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r0-boat · 1 month ago

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MC and the seven Demon concubines Headcannons

Instead of taking a human lover, You had other tastes in men.

You're so busy trying to really your kingdom you sometimes forget how loved you are! Your lovers are happy to remind you.

Satan

Satan is your military Commander, a force to be reckoned with in battle. But you're the only one who can tame him, (or make him worse). Using your body or letting you use his body as a stress relief, He's more than happy to fuck the stress right out of you.

Even though he is a demon, you can't help but worry for him when he goes out to fight Your battles for your kingdom. He writes to you often and brings gifts from war. He tells you not to worry about him since you always do, even when he cannot see you. And when he gets home, he will make it up to you ;)

Satan frequence the training grounds where he can practice all sorts of weapons as well as the barracks where he spars and chats among his soldier and Conrad's at arms. If you ask he is more than happy to train you in combat. There is nothing cuter than you're serious face as your hand grips a sword tightly in your hand.

If you manage to beat him in combat, his eyes will stare blankly at the sky, lying on the ground. He's never been so turned on in his life. He'll take you right then and there caring little for how many soldiers in his army see. To his knowledge the soldiers are smitten with you as whis will be a great reminder that you are his.

Mammon

He was yours from the start. The arrogant demon is so confident to win and buy your attention. As the richest, wealthiest man in the world, He knows his assets, and he's proud of them. Your kindness and humbleness not only confuses him but makes him fall harder. Your personality is just as beautiful as your face and body and you are made to be spoiled.

He worships the ground you walk on and peppers every inch of your body with his lips. Despite having a kingdom You still hold so little to your name. Mammon has known Kings and queens that have the rarest riches in the realm. But you give everything you have and to your kingdom and that kind of generosity attracts him like a moth to a flame.

Mammon is not only the devil of greed but also a successful businessman and merchant. Traveling across the realm to collect more riches and do business with other kingdoms. He showers you with gifts about 10 times a week. Or at least tries most the time you politely decline his generous gifts and it takes him a lot of effort to make you accept what you deserve.

At least you accept his pleasure in bed, when he greedily tastes you with his tongue like a starving man. Fucking your body like he owns it. You already own his.

Leviathan

Your fiance in an arranged marriage. She tells you over and over again that This marriage is only to join your kingdoms in an alliance and you agreed since he offered Not only your independence from his kingdom and yours but also his unwavering support.

Leviathan is starting to regret not joining your kingdoms as you gain more concubines and more rivals to your love He wished he could have just became emperor.

Unbeknownst to you, he's loved you for a while now, But having never experienced this emotion And the fact that you are still technically a rival kingdom, His feelings for you are complicated. Leviathan's followers and devoted subjects constantly stir the pot just so they can have their beloved emperor to get more excuses to be with you more.

Another way to air out the weight in his heart is to write love letters from a "secret admirer"

Beelzebub

The wandering eldest prince to the throne of his kingdom ran away since he hated work leaving his best friend Bael his "brother" to run the kingdom for him. When he traveled to your kingdom he fell in love with not only the great food but the beautiful scenery and the nice people. Finally contacting his "brother"He struck up a deal. To become your concubine in exchange, you would help protect his kingdom.

The Sly Prince wanted this to be a business only transaction but of course he had to fall in love with you over time. When he isn't traveling to other kingdoms, He is by your side.

He travels to other lands, writing letters to you and sending you gifts And when he comes back, he talks greatly about his travels and wants you to come along on his next trip.

Beelzebub is is a bad influence on you. To him all you do is work, work, work, and he tries to coax you into spending the day with him. If you've never been out the palace before he will have a good time trying to dress you up in disguise so the two of you could frolic out of the palace walls.

Lucifer

Was once the eldest son of a powerful empire now kicked out for his arrogance and pridefulness, he is a powerful paladin night with a talented gifts of healing. He treats the sick and wounded. Now he is building his own paradise Kingdom filled with all kinds of people from all different walks of life.

He met you one one day you felt ill from a deadly disease. The people in your court begged Lucifer to help and they do anything... He didn't understand his feelings then when his heart felt lighter, and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. When his eyes gazed upon you're sleeping form he was transfixed. Something about you pulled him toward you. Something about you He must have.

For healing you He asked for your hand. He does not need your power or your people. Since he could grow that himself. It is you he wants and you he shall get.

Even though he is technically your concubine Lucifer and you see each other on equal footing. Lucifer wants you to choose him, But he is still busy growing his kingdom. So the two of you are right often. When he does visit, he acts as though he's your knight in shining armor. Kissing your hand and standing by your side as if to protect you.

Belphegor(+Beleth)

He thought becoming your concubine would be a hassle. He was only doing this for the good of his own kingdom. But that opinion quickly changed when he actually got his first taste of you. Now he's obsessed So obsessed that His "advisor"Now wants you.

If it wasn't for the fact that you're so far away and he needs to still keep an eye on his subjects and kingdom he would not hesitate to live in the cozy chamber you prepared for him when he does stay.

You're such a diligent and hard worker so passionate to better your kingdom All he wants to do is support you, (by sleeping in bed supporting you in spirit)

But you can't help but notice Beleth His advisor had been eyeing you more recently. Maybe he wants you just as bad. His advisor looks more like his knight he probably is to

Asmodeus

You're not sure how you scored an audience with The king from one of the most feared kingdoms on the map. A kingdom known for its lack of laws. With impenetrable rock walls and a thick iron gate being heavily heavily guarded. The Kingdom feels more like a prison than a home. Perhaps that's why most people end up going if they have nowhere to go.

Asmodeus had everything handed to him and he wonders why you're different. He wonders why you hesitate to fall to your knees... He's puzzled by the fact that he actually has competition to compete with.

You're not sure why he's fond of you so. He brings you mountain of gifts some you don't even want to open and many many steamy love letters. It has been a painfully long time since he wanted someone so bad before.

He's fine with being your concubine for now as long as he has in your bed he is But even then that will soon to be proved not enough as he continues to crave for more and more of you.

#what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb asmodeus #whb x reader #whb mammon #whb lucifer #whb belphegor #whb

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nuzipilled · 3 months ago

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THE GANGS ALL HERE 🗣️🔥‼️ information below the cut, “B” cast ( Doll, Lizzy, Thad) have not been included yet as they dont have a role in the main story yet. feel free to ask any questions, me and @kylelily123abc4 will do our best to answer them (:

UZI

Uzi is a 21 year old woman with an undergraduate in medical engineering, which she was coaxed into by her parents (Namely Khan). She is incredibly adept and smart and prefers the technicalities of weapons engineering, and majors in art on the side. She would like to do it full time, however her parents insist it’s not a “real job.” She volunteers at the local hospital N, V and J are relocated to from overseas so they can continue inpatient care until they are stable enough to be discharged and resume physio / psychotherapy as outpatients. She meets N during his time there and immediately clicks with him, and eventually begins to visit him on her off hours, and continues to visit him even after her contract ends. They end up establishing a relationship together and, after finding it is much less expensive commuting to school, moves in with N, V, J, Cyn and Tessa in their apartment for the semester.

She spent most of her childhood moving around and being bullied—the most significant moment having been when her first kiss was stolen by someone who only dated her because he was dared to.

Uzi is a big fan of all things anime, edgy humor, hot topic, and nightcore. she’s got the soul of an unabashed 2000s emo girl stuck in the modern day.

Private first class Nate (all his friends call him N) Is a 23 year old man who was fostered from a family in Utah alongside his sister Cyn under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. When of applicable age, he went back to the United States to enlist in the marines and live with Cyn, a former child prodigy who was scouted and given multiple scholarships due to record breaking academics and reflexes on simulator games.

He was severely traumatized during his first deployment overseas along with his other childhood friends, V, and J, after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. He, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Despite his honorable discharge and severe ptsd diagnosis, N does his best to remain upbeat and positive, almost to a fault, oftentimes repressing “bad” thoughts or feelings.

He ends up meeting Uzi in the hospital and they form a relationship together, her eventually moving in and living with V, J, Him, Tessa, and Cyn in their flat after they’re discharged from the hospital.

