#using agile in recruiting
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sprintrecruiting · 2 years ago
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My response to "We don't need to overhaul our recruiting process"
“We don’t need to overhaul our recruiting process.” I hear this a lot when clients first reach out for a consultation. It makes me laugh to myself because I tend to wonder, if everything is good with your recruiting process, why are you calling me? I recently posted about the 4 Dysfunctions of Recruiting and the 5 Signs Your Recruiting Process is Broken, creating a lot of interest from…
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entitled-fangirl · 5 months ago
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When it matters most.
Cregan Stark x Targaryen!wife!reader
Summary: Aemond goes to Winterfell to recruit his sister and her dragon for the Greens. Cregan will not allow that.
A/n: based on an ask!
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"DRAGON!"
Y/n and Cregan make eye contact, immediately standing from their seats at the table. 
Y/n runs to the window, while Cregan makes quick work of tying his cloak and moving to the door. 
Vhagar. 
She rushes after her husband, not caring for the proper clothing to shield the cold. 
She makes quick work of falling in step with him, grabbing his arm. 
Cregan's jaw clenched, a fear evident in his eyes. "Stay indoors."
"No."
Cregan's eyes close and he stops walking. "I said. Stay. Here."
"It is my brother. I will not let you go alone."
He takes a long and steady breath as he turns to her. His hands cup her face, "My beautiful wife, I do not care if it is our fiercest enemy or our greatest ally, you will stay indoors until I deem it safe for you."
A defeated look came to her eyes as Cregan released her. He gave her a final look before continuing on his path.
She watched him go, her gut wrenching with each step that he took.
Cregan had declared the North an ally of the Blacks only two moons ago. It made no sense for Aemond to suddenly appear in enemy territory.
She moved back to the dining hall, watching with bated breath from the window. Though she could see nothing now, she hoped that perhaps she'd gain a glimpse of what was to happen.
Soon, a servant entered the room, "Princess, Prince Aemond is within the castle walls."
Her blood ran cold. She turned her head to the servant. "In… Indoors?"
"Yes, Princess."
"Where?"
"I do not know." "And Cregan?"
"I am unsure."
She rested a hand on her forehead. "Very well, thank you."
The servant left, shutting the large doors behind her. 
If something had happened to the Queen, Jace would have written to her. She was sure of it. Someone would have.
But to ride straight to Winterfell was bold of Aemond regardless.
Riding into any enemy territory was bold. 
"Where is she?" Aemond's voice echoed down the corridor. 
A shudder ran down her spine at the sound of him so near. 
She abandoned the window, moving to the door. 
Does she dare try to leave? Or would that place her right into his hands?
In the skies, she would never run. Even against Vhagar, Silverwing was quicker. More agile. She'd have a fighting chance. 
But in the halls of Winterfell? She had nothing. 
She moved away from the door, looking around in panic. 
Without thinking, she ducked under the table, pulling her legs to her chest in hopes that she'd go unseen.
Sure enough, Aemond threw open the doors to the dining hall. 
She could tell it was him by the pace of his stride alone. 
The clicking of his boots neared, and she found herself holding her breath. 
The boots came into her line of sight, pausing in front of her. 
She wanted to scream when his knee hit the floor and his eye was suddenly trained on her. 
"Sister," he hummed lightly.
"Aemond," she whispered.
"You must get better servants," he mused. "Yours sing like canaries."
"Where is my husband?" 
His brows shot up, "Dunno. I haven't seen him."
Where was Cregan?
"Come out from there, dear sister."
"No."
A hummed resonated in his throat before he spoke, "Still stubborn as before. I had thought the North would drive that out of you. C'mon."
She shook her head, anger rising her her. "Leave, Aemond."
He sighed, "Be difficult then."
His hand encased her ankle, dragging her out with ease. 
She let out a scream as she sat up and began to pry his hands from her. 
Aemond was used to combat and seemed completely unfazed by her fighting. "Listen to me, sister."
She continued to fight until he straddled her, holding her arms above her head.
"Why must you always fight me?" He seethed.
She stilled, a fire lit behind her eyes, "The North has only hardened my heart to you, brother."
"īlon share ānogar, mandia," he growled. (We share blood, sister.)
"Nyke northern." She whispered. (I am Northern.)
He grunted in frustration, pushing himself off of her and standing. He pinched the bridge of his nose in anger, "You fight against your family. Against me."
She sits up, brushing off her dress, "I fight for the true heir. You and I both know we were not made out of love. Father did not care for us. Rhaenyra is to be Queen. Not Aegon."
"Watch yourself-"
"Aegon did not wish for this!" She yelled. She then used the table to help her stand as a thought came to her. "You are only here for my dragon. I thought you'd come to fight for Aegon, but no." She neared him, daring him to do something. "You only fight for yourself."
A hand shot out, gripping her throat tightly as the other rested over the handle of his dagger. He spoke through gritted teeth, "Do not speak of what you do not know."
