#Original character x Canon

[leons-lady]

I'm gonna hold yalls hand when I say this again

if you're gonna name the reader that isn't Y/N or (your name), or the character saying their name without those two I mentioned if it bothers you

tag it properly as oc x canon. not x reader. that is NOT my name.

(and yes, I will be blocking, but it's still gonna pop up everywhere so I need at least SOMEONE to try and get me.)

[cupidandcherubs]

Mentally, I'm there

Don't get used to me posting three days in a row tho

[amazingbananabread]

Not sure what I cooked, but I cooked something-

Took me like a day and a half to finish it, yet can't make it look finished enough.

(Reference)

[literallymomoayase]

SPOILERS AHEAD!! this is just a lil drawing I made of my mouthwashing OC, and I had a little info-dump about her [which contains spoilers]

pov ur curly

I can't believe this is my first ever drawing of my mouthwashing oc 😭

her name is Maude! :-D She works in Pony Express, and is 29 years old. She's the wife of Curly and is the mother of their daughter, Cassey.

Maude is a mature and responsible woman. If only the memories between her and her husband was a good one before the crash.

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

See My Scars - Ghost x Hawk Scene

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

A/N: Short scene from later in Simon + Wren's story. Takes place in Russia after the 141 finds out Graves has been smuggling weapons for Makarov. Graves takes Wren hostage and tortures her, Simon comes to her rescue, and Wren kills Graves. Simon and Wren have a heart-to-heart one night following, and suddenly they're confessing. Then they're kissing. Here's what happens next...

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Injuries/Scars, Military Themes (Call of Duty), Mentioned Torture (past, by Graves), Implied Abuse (past, by Graves), Mentions of Simon’s Past, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied NSFW

It was all a blur when he laid her down, large hands surprisingly gentle with her small, bruised frame. She saw him pause… hesitation? She draws her knees up to her chest and waits patiently, her own nerves beginning to get the better of her. 

Shit, this was a mistake, I - 

Her breath stops when she meets his gaze. He peers down at her, eyes dark and intense, a great strength suppressed between his taught shoulders. “Y’sure you want to do this, Wren?”

His voice is deep, gravelly. She’d be lying if it didn’t turn her on, but she knows the weight of what they’re about to do - she knows they can’t go back.

Maybe I don’t want to go back, a voice screams inside of her, threatening to burst out her chest as she nods slowly, replacing all the things she wishes she could say with a single, ‘yes.’

He hums in acknowledgement and crawls toward her, hands gingerly beginning to explore. He rubs at her sides, her shoulders, and commits each freckle and blemish on her face to memory. His finger draws a line up her jaw and comes to rest on her cheek, right underneath the gash Graves had just given her. She flinches at the contact, despite how gentle it is, as his finger ghosts over dried blood and traces the shape of the gash all the way from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her eye.

His gaze is cold, unwavering as he studies it. She feels him tense up ever so slightly, and for a moment she’s worried he’s gotten cold feet, but he growls lowly and shifts his deep brown eyes to meet hers.

“Fucker had it coming. If you hadn’t killed him, I would’ve.”

“Simon,” she sighs, bringing her hand up to rest over his on her cheek, tiny fingers drawing in comparison to his. He grunts and shakes his head. She’s still reeling over the loss of him - of Phillip - and he knows that. But that wouldn’t make him forgive what Graves did to her.

“I would’ve.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning her head into his hand. His eyes soften, though they keep their dark, almost hungry hue. Then he kisses the bridge of her nose, right where the scar began, and dips his head to her neck, softly mouthing at the exposed skin.

His lips on hers earlier that night had been one thing, but his lips on her body now… a heat she’d long forgotten about rose slowly in her core, her breathing hastening as his hands tug at the bottom of her shirt. Simon moves slowly, carefully, because he knows how fragile she is right now.

He wasn’t prepared for the mess of bruises that adorn her chest and ribs, deep purple tones splotched over skin that was far too perfect to be hurt.

His breath hitches when he sees them - all of them - staining the skin of his woman. He tenses again, repressing his anger. Wren recoils out of nervousness, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and Simon panics, quickly extending his hand out to her. He doesn’t know how to handle this, how to treat her… and he’s scared.