Sergeant Jane (Only preferring J when around close friends) is a 26 year old trans woman who was fostered from an immigrant afghan family under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 4-18, having realized she was a woman very early in life. She began socially transitioning at 12, and began HRT as soon as she aged out of the system. She was the first to be involved with the Elliots and was pushed to enlist in the australian military, quickly moving up the ranks to sergeant and was eventually posted in the united states to assist in training other cadets. She was severely traumatized during her second deployment overseas along with her other childhood friends, V, and N after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. she, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Having been their squad leader, J often blames herself for the incident, even if she doesn’t talk about it or say anything out loud. J is an ass kisser. She will do anything and everything to succeed and has a Holier Than Thou personality, often very uptight and not about any bullshit. Her relationship with N specifically is horrible, and she harbours lots of jealousy and resentment from their time growing up due to favoritism.

She has a long standing, massive crush on Tessa Elliot, her longtime confidant and friend, though it went unrequited for their entire childhood and into their early adult life, J often being subject to Tessa’s dating endeavours and crushes in the meantime.

Lance Corporal Victoria, (Who prefers to go by V present day) 4-18 who was fostered from a family in Vermont under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. She enlisted in the military alongside J and eventually N, and was transferred to the states to assist in training procedures for new cadets with J.

She was decommissioned during her second deployment overseas along with N and J after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. She took the brunt of the blast, sustaining the most severe wounds and was airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

The doctors operating on her told her she would never walk again--V proved that wrong by walking the next week. It was a miracle—however V simply states it was due to “having that dog in her.”

She is very resilient, but is often grumpy with a dry sense of tone and humor. She used to have feelings for N when they were kids, but it's since faded as they grew and disappeared during their time in active duty. Though despite this, she still cares for him as a friend, even if she rarely shows it.

She is the first to be discharged, having been set up in an apartment downtown by Tessa, who lives with her and eventually is joined by N, J, Cyn, and eventually Uzi. She is a gym rat with a heavy workout regimen that she will make everyone else's problem if its interrupted.

CYN

Cynthia (Who ONLY goes by Cyn present day) is N's little sister. She is still in active duty in the military air-force. She was a child savant who graduated highschool at 14 and college at 18, moving on to become one of the best UAV operators in history, with successful missions reaching into the hundreds. Cyn is autistic and physically disabled, having been born with cerebral palsy, and uses forearm crutches as mobility aids--but make no mistake, she is incredibly intuitive and adept. often knock-kneed and walks with an awkward gate, and speaks with very ‘robotic’ mannerisms. She sometimes struggles to show empathy in a ‘socially normal way’ or have a conversational filter. She has a very dark sense of humor as well, that for those not used to her may find jarring or off putting. Cyn hates being referred to as a child or incompetent because of her appearance or her disability, she will even go to an extent to prove the point that she does not need assistance. Tends to be protective of N, to a lesser but still protective of V and J and much later down the line Uzi becomes a close friend of hers.

In her off time she enjoys painting warhammer figurines, collecting cards and playing video games. She has a very kitsch, macabre sense of interest, often owning eclectic, odd knick knacks and memorabilia, namely a taxidermied wombat she’s affectionately named “Suzie.”

TESSA

Dr Tessa James Elliot is a very talented surgeon working out of a public hospital in Brisbane, Australia, descending from a very rich family. She is N, V and J’s childhood friend and frequently travels to different parts of the world to assist in surgeries or specialist care. Tessa paused all of her work when she learned of their incident overseas, flying to America to personally attend to their care–with some bribery and finagling due to HIPPA not allowing biased treatment. She just cares too much to not do anything. Tessa is a joyful, social butterfly. Excellent bedside manner and a good sense of humor but sometimes comes off as socially awkward. She is J’s lifelong crush despite not being aware of it, having spent some time dating around but nobody ever seems to be the right fit. She often complains about her recent dating endeavors to J much to her chagrin.

Tessa is, for the lack of a better word, weird. Think Cyn with a little more charisma, often not having a conversational filter or saying things out of the blue. She is not disturbed by otherwise off putting things like death, bodily fluids, nudity, gore etc, and has a bit of a dark sense of humor that she portrays very upbeat and positively. She is incredibly smart and adept bookwise, however socially she comes up a bit short.

there is an alternative version of these guys however it is 18+ for nudity. you can see it on bluesky here and twitter here

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j #md cyn #tessa md #tessa james elliot #murder drones doll #md doll #md lizzy #md thad #murder drones fanart #nuzi #human au #md fanfic #my stuff

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babyleostuff · 6 months ago

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── HOME

✩ THEME: fluff, attempt at humour + a bit of angst mainly due to jungkook being away in the military ✩ PAIRING: idol!jungkook x fem!reader ✩ WORD COUNT: 871

“bam!” you yelled out, “stop scratching the door and come for dinner, baby!”

it was weird to say the least. usually, all you had to do was to pass by the food bowls for bam to be on high alert and ready to be served lunch, tail wagging and ears pointy, but now… he was nowhere near as interested in the 99% meat protein boosters mixed with the whole grain chicken clusters (jungkook loved buying bam all of the funky and fancy food) as he was in the entrance door.

you sighed, as you heard another scratch. “bam,” you said for the twentieth time in the last five minutes, “dinner is ready,” you crouched down, and placed his bowls on the feeder stand. “if you don’t eat it, i will,” you muttered under your nose, and lowered your head to rest it on your lap.

these were the moments when you missed jungkook the most.

as if bam could sense the sudden shift in your mood, he slowly padded over to where you were crouching, his nails tapping against the wooden floors, and nudged you with his snout. “finally changed your mind, hm?” you giggled, scratching your big baby behind his ears. almost as if he could understand your words, he nodded his head excitedly, nearly knocking one of the bowls over.

“okay big boy, let’s calm down and eat.”

but before bam could even get a sniff of his food, a quiet, yet very familiar sound drew your attention back to the entrance door. the doberman didn’t waste a second and started barking like crazy, which did not help your paranoia that something was off. jungkook made sure that bam underwent all the necessary training to avoid situations like this one, and never since you’ve met bam had he acted so chaotic and unlike himself. besides, you couldn’t open the door to your apartment with the code anymore since the touchpad was broken, and the only people with keys were you and your boyfriend.

and jungkook was far away from here, so…

technically bam could protect you and jungkook in case of a break-in, but you didn’t want to be left without a weapon, so you grabbed the nearest candlestick so you could stab the intruder with a half burned candle.

“bam, come here,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

you managed to grab him by his collar just as the intruder slowly opened the door, so much so that you could take a peek at one of the black military boots that was… oddly familiar. then the person threw a large backpack inside. that’s probably where he’d pack all the things he planned on stealing from your home. mhm, over my dead body. the only thing you were ready to give away were jungkook’s underwear - they took way too much space in the closet.

you held onto bam a bit tighter as the intruder grunted, and threw inside another duffel bag. wow, so this was a big heist.

“don’t move!” you shouted out, and raised your hand with the candlestick. “i’m armed and i have a doberman, so if i were you i’d find another place to rob.”

but before you could unleash the beast in the form of a scaredy-cat doberman though, you heard a giggle. and not any giggle.

it was the giggle you fell in love with after hearing it for the first time. it belonged to you best friend, to your one and only love, to your comfort person that you’d look out for in any crowd.

but it was impossible because he wasn't supposed to be home for the next month.

the intruder pushed the door so you could finally take a proper look at the person who was about to rob you. expect for- “hi, baby,” jungkook smiled, and crooked his head in amusement taking in your form.

with a candlestick in your hand, and crouched over the dog holding onto him for dear life, jungkook couldn’t think of a better welcome back home. “it’s good to know the apartment is safe in your arms,” he laughed, as the realisation hit you.

he was there. jungkook was standing right in front of you.

you dropped your makeshift weapon and squealed, quickly making your way over to your boyfriend. “what? why?” you breathed, and threw your hands around his shoulders, that seemed even wider now. as much as you hated being away from him, god - he looked hot as fuck in the uniform. “what are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask.

jungkook circled one of his strong arms around your waist, keeping your feet off the ground, and cupped your cheek with his other hand, stroking it gently. “you’re really here, aren’t you?” you slowly pulled the cap off his head to get a better look at him, and ran your hair through the short, black strands that were sticking in all different directions. the scar on his cheek, the mole under his lips, the doe eyes.

