#but please this would be so so so canon
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collecting every one of Damian's "TT" with Dick in hearing range
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Batman and Robin (2009) / Grayson (2014) #12 / Blackest Night: Batman #3 / Nightwing (2016) #29, 16, 17 / Batman (1940) #700, 706, 711 / DCU Halloween Special 2010 / Justice League of America (2006) #41 / Secret Origins (2014) #4 / Batman: Streets of Gotham #6 / Red Robin #11 / Batman and Robin (2011) #10 / Batman Inc (2012) #8 / Robin: Son of Batman #7 / Detective Comics #968, 975, 1000 / Batman (2016) #34 / Suicide Squad (2016) #26 / Dark Nights: Metal #3 / Batman: Alfred Pennyworth RIP / Batman: Urban Legends #21 / Batman: Gotham Nights (2020) #12 / All New-Batman: The Brave and the Bold #13 / Damian: Son of Batman #1 / The Boy Wonder #1 / Robins #5, 1
inspired by Dick doing the "TT" in Nightwing (2016) #121
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#damian wayne#dick grayson#dynamic duo 2.0: what would you do without me?#rambling#originally compiled canon comics but figured i might as well get em all lol so gathered non-canon to the bottom#big stretch with a couple panels:#Dick was knocked out for Damian and the Heretic's TT#the Robin War one is under the assumption there was audio from the monitor when Damian was revealed lol#Ollie and Damian were a bit of a distance from Dick when Ollie even had to shout his name#also the Brave and the Bold 13 Robins issue has an extra T in there haha#anyway! if anyone catches a stray TT i've missed please feel free to add it or lmk!#Dick picking this up from Damian because he’s heard it so often is ridiculously cute to me 😭#UPDATED! I FORGOT TO ADD THE TITLES AND TEC 975
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she had a family that loved her
#its been so long has always belonged to cassidy#cassidy fnaf#fnaf#no im never forgiving the fnaf fandom#for only portraying her as mean and angry#and demonizing her#she's just a kid :(#please give her more than just “Im so mad”#i know thats all she has in the games#but i dont care#when has canon ever stopped people from getting creative#and giving more personality to someone#i (kind of) do like the idea of her getting so caught up in her anger that's all she starts to feel#but i think showing how she felt before that would be really cool#i never see her portrayed as just. sad and missing her family
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Let’s take into consideration:
Arthur would rather waste precious time before an important council meeting to run around the entire castle and search for Merlin, who, in his very honest opinion is the worst servant of the entire kingdom or that he had ever known, than to call literally anyone else to help him dress (as if there wouldn’t be anyone ready to assist Arthur, their king, with clothes);
Arthur, and therefore Agravaine (which makes it all the more hilarious) knows every single place where Merlin could be, at that precise moment, or during that day in general; (EDIT: As someone pointed out in the comments, everyone and Agravaine included knows who is the “dollophead”)
The guards nod to Agravaine without asking anything, which only means that it is canon that everyone in Camelot knows Merlin by name; EDIT: It also means that the guards deal with this on a daily basis. They must be tired.
The aforementioned point implies that everyone knows how Merlin looks like, that also means Merlin is known to never leave Arthur’s side, even during council meetings;
Arthur is running around the castle in what today we would call a pyjama, just because Merlin didn’t wake him up with, “Rise and Shine”. And he’s barefoot. That’s right. The king of Camelot, everyone, has just walked barefoot in Merlin’s chambers, in the armoury, where other knights probably are, and in the bloody stables (yes, the ones where the horses and their dungs both are), without boots on, just to look for Merlin;
Arthur is more distressed in this scene than in the one where Morgana declares war in season five. He’s fretting like a mother hen. Not only he is without breath, which means he was just coming back from his checking around, but he is red in the face and almost yelling in desperation. “Does he expect me to dress myself?!” Because apparently, Arthur literally cannot do anything without Merlin by his side. The way he says, “No sign of him” to Agravaine is so endearing, and he shouldn’t be this adorable. Unfair, Arthur. Really unfair.
Arthur just yells, (and distressingly looks around) in hope that Merlin will come back to him, because he always does. *sounds of my heart breaking into millions of pieces*
And last but not least, Arthur shouts, “Last night!”, which means the actual reason he’s going around searching for Merlin, it’s because he’s worried his world will end without his quirky and clumsy servant by his side (and the love of his life). Merlin is currently out on a quest with Gwaine to look for Gaius, since he has been kidnapped, but the problem is that Arthur doesn’t know this. What he knows is that he has fought with Merlin the day before about Gaius in the council chambers, and believes Merlin is gone for good, this time, and solely for the fight they had. Arthur feels more than guilty that he can’t make it up to his best friend, the love of his life (Agravaine helped Morgana kidnap Gaius, and it explains the ending of the scene, where he understands where Merlin is.) Now Arthur is worried that his last words to Merlin were harsh. He had last seen him when he was done with his duties the night before, and then Merlin disappeared.
No wonder they deleted this scene.
#as if the rest of the show isn’t equally gay💀#the way arthur is all ruffled too like#that man woke up all by himself#didn’t see merlin#and put on the first shirt he found and started checking for merlin everywhere in hope that he would magically appear#so it is more than canon#when arthur is worried sick about merlin#he reproaches him regarding his duties as a servant#top notch#merthur#bbc merlin#merlin#arthur pendragon#merlin bbc#merlin x arthur#my video#i have a weak heart#it took me ages to adjust this#be nice#if you’d like to use it elsewhere please do#just give the credits#please don’t steal it🥹#deleted scene#episode ‘the secret sharer’ season four
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NEW BIRTHDAY THEME IS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!