“Graves did this to you?” Simon utters, frozen in place, a deep hatred slowly bubbling up and conflicting with his fear of scaring Wren off.

“Not all of it,” she replies, voice low and somber. “But, most, yeah.”

“Did he… touch you?” He tries with every fiber of his being to keep his voice restrained, but Simon had never been too good at dealing with anger. He could repress it, sure, but that was what always drove so many people away - he was cold, aloof, unapproachable. And when his feelings were now so strong, so overwhelming, all his instincts tell him to run away, to isolate and compartmentalize.

But he knows, maybe painfully so, that deep down he doesn’t want that. He wants her. So he stays, and he waits with tense shoulders and a clenched fist.

“No. Wouldn’t let him.” Her voice trails off as she tries desperately to read his gaze, cursing each blemish that greeted Simon so prominently. Simon breathes a noticeable sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes softening. If she looks hard enough, she swears she can see the wetness of tears in the very corners of his eyes, mixing with the remainder of the eyeblack he just couldn’t wash off at this point. She sighs. “I know they’re not pretty. If you don’t-”

“Wren.”

Her eyes snap up to watch him wordlessly undress, his huge hands lingering on the hem of his shirt before slowly pulling it over his head. He stops about halfway through, his hand shaking as he holds the fabric just over his ribs and holds her gaze silently - watching, waiting, debating.

Then he hesitantly pulls the fabric completely up to reveal a long, dark gash across his right rib cage that had never quite healed right. The skin was patched with ridges and divots, dark red marks adorning the mottled skin.

“Hung,” he explains. “Mexican cartel. Corrupted an old captain of mine. I won’t burden you with the details.”

“Si…”

“All these burns,” he nods to each red splotch, so numerous and concentrated that there was hardly any untouched skin there, “Field burns. Or cigarette burns… from my father. This,” he opens up his right hand to reveal a long slit with what looked like scars from stitches, “was from digging out. When I was buried alive with ‘em. Used his jawbone and it fucked up my hand.”

She tries hard to hold back tears - Simon never spoke much about his past. She knew things, of course, but not when he was this vulnerable. But he holds her gaze, and it's intense.

“And everything else? Wren, I have been beaten and shot and stabbed and fucked - if you think I’m going to be bothered by some marks, then I’m a goddamn hypocrite and you’re out of your fucking mind.”

She quirks her lips up into a sad smile, reaching her hand out and beginning to trace each mark on his chest. “Si… ‘M sorry all that happened. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t need to say anything, Little Bird,” he grunts, leaning back down and catching her lips once more. “Just have me.”

And she did.

[st4rrmii]

Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic

Bonus under the cut

[rorywritesjunk]

Down in the dark where the waves won't go, I'm bound to find my way.

Sunny and Buggy disagree over the next steps of their life together leading to them spending time apart.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe for swearing and arguing. Warning: Each chapter will have a specific warning. This one just has upset children again. Both kids are upset and lonely at times. Sunny is great with kids, Buggy is learning. Both adults reflect on their relationship separately. Word Count: 2,111 A/N: The direct sequel to "No locked upon land...", the fic that started it all. I do not use "You" in this as now that Sunny is an established OC I decided not to go that route. This will be several chapters. Originally (lol) it was just two parts but... but I had to expand but I don't expect it to go much longer than the original fic. It's a few chapters longer than the original fic.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Epilogue Taglist: @hey-august @lostfirefly

Chapter 4

Buggy reluctantly went to look for Little Sunny once he changed clothes. He really hoped the shirt would be fine but he doubted it. His wife knew how to get stains out but he wasn't sure where she was. She could have left him for all he knew and knowing that where they were at was frequented by pirates, what's to say she didn't run into someone who missed their chance with her last time and would jump at the opportunity?

No, no, he couldn't think that way. It was a silly disagreement on whether to have kids, that was all, and Buggy was right and Sunny was wrong, that was all that mattered.

He first checked all the rooms on the ship that he could, not seeing the little girl anywhere. He looked in the crow’s nest, at the helm, where the munitions were stored, everywhere. It wasn't until he bumped into Mohji that his first mate told him she had been with Richie for a half hour now, brushing his fur. 