“i am,” he smiled. jungkook didn’t have to say how much he had missed you - you could see it all in his eyes, and that meant more than a thousand words.

#bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts reactions

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nazrigar · 2 months ago

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Transformers All-sparks: Cybertronian Military

Introducing Cybertronian Military folk, from Triple Changers to the Chief Justiciary. Triple Changers were Senator Shockwave's greatest achievement prior to his fall from grace. Recruits were picked from candidates of the military with T-cogs that (hopefully) could withstand the modifications required to have TWO alt modes instead of one. Triple Changers are rare. VERY rare, as the process was dangerous.

But the results were considered worth it, because they ended up creating some VERY formidable warriors.

Meanwhile, in terms of special forces, we introduce the Cybertronian Wreckers, warriors meant to be the spearhead of dangerous operations of extreme risk. Those who live long are considered some of the most dangerous warriors of Cybertron.

All the while, all members of the Military, when they do wrong or unlawful acts, become under the purview of one the most powerful judicial institutions in Cybertron, the Cybertronian Military Tribune, headed by "The Great Magnus".

Springer: Brimming with confidence and sarcasm galore, Springer is essentially the perfect Wrecker, with the skills to back it up. He's the Cybertronian Man of Action, and don't you forget it!

Strika: A heavy weapons Transformers and one of the meanest and no-nonsense warriors out there. If she thinks you are sup bar she WILL say it outright and in your face about it. Meanwhile, as a living artillery platform, she's good at her job and knows it.

Kup: Ancient. Kup is OLD. He's rough around the edgest and a tad bit ornery, but he has a lot of wisdom beneath the facade. Technically not active duty, but not retired either, he's officially "in reserver", ready to be called up whenever Cybertron needs him.

Ultra Magnus: The current Magnus, weilder of the Magnus hammer, and highest member of the military's justice system, it is through him that makes sure justice is given fairly and firmly. A powerful man with a personal hobby of designing and researching various armors. He can belt out a speech about laws, but otherwise quite stiff in casual conversation.

The Hounds: "Big Dog" Hound is an old war veteran who's seen the best of the best Cybertron has to offer, and some of the worst. Has a big Engex belly, and a plethora of weapons on his station, and knows how to use each and everyone of 'em. Used to be crass and rough around the edges, but mellowed down considerable after the creation of his son. "Little Dog" Hound is someone, whom at first glance, shouldn't be part of the Cybertronian military, for he much prefers sightseeing the natural world and tinkering with Holograms than fighting. He joined because, deep down, he feels like it's his duty, as with every Hound before him, but he's glad he could serve his OWN way. After all, hologram study are relatively non violent.

Blitzwing: The first successful triple changer, and a beast on the battlefield. Also an unbelievably unpleasant person on a personal level, likely to mock a bot's suffering and struggles when they're not "military material" enough.

Octane: Another triple changer, and by all means doesn't actually want to be there, but he was caught for theft and it was either serving the military or time in prison. Despite his might as a triple changer, he's VERY reluctant to get into dangerous situations.

Impactor: The legendary leader of the Wreckers, no mission too bold, no mission too dangerous, and if you give him a mission, his tenacity and resolve means he WILL get it done, no matter the cost. Springer's boss.

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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Dove (part seven)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope and the slowest, slow burn I swear)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven.

---

A tense knot has formed right between Leon’s shoulder blades – can feel it pull when he tilts his head side to side, but it doesn’t seem to be loosening. Can’t even blame it on sleeping on the sofa cos he hasn’t laid down to sleep since the call with Hunnigan, stays sat up right. He’s athletic, he can jump up to his feet from horizontal but it’ll add a second or so to his reaction time and he’s not taking the risk.

He's on edge and he doesn’t like it. The ball of anxiety in his gut has saved his life more times than he can count, but it shouldn’t be necessary in this situation, should it? He’s set up in a safe house, literally off some beaten track in the middle of nowhere – location chosen and distributed by encrypted software so, technically, no-one in the DSO knows where he is either. It’s rigged up to the heavens with security measures - cameras, alarm systems, motion detector - explosion-proof windows, reinforced doors, all topped off with his favourite array of weapons in the duffel bag, currently resting by his still booted feet.

The objective of his mission hasn’t changed after the intel he’s received, that some foreign agency has had access to the CCTV feed for who knows how many hours before they were cut off. He should feel reassured that the quality of the footage was awful – it was only by how many times he’s encountered Lickers that he could even tell that’s what the creatures were when he’d be presented with the grainy images. He didn’t see the footage of you being rescued, but it would be a cruel kick in the gut to find that feed had been HD.

He lifts an arm – his left, keeping his right arm free, his accuracy is better by millimetres with his right – and rubs the knot, hoping to relieve the tension. It's not 100% confirmed they are looking or will be looking for you either, but why would anyone link up to the CCTV circuit if not to check on the outcome of their operation?

His immediate thought had been to up the frequency of his perimeter checks, one every two hours. He could do that at night, sure – military training taught him the correct and most efficient techniques to power nap – but in the day it would be harder without worrying you about what’s changed.

You wanted updates. Hell, you were entitled to updates. But he wants to give you good news, doesn’t wanna add to the weight on your shoulders with what could be nothing. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but in these sweet domestic moments the two of you have been sharing, he’s been pretending it’s something else – friends watching television, cooking a meal together – the sweet smiles the two of you exchange, but it’s all ripped apart the moment he has to do his checks. He can see the worry settle on your face then, a reminder of where you are with the flick of the safety off his gun and the twist of the lock as he goes outside to conduct surveillance.

Speaking of, his phone beeps for his next circuit on the building and he’s up on his feet in the blink of an eye. He pats his cargo pocket out of habit for the keys on the walk over to the garage door, but finds himself pausing outside your bedroom, his eyes focusing on the handle. You should still be pretty under with those sleeping pills – note to self, he’ll need to start weening you off them from now on, far too easy to get addicted. It wouldn’t hurt to just… check you were okay, would it?

No – that’s what you’re here, why he’s here – to protect you.

It would just be doing his job.

He presses down on the handle and slowly opens the door, breath caught in his throat. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, the lamp in the living room not quite reaching as far as your bed, but eventually he can make out your face – as peaceful as he’s ever seen it.

You’re on your side. The position doesn’t look like it would be comfortable with your arm still strapped up in the sling, but it’s testimony to how well the sleeping pills are working. Your other arm is up by your face, hand clenched in a tight fist around something. He steps forward without thinking, curious what it could be.

Your fingers are gripped tightly around his watch.

And there’s a pain in his chest that feels like they’re gripped around his heart as well.

That settles it - he’s not gonna tell you about the hacked CCTV feed. He will tell you that Hunnigan hasn’t searched your place yet, that they’ve restarted the surveillance department – she’d asked him to ask you if you knew anything about the servers since they were appeared to be working from square one – but that was it.

Leon steps back with unnecessary caution, leaving the bedroom as silently as he entered and shuts the door with a soft click. He takes a deep breath, pats down his pockets again and heads out to circle the perimeter.

And, just like after you kissed his cheek, he does it twice.

You wake up after another peaceful and dreamless sleep, though it still takes a moment to remember where you are as you stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. You wonder if tomorrow you’ll not experience that flicker of panic, just get up and accept that you’ll be picking today’s outfit out of a selection of clothes that you’re not sure if anyone’s worn before you.

You feel sore, as seems to be becoming the norm, but with unusually stiff fingers on your good hand. It seems you’ve clutched Leon’s watch all night. You’d fallen asleep quite quickly – all thanks to those sleeping pills – but you remember looking at it when you’d first got in the bed, the seconds ticking by lulling you to sleep. The fact that you’ve held it for so long reminds you of when you were a kid and snuggled up with a stuffed toy for comfort, except instead of something soft and cuddly, it’s what appears to be a top of line timepiece. There’s a lot of information contained on the face of the dial but there’s the time is the only one you really care about – 0906.