BIRTHDAY SLUMBER PARTY, HERE WE COME
I think the theme is more loungewear than straight-up pajamas, but hey, I'm not complaining! (and -- look, we still have the groovies, I'm not giving up hope for animal kigurumi until I gotta)
#art#twisted wonderland spoilers#kutsurogi my room#put on the onesie jamil#man i am absolutely LIVING for jamil's adorable embroidered throw pillows#just offscreen is the wall decal that says 'bless this mess'#gosh though i am ready for a year of COMFY BOYS#does this mean we're going to get some kind of canon confirmation about whether or not malleus needs special pillows to sleep#yes PLEASE#god. i can't decide which would be funnier: mal in sweatpants and a vintage gargoyles (1994) t-shirt#or mal in a full victorian-style striped sleep set complete with nightcap that has a pompom on the end#that jiggles up and down with every HONK mimimimi#(this is probably also what riddle sleeps in tbh)#(ace can't even make fun of him because it's just too on the nose)#and hey twst as long as i have your ear APPARENTLY#i want that halloween event to be real and i want a lilia for it please and thank you 🙏#i know it's not his turn for a halloween card but c'mon. pretty please.#i am asking so nicely
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Anyways
#I didn’t think this would get so much attention please look at my other posts 💔#stranger things#Byler#Byler nation#Byler endgame#Byler is canon#mileven bones#anti mileven#platonic Mileven#Will Byers#Mike wheeler
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it's finally done, and it's probably the gooiest garbage i'll ever make.
credit to my new buddy @i-love-tdp-if-you-can-tell for doing almost all the characters' flat colors!! i am so so so infinitely thankful to them bc otherwise none of the other efforts of making this would have happened. between the lineart, backgrounds, shading, and touch-ups, these five pages have taken years off numerous braincells' lifespans, and without their help, may have annihilated my entire brain capacity.
if you like, please reblog! we put in a Lot of time and effort into this!
you would think that between last time (one other event) i tried comic-ing and now, i would've learned to not handwrite the text, but alas...
thank you for answering my plead for help, sky! and for managing to work around my design inconsistencies and sketchy lineart <3 ik you said you didn't need anything, but if you ever decide you want an art, hit me up any time :)
and to the tdp fandom, whoops… sorry for all the requests rotting in my inbox. it was a fun september and a fun six years of lurking, but alas i think i will be bailing for the moment. maybe you'll see me around.
#tdp#the dragon prince#the dragon prince fanart#tdp fanart#soren tdp#tdp soren#corvus tdp#tdp corvus#sorvus#that's a technically--implied-#lychee's trash art#you guys likely will not be seeing tdp art from me for a hot minute#so please enjoy my offerings#btw the costume details are hell#also corvus' old design was vastly superior#there i said it i'm a hater of arc 2 corvus design#the struggles of the designs i want to draw versus aligning to canon#to be clear that's just arc 1 corvus & clean shaven arc 2 soren LOL#sorry i'm also a hater of soren's facial hair#off topic i really would like 2025 to be my return to ao3 so might see less lychee art#finding that it's easier to pop out a doc and write fic between lectures#sort of thinking to start pulling up on yt too but who knows#you can probably tell the parts where i gave up lol sorry it's a bit scuffed#i'm really tired my eye has been twitching all day#a lot of the details are a bit scuffed and the shading's sorta lazy but#there's a lot of art here okay </333
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Happy Halloween! 🧼🥩🎃
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#mouthwashing#lan wangji#wei wuxian#A mouthwashing crossover was always the plan but I ran out of time for a bigger comic. So a doodle it is!#***I am about to talk about some stuff that is not for the squeamish so please take caution from here on out***:#Okay. I know that people who know what goes down in mouthwashing are seeing this and going 'OP Why?'#BUT HERE ME OUT: Wangxian's canon kink dynamic would not bat an eye at this.#You think Wei 'I love being tied up and at the mercy of my loved one' Wuxian would *pass* on amputee-caregiver abuse roleplay???#No! He's a freak like that! 'Oh nooo I have only residual limbs and no voice to protest. And I need to take my medicine...'#Oh we even have a bonus cannibalism thing going on here. Maybe WWX needs to bring cannibalism into the bedroom. To heal.#They are not sane nor safe but certainly consensual.#Convincing Lan Wangji to get into the Jimmy cosplay is probably the most unrealistic part of this.#We hate Jimmy. That's why he is such an amazing character.#LWJ is his near polar opposite. Man takes responsibility like it's his daily vitamin.#edit: how could I forget. Happy birthday to wei wuxian. Being a freak in peace is the ultimate gift I can give him.
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Imagine holding your f/o after a long, long day.
Imagine how they curl up in your embrace, your arms tightening around their frame as you pull them closer. The way they begin to ease, feeling your gentle kisses pressed into their skin. Do they give a little smile when hearing your murmuring words of comfort?
Imagine slowly rocking them side to side, doing whatever you can to feel them relax. They appreciate how safe and secure you make them, how determined you are to help in any which way.
They know they don’t have to hide anything from you, least of all, their struggles.
#please let me hug star for 24 hrs straight it would fix so much .#I wanted to write being the big spoon bc it’s fun and im the big spoon w him !! 🙂↕️#if u want the little spoon ver just lmk. blinks.#imagine your self ship#imagine your f/o#imagine your fictional other#imagine your favorite character#selfship community#selfship imagines#selfship#safeship community#safeship#safeshipping#oc x f/o#f/o community#f/o imagines#romantic f/o#f/o x s/i#self insert x fictional other#fictional other community#fictional other#self insert x canon#self insert imagine#s/i x canon#s/i community#oc x canon#📸┆luvie rambles#f/o stuff#self shipping#proship dni
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So Blitzø has an "Emergency Horse" in the Stolas Sex trunk. Which is likely used in the event one of them calls out a Safe Word
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Do you think their Safe Word is...
"Hold your horses"
#pfft because i think it would not only be funny but accurate twice over#“hold your horses” as in “stop!”#and “hold your horses” as in “time to literally hold the horse”#please if i ever predict anything canon... it must be this#ive heard longer safe words than that so its not impossible. same amount of syllables as “peanut butter” so like... yeah?#helluva boss#stolitz
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Queen Guinevere's guard dog (AKA the Court Sorcerer of Camelot)
quick little thing because i got bored and LOVE this concept
#i'm a big fan of the idea of completely overprotective and very jaded court sorcerer merlin in post-canon#like after the finale??#i pity any would-be assassins#this man doesn't have to hide his magic anymore#nothing holding him back#honestly i'm surprised i don't see more fics and stuff with this concept?#i guess cause of the lack of arthur buuuuut#it's so good#like just merlin being very capable and very protective of the few people he has left :')#anyways spot the merwaine !!#and please don't spot the big patch of white on the lineart haha i just saw that#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#merlin fanart#merlin au#adventures of merlin#court sorcerer merlin#bamf merlin#merlin
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daimon
mdni. ancient greece AU. princess!reader x guard!ghost. heavily inspired by antigone (but it ends well :)). 7k. tw for suicide attempt, maybe slight dubcon (mention of wine drank before sex)
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The room was cold as you finished fastening your black peplum. It had been a cold autumn, mountain winds bruising sore skin. It was the autumn your life ended.