Buggy made sure he was a little calmer before approaching the little girl. “Uh, Sunny?”

She dropped the hair brush, startled by his voice, and tried to hide behind Richie. It didn't really work.

“I can still see you.” Buggy pointed out.

“Not if I don't want you to.” She told him as she looked over the lion’s head. The two got into a bit of a staring contest for a moment before she finally looked away. “I'm sorry I messed up your shirt. It was an accident.”

She apologized first? So that probably meant Buggy didn't need to apologize at all. It was her fault after all, she made the mess. He reacted like anyone would if they had soup spilled on them. But he thought about how his wife would have handled it. She would have been so sweet and kind to the kid, insisting that it was okay and that accidents happen, and as Buggy stood there, looking down at the little girl in front of him who looked like she might start crying again, he caved.

“I'm… sorry for yelling at you.” He managed to say, though it felt weird to do so. This was his wife as a child. Why did he scream at her? He never screamed at her like that when they were adults and married. Sure, they had some recent disagreements and he may have been a bit of an asshole, but she was no better. “It was an accident, you didn't mean it.”

“Can we still be friends?” She asked quietly. Buggy hated that. Was his wife really this sad and lonely as a child?

“Ugh, yes, we can still be friends.” He sighed. “Now, look, it's getting late and neither of us ate, so let's reheat the soup and sandwiches, okay? I think you're going to have to stay here for the night so I gotta make sure you're comfortable somewhere.”

Sunny petted Richie’s mane carefully, frowning a bit before looking back at Buggy. “Can I have a hug?”

“Wh-Why do you want a hug?”

“Because I feel sad.” She shrugged. “Hugs always make me feel better.”

Buggy gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, forcing himself to count to three. Was having a kid going to be like this? Once he made sure he was calm, he knelt down and let her hug him, not bothering to put his arms around her. It didn’t matter. Maybe this would be like when he was a kid and she’d go back to her time after a few days. He could only hope.

~

He found a cot for her to sleep on that he set up in his room. He wasn’t about to let her have his bed. She seemed fine as she settled herself down on the cot, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she smiled up at him. 

“Good night, Mister Buggy!”

“Yea, yea, good night.” He turned the lights off before crawling into his own bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly so that when he’d wake up this would all be over. Barely a day with this kid and he’d already made her cry several times. Was this a test from the universe to prove to him that he definitely could not be a dad? He just wished his wife was around to see this so he could show her why it would be a terrible idea for them to be parents.

Part of him did feel guilty. He knew Sunny would be an excellent mom but he didn’t want her to have to take on all of the responsibility. He just didn’t feel like he’d be a good dad and it wouldn’t be fair if she shouldered everything. Why did she want to have one so badly? Why couldn’t they just continue on as they have been?

He rubbed his face and sighed, grumbling softly under his breath as he tried to fall asleep. It was hard not having his wife around. During the last week she wouldn’t touch him while they slept, going so far as to bring a separate blanket to bed to wrap up in. If Buggy tried to touch her she would wriggle away from him. He wished she wasn’t so stubborn.

“Mister Buggy?”

He almost screamed. Little Sunny was standing at the foot of the bed with the blanket draped over her as she looked at him with wide eyes. He clutched his heart, breathing heavily as he glared at her.

“What, kid?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You haven’t even tried.” He snapped. “Just lay down and try, okay? It’s not hard.”

Sunny looked down and Buggy cursed himself quietly. Why did he have to react this way? She had done nothing wrong. 

“Look, kid, if you want, you can… sleep on that side of the bed.” He told her as he pointed to his wife’s side. “There’s an extra blanket too. The bed is probably comfier than that cot anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yes! As long as you don’t wet the bed or something, I don’t care!” He hissed as she climbed onto his wife’s side. The little girl frowned at him as she fluffed the pillow.

“I’m ten. I don’t wet the bed.” She told him firmly. “I’m not a baby, Mister Buggy.”

“Coulda fooled me with how much you cry.” He muttered under his breath as he tried to get comfortable. He glanced over at Sunny, hoping she didn’t hear him, but she had her back to him and was wrapped up in the blankets. He could hear little sniffles coming from her and he sighed. Maybe tomorrow everything will be normal again.