You get to your feet, raising your good arm to a grunt of protest as you try and run your fingers through your hair in lieu of a mirror. Huh, that pain’s new. Your hair is definitely due a wash now, but that’s an issue for later. You pull on a pair of sweatpants one-handed – you’ll be a pro soon, you’re sure of it – and put Leon’s watch in the pocket for safekeeping. It’d be difficult to try and navigate the door handle with it still gripped in your good hand and you’d hate to scratch it up.

You open the door cautiously – you hadn’t seen Leon asleep yet, but he must do at some point. Maybe you should offer to alternate the sofa and the bed? Though you have a feeling that he’s far too much of a gentleman to accept.

Or there’ll be something in the rules that prohibits that.

There’s no danger of waking him though - the agent in question is performing sit-ups in the middle of the living room floor, facing the other way. Muscular arms behind his head as he lets out little puffs of exertion at the exercise, alternating sides as he twists.

Wary that you don’t want to be caught staring, you shut the door with more force than necessary behind you and greet him with a smile when he looks over his shoulder.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Dove!” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Morning. Sleep okay?” He jumps up to his feet before taking a couple of steps over in your direction. There’s a grin on his face at the sight of you – makes you feel giddy.

“Yeah, thanks. How about you?”

“That’s good. Yeah, I slept fine.” He nods. It’s not a lie – he did sleep fine for the position he forced himself to maintain all night, despite the slight crick in his neck.

“Is that how you usually start your mornings?”

One of the arms you’d been admiring goes up to rub the back of his head again. “Kinda. I usually go for a run, but…”

“But you can’t leave me on my own.” You finish, smile dropping a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be - I’m not.” He drops his arm back down, casting an eye over a watch that’s not there. “Hey, you hungry? I can get breakfast started. Oatmeal again?”

“Sure.” You nod, fishing his watch out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Thanks again for this. It was nice to wake up and know the time this morning.”

“Don’t mention it. You can, er, you know, keep it. If you like.” He can’t get the image of you fast asleep last night, clutching it close to your face. He knows it was most likely the sleeping pills meaning you’d just passed out with it in your hand more than anything deeper, but, hey, a guy can pretend.

“I’ll be okay, I can get the time off the TV during the day.” You hold it out again with insistence. “But maybe… maybe I could have it for the night again?”

“Deal.” Leon hastily agrees, his fingers brushing yours as he takes back the watch before fastening it around his wrist. “Breakfast coming right up.”

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as he heads towards the kitchen – your heart warmed once more by the sight of the blob of toothpaste sat ready and waiting on your toothbrush.

“And, finally, oatmeal.” He places it down on the coffee table, alongside your coffee, a glass of water and your morning dose of painkillers.

“Thank you.” You lean forward to pick up the spoon, smiling back at the face that Leon’s drizzled in honey atop your breakfast again.

“Nah, pleasure’s all mine.” He calls over his shoulder as he picks up his own bowl from the kitchen. He hesitates for a second, before choosing to sit the other end of the sofa to you, rather than the opposite one.

“You know, I don’t get to do this very often. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” you swallow a spoonful of oatmeal. “Thought you said you’d been in lots of safe houses.”

“A fair amount. But, no, not that part. I mean, eating breakfast with someone.” “So…” You stir the spoon around the bowl, hoping it might prove a perfect segway into something you’d been wondering. “..there’s no-one at home for you?”

“Me?” He seems to scoff at the idea. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replies casually, before his blue eyes widen in alarm at how it might come across. “

“I mean, just by the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anyone at your apartment that morning and you hadn’t asked any of those sorta questions, you know, if they’d been told about what happened, where you are...”

He’s flustered, feels like he’s really putting his foot in his mouth this morning. He can take the lead in the interrogation of some of the world’s most despicable humans, for goodness’ sake, he should be able to talk to a pretty girl.

“Yeah, I figured.” You tease back and he swears he feels the weight lift off his shoulders.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment when curiosity gets the better of you. “So, you didn’t eat breakfast with the… others?”

“Nope.” His tone is firm as he recalls some of his previous charges. “Certainly didn’t make them it either. Trust me – they were nowhere near as nice or as deserving of my protection as you are, Dove.” The comment makes your head tingle.

“It’s all been people ‘realising’ how deep they’d sank but only grew a conscience to save their own skin. Hell, you might have even performed surveillance on some of them. A lot of criminals finally show backbone when they realise their time is running out.”

“Well, I’m glad to make a change – both for sharing breakfast and …safe house occupancy with.”

“A nice change,” he mumbles, but you still hear.

After breakfast, you go to shower and Leon sets himself to task with the dishes once again, says he did his last perimeter check before nine. Removing the sling proves trickier than yesterday – when you go to tug off the Velcro your opposite shoulder smarts with a similar pain of that morning, causing you to hiss through your teeth, something which the painkillers from breakfast don’t seem to have alleviated.

You step into the cubicle after undressing – the hot water immediately somewhat soothing on your bruised shoulders but you still struggle to get what you now deem as your good arm high enough to even entertain the possibility of washing your hair.

You try and avoid your reflection in the mirror when you dress, though you know you’ll have to confront your hair at some point. Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse – a greasy mop sat upon your head that makes your heart sink.

There must be a trick to it – other people must wash their hair one-handed all the time, but maybe they can lift an arm above their head. If you were home, you’d go to a salon, you think – an expensive you would deem necessary for your sanity.

A thought flashes across your mind – a ridiculous one. Leon is already doing so much for you, surely this would be completely over the line.

But you could… ask, couldn’t you? The worst he could do was say no, it would be awkward, and maybe there’s a hat in the duffel bag you’ve yet to discover.

You open the bathroom door, but don’t make to step over the threshold. Leon looks over from the sofa – dishes now drying in the rack besides the sink - and clocks your hesitation.

“Need a hand with the sling?”

Are you really going to ask him this?

You’ll break at some point - you know you will, so why not get it over with now? You’re a regimented two-day wash kinda girl and it’s day three. Not to be completely vain, but you’re covered with bruises and cuts, dressed in less than flattering clothes that aren’t yours and it would be nice to feel somewhat decent about something in your appearance.

Especially with the handsome company you’re keeping. Hell, Leon could be a model, a hair model too. There’d been shampoo and conditioner in the shower and you certainly hadn’t used it.

“Dove?” You’ve taken too long to reply again, getting stuck in your spiralling thoughts.

“I know this isn’t what you’re here for.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think further.

“Okay…” Leon's eyebrow is raised, a curious smile now fixed on his lips as he gets to his feet.

“And say no, obviously. Please. Just… I’d like to wash my hair.” You drop your eyes then – maybe it’ll be easier if you talk to your feet rather staring into his kind eyes?

"Right."

“And I’d… You know, I’d go to a salon and get it done there if we weren’t… here.”

“You’d like me to help you wash your hair?” There’s a tone of amusement or maybe disbelief in his tone.

Hearing him say it aloud makes you doubt the entire exercise, your heart begin to pound at your stupidity. “Sorry. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid to ask-“

“Hey, no, it makes sense.” He soothes, immediately wanting to ease your frustrations. “You can’t lift your arm above your head, right? My fault for not thinking about that.”

You look up then, seeing the sincerity on his face – like it truly was his fault that you couldn’t wash your own damn hair.

“I can do that, Dove. I don’t see why not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm. As you said, if you were anywhere else right now, you could go to a salon and whilst I can’t promise their quality, I seem to do all right with my own.” He shrugs. “You thinking over the sink?”

He doesn’t know why he asks – it’s hardly like you’re going to ask him to get in the shower with you.

Is it?

“I think so.” You look around the living area, though you’re well acquainted with what feels like every square inch of it now. “Though it might be a little awkward since we don’t have any chairs.”

He snaps his fingers. “Nah, there might be one in the garage, actually. Lemme check.”

He barely makes it into the garage when his cell vibrates in his pocket – one new message from Hunnigan.

Any server information for me?

Leon finds the folding chair nestled at the side of the washer and dryer and hesitates over the text back.

He’ll wash your hair – seeing how torn up you’d been about even asking him had made him feel awful - then he’ll give you the updates and ask about the servers.