Your brother. So brave. You remembered running with him among the olive trees and tripping on the roots as you trailed him. Your mother had yelled at you so much you remembered the sting of the tears on your cheek.
But you had grown. Your father, the king, dead by the plague by spring, followed by your frail mother. Your brother away east. When he’d returned along with his men, he found the city he was supposed to lead in the hands of the most powerful merchant, a man as crooked as rich. We thought he was dead, said the men of the city. Lost in the barren hell of the east, gone for too many years. And when he tried to enter the city, he was met with violence and bronze. As expected, your brother did not lie down, but fought to retake the throne. He now laid in the place he died still, eaten by vultures and dogs alike. His soul stuck between the living and the dead, forever restless.
Profane he was taking something that was not his, and profane he was not burying your brother.
“I’ve decided, then. Take care.”
Your dearest maid, her loyalty unmatched, did not comprehend.
“Princess, you must stop this talk at once!” She cried, clutching at your vest. “You know The Shepherd is a cruel man, but you will marry his son. Going against the decree…”
You scoffed. Being kin with that monster would be worse than being dead.
“I no longer care about marrying. Honoring my brother is more important,” you brushed your hand against her thin shoulder, and moved away, but with pain. No time for lost love.
“I have been wearing the black for half a year. Did you know? The moment I heard my brother was alive, I cried real tears of joy. I would no longer be alone in the world.” You sat down on your wooden couch, looking down. “And two nights later he is dead. I never even got to see his face again.” If you strained your memories, you could make out a ghost of a smile, of a laugh, but you couldn’t be certain they were his.
“The King is unfair, that much is true,” mumbled your maid, “but you go against certain death. The law says it, anyone who buries your brother is to be stoned in the square!”
“I know,” you looked up to see her shocked face, “so I heard.”
She cried then, howling. Her grief for you moved the strings of your heart, but did not dissuade you. You died the other day: your last act would be making sure you could see your brother in Hell, along with your parents. Hooding yourself, you left your room, the only place in the palace you could still call yours, by the lesser known way, one that passed through a less surveilled zone of the palace.
He looked old. No, not old: older, his skin worn by the sun. Tall, and strong, and dead. You remembered well– he smiled like that, a lightning bolt in the fair weather.
Hurried, you acted fast. You covered his body with a thin layer of dust. That is enough, for now, you thought, as you couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.
The path you took made sure you were hidden from the guards. You wondered how many of them saw your brother grow, train and live: and how could they bear to leave him there, alone and doomed.
The darkness of the road calmed you. The sting of the broken law was nothing compared to the peace you felt inside.
But the sting of the hand grabbing your arm was real. A tall shadow made it so you couldn't move.
“What are you doing here?” Asked the Ghost, one of the main palace guards. A real enigma, that one. He did not recognise you immediately, hidden as you were. But your voice would tell on you. Perhaps, at the start, you could have wanted to do what you did without being discovered, but you had changed your mind. You did not care for the Shepherd’s decision.
“I was just doing my daily offering at the temple,” you told him, and his eyes, the only visible part of his face, widened in recognition. He then started glaring at you, obvious suspicion brewing.
“At this time and alone? It is unsafe for you.”
“Should I have left the house in the daylight so close to my brother’s death?”
He remained silent at your response. The Ghost never saw or knew your brother– you wouldn’t blame him if he had only distaste for his attack on the city. He was probably only an enemy to him, and not the boy who giggled at the comedies and puppet shows.
The Ghost had arrived in the city around four years before. Immediately, he’d attracted the attention of everyone, men and women, for the mask he wore on his face and his mysterious attitude. No one knew where he came from, or how he really was called, and would answer only to Ghost. His accent had been weird, and his behavior even more so. Whispers said he was a barbarian driven away from his country for having killed too many. His ruthlessness was legendary: he’d torn apart limbs and eyes of the few criminals that dared venturing into your palace. They even called him a demon that fed on his victims' souls. You had never spoken, but you’d seen him around, mostly guarding your father’s rooms, now occupied by the Shepherd. What was he doing outside, too, for that matter.
“Will you kindly let me go, now?” You tugged your arm away, but he did not relent.
“I ought to bring you back.” You just looked up at him then, at his unreadable eyes, and nodded, resigned.
The walk was silent, but not unpleasant. You kept thinking about what you’d done and oscillating between being proud and feeling an overwhelming distress inside of you. The Ghost kept at your back, his steps more silent than yours despite the difference in sizes.
“Good night then. Do not leave the house unaccompanied,” he made sure to reprimand as he left you at your door. You shrugged: leaving it accompanied meant worse for you.
Four nights after his death, your brother still laid in the dust. You could not be placated along with the pain in your chest. The guards, noticing the thin layer of earth on the corpse, had reported to the Shepherd that someone had attempted to bury your brother, thus breaking the law.
It is clear, you thought. You will die either way, inside your room or stoned to death: you might as well bury your brother properly. That time, your maid didn’t even cry: she had resigned herself as well.
They grabbed you while your back was to them, crouching on the corpse. The Ghost stood tall behind the guards: you locked eyes with him and could not tell what he was thinking. Was he maybe regretting not arresting you the first time he found you outside?
Once you were brought to your feet, he made a soundless gesture, and the other guards offered you to him. He grabbed you then, alone, and started dragging you to the palace.
The Shepherd, your father’s successor, had no regard for you. Despite being betrothed to his son before your father even passed, he made no qualms about taking what was your brother’s by right, and would not hesitate sending you to your death.
“Come, girl. It was you, I imagined.” He spoke, up in the throne where your father once sat. The sight filled you with a bright anger, which then turned into muted despair, to end in cold apathy. It was not coming back. It would never come back.
You stood silent in front of a dozen men.