~*~

Sunny had her foot propped up as she laid back on the cot. Roger had offered her his bed since she was injured, but she was fine to sleep on the cot. She couldn’t imagine taking his bed, he was the captain. It was sweet and he had insisted, but once she settled on the cot he gave up. 

Buggy as a kid was… something. Since meeting Shanks as a kid and not having met him as an adult, she had nothing to compare it to, but she wondered if this was how siblings acted towards each other. Both boys teased each other relentlessly to the point of arguing. Three times today Sunny had to watch Rayleigh break up their little squabbles. The most recent time was when the boys argued over what would hurt worse: dropping a cannonball on your foot or falling out of the crow’s nest. This was while Sunny’s foot was being wrapped by the doctor. 

She was getting a bit of a headache from them.

It was easier when it was just Buggy on her ship. He depended on her and she was happy about it. She wanted to make sure the boy felt safe and loved while he was with her because she only had her husband’s word to go off of with how he was raised. While she questioned some of the adults’ ways of speaking to kids (she came close to punching one when the crewman referred to Buggy as “Hey, brat!” when getting his attention), it wasn’t that bad. The boys had a place to live, food to eat, and were taken care of. Rayleigh and Roger watched out for Shanks and Buggy like they were their own sons. She appreciated how Roger had been worried for Buggy when he was missing for that short amount of time when she had him.

Was she being hard on her own husband for not wanting kids? When she saw her husband and the kid spend time together nearing the end of the kid’s stay, it was sweet and she thought he’d make a great dad. Sure, he tossed the boy into the water after meeting him, but afterwards they seemed to bond okay. They even made her breakfast together.

Sunny rubbed her face and looked up at the ceiling. It was hard to decide. She wanted kids. She wanted to have Buggy’s kids because she loved him so much but he had said hurtful things to her, called her ideas stupid and she wondered if she needed to give up. It hurt to think that it wouldn’t be a possibility for her, but maybe it was a decision she would need to think about: stay married or move on.

~

Someone was touching her arm and whispering her name. Sunny jolted awake, heart pounding as her eyes tried to focus on the figure in front of her. His blue hair and bright red nose came into focus first and she breathed a sigh of relief as she sat up.

“What’s wrong, honey?” She whispered as he looked down at his feet. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Did you have a bad dream?”

He just shrugged and crossed his arms, refusing to look at her. She frowned and pulled the covers back for him, letting him crawl into the cot beside her as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” He sniffed. “I’m sorry, Sunny, I didn’t mean to hurt you and I feel bad and Shanks said you weren’t going to marry me when I get older because I hurt you and it was an accident, really!”

“Oh, oh honey, shh.” She pulled the blankets over him and stroked his hair gently. She never knew a kid to be as excited about marriage as him. He still had years but he seemed rather fixated on the idea. “I forgive you, really. I know you didn’t mean to.” 

“Are you still gonna wanna marry me when I get older?” He asked quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“You’re not going to be alone.” She assured him, hoping their voices were quiet to not wake up the captain. “Never, I promise. You’ll have a crew, you’ll have me, and you’ll never have to worry, okay?” She kissed him on the forehead and wrapped her arms around him. “Get some sleep, okay? We’ll go with Captain Roger tomorrow afternoon to pick his coat up from the tailor.”

Buggy rubbed his eyes and looked up at her. “I don’t want you to go.”

She smiled sadly and tucked his hair back behind his ear gently. “Honey, you’ll be fine. I have to go back and be with you when you’re an adult. Remember what I said when we parted ways before? You can’t handle ten minutes without me. It’s still true. And you’ll meet me in a few years and it’s going to be fine, you just have to wait.”

“I want you to stay here.” He insisted as he sniffed. “You’d have fun here with me.”

She hated that a small part of her said to do it, to throw caution to the wind and join this crew. Why should she go back? Maybe… maybe she could do something to keep Roger from making the decisions that he did, maybe the boys wouldn’t turn their backs on each other, the crew could stay together…

But no, she couldn’t even consider that. She couldn’t change the history that happened even if she wanted to. She just tightened her arms around the boy, hugging him tightly before kissing him on the forehead.