He picks up the chair and tucks it under one arm, swiftly typing out a message on his cell and clicks send.

Not yet – Dove’s still asleep.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Part eight.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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sonic-fankid-showdown · 9 months ago

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Poll 12, Round 1.

About Stellar: (by @emthimofnight) The product of Project Stellar—a secret government operation aiming to perfect Project Shadow—Stellar is a genetic experiment combining the DNA of the Ultimate Life Form and the fastest thing alive. Designed to be a living weapon, Stellar was born in a hidden facility where she would have been raised to be an unstoppable weapon for the military. Thankfully, Shadow the Hedgehog (with help from Rouge the Bat) discovered her existence, destroyed the lab, and rescued her as an infant. Shadow then went on to begrudgingly inform his long-time rival, Sonic the Hedgehog, of their newfound child, seeing as she was technically just as much Sonic's problem as she was Shadow's. From there, the duo (along with help from their friends) raised Stellar as their daughter, sheltering her from the knowledge she was created to be a force of destruction for her masters. Along the way, Sonic and Shadow found themselves truly falling for one another, dissolving the barriers they had placed between one another as rivals, finding new appreciation for each other in their new parental roles. Stellar herself is a bright, warm-hearted person. She has a strong sense of justice and never shies away from standing up for what is right. She takes after Sonic in personality, always cracking jokes and finding it hard to sit still. Despite this, she inherited Shadow's finesse and ability to plan out her choices, not to mention his abilities to utilize chaos energy. She has a love for figure skating, ballet, and make up (thanks to Auntie Rouge!), but don't let her feminine side fool you, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty! She would love nothing more than to spend her day smashing badniks into the ground with her skates if her dads would let her! Stellar loves both of her parents dearly, but sometimes wishes that they wouldn't be so protective of her. After all, what could they possibly have to be worried about?

About Rapidfire-Harley Davidson: (by @confused-bagel) Just a regular hedgehog that was found as a hoglet in the woods by Sonic and Shadow. They took him in after being reminded of their own pasts of being lost and forgotten. They went back and forth on names for hours until they agreed that Rapidfire-Harley Davidson was the coolest name. He doesn’t have any special powers but he can still melt your heart!

#Stellar the Hedgehog #Rapidfire-Harley Davidson #sonic fanchild #sonic fankid #sonic fankid showdown #sonic oc #sonic the hedgehog #sth #round 1 #sfs 1

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luciaintheskyainthi · 8 days ago

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Happy new years! Even if it's still 2024 for me <3

If for some reason Tony could meet the batfamily and Jason, how would their reunion turn out? (Besides all the trauma)

I really wanted to see how this would unfold.

Like Tony (*technically* peter's overprotective father figure) and Jason (the older boyfriend, associated with crime and literally everything Tony would disapprove of) trying to have a peaceful dinner for the sake of the person they love.

Happy new years to you too! This is a great question, getting me to think about father figures!

Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I actually think MCU Peter would have been closer to Happy than to Tony Stark!

Peter definitely idolises Tony Stark, but it's very much hero worship, and I don't think they really got the chance to become close in the same way he would have had the opportunity to have with Happy, who took both May and Peter in after the fallout of Quentin Beck, even after May broke up with him. That's goated behaviour (a little part of my millennial soul died saying that lol).

Sure, there's evidence of Tony and Peter interacting, and arguably Tony's entire reason for risking everything after the Snap was a desire to bring Peter back, but it could be argued that this came down to guilt and five years of rose-tinted glasses over the times they did spend together. Peter's presence in Tony's life is also what probably made Tony open up to the idea of having a child of his own, so yeah, if he did come back, there's a chance Tony would want to take a more active and fatherly role in Peter's life.

But the way things actually turned out? It's Happy all the way. However, similar to Tony, I don't think Peter was ready to see Happy in that way until after the events of NWH. A throwback to Uncle Ben. Hero-worshipping Tony Stark was safe: he was practically a new god and therefore untouchable. No chance of the Parker curse getting him... But Happy? He was just 'some guy'. And looking at 'some guy' with father-tinted glasses was far more dangerous to Peter Parker.

To get to the meat of your question though! Be it Happy or Tony, they would definitely be disapproving lol. Tony more than Happy, I imagine. But it's not as if Tony's got clean hands, pre or post-Iron Man.

In regards to Happy, consider: having worked with Tony for many years, Happy enabled Tony's wild behaviour before he eventually settled down as Iron Man. How many women many years younger than Tony would he have allowed to pass through those doors? And he was his driver/body guard/head of security, so it's not as if he's averse to killing either.

With all that in mind, here's how I'd imagine things would go down with Tony:

Tony: I don't approve of you (Jason) because you're a criminal and a murderer and also too old (and therefore I'm going to be an ass and not call you by your name).

Jason: Oh, cool, the former warlord who profited off the blood of thousands doesn't approve of me. Hey, did you know that there's no ethical way to be a billionaire? Where'd all those billions come from? Oh, that's right! All those weapons you equipped the military-industrial complex with! Viva la imperialism!

Tony: ... (Has no good rebuttal for this)... Your father is literally a billionaire.

Jason: estranged, but yep. And I steal from him all the time. But please, tell me more, weapons manufacturer, about how you're so much better than me.

Peter: this was a mistake

Jason: and speaking of too old, why don't you tell us about all your sexual conquests huh? You're telling me all the men and women you've slept with have always been your age? There's only five years between Pete and I, you saying that's the biggest gap you've had?

Peter: please make it stop.

At some point, it devolves into a brawl that Peter has to break up and he tears into both of them. It's a long time before they're allowed to spend time together again, and NEVER unsupervised.

If it was Happy, Jason would probably be a lot more respectful. They'd both give each other shit, it would probably also devolve into a fistfight at some point (Happy is such a posturer), but there'd be a hell of a lot less vitriol from Jason towards him. It'd be defensive anger, not the contempt he'd have for someone like Tony Stark acting like he's better than Jason.

I can see a reluctant truce develop between the Happy and Jason, with the odd snipe, but otherwise relatively peaceful. And heaven help anyone who hurt Peter if the two of them were involved.

Does any of this mean I don't love Iron Dad fics? Hell no! Chasing the Iron Dad trope is what led me to the Spider-Man in Gotham fandom in the first place (I was looking at the 'homeless Peter Parker' tag and came across Dark Matter and fell down the rabbit hole like the rest of you)! But in the world of ECM, I don't think Iron Dad is how things actually went down.

Hope that doesn't disappoint! LBR though it probably does lol

#existential crisis mode #peter parker x jason todd #marvel x dc #spiderman in gotham #one can be critical of someone like Tony Stark while also loving his character #Seriously #I was devastated when they killed him off #Iron Man lifted EVERY scene he was in in the MCU

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lokicraft · 8 months ago

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Self indulgent idea about task force 141 rescuing a wrongly-kidnapped scientist/researcher reader. Gender neutral reader, implied American reader implied violence and torture, implications about the reader looking young (I imagine the reader being between 20 and 30 years old). I see it as future tf141xreader, but feel free to imagine otherwise and/or take this idea and run with it as you please. MDNI.

————

Imagine you are a government researcher. Technically a government employee but you are pretty low on the ladder, just starting out at a research laboratory on a small military base. You are so excited to start working with your supervisor/PI, a very influential scientist who has their fingers in a lot of research pies (some more secret than others).

But you have nothing to do with the secret stuff. You’re more interested in environmental research (of which the military does have to pay at least a little bit of attention to, so you work with what you get).

You’re getting out of the lab late one evening, having to stay even after your PI left to clean glassware (your least favorite task). You lock the door to the research building and walk to your car, only to see someone else parked next to you. The hood of their car is open and they look distressed. You don’t recognize them but it’s not like you know everyone on base. So when they ask you for a jump start you agree and start rooting around your car to pop the hood. You just got your hand around that pesky lever when you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and everything goes dark.

————

You wake up in a dingy concrete room with your arms and legs tied to an equally dingy chair. You are shocked, panicking and in pain, but through the ringing in your ears you hear shouting from outside the room.