“You know what the price is, do you? I made sure the heralds read the decree many times, right outside here, as well.”
You nodded. The Shepherd tilted his bald head to you, regarding your figure more like an insect than a noble woman. The men of the council, shiveling, cowardly men, murmured at your admission of guilt.
“You broke the law. What made you think you could do that?”
You inhaled then, and made yourself taller.
“The laws of the gods came before yours. It is wicked not to bury the dead.” The murmuring ceased at your words, an oppressive miasm falling over the room.
“But he declared war on the city. I protected the inhabitants, and you as well.” The Shepherd replied, unbothered. He was well aware he was going against a non written law, but did not care.
“That does not matter to me. I would bury a murderer.”
“And murderer he was, bringing fire and weapons to this peaceful city.” He laughed at you. You felt ire overflowing your judgement.
“How dare you? My brother was the heir to the throne!” You yelled, and the Ghost shaked you hard. You glowered at him and all you got as a reply was a brown eyed glare.
“Your brother was a fool, who ignored your poor father’s requests to return several times! And this,” he clutched the scroll, “declares me as the heir to the King!”
You shook your head. Your father had been less lucid the last years of his life, and even cussed out your brother for not returning from his childish dreams of conquering. But he'd never make the Shepherd his heir: he even confessed to you he couldn't stand the man.
“I do not accept you as King of the city. That is the truth of it.” You tried to keep a steady voice, but you were trembling. The hold on your shoulders got tighter. Why was the Ghost clutching you so severely? He couldn’t possibly be afraid for you: maybe his loyalty to the Shepherd was such that he’d kill you yourself.
The men of the council, men who had seen you grow, looked pale in the dim light of the morning. How long had you been outside? You felt like you’d seen your brother for only a second.
“I see, then,” spoke the Shepherd, as he rose from the throne.
“You’ve decided to declare yourself an enemy of this state, as your brother before you. The sentence for going against the edict is stoning.” First rose muttering, and then louder voices, and then shouts. The vile men protested, outraged, but the Shepherd shot them down with a steady hand.
“As the past princess of this city, and betrothed to my son, I ought to not expose you with such an execution. See how they cry for you still? Would they hold the same respect for you had you been a thief, a conman? Yet you are guilty to the same degree.”
“That is not true!” Cried a voice, close or far. “She committed a sacred act!”
“Who dares go against me!” Shouted the Shepherd, but no one showed their face. He made an hissing noise then, red in the face.
“All that break the laws must be punished. How else are we supposed to live civilly?” He then moved his gaze back to you.
“I condemn you to be walled alive, and your brother will stay unburied until his bones turn to dust. His body will feed the soil of this splendid city.”
This is it, then. The rest of your days. The shame of disrobing did not fall on you, yet. This would be your salvation from starving. The damp cave amplified the sound of all of your actions. Biting the gentle cloth, you tore a strip of the fabric from your skirt, testing its resistance. As you calculated the distance between the ground and the wooden rod on the cave ceiling, you heard steps approaching. The door, that could only be opened from outside, revealed two tall figures, dressed in typical military garb. The Ghost, clad in his dark attire, got closer to you, sword in hand. Ah. That was it, then.
“Have you come to kill me yourself, then?” You told him. He said nothing, just got even closer, long strides and deadly silent. He grabbed you, again, and you let yourself be taken. The other guard, with piercing blue eyes, just looked at the Ghost with a doubting expression. The Ghost started dragging you out of the corridor, and that was when you pointed your feet down, tears filling your eyes.
“What is going on? I won’t be shamed now. I’ve already been condemned.” You cried, afraid. More afraid now than when you were going to hang yourself, for your hand would be merciful, but the Ghost’s wouldn’t. He stopped then, and looked in your eye. He seemed weirdly reluctant.
“Keep quiet, now. You won’t die today.” Unintelligently, you muttered your surprise. The Ghost started dragging you along again, the other guard becoming smaller and smaller in your view.
You walked, and walked, and walked through the night and the city and the fields. Exhausted, you had to stop often, even for just a moment. The Ghost looked at you with distaste then, like he regretted ever taking you away from your attempt at your life.
“You can’t even walk a mile without bending on yourself,” he spit out. For his indecency and rudeness, you struck him across the face, hand making contact with the black muslin of his mask. The slap barely moved him and he growled, and you expected him to finally retaliate and penetrate you with his sword. But he just turned on himself and started walking again.
“If you had told me where you’re taking me, I would not have struck you,” you tried to bargain. He sighed then, clearly thinking you insufferable.
“You have allies in the city. As the true King’s daughter,” you gasped at his words, tongue curling around the r’s in an odd, mesmerizing way.
“But they all voted in favor of the Shepherd taking power.”
“You know it’s because of the secrets and extortions he has on them. He’s no dearer to them than a tyrant.” You closed your mouth then, pondering. Could the city go back to having a proper king, one that respected the Gods’ laws?
“So you are my friend,” you said simply. He swallowed at that.
“I am… your protector. For the time being.”
You nodded. He, too, was now an enemy of the state, by association.
“I thank you then. Even though I would not have minded joining my family.”
He remained silent at that. A while after, he spoke again.
“We need to stop for a few hours at least. And you’ll need male clothing,” he simply said. You hid in a cave, wider and longer than the one that was supposed to hold you in your death. The Ghost lit up a small fire near the opening, and you watched him as he stroked it, pensive. Perhaps he, too, was thinking about what he left.
“Ghost,” you called, tone uncertain, “can I call you that?”
He nodded without taking his eyes off the fire.
“How… What is going on back home? Who hired you?”
“I can’t tell you that,” he replied to your second question. “As for back home, we placed a corpse in your place to give us a head start.”
“Someone else died for me,” you whispered, upset in your soul. You had been ready to kill yourself.
“He was already dead,” spoke the Ghost, weirdly demure. “One dead instead of two.”
“But…”
“Enough of that. You do not deserve to die for burying your brother. It is as simple as that.” You were stunned into silence by the determination of his words. So far, you’d thought he was only hired to do what his employer asked him. But now, you saw he agreed with your stance. For some reason, you felt pride in yourself bloom.
“Where are you taking me, then?”
“I know a place,” he said, “where you won’t be found.”