“Get some sleep, okay?” She told him. “Maybe tomorrow you and I can make breakfast for the Captain, how does that sound? Hm? I think he’d appreciate it.”

He sighed softly but nodded, sniffling quietly as he settled down in her arms. He wondered if there was any way to convince her to stay.

[as8bakwthesage]

Witch: Release me. Medic: Ah, but what if I don't want to? Witch: Then I will castrate you this instant. Medic: You temptress.

I drew this a while ago, but I never posted it here and because of my recent TF2 hyperfixation, I remembered this existed-

Anyway, have a Witch and her Medic lunatic

[bimboothefool]

[WIP]

Look at these doofuses

Finished Piece

[the-s1lly-corner]

Gummigoo x Knives (oc)

prize 2/5 for @candy-ac3 ! once more i hope you enjoy and that i did your oc justice!! so so sorry for not adding more to this opening </3 my brain is COOKING!!! notes: this is an oc x canon post, au where gummigoo is allowed to remain in the circus and/or was smuggled in, written pre episode 3 dropping as this post is written on september 27th cws: none

first and foremost, sometimes him and knives go back and fourth- bantering, mostly! with knives' sarcasm and gummigoo's desire to return the energy oftentimes leaves the two just getting into it- not a fight, never a fight.. theres clear amusement on both sides

sometimes he puts his hat on her head to silence her when hes had enough, turning it down to cover her face and gently pushing it into her

likes styling and redoing her braid, even if it doesnt need to be redone. it gives him something to keep his hands busy when thoughts in his head get too heavy- hes still adjusting to learning that everything hes known his entire life was a lie

the healing doesnt feel so taxing knowing he has company by his side... he doesnt talk about it that often, but sitting in silence doing knives' hair is nice...

her fur is nice, too, loooooves running his fingers through it while the two of them are cuddling! hopefully hes totally completely dry, he is a gummy creature after all! it would be at least annoying to get stuck to your girlfriends fur and have to pick to loose bits out after

hes not too big a fan of circus acts, they never really interested him- granted there werent any shows he went to when he wasnt being used in an adventure.... and the atmosphere of the circus definitely has him feeling a certain way- not really suffocating more so overwhelming.... so many colors and shapes and things moving around compared to his old setting...

but he likes staying on the ground, watching knives walk tight ropes- he will always run to try to catch her when she falls, he never really gets the memo that people cant get hurt in this world... its out of instinct, really... and what kind of man would he be if he just let knives fall and he didnt at least try to help her? thats how he sees it at least

not much of a writer but knives convinces him to start writing his feelings out and it does help considerably, even if he never share what he writes to anyone ever

sometimes the two sit and just write stuff, short stories... and read them out to each other

[leons-lady]

If The World Ended

Based on Die With A Smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars + those sad tiktok edits of Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy + The End of the World by Skeeter Davis

“Wait… just—just hang on, Leon. Just hold on—please! Wake up… Leon? Leon!”

Prue cried out, cradling the blond haired male's head in her hands as she caressed his cheek gently with her thumb; her dark brown eyes glossy when a stray tear betrayed her pent up feelings she'd kept locked away to prevent herself from going through so much pain. The vulnerability was too much for her to handle, but she would feel everything for the man that lay unmoving in her arms. Even if it made her feel like a piece of paper being shredded to the tiniest bit until there had been nothing left of her to give.

And yet. . .

Blood trickled down Leon's nose, indicating the harsh impact of the long fall damage he'd taken when Harry Osborn, Prue's former childhood friend turned villain—the Green Goblin, had snatched up Leon from where he had stood, taking him up to the clock tower of New York. Leon knew how to fight back. He worked under a government agency, after all. He knew what to do against villains like Harry who had been too lost to be pulled back to the right side.

“Don't go… please, don't go. Not like this. Not like this… come back… you can't die like this, Leon…”

Still it wasn't enough.