“What do you mean that’s not Dr. Scaffer?” An angry accented voice shouts.

“It was bad intel!” Another voice insists, same accent as far as your fuzzy brain can register, “we did not get any physical description, only that they would be the last one out!”

“A head research scientist with top secret clearance won’t look like a kid who just got out of college!” You hear a muffled bang - your heart stops beating in your chest - but the voice continues, dismissive, “I have to do everything myself.”

He enters the room.

————

Two hours later, not that you can really keep track, you are left alone again. Significantly more injured from what you just went through (your brain cannot even ponder the word “torture” through the unceasing static of your thoughts), you realize that you are going to die. Whoever kidnapped you grabbed the wrong person, and unless they want to know about the water quality of the watershed around base you don’t have any information they want. You are no use as a hostage, and you are going to die. You can only hope it will be quick and painless—

You can’t breathe, you were never good at handling stress.

At least when you’re unconscious it doesn’t hurt anymore.

————

Recovering VIPs is well within their capabilities, Gaz thought to himself as he recounted the brief they were given a short two hours ago. But usually if it was a researcher they were rescuing then their area of expertise would be weapons technology, or infectious diseases, or something that’s not water chemistry. It’s not his job to judge, it’s his job to get you back home where you belong. However the judgmental voice in the back of his mind can’t help but kick in, remembering the profile photo they were provided of you.

“They’re quite a cutie, no?”

Gaz is knocked out of his thoughts when Soap catches up to him, both fully geared up and heading to airstrip. Wheels up is in 15 minutes, and Gaz is sure their Captain and Lieutenant are already in the transport. While Ghost is probably just sitting and “brooding” as Gaz likes to call it, he gives Price a 50/50 on being on the phone with Laswell. Their Captain probably wants to know how a young researcher got kidnapped from an American military base only to end up as a hostage in Russia. Hell, Laswell probably wants to know that too.

“Time ta go save us a bonnie researcher!” Soap proclaims picking up the pace and rushing in front of Gaz. It’s obvious Johnny shares the same thoughts as Kyle when it comes to your appearance, only one is better at keeping those thoughts to themselves.

“Yeah let’s make sure we get them back alive” Gaz responds, his sharp mind working overtime to calculate how long your captors will keep you alive once realizing you are not a spring of top secret information nor a high profile bargaining chip.

“Of course we will mate,” Soap declares, his sober tone almost catching Gaz off guard, “with LT back on the roster we’re at full strength again, n’one left behind.”

Gaz agrees with the sentiment, and taps Soap on the chest lightly as they approach the transport.

“No one left behind”

————

Thanks so much for reading, this is my first time writing something like this so I’m still trying to get the character’s ‘voices’ right and all that. If you decide to build off this idea please tag me! I appreciate y’all 💚

#cod mwii #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #fic idea #text post #LC writes

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iamstillovingyou · 4 days ago

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I've been seeing a lot of dicourse about Kang Dae ho lying about his being in the marines and I don't think that he is lying but rather he has a complicated story with it and, as his ptsd would imply, trauma Spoilers for Squid Games season 2 from now on!!

- First of all, the tattoo Why does he have one? If he's a marine, it makes sense. If he isn't, why get it? Does he lie about it on a daily basis? Does he boast with it? When he got into the games he had no way of knowing whether his status as a marine was something which would benefit him in some way, so he hasn't got the tattoo shortly before the games - he voluntarily shares that he is also a marine, in order to bond with Jungbae; Dae ho lights up and joins him with pride that he is also a marine -however, later we can see him evading the topic or reluctantly talking about it and his father - I'd say that he's not lying about having been in the marines and even if he were, as someone pointed out (bless you), Korean men are legally required to go through military training, so even if Dae ho isn't a marine, he must know how to use a gun/rifle because he's had the training - now why does he react like that, as if he didn't know how to handle a weapon - what if, as he says, he joined the marines because of his father (he didn't wanna go, he was forced to) and hated it so much and was traumatised by it; what if something happened while he was there, he couldn't obey an order because of fear/morality or lost his comrades/friends etc. *remember he didn't wanna be there in the first place* which leaves him with ptsd *which is activated later when the shooting starts* so he leaves the marines - maybe at this point, his father is mad at him and basically kicks him out of the house and he is left alone without his family and he's gotten into a bad situation and that's how he joins the games - now, I saw someone saying why he joined up the uprising at all, maybe to keep up his lie or maybe because he thought that this was the right thing to do, he doesn't want to let his friends down, but when it got to the shooting he couldn't do it - there is a lot more nuance to it and I really don't understand all the hate towards him, calling him weak and a coward, as if any one of us would act differently when faced with life or death - also keep in mind that they were outnumbered anyway, even if Dae ho came back with the ammo, they wouldn't have achieved anything because of the front man??? Like are we even watching the same show? Also he technically saved player 120 from dying, so there's that

Also you can see that he flinched when player 120 approaches him, as if waiting to be hit, which might imply previous abuse and trauma

#Squid games #squid game season 2 #Squid games spoilers #kang dae ho #kang haneul #Dae ho #Player 388 #Kang daeho

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emthimofnight · 11 months ago

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Name ✨Stellar the Hedgehog✨

Age Varies based on what age I draw her, but let's say 16!

Pronouns She/Her

Basic Description The product of Project Stellar—a secret government operation aiming to perfect Project Shadow—Stellar is a genetic experiment combining the DNA of the Ultimate Life Form and the fastest thing alive. Designed to be a living weapon, Stellar was born in a hidden facility where she would have been raised to be an unstoppable weapon for the military. Thankfully, Shadow the Hedgehog (with help from Rouge the Bat) discovered her existence, destroyed the lab, and rescued her as an infant. Shadow then went on to begrudgingly inform his long-time rival, Sonic the Hedgehog, of their newfound child, seeing as she was technically just as much Sonic's problem as she was Shadow's. From there, the duo (along with help from their friends) raised Stellar as their daughter, sheltering her from the knowledge she was created to be a force of destruction for her masters. Along the way, Sonic and Shadow found themselves truly falling for one another, dissolving the barriers they had placed between one another as rivals, finding new appreciation for each other in their new parental roles.

Stellar herself is a bright, warm-hearted person. She has a strong sense of justice and never shies away from standing up for what is right. She takes after Sonic in personality, always cracking jokes and finding it hard to sit still. Despite this, she inherited Shadow's finesse and ability to plan out her choices, not to mention his abilities to utilize chaos energy. She has a love for figure skating, ballet, and make up (thanks to Auntie Rouge!), but don't let her feminine side fool you, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty! She would love nothing more than to spend her day smashing badniks into the ground with her skates if her dads would let her! Stellar loves both of her parents dearly, but sometimes wishes that they wouldn't be so protective of her. After all, what could they possibly have to be worried about?

Extra ✨Stellar's favorite color is red. ✨Her favorite food is chili dogs. ✨She is bisexual. ✨Her favorite flower is lavender, because it reminds her of home! ✨She learned how to skate from Shadow. ✨She calls Shadow "papa" and Sonic "dad". ✨She desperately wants to make her family and friends proud. ✨Her best friend is Camellia the Cat, the daughter of Blaze and Amy. ✨She loves racing Sonic, but is frustrated he always lets her win. ✨She can be VERY impulsive when angered, much like both of her parents! ✨She is SUPER dense when it comes to romance. She has no idea ✨Camellia has been in love with her since they were little! ✨The inhibitor rings she wears keep her powers under control, but they also prevent her from truly mastering them. ✨Her powers are designed after collapsing stars/black holes. Extremely destructive to both herself and everything around her. ✨She has no awareness to the extent of the latent power inside her.

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 months ago

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What’s your thoughts visually on how bots habsuites/ quarters look like? And would they differ between frame types ? As prime big lol Wish we got some media on it :0

Hmm well I do imagine things would differ wildly between each continuity. However, some generalizations might be the following:

Autobots as a whole: Generally speaking, I do imagine the Autobots have habs that match their size and their rank. Rank and file soldiers are bunked together in rooms filled with recharging stations crammed shoulder to shoulder. Most don't mind since they are all together and it's not as if they have anything of their own anyway more often than not. Those further up the chain of command get rooms with less people in them until they finally get a roommate or possibly, if they are super duper special, their very own closet sized space. Actual berths are reserved for those with rooms big enough for them. Most just use recharging stations since it's generally more useful to making the most of a space.