Something moved in your heart, again. He was being remarkably gentle for a butcher.
You fell asleep some time after, warmed by the fire.
When you woke up, Ghost was nowhere to be seen. You looked deeper in the cave, but made your way back when you couldn’t see the light anymore. When you reached the entrance again, you heard someone call your name.
“Come, then,” Ghost told you as you made your way down the cave’s entrance, back to more stable terrain and the spare tree. A small river ran to the side of the plain. Ghost was clutching a leather bag, ruffling around it crudely. His eyes could have almost betrayed embarrassment.
“I know nothing of princesses’ dresses. Will this suffice?” He held up a man’s tunic, to which you raised an eyebrow. The Ghost was an odd fellow, and you’d be indebted to him for the rest of your life. That didn’t mean you would understand all of his actions.
“You told me yourself I had to dress like a man.”
“True. I was rude about it.” Your eyebrow raised even higher. An apology… or a statement as close to it as possible. You didn’t think the city’s terror was even capable of that.
“No, you were right. I will change.” You grabbed his offering with shaking hands. Once you’d switched your black clothes for the off white tunic behind the tree, you tried to look at your figure in the stream’s reflection. There was little difference between men and women’s clothes, besides the face that your lower legs were now exposed. You’d wear your hood to conceal your female face, but also your upper body. You tugged at the Ghost’s wrist. He looked at you then, dragging his eyes from your face to your feet. You felt an odd sensation making its way up your back.
“Shall we go then?”
“Yes.”
You walked in the market, among the people and the animals. It was weird to not open a road every time you showed in a public place: and even weirder to walk side to side with a man. You looked up at Ghost, again, and you found him inspecting the surroundings with thin eyes.
“Are you hungry?” He asked you, like a wet nurse might ask her toddler. The image of the Ghost tending to a small child was so comical, a giggle left your mouth. You were quick to shut your mouth, but he caught you anyway. His expression was baffled.
“Yes, I am. Sorry,” you apologised. You had only eaten some bread all day, and maybe the hunger was making you silly. He accosted a stand and bought pears and bread from the farmer, who took a long look at you. Probably wondering why a man would bring his slave boy to the market, you realized with shame, and looked down.
You ate the sweet pears and the bread with the cheese under a tree’s shadow while Ghost kept watch.
“Would you like to sit?” You asked him politely.
“No.” He simply said, and kept watching the horizon. You sighed into your food. Still alone, but at least not famished. Your march began anew, the male tunic proving itself to be more comfortable. Still, you felt somewhat exposed, especially in Ghost's eyes. Every time you locked eyes, you found yourself looking away first. There was something about this man that left you exposed besides your legs. Like a plow moves the earth.
Did he even sleep? He was awake when you were, and he kept watch when you slept. Later, hidden in another, smaller cave, you voiced your concerns to him. He raised one eyebrow.
“Afraid, princess? That I will fall while I watch you? I’ve been a guard almost longer than you’ve been alive.” You rolled your eyes at his pride and the humorous tone of his voice. Many men’s fall was their excessive confidence.
“Should I not worry for my only companion in life?”
That shut him up quickly. He just regarded you then, shifting on his feet. Clearly uncomfortable with the truth. When he decided to speak again, what he said shocked you most.
“I saw your brother die.”
Hearing a strange noise, only after a second you realised you were the one making it.
“Did you kill him?” You asked, voice tight. Ghost shook his head.
“The Shepherd��s men shot arrows at his back while he was fighting. He was a great warrior.” You sniffed hearing his words. You knew, you knew your brother would fight to his death, you’d seen his ruined body bloated but dressed for war.
“It’s not honorable. Shooting a man in the back.” He said simply, holding your gaze. His body began to warp and look odd as water filled your eyes.
“Thank you for telling me this,” you whispered, and he nodded, finally sitting next to you. If you dried your tears on his wide shoulder, no one else saw you.
Your journey lasted more days than you imagined. Everytime you asked the question to Ghost, he would only answer soon. He saw you pray at the gods’ altars: Hermes, Artemis, Athena, Zeus. He never prayed himself, or placed offerings that you didn’t tell him to place, which at the start unnerved you and then made you curious.
“Where do you come from?” Your conversations usually started with a question from you and ended with a reply from him. But you didn’t think he was a too dire debate partner, anyway.
“From far away.”
“Stop treating me as if I’m stupid.” You did hate his dismissal ways, sometimes.
“I’m not lying,” he hissed from between his teeth, “I come from so far away, I wouldn’t even know how to go back home.” That intrigued you. The twists and turns of his journey would surely make for a great story. But you hoped you could arrive at your destination.
“Then we are the same,” you decided to reply, “both without a home.”
He sighed, oddly softly. You thought that was an interesting reaction, and nestled closer to him.
When you were too far away from a market, or from farmers who would sell their fares to Ghost, he would go hunting. You’d beg and beg to let him teach you how to shoot an arrow (you’d always dreamed to be a brilliant hero of the stories), and he always categorically refused to do it. But, extraordinarily, he did teach you something. He taught you briefly how to fish, so long as you had a needle; he taught you what weeds were good to eat. Dirtying your hands felt weird at first, but you were quickly motivated by the pings of hunger in your belly.
Finally, you reached another settlement. Your surprise was evident seeing so many people prepare for a feast. You asked a busy woman what was going on: she looked at you as if you had grown another head, and simply said “the Dionysia”. What joy, then. Drinking, dancing, singing. You hadn’t heard a joyful bard or a musician since before your parents died. Smiling, you turned to your brooding companion.
“Can we stop for the festival, Ghost?” You pled him.
He looked irritated at your request.
“What will happen if you get recognized, hmm?”
“I am a mere daughter. I’m no danger to whoever sits the city throne now.”
“You can’t rule, that much is true,” he took his big hand and grazed at your belly with the back of his fingers, making your skin goosebump, “but what of the sons of your womb? And what do you think happens in these festivals? You must have seen it too, the men with the courtesans.” You blushed at his implications.
“You… you heathen! Are you not here to protect me?” He scoffed at your protests and at the light punches you threw at his chest, but he paid the inn for the day and you beamed at him. He’d even called you his wife to the innkeeper– the action had made your blood surge, but then you pathetically remembered you could never marry anymore.