Despite his professional career, it served as a reminder to the limitations of a human's mortality the moment time slowed down when Leon was falling a long way down from within the clock tower. Everything happened so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Prue's senses had been completely heightened at that instance. What tore her apart was the fact she could hear his heart racing a hundred beats per minute. The fear that had shown on his usual stoic and strong features was painted on his handsome face as the masked heroine leaped down in an attempt to catch the agent by whatever means.

It felt like the world was crashing all around them at once and there was nothing Spider-Woman could do for Prue to save Leon.

Her webs shot out from her wrist, forming into a hand, desperately reaching out to grab him—and for a second—she allowed herself to hope that she could do it. She'd vowed that if she could save him, she would push him away if he'd lived. That this would be their last time together. It was too risky for him to be with Spider-Woman. He knew how to handle himself, he said. He wanted to be close to her. He wanted to stay.

So he stayed.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily?” He had told her once. He had found someone who knew what it was like to suffer all the responsibilities of protecting human lives, to suffer the consequences of losing said lives—he wasn't going to let her go. He dug his heels into the ground, and he made sure Prue wouldn't be able to pry him away from her. They were a team, and he'd be damned if she tried to take that away from him.

But this was something he and Prue hadn't seen coming from a mile away. Her spider senses weren't as advanced as she'd wished they could've been that night. Seeing him this way was sobering enough, serving as a reminder that he was more than the government's personal weapon. That he was more man than machine as they made him to be. That he loved, lost, feared and cared more than they made him out to be otherwise.

The sound of his neck cracking on impact whether from the harsh pull of her webs or the concrete after falling for what seemed like eternity… the specifics didn't matter. Prue blamed herself for it all. When he couldn't open his eyes—it was her fault. When his heart stopped beating—it was because of her. When his body turned cold—her fault. Her organic webs backed up at the wrong time… shortening out on Leon's abdomen, being the cause of his death right then and there. She felt sick to her stomach as bile formed at the back of her throat the second she ripped her mask off of her head, dark curls falling freely from the material as she rushed to Leon's side as he hung from the web, hovering over the ground; the world's cruelest joke of having Prue's loved one dangling before her—taunting her for her failures.

She had never wanted to end it all right then and there, joining Leon in death than she did at that moment. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry… she wanted everything to stop. She wanted to die. She wanted to rip her chest open until she was exposed from the inside out. She wanted it all to end.

She was suffocating; drowning in her emotions and self-loathing as she embraced the male in her arms, taking in his faint scent for one last time. Her body trembled violently as she let out a choked out sob, burying her face into the crook of Leon's neck, running her fingers through his soft locks in an attempt to comfort herself even despite being undeserving of it.

Memories of their time together flooded through her mind as she held Leon's cold cheek in her hand. Her lower lip trembling as she thought back to their first encounter. He had flown to New York City for a mission—a deadly one based on a bioterrorist threatening to wipe out humanity by transforming them into the undead. He dealt with special cases whereas Spider-Woman dealt with weird villains in animal or other themed costumes—if not, literal powerful beings the human mind would not be able to comprehend. They understood each other. They just got along very well. They had responsibilities to their own occupations and at the end of the day, they were still able to look each other in the eye and see a person on the other side. They saw each other for who they were, not what they were.

She'd come in right where Leon was struggling with a particular bioweapon—a tyrant and Spider-Woman made her first appearance in his vicinity. Swinging in, launching herself at the tyrant with speed and agility of a literal spider; using her webs to hold the tyrant down whilst Leon and his companions would finally take it down along with the infected citizens of NYC much to Prue's dismay at the realization of how deep the situation had been. Leon had been so perplexed by her abilities; and this warranted his companions—Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers to interrogate Prue as they had made assumptions of her being a “bioweapon” of some kind. She certainly wasn't any average human being.

Their “accidental” encounters after the first. The coincidental gentle brushes of their hands or the way his hand felt so comforting when on the small of her back or her shoulder after a particularly rough patrol that ended in Prue getting her ass handed to her very badly. Those moments where they would both go to each other and nurse the other's wounds that needed tending to. Those lingering glances they'd make on the other, catching each other staring at the other's lips for a mere second before averting their gaze.

Long story short, when their eyes met that day… there was an undeniable connection that had formed that should've terrified Prue. It should've scared her to the point to walk away, to pretend she's never met Leon Scott Kennedy. It should've.