Rank and file soldiers: The average soldier is bunked shoulder to shoulder with his or her comrades. They are each given a standing recharge station boxed right up against everyone else's unless they have an injury which warrants the usage of the handful of berths given to soldiers lower on the chain of command. Generally, such soldiers are kept in huge facilities meant to keep everyone safe and secure rather than comfort them. As such, decoration simply does not happen unless the military position a soldier is stationed at is more permanent. In which case, the soldier might paint their station with odd doodles, splotches of color, or if they are lucky enough to find some, they might slap some stickers on it.

Company commanders and the like: Directly above regular soldiers, various commanders of lower rank get bunked together as well, but they are given a tad more room. This is not a privilege as one might expect, but an actual necessity. Commanders can get called on at any time, and each of them need a little more room to work on reports and whatnot since there simply is not enough space to give each of them an office of their own. As such, their stations are a little farther apart, and between them are their personal effects and maybe something to play the part of a makeshift desk if need be. Decoration is the same as regular soldiers, with the possible addition of medallions, the odd set of fairy lights if one gets lucky, or even a poster or two.

Lieutenants and up: Now this is when a bot would start getting their own space, kind of. Bots of this rank are still bunked with a buddy or two, but they are actually issued rooms in order to supply them with the privacy needed to handle sensitive data. They also get actual berths (which can and often do double as desks). Getting a room means a bot can do almost whatever they like to decorate so long as it sort of aligns with military orders. Most often, lieutenants and the like decorate with weapons on the walls, trophies, artwork, or even murals. It depends on his strict the command center is.

Generals and Prime's Inner Circle: Inner circle bots get privileges, and one of those is a private room. A bot can do whatever the heck they want with their space so long as it doesn't disrupt workflow and the like. Decoration depends entirely on whoever owns the hab. In the case of Ultra Magnus, he lives in a mountain of datapads. Ratchet keeps mementos but will die before admitting it. Jazz has what few instruments he's managed to save. Ironhide decked his room with weapons... the list goes on. There are no limits for the most part. Comes with being constantly under threat of being assassinated.

Prime: Technically, he should be living in a high end facility, never to dirty his digits. But because this is Optimus Prime, he tends to wander. He rests wherever there is a free space and will gladly rest with the soldiers without a worry in the world. The only reason he has a hab at all is for the sake of morale amongst the troops. Although more often than not, it doubles as an extra room for injured troops in need of protection.

Not sure if this is what you wanted anon, but these are my thoughts!

#transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #ratchet #ultra magnus #ironhide #jazz #cybertronian culture

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fangdokja · 3 days ago

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i keep rereading your yan marine corps! x fem reader. what was reader's role that she had to follow the marine's... adventure?

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where death is mercy and survival means suffering, he claims you as his, promising protection through fear, control, and a twisted love that will leave you questioning if escape was ever truly possible.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #2 - The Devil Who Saved You

♡ Word Count. 3,153

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, descriptions of gore and human suffering, themes of violence and dystopia

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)). I'm surprised you're rereading it a bunch. But, I guess people do technically reread anyway. Sorry, slipped out of my mind. It just makes me happy seeing underrated works get credit, whether fandom or other stories I've written. So, thank you. Anyways. Technically, this was an ask. But it's a nice idea, and I've already had it in my drafts since before. I was just postponing lore dump with Yandere! Marine Corps, due to other works. Anyways. All I knew before, in all honesty, is that it's war time. But, time to pull out the fantasy skills and world build! Wooh! And to be honest, I'm hungry to write some gore crumbs like my familiar writing style, ahh. So, here, I present to you lore backstory (well technically part of the backstory). Hope you all enjoy it (also, sorry I talk a lot in notes).

♡ Music. Levee & Brick (Down to This) by Graffiti Ghosts

The world had fallen into an abyss so deep it seemed there was no end to its descent. The wars that came before—those waged for borders, ideologies, or resources—were merely preludes to this ultimate collapse. What erupted now was not war; it was annihilation. A calamity that turned cities into craters and humanity into prey. Every shred of civility burned away in the endless fires of desperation. The air was thick with the ash of the old world, a grim veil that painted the skies an eternal gray.

You had lived a different life once, one of relative normalcy in the dwindling days before the collapse. Back then, you had a future, a purpose, something as simple and human as hope. But that had been stripped away when the world’s powers unleashed devastation so complete it birthed horrors no living creature could comprehend. Technology had become a weapon of eradication, bioweapons and nanotech turning survivors into deformed creatures of flesh and steel, feral and mindless, hunting whatever moved. Rogue factions—remnants of militaries, mercenaries, and scavengers—rose like carrion birds, preying on the remnants of humanity.

In this hellscape, survival was no longer a matter of luck but of submission. Submission to those strong enough to carve their will into the earth and impose their dominion. He was one of those few. A towering force of unyielding violence, a soldier molded by decades of carnage, by a war that had reshaped him from a man into something closer to a machine of flesh and blood. The United Corps, once a venerated military institution, had fractured into splinter groups, each operating like a self-contained warlord’s regime. He was among their best—a leader, an executioner, a strategist, and now your captor.

You were assigned to him by pure chance—or perhaps cruel design. In this new order, value wasn’t measured by money or power but by the usefulness of flesh and mind. And you had been marked as useful. Perhaps it was your background—your knowledge, your resilience, or simply the misfortune of catching his attention when your convoy was intercepted by his unit. The corps didn’t merely take prisoners; they assessed, dissected, and consumed whatever remnants of humanity they deemed salvageable.

And he deemed you salvageable.

There were no illusions about the nature of his claim over you. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t mercy. It was obsession, possessive and cruel, born of a warped sense of necessity. “You belong to me now,” he had told you in that deep, unrelenting tone, the heat of his breath warming your face even as the chill of his words froze your soul. “Out there, they’ll rip you apart for the scraps on your bones. With me, you’ll live—if you behave.”

The battlefield was safer than the no-man’s land outside his dominion. That was the most damning truth. To run from him was to dive into a living nightmare where survival wasn’t a goal but a punishment. Outside his protection, death was not granted quickly.

You’d seen it. You’d heard the screams echoing through the wastelands, watched the crude factories churn with suffering. He’d forced you to look once, pressing your face against the window of a blood processing plant as tears streaked down your cheeks. “This is what’s waiting for you if you run,” he had whispered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “With me, you’re mine. Out there, you’re theirs. Decide.”

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The smell hit you first. It wasn’t just the copper tang of blood; it was the rancid stench of rotting flesh mixed with chemicals—formaldehyde, acid, and something sour that clawed at the back of your throat. You gagged, instinctively raising a trembling hand to cover your nose, but he was quicker. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your arm back down with enough force to make you whimper.

“Don’t look away,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating like a distant explosion. “You need to see this.”

You didn’t want to see. You didn’t! But he held you there, his unyielding grip on your wrist a silent command. He stood just behind you, close enough that his breath fanned across the back of your neck, hot and suffocating.

The factory loomed before you like the mouth of some great beast, its jagged, rusted metal teeth glinting in the dim light of the sulfur-stained sky. The air outside had been foul, but inside, it was worse—a miasma of decay and despair.

The conveyor belts stretched endlessly, carrying bodies in various states of disassembly. Some were intact, their limbs hanging limply as they were dragged by crude metal hooks. Others were barely recognizable—mangled flesh and shattered bone mashed together in a grotesque parody of humanity. You tried to look away, to focus on the machinery, but even that was a nightmare of grinding gears slick with gore.

A loud, wet squelch drew your attention to a nearby station. A corpse—a woman, or at least what remained of her—was hoisted onto a steel slab. Her eyes were still open, glassy and staring, as if frozen in the moment of her death. A mechanical arm descended, its blade glinting dully under the flickering industrial lights. It carved into her chest with a precision that was almost surgical, splitting her ribcage open to reveal the organs beneath.