You both drank a little, but not too much, you to not get too drunk, him to both integrate and not lose his mind. It was exhilarating, taking part in a feast as a common person and not a noble. Nobody but Ghost was looking at you, and you were free to do as you pleased. Nobody in the village had cared that you were a woman, the people just happy to have two more that would pray for the wellness of the settlement.
“Should I go dancing?” You asked him, raising to your feet while he kept sitting down.
Incredibly, he laughed. Your mouth hung in awe. It was a husky sound, much like all of him. Immediately, you wanted to hear more.
“Silly girl, you’re dressed as a boy! You’ll look odd, moving to the girls’ dance.” Blushing, you sat back down again. There was so much you didn’t know or you had taken for granted due to your higher position, and Ghost never sweetened the hard truth with honey. As much as the noble girl had died with the rest of your family, this common one wasn’t quite born yet. A warm hand came to hold the back of your neck, gently petting it.
“You looked beautiful dancing at the palace,” you heard his voice low in your ear, his breath warm on your cheek. His mouth, red and soft, was exposed in order for him to drink and eat. “I remember your dress, that summer. Once we arrive, I’ll buy you a similar one.”
He must have been speaking about the day of your bethronal to the Shepherd’s son, the biggest event you had ever been the protagonist of. You danced for a whole day. What had happened to your betrothed, that older boy? You had no way of knowing, but he didn’t defend you from his father. You knew even back then that he did not like you much, and he was probably ecstatic that you died to the city.
“Are we close to arriving?” He started petting your cheek then, even brushing his thumb against your lips.
“Yes, very close, sweet thing.” He then blinked and drew away, as if he realised what he was doing. You wished he would keep touching you.
Oh Dionysus, you crazy god. You’ve freed the coldest of men at last, the one barbarian who couldn’t be dissuaded from his duty.
You saw many peculiar things at the feast. The dances were different from what you were used to, and the plays were even more debouched. The road from your home had been long, and wherever you were, there was no longer any overlap for the princess and the girl. Even Ghost, the one link to your previous life, was no longer a guard, an impersonal male figure that worked for your father: he was a man under your will.
When it was time to leave the party, you did so broken-hearted. The warmth of the people had been a balm to your still hurt heart. And this new side of an intoxicated Ghost intrigued you.
“Oh my,” you said, seeing the inn room had only one, big bed. The headboard was an intricate wickerwork, far more beautiful that a bed from a village inn could hope to be.
You’d never slept with a man in your bed.
You sent a nervous look to Ghost, who was busy rattling around in his bag. Always bustling, this man.
You could ask him to sleep on the ground, but as you’d been sleeping on grass and rocks for two weeks now, it would be a profoundly impolite gesture.
You quickly removed your outside layer of clothing, and remained in your small clothes. You approached the bed and slid on it, turning on your elbows. As you settled, you saw Ghost looking up and sending brief glances your way, like he was respectfully gauging the situation.
“Ghost, come sleep next to me.” You felt yourself say. It was very much an alien part of you saying it. Maybe the innermost one.
He swallowed as he stood in front of the bed. Now in the closed, and warm thanks to the fireplace, he removed his mask.
You found yourself looking at his full face for the first time. He did not look like most men did back home, but you perceived his appearance as pleasing nevertheless. His hair was light, spun of gold. What happened next shocked you more, as he began removing the pieces that composed his armor. Ironically, had he been wearing a more simple garb, you would not have had time to elaborate, and you would have panicked. But the necessary time for him to undress allowed to study the man that was about to sleep next to you.
His height often intimidated most: he did not even need to glower at them. Despite his size, you found out he could remove his armor quickly and efficiently, and he did not stumble about even after drinking wine. Of course, you had seen many men in different states of underdressing, as that was the condition in which sports and competitions were taken on. His body was different from the ones of most athletes, but you recognised the build of a hero in it either way. For one, he was covered in hair– fair hair, matching the ones on his head, but so different from the hairless bodies of the oiled runners.This was a body meant to fight and protect, and not to be shown at the circus. Only his jaw was shaved: in a way, he was the complete opposite of the rest of the men of your city.
You smiled at him as he remained in his loincloth, and he sat down at the very opposite edge of the bed.
You had slept by his side many times now. What embarrassed him?
“You can lay down more comfortably.”
“This is improper.”
“Does it matter?” You replied, a bit miffed. “This last month of my life has been improper. You might as well get a good night’s rest.” He turned to glare at you, and that was the first time you locked eyes with him when he was unmasked. Whatever he saw in your expression must have been convincing enough, because he laid down next to you.
“I so missed a real bed. Haven’t you?” You said to make conversation.
“I lied to you,” he replied. Anxiety rose in you.
“What?”
“There was no employer,” he said, almost hiccupping, hand on his face, “nobody told me to take you away.”
The revelation hit your heart strong, and you turned away from him.
“Why did you do it, then?” You hummed and he sat up on the bed.
“I couldn’t bear to see you die,” he whispered, now looking at you while you kept your gaze away. “I am no citizen. I live off employment from lords and merchants. I was hired by your father, and I was bound by contract to protect his family.”
“When he died and the Shepherd rose, I could and should have changed city. There was no reason for me to stay there when chaos would rule. But I wanted to keep an eye on you, because you are reckless and too determined.” You spluttered, offended. “Don’t lie, you know it to be true. And I did well, otherwise you would have killed yourself. And what a waste that would have been.” You turned to face him.
“Ghost…”
“There is no grand plan. I wanted to take you to a house I know to be empty, for I killed the owner in the past. And we would live there, and you would be safe.”
“Why “would”? I am coming with you,” you said, very simply. “What else am I supposed to do? Take back my place at the palace? There is nothing dear for me there, besides one or two maids, that I hope are well.” You tentatively got close and raised your arm to brush his cheek, this time. You felt his stubble sting at your fingers.
“Ghost, from when you took me away, you’ve become my whole family. You are my dead father and mother, my dear brother, and even my future husband. No one else will take me in, orphan and poor as I am. Would you leave me now?”
“No, never,” he hurried to say, and you smiled again. For whatever reason, your loyalty to your family had been rewarded with a loyal stranger.