But she didn't walk away.

She stayed.

The cold, bitter rain felt like razor blades on her skin as the water filtered through the ruins of the clock tower as she sat there, holding Leon's body in her arms. Dark eyes bloodshot, puffy and swollen as a low ringing noise filled her ears in the distance. Her curls stuck to her soaked cheeks and her suit clung to her body uncomfortably, causing her to shiver but she didn't care. She missed him already. The one person who had understood her needs to keep her abilities and identity a secret… to keep events like these from happening to begin with. She thought it was because of his work as a field agent that it would be easier for her to deal with her own enemies without worrying about his safety—that everything would be alright. That life would be okay afterwards. That they would continue to be together after the toughest mission of their lives.

How could she have been so foolish?

“Wait for me, Leon.”

♡

.

.

.

♡

I forgot how writing for myself is so incredibly fucking CRINGE, BRO. BROTHER EUGHHHH. I haven't written in a like 7 years so I'll let it slide this time. I'd explain my oc/self insert's lore, but it's so complicated man let's just beam the information into your head and pretend you know exactly what I'm talking about. Also crossover fandoms! Spiderverse x Resident Evil. I don't know what I be yapping about in my writing but I just wanted to put my own spin on Peter losing Gwen in TASM but with Prue losing Leon!

Also, sorry if things don't make sense like at all. I'm very rusty and my mind is more about like romancing my fave or making things angsty lmaooo so mhm.

[lyorofthequill]

Well here it is, the fanfic I shared a snippet of earlier. Read the warnings, I will try to update semi-regularly. But enjoy the rage filled transwoman that is my creation. All work pertaining to this particular ship (Damocles x Briar) will be #Divine rage if you want to keep up with updates.

[amazingbananabread]

Art dump ver cringe

Art of the day: Smol Mel, or Smel for short

WARNING, CRINGE UNDER HERE:

[literallymomoayase]

as a contribution to oc x canon, I can totally see my dunmeshi oc & marcille talking about lycion like

marcille : isn't he kind of..too freaky for you?

helena : but he looks hot doing it

marcille: : HUH?

helena : huh? (. ❛ ▽ ❛.)

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

Silhouettes & Songbirds // a Modern Warfare Story - Chapter 1

Pairings (Eventual): Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

Tags: Military Themes (Call of Duty), Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied Abuse (Past, by Graves)

A/N: I am so excited to FINALLY have this OUT!! Hope y'all love it <3 Looks like Tumblr also crushed my image quality so yay

Kate Laswell folded her hands neatly on the worn-out desk as she eyes the Captain. The scruffy man held his stance, blue eyes unwavering as he only nodded in encouragement. John Price was nothing if not persistent, and the CIA agent knew better than to question him.

“Fine, but I want Sergeant Yarrow on the team. And I’m not asking.” Her tone was low, but it pierced the room nonetheless with the compromise.

Price grunted softly. “You think she’s solid after being back in Urzikstan?”

“She will be if she has to be.” Laswell’s answer was resolute, and she held his gaze as she squared her shoulders. There was no room for negotiation here. Price was silent as he took a long drag from his cigar in contemplation.

“Thought that last assignment was a one-off for her. That PMC really fucked her up.”

Laswell sighed. “We need her, John. Are your men really any better?”

“…Everyone’s got their problems, Kate.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn't ask. As much as she disliked the risk of a special operations endeavor with current international relations, she couldn’t deny that Price was right - Al Qatala needed handling. She sighed briefly and nodded in acknowledgment.

“What are you calling this task force?”

“141.”

—

A young woman sighed as she gazed out the window. It was a nice day in Rye, East Sussex… she wished she could enjoy it more than she did. For as long as she’d spent off the force, she never thought she’d get used to civilian life. Wren Yarrow was a creature of habit, of constant direction and purpose.

She was a creature of Shadow Company… of Phillip Graves.

There was no meaning in daily tasks that were surely obsolete. Sure, it was a routine, one she clung to at that, but it was nothing more. It was something she did mindlessly, day after day after fucking day.

She felt pathetic - it had been years since her discharge - she should’ve long been over this. And yet, it never seemed to settle for her.

