship with Owen isn't worth fighting for, and that his friendships with Barb and Tatiana are. And that's really meaningful to me, seeing platonic love held up as a happy ending and romantic love acknowledged as fallible.

[sforzesco]

"Since you've named yourself after Julius fucking Caesar, perhaps I'll follow in your lead and choose one of the conspirators." "Interesting," says Giuliano. "Should I worry about finding you at the center of some kind of conspiracy that ends with my death?" "Not from me," replies Ascanio. He sounds tired. "Not anymore."

informally, some kind of. conversational follow up to the last comic. I'm trying to get the atmospheric conversational whimsy out of my system because I have a vision of the vatican as a body in active decay, a point of infection spreading out and poisoning the well, a jaw unhinged that people walk into over and over, and I am so close to figure out how to convey this visually. maybe.

[vomitspit2]

concept with jade leech

there is no dire-beast inside the mirror chamber, and there are no ghosts inhabiting ramshackle. it is simply: you, alone in a rundown building, after the headmaster leaves.

you have been pinching yourself through the day. little crescent marks litter your wrist.

for the past six or so hours, you have been trying really hard to wake up from this dream. nothing is working. desolate, you take to wandering the house.

you know your imagination is strong but an entire college, idiosyncratic characters, and an entire furnished building is a bit complex. still, you card through the squabble, hoping to unearth some mistake in physics that will tell you that this is a dream. that search ends abruptly when you find a loose floorboard and the fragile wood underneath you gives out like a snapped cracker.

you land hard.

ten feet down in the basement, lying on your back.

blinking away dust, your eyes land upon the piece of wood speared cleanly through your abdomen.

the pain tells you this is too much to be a dream.

it is a full two hours you lie there immobile. you try rolling on your side, hoping to at least stand up, but each motion is anguish in an ineffable amount. you wrap your hands around the red wood and try to pull; it leads to your eyeballs rolling so far back you see new colors. skin shining with generous sweat and dipping in and out of consciousness, you lie there and bid limited time until someone from this new world comes to find you. the headmaster will eventually come back, right?

you think about a multitude of things.

you think about how if your corpse withers here, the puss running out your orifices will look like cream cheese.

you think about how the glittering wands those students held might work, is it like harry potter or a unique universe.

you think about how you still had to go to work tomorrow in your own original universe, attend classes, hope plans with friends don’t fall through so you laugh carefree without lungfuls of blood.

your last slip from consciousness to eternal unconsciousness, you think about home. the bed you slept in, the books read and films watched, the snack wrappers on the sheets, what a comforting waste.

you drift off, expecting to be jolted awake again by your own feverish mind, and die, bleeding out on ramshackle’s basement floor.

it takes azul awhile to gain ramshackle’s dorm.

the one new student he saw during the opening ceremony apparently stayed there one night and fled the next morning. as the headmaster’s report goes, crowley found no one living there when he went to check the following day. however, the usage of ramshackle by that magicless student opened up a gate of opportunity and azul did not let it go to waste.

the negotiations took awhile and the proper refurbishment will have to be done. but just before winter exams, azul has managed to secure himself a second location for mostro lounge.

first, damages have to be assessed.

the building is disgusting, rundown, and simply inhabitable. busy with the 250 students he has under contract, azul assigns jade to spend a november afternoon there and make note of what they need to start repairing first.

azul really hopes the plumbing is salvageable. the cost would be through the roof if otherwise.

so jade, hand over his heart, promises to survey ramshackle the next day and outline a list of high priority repairs to stuff they can skimp upon in the budget.

jade’s excited. the mountains he treks are northwest and ramshackle is northeast; this will provide him a new opportunity to see what kind of mushroom may lie on that side of the island. …oh, and he supposes he will also assist azul in his endeavor as well.

the next day, he spends half of the allotted time foraging outside of ramshackle before he actually walks into the building. i should make this quick and efficient. i only have thirty minutes left. notepad in hand, he starts to investigate the wreckage.

uninhabited and ugly. those are the two words that rise to jade’s mind first. truly, it is a lovely space and it would be a disgrace to see it painted in shades of lilac and oceanic decor. but, it will be entertaining nonetheless to see azul’s business expand.

yet, as he’s walking down the halls, jade cannot help but think he is hearing a second pair of footsteps just behind him.

yes, ramshackle is ugly but it does not seem to be as uninhabited as he thought. how intriguing.

so, sadistic grin blooming, jade decides to play a game. he will ignore this secondary person and continue on, waiting anxiously to see what will happen. he marks down his observations, all while feeling a pair of eyes upon his neck. lighting on the first floor needs fixing. the water runs orange in the upstairs sink. nothing entirely formidable has happen yet, but he hopes it will.

jade cannot wait to see if this ghost can turn his skin inside out, or perhaps drop a floorboard on top of his head, the possibilities are endless. it all has jade’s toes squirming in his dress shoes in anticipation.

however, his thirty minutes are up before he can descend the basement stairs and nothing has happened yet.

which is disappointing.

he’ll be back again tomorrow so there is always a chance for something then.

however, he had hoped for something to happen now.

just as jade is walking out the door, list and bag of mushrooms in hand, something ice cold tickles the hairs on his neck. frigid like home. he barely gets a chance to dwell on it before five frozen fingers wrap themselves around his throat and shove him down the porch steps.

the door to ramshackle slams shut.

sprawled on the ground, jade reaches his hand up to the idents on the column of skin, the previous touch thawing out.

he cannot help the deep blush that comes up to his face.

with a deep breath, his own gloves fingers still hovering over the lost embrace, jade stands up and pats himself down. he looks upon the closed door with a hunger in his eyes.

yes, tomorrow he will be back.

and he hopes this ghost will act up again because they have so much more allure to jade than a second mostro lounge.

[hauntingofhouses]

taigen blueeyesamurai: [exists]

me: humiliate and torture that man some more ‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[vialdovi-artstuff]

He is the best part of the dlc lmao

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Horrible new theory about Runaan's shirt today.

-no, not the new one, the one he lost-

He's still got his green assassin shirt here on the balcony, and vest too:

But by the time Gren is thrown into the dungeon a couple days later, it's missing.

Runaan's also sporting bags under his eyes because he'd been kept awake all night, enjoying Viren's frustrations about losing Harrow and also getting denied the crown of Katolis.

So. About that missing shirt.

I can't think of too many things worse for a guy who wears four shirts at once than to have them all taken off while he's badly hurt and manacled to the wall, and then be tickled half to death all night long, on his birthday.