“Then there is no problem. Would you… would you be my husband then?” He sighed then, long suffering, and he turned to hover over you as his hands came to hold your hips. You yelped, surprised by his speed.
“What are you even saying?”
“You… you said I was your wife to the innkeeper.”
“That was a lie,” he said, pressing an index to your nose, making you laugh, “so that we would be taken in. Should I have said “this is the runaway princess of an important town, and I’m escorting her away from her death”? Hmm? Should I have? You insufferable girl,” he held you close as you laughed and your legs squirmed under him.
“I told you I’m not a princess anymore!”
He scoffed then, but kept you close still even as you wiggled. “What else could you be? Delicate and opinionated as you are. Only a princess with her burly jailer,” he remarked.
“Jailer? I’ve been freer with you these days than the rest of my life.” You whispered in his ear as you embraced him in your arms. With less commodities, for certain, but free in nature, in the landscapes you observed, in the food you ate and in the company you kept. No man’s law that differed from the gods’ existed here. To think you would have never spoken to Ghost if those great tragedies hadn’t befallen on you.
Because Ghost would never make a move to really connect the two like you ought to be, you decided to take a stand, and brought your lips to his cheek, leaving a chaste kiss there. Spurred by his involuntary purr, you kept kissing him, making your way to his mouth. There, you left a longer kiss, one that confirmed that his lips were, indeed, soft. When you looked at his eyes, you found out they were glazed over, lands away. But you couldn’t be jealous of his memories, because he then started to kiss you in return. At first, with his mouth closed, much like yours: but then his lips started to part, and he began kissing you with his tongue. Taken by surprise, you timidly tried to mimic what he was doing, although this one act was lost in the records chambermaids giggled about. Before long, you kept feeling that weird sensation in your lower body, at the juncture of your legs, the one joked about in the comedies, and you held one shy hand against Ghost’s chest. He immediately withdrew from you, as if burned by your touch.
“What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No… No at all. I feel weird,” you said, and immediately regretted it. Could you be any more fumbling. Ghost breathed hard, his chest grazing yours, and then moved so he would not lay on you anymore.
“Do you want to stop?” He asked you, and you shook your head, your hair brushing against his face. He laughed, softly, and you again felt a sense of pride in making him do so. He began kissing you again, and what joy that was.
The sensation in the middle of your legs was answered when you felt Ghost’s hand slipping under your clothes. Even without seeing, he knew what to do to you: he began tracing your sex, concentrating on the upper side of it, which made you gasp in pleasure. His index then entered you, and you felt your mouth falling open as he muttered encouragement in your temple. Good girl, good girl, he just said, and then he picked up speed and the slick sound of his fingers entering and leaving you made you hide your face in your neck. He kept cooing at you, and everything felt so real, too real, as you felt a burst of energy released inside you, a sensation unlike any other. You panted into his shoulder, shocked. Was this what being married entailed? Suddenly, you were very glad to have asked Ghost to be your husband.
Speaking of which, he moved from your side, and you cried at the loss of warmth and him. He shifted to be on top of you again, and you looked him in the eye from under. He looked very vivid, like the most alive thing you had ever seen in your life. The shadows of the crackling fire played on his hair, and you made yourself even smaller.
“Was it true? What you said.” He asked you. You didn’t even know what he meant in particular, but you had never lied to him, past that one night he encountered you as you fled the scene. You said yes.
“There will be no walking back from this. We will be as good as a real husband and wife after this, do you understand? I won’t let you go–” he choked out the last part, reining in his desperation. You shook your head again.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you.” He made another frustrated sound then, and you saw, in the muted light of the room, his hand holding his cock, the sword man penetrates woman with. Now you know your duty begins: the pain and the blood accompanying. But weirdly, unexpectedly, as he entered you you felt only a slight burn, a stretching sensation, but not the horrible pain of hushed stories. And then he started moving, and it was a pleasant feeling, a rocking motion in the arms of the man that had saved you from death. He kept kissing you, and saying the sweetest things– who could have imagined such a brutal warrior, turned into the gentlest, Eros-touched lover?
His movements never rushed, or hurried to the point where it would hurt, but you could tell he was getting desperate. Just when you thought he would release in you, he moved away, leaving you gaping and cold. He took himself in hand then, and moaned softly as the white seed touched his hand.
“Why didn’t you…” You blushed again, not finishing your phrase. It felt wrong to you that he did not come inside you, but you didn’t quite have the courage to tell him so.
Ghost simply panted and looked at you, at you raising chest, and at your core. He then closed his eyes and released a decisive, deep breath. He fixed himself and held you again in his arms, moving you around as if you were a doll.
“I will do it when we get home.”
The remaining days on the road were a haze of happy memories. You remembered Ghost’s lingering touches, and the warmth of the sun in the middle of the day, happy villages and herds grazing the green grass. Ghost hissing at anyone who asked too many questions, Ghost hunting the hares, Ghost taking you on the woods’ ground, from behind and against the trees, free to mate as much as you wanted, always ready for you. And when you finally reached his home, that grey, desolate thing, the first thing he did was take you in the bed.
“This ought to be repaired,” you told him as you moved around the house and discovered yet another broken tool, or part, and he sighed, long suffering. But then the next day he would get to work, and fix the table, the window, and he bought you a dress that resembled the one you wore on the day of your betrothal, and it was even more special because it came from him.
“Listen here,” he told you one day as he returned from his work, and after you had hugged him to your heart’s content. His tone was guarded and serious as ever.
“I have news. From the city, I mean,” he said, and you nodded at his words. You felt a detachment towards what concerned your old life, besides the memories of your loved ones, but you were still curious.
“The Shepherd is dead.”
“Praise the gods!” You exclaimed. He nodded.
“The council killed him, they say. And the new king is a young hero who fought off invaders from the south. He is missing a wife. You see where I’m going with this?” He asks, tone even but tinged with that insecurity, that slightest fear... You did see it and hate it fiercely. You told him as much.
“I made a promise to you that night. Do you think me that fickle, that I would return to a city that wanted me dead so I could bear legitimate children to a new tyrant?”
He sighed again, lovesick, like he was the maiden taken away and not you. He kissed you and ran his hands into your hair, now long and free. You laid your head on his chest. How could he think you would leave him still? He was the only owner of your heart, your god-sent protector.