There was always something perfectly boring about living.

More often than she’d like to admit, she found herself reminiscing about her time in Shadow Company… her time with Graves. She wondered if she’d ever stop missing it; missing him…

It was a slow day at the bakery that day. Normally, she found solace in the day to day workings of the store - she could expect the same people every day, she could expect to make the same things…

She thought she knew what she wanted - to come home and run her bakery like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t been called on a whim to ship out to Urzikstan after years of being out of the military.

Life never goes the way you plan it. And she had once again become living proof when Laswell called her that morning just a few months after she had returned home.

“John wants a Task Force. I want you on it.” Short and to the point; Laswell was never much to sugar-coat. Wren could hear the subtle undertones in her voice, though - Kate knows her history, and she knows the weight of her request. Wren knows it damn well, too.

“What’s the situation?”

“Classified. You understand.” She knew that, of course, but it wouldn’t have stopped her from asking.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Wren had accepted the request. Apparently, uprooting her life and business once more was not a concern as she hung a ‘closed indefinitely’ sign for the second time over the front door and rushed upstairs to pack her belongings. Surely, she was insane, grasping at any straw that presented her with some sort of purpose…

When she laid in bed that night, she wondered very briefly if this is what she really wanted, but the cold truth was that Wren didn’t know what she wanted. She thought a civilian life here would suit her, that she’d grow accustomed to the slow pace of lazy mornings and meaningless conversation, but it always left her feeling incomplete - there was no purpose to serve here, just existence.

So she agreed, and she shipped out the next morning.

—

She was grateful her last leave - though it was intended to be permanent - was only half a year, because owning a bakery didn’t exactly do wonders for one’s figure. She fell back into her training fairly easily and adhered to the strict regimen scarily well… she wondered if that deep-rooted need for a routine would ever change about her.

She wondered if she’d ever live normally, if she wasn’t condemned to this life of purgatory and violence. And yet, she craved it still.

She was put back in contact with Captain Price a few weeks into her training, and periodically he’d fly out to evaluate her progress. But, try as she might, no amount of prying would convince the Captain to tell her even the smallest detail of her upcoming mission…

“Need to make sure you’re solid, Sergeant,” he repeated himself for what must have been the dozenth time over the last few weeks. She huffed in moderate displeasement, but returned to her exercises. Price barked out a few more commands in that low, gruff voice she’d only just recently gotten used to once more before straightening up. She slowed from her jog, the difference in his gaze piquing her interest.

“0500 tomorrow. Nik will transport you to a covert location in Urzikstan. We’ll meet and brief there.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask. If there was one thing she’d learned from her time  with the Captain, it was to keep the questions and the bullshit to a minimum.

Kate must have had sympathy for her, because that night she emailed her a heavily encrypted file containing dossiers of each of the Task Force members.

To: Wren Y. (Sgt., Special Forces)

From: Katherine L. (Chief, CIA)

Subject: Dossiers

Don’t tell John I sent you this. [encrypted file]

CIA Station Chief Katherine Laswell

George Bush Center for Intelligence

Langley, Virginia

She read through them without much thought. They were names on a paper, just like all of her Shadow Company comrades had been. She vividly remembered sitting with Philip and sifting through application after application… back when she felt like she could take on the world. When he made her believe she could.

She sighed. Even years later, she wondered if she’d ever quite get over it. Over him. It still nagged at her - she should’ve long been past it, but Wren was always a creature of habit.

She didn’t like change, and there sure had been a lot of it over the last few years. Maybe this time would finally mean something.

She liked the team well enough. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. She knew Price and Gaz already, of course. Soap seemed like an interesting guy, but she made a note to never get on his bad side. All of Ghost’s information was redacted - even his name. It sparked her curiosity, but she knew her place well enough to leave it alone.

She slept well enough that night… It was amazing what a good cup of tequila and a sleeping pill could do.

[boromirswife]

A beautiful artwork of Jamie Winton and my YMATA OC Jules, which I commissioned from the amazingly talented @buckymilf! I love it so, so much 🥹

(I have an OC blog @mari-ocs if you ever want to read anything about Jules or any of my other OCs ❤️)