You felt bile rise in your throat as another arm extended, pincers gripping her heart. It yanked the organ free with a sickening suction sound, sending a spray of blood across the walls and floor. The heart was deposited into a waiting vat, where it joined dozens of others, floating in a viscous, murky liquid.

“They don’t waste anything,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, as if he were explaining the workings of a simple machine. “Every part has a purpose. The skin for leather. The bones for tools. The organs for… whatever the hell they need them for.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “No,” he hissed, his breath hot and sharp against your ear. “You don’t get to faint. You’re going to watch. You’re going to understand.”

A scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, and you realized with horror that some of them weren’t dead. Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, landing on a man thrashing against his restraints as he was dragged toward another station. His legs were gone, severed at the thighs, and the stumps had been crudely cauterized to keep him alive.

“Please,” the man sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Please, just kill me. Just—”

The blade came down before he could finish, cleaving his remaining arm from his body. His scream turned guttural, the sound of a soul breaking, before it was cut off entirely by a needle plunging into his neck. The liquid injected was thick and black, spreading through his veins like oil. His body convulsed violently for a moment before going still.

You turned your head, choking on a sob, but he gripped your chin and forced you to face the scene again. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising and relentless.

“This is what happens without me,” he said, his voice a low snarl. “You think you can survive out there? Think you can make it without my protection? Look at them!” He shook you slightly, as if to drive the point home. “This is what you are without me—meat.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and shameful, as you stared at the conveyor belts and the countless bodies reduced to parts. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the nausea that twisted your stomach into knots.

Another scream pierced the air, this one an elder's. Your head snapped toward the sound, and your heart plummeted. A thin figure, frail and sickly, was strapped to a table, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the approaching machinery.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

The machine didn’t care. The blades descended, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the image burned into your mind even as you tried to block it out.

He didn’t let you escape even that. His hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “Don’t you dare look away,” he growled. “This is reality. This is what’s waiting for you if you run.”

You broke then, sobbing uncontrollably, your body wracked with shuddering breaths. He held you there, unyielding, until you were too weak to fight. Only then did he pull you close, his grip on you shifting from punishing to possessive.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying. “You understand now, don’t you? You’re mine. And as long as you’re mine, this will never happen to you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, a mockery of comfort as he whispered, “But if you ever forget, I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll make you watch again.”

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The battlefield stretched like a bleeding wound across the earth, jagged trenches carved into the mud and ash. The remnants of what had once been cities were nothing more than skeletal buildings clawing at the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning fuel and the gut-wrenching stench of charred flesh. Bomb craters bubbled with viscous, oily water that gleamed under the pale, radioactive sun. It was a place where hope had been smothered, where humanity’s last breaths came in choking, gurgling gasps.

He stood before you, his shadow long and oppressive, a monolith of muscle and bloodied steel. His armor—if you could call the piecemeal, blood-streaked remains of his tactical gear armor—clung to him like a second skin, the fabric worn thin and blackened with soot. In his hand, a rifle dangled lazily, as though he didn’t need it. And he didn’t. He was a weapon unto himself, his body and mind honed by decades of violence, cruelty, and war.

“Do you remember this place?” His voice was a low rumble, scraping against your nerves like a blade dragged across bone. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into you with a force that made your knees weak. “Where I found you?”

You nodded faintly, though you didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Your silence wasn’t just fear—it was a learned response, a survival tactic you’d mastered in the years since he’d claimed you.

“Do you know what they were going to do to you?” He crouched, bringing his face level with yours. His presence was suffocating, his frame dwarfing your own. His voice dropped lower, almost tender, as though sharing a secret. “No, you don’t. You only saw what they let you see. Let me show you the rest.”

He yanked you forward, his grip on your wrist unyielding, and led you toward the edge of the battlefield. The ground squelched beneath your feet, a revolting mixture of mud, blood, and something viscous that you didn’t want to identify. In the distance, the ruins of an old hospital came into view. The building leaned at an unnatural angle, its walls crumbling but still intact enough to conceal the horrors within.

“You’ve seen death,” he said, his tone conversational, as though discussing the weather. “But you haven’t seen what people do when death isn’t enough. When they want to break you first.”

The interior of the hospital reeked of antiseptic and decay. The sterile smell of chemicals clashed with the unmistakable odor of rot. The walls were streaked with dark stains, their origins uncomfortably clear as you stepped over discarded limbs, the flesh marbled with gangrene and crude surgical scars.

In the first room, a soldier lay strapped to a gurney, his body contorted unnaturally. His chest had been split open, ribs wrenched apart like the wings of a grotesque bird. His heart was missing, the cavity where it had once beat filled with a tangled mess of wires and tubing. The machinery whirred softly, pumping fluids through his veins and forcing his lungs to expand and contract in shallow, mechanical breaths. His eyes were still open, rolling wildly in their sockets as they locked onto you.

“He’s alive,” the man behind you whispered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. “Barely. They like to see how far they can push the human body before it gives out. Sometimes they even stitch people back together, just to see how much more they can take.”

You gagged, your stomach lurching violently, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face the horror. “Don’t look away,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You need to understand. This is what was waiting for you.”

He dragged you into another room, this one colder, darker. Rows of tanks filled the space, each containing a murky, greenish fluid that distorted the shapes inside. At first, you thought they were bodies, but as you moved closer, you realized they were something worse. Limbs were fused together in impossible configurations, heads sprouted from torsos without necks, and eyes blinked independently in faces twisted beyond recognition. The creatures floated listlessly, their expressions a grotesque mix of agony and confusion.

“Human experimentation,” he explained, almost lazily. “They weren’t trying to kill you. They were going to use you. Turn you into something like this. A weapon. Or worse—a resource.”

You stumbled backward, but he caught you, his arm curling around your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. He pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a dark caress. “I killed them all for you. Do you see now why you belong to me? Why you owe me your life?”

He pushed you onward, through rooms filled with horrors you couldn’t have imagined in your darkest nightmares. A man impaled on a series of metal rods, his skin flayed back to expose muscle and bone, still breathing through a series of tubes jammed into his throat. A woman with her limbs replaced by crude prosthetics, her mouth sewn shut but her eyes screaming. People of all ages locked in cages, their bodies twisted and deformed, their cries muffled by gags soaked in blood.

“This is what humanity has become,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “This is what I saved you from. You were a prize to them. A rare find. They would’ve broken you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You fell to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you. He crouched beside you, his bloodied hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were filled with something dark, something terrifyingly close to affection.

“Don’t forget this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t ever forget who saved you. Who you belong to. Because without me…” His voice trailed off as he gestured toward the carnage around you. “This is all you’d ever know.”

You sobbed, the sound muffled against his chest as he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was as suffocating as it was unyielding, a cage that you could never escape. And yet, in that moment, you clung to him, because the alternative was too horrifying to bear.

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So you stayed.

Not because you trusted him. Not because you wanted him. But because the alternative was infinitely worse. And yet, staying came with its own horrors, its own chains. His obsession didn’t shield you from his cruelty; it only redirected it. He was a man who didn’t just command obedience—he demanded submission. Every glance, every word, every trembling breath was a reminder of your place beneath him. When he touched you, it wasn’t with gentleness. His hands were calloused and bruising, gripping and claiming, leaving marks that would never fade.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he would say when your eyes filled with defiance or despair. “You’re still alive because I allow it.”

The world outside was dead, a barren wasteland of mutilation and starvation, yet with him, the torment was suffocatingly personal. He didn’t just want your compliance; he wanted your surrender. His words were a scalpel, cutting into your psyche with surgical precision. He would pull you close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered promises of protection intertwined with threats so visceral they made your stomach churn.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his hand resting possessively on your throat. “Every inch of you. Every thought. Every breath. Try to take that away from me, and I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”

There were moments when his control slipped, when the line between protector and predator blurred beyond recognition. He would keep you close, his body a cage of muscle and violence, his gaze piercing through your facade of composure. The way his hands roamed wasn’t tender—it was invasive, a reminder that he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

And yet, you didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Resistance wasn’t a choice. Not here. Not with him.

The world outside was unlivable. The world with him was unbearable. Between the two, you chose to endure.

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