You didn’t know what your family would think about you running away with a man who, in the city, would never have had the chance to speak to you first, much less to marry you. But you knew that in your soul, you were living a life true to yourself and the gods. And that much would suffice for the rest of your days.
#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#yours truly#so... theres this i guess. halfway through i realize this is kinda sansan. although reader is way older than sansa#also please tell me if theres anything wildly anachronistic and ill fix it. theres one small detail that i know already it is not possible#this is ideally set in the 'golden age' a period that never really existed. but its the one immediately before the troy war#so i did not specify the city and i changed a bit from the original story because lifting it straight up would have been too much.#plus not everyone would enjoy being a canon oedipus baby. for the. implications#simon ghost riley
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“he's like a brother to me”...”he's my best friend”....
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#arcane#jayvik#listen#IF MOTHERFUCKERS WOULD JUST SAY QUEER PLATONIC#INSTEAD OF ‘‘BROTHERS’’#OR ‘’BEST FRIENDS’’#MAYBE I WOULDNT FEEL LIKE BECOMING THE FUCKING JOKER#ID LOVE THAT#I GENUINELY WOULD LOVE THAT#BUT LIKE!!#THEY ALREADY HAVE A CANON SAPPHIC RELATIONSHIP#JUST USE FUCKING WORDS#OR HAVE A SCENE#WHERE VIKTOR MAKES IT /CLEAR/ THAT HES ARO/ACE OR SOMETHING THAT MAKES THEIR RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC MORE OBVIOUS USE WORDS PLEASE#INSTEAD OF ‘’BROTHERS’’#FUCK#ITS A FANTASY SETTING#THERE IS NO HOMOPHOBIA#AS FAR AS I CAN SEE#JUST FUCKING SAY THAT#USE WORDS IF THATS WHAT YOU WANT#IF YOU DONT USE YOUR WORDS DONT BE SURPRISED WHEN PEOPLE SEE AND SAY GAY#ALSO#IM SO FUCKING TIRED OF ‘’guys can just be friends’’ YES IM AWARE THATS MOST OF FICTION#AGHHHHHSIAJSHUDHSUFHSHSHUT UP JUST SHUT UP OHMYGODIHASJHDBDUDBD#sorry#i’m so fucking tired#most of fiction is about male friendships#is it perfectly fine and encouraged to write more? obviously but stop acting like there’s more fiction about profound gay relationships the#deep and impactful male friendships because you're just making that up!!!!
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Werewolf Sevika !!
Men DNI
DO NOT use or repost my art without credit/permission
#hiiii finally she’s done :3#I gave her a mullet#:3#also she has a leg warmer on her prosthetic arm because I thought it would be silly#I love my wife so please beware I might have some oc x canon cringe coming up 😞#I cant resist the vamp x werewolf trope#If anyone has sevika requests please let me know !!#ask box is open :3#sevika#arcane#my art#fanart#sevika x reader
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omg could we have some ellie crumbs?
i think about ellie williams all the time and i dunno but i truly feel like she’s a rlly soft/loving stone top or a sub-leaning top idk . like she loves to give her partner pleasure and she’ll get naked with them when they have sex but she’s going to wanna do most of the work (if not all)
i feel like she loves to lay you back somewhere secluded when the two of you are finishing up a patrol, sliding her hands up your shirt and gently squeezing your tits as she kisses down your stomach and sinks to the ground. she’ll pull off your pants and underwear slowly, taking her time to let out little shy chuckles and compliment you as she goes. but goddd when she finally gets her mouth on you, it’s so over. she’s gripping your thighs and holding them over her shoulders while she buries her face in your folds. licking and slurping up everything your body gives her, drinking it down like it’s liquid gold— not wasting a drop. she’s gonna suck your bud of nerves into the warmth of her lips for a few seconds before dragging her flat tongue over it till she feels it twitch.
and then her fingers will slip in once you’re wet enough to take them, her middle and ring finger curling inside you and against your special spot as she closes her eyes and whines. her brows, one scarred and one intact, pinch up and waver as she listens to the sound of your moans and lovingly strokes your shaking hip to comfort you.
i just think she’d be so attentive in her work of making you come. i could see her being switchy as a top too; sometimes whimpering when she feels you clench around her fingers and sometimes lowly purring out some praise when you start to get close.
#much to think about….#if we’re being canon idk if she could realistically get her hands on a real strap but#if she DID.. oh she would know how to use it#pushing her palm down on your lower stomach so she can feel the way she fucks into you with every roll of her body#ellie please#sage’s asks#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader
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“Tails, you’re a child… I think. I’m not giving you caffeine.” Stone glanced at his watch, interest piqued. Something urgent; some sort of intel? From one of his sworn enemies? Stone ignored the way his heart fluttered in his throat. Tried to, at least. “How about this — I’ll make you a chicory latte and close up a little early. Wednesdays are slow, anyway.”
The fox’s ears perked up. “That sounds amazing!” He settled down at a table close enough to the counter, so he could still talk to the man. “...what’s chicory?”
Stone smiled a little at that, happy to indulge the question pertaining to his skillset — and the bevy from the curious critter that would mostly likely follow — while he prepared the root, milk, and latte-etching stylus. It gave his hands and his mind something to do while the other patrons wrapped up their business and left, eventually leaving the pair alone.
I'm writing, yall??? I'm actually gettin' it done.
#sonic cinematic universe#tails the fox#agent stone#stobotnik#*eventually* i promise#this is just a little snippet but HAH it's not all this light-hearted#i would love love love to get this done and published on ao3 this week... spoons gods please grant me plenty#i love that stone canonically is so knowledgeable about coffee. i HAD to include the chicory :}
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HC that Superman goes public about his lack of American citizenship and over a hundred countries offer him either broad diplomatic immunity or honourary citizenship since he's demonstrated a willingness to help them out in times of trouble/generally is a good human being.
#please don't be canon already please don't be canon already#that would be so embarassing#Before anyone comes at me#He was born on another planet (not a US territory or state)#And he was never formally “naturalized” as a citizen#Sooooo#clark kent#kal el#superman#superman headcanon#dc comics
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