"Might I remind you of the same?" Cregan's voice suddenly chimed in. 
Behind Aemond stood Lord Stark, Ice poking into the Prince's back.
"Tell me why I should not spear this sword into you now and end this war entirely?" Cregan threatened.
Aemond's jaw clenched as he stared at his sister who remained motionless. 
Finally, he let her go, cursing himself lightly when she dropped to the ground and coughed. 
"Turn yourself around and face me properly," Stark commanded.
Aemond did so with a look in his eye that could kill. "You command your prince-"
"I command the Green traitor scum that dared invade my home and threaten my wife."
"I still hold the fiercest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms," Aemond taunted. "What will stop me from burning all of the North down?"
"Then your war will be lost before it even begins," Cregan said lowly. "For I will hunt you down. And where a Stark leads, the North follows."
When Aemond stepped forward towards the Northernman, the tip of Ice rested against his stomach, the threat still there. "I am only here to return my sister to King's Landing."
"You touch her, and you die by my hands, Prince."
Aemond's head tilted, "So scared you'll lose the war?"
"Hardly," Cregan reasoned. "You're just not touching my wife."
"She," the prince pointed, "Is a Princess and a dragon rider first. Not your little northern wife."
"And yet she didn't choose you, did she?" Cregan mocked softly, enjoying the anger radiating from the man. "She chose to stay."
"She has no choice," Aemond gritted his teeth.
"And still she didn't choose you," He smiled. He looked past the prince, "Alright, pretty girl?"
Y/n looked up at the two, her fingers massaging her neck where bruising had already begun to show, "'m fine."
Cregan took that for an answer enough before turning his attention back to Aemond, "Leave before I change my mind."
Though filled with hatred, Aemond had no defense. He stepped away, his eye not leaving the Lord. "You'll regret this." He turned to his sister, "You'll wish you'd chosen differently."
She spoke up, her voice hoarse, "I shall see for myself."
Trying to force a unbothered tone, Aemond hummed, "Very well."
He then turned back on his heel, retreating from the hall.
The moment he was gone, Cregan abandoned Ice, kneeling in front of his wife, "Gods, what did he do to you?"
She held his hands, keeping them from wandering over her is panic, "Just some bruises. I promise. I'm alright."
"Forgive me. He had snuck past us men entirely and through the doors before any of us had even spotted him."
She shrugged, "You came when it mattered most."
"Aye," he smiled. "I always will, my girl."
She leaned forward, connecting their lips gently.
He groaned against her. "I always will."
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Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog
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cup1dz · 1 month ago
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TO LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY (g/n reader x ruggie bucchi)
★ ruggie doesn't know why, but he seeks you out when he gets injured. and he doesn't know why, but you let him in knowing who he is and what he's done. ★ fluff(?) ruggie is a little angsty here methinks ★ 2.7k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, written from ruggie's pov because why not, ruggie is written a bit more melancholic than canon for The Plot
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ruggie’s been in fights before. 
too many to count, really. it’s a given, considering his tendency to take anything that seems like it can be repurposed or sold. old habits die hard, he supposes. even if he’s living way better off than how he was a couple years ago, he still feels that itch in his fingers whenever he sees something he can take. it’s never ending, that constant want in his gut for more. it’s a good thing that most of the students on campus are so easily duped. 
most of them, at least. 
ruggie knows he’s agile enough to outrun any spell cast at him. scratch that, ruggie knows he can outrun anything if he tries hard enough. he’s got stamina and determination for days, and simple humans could never outpace a beastman. especially not a hyena beastman. even if ruggie gets caught pickpocketing, it’s just too easy to escape from the scene of the crime. after all, some kids never grew up needing to run like he did.  
but nobody’s perfect, and even ruggie messes up sometimes. really, he’s gotta hand it to those prissy heartslabyul kids with nothing bouncing around in their empty heads besides tea and biscuits, they know how to aim their spells. 
thankfully, the magical properties of the school uniform nullified most of the effects of the spells that hit him. it’s just a shame his face isn’t quite as immune. as luck would have it, one of the fire spells just barely managed to hit him, leaving him with a minor burn on the side of his face. he’s lucky he got away with his life, really. who knows what would’ve happened if it hit him dead on. 
as he sprints through corridors, desperately holding onto the heartslabyul students’ wallets, he briefly considers playing goody-goody later in the year so he can recruit them. it’s really too bad they were aiming their spells at him rather than at a spelldrive disc. their talents would be better utilized on the field. 
leona would probably be pissed he brought along heartslabyul students, but in the end he would begrudgingly acknowledge their potential. and when he realizes what great players ruggie brought, he’ll toss some of his princely dollar bills ruggie’s way as a thank you, and ruggie can treat himself to a hard-earned meal. 
yet even as the prospect of securing a dinner lies tantalizing before him, the throbbing pain of the burn on his face snaps him out of it.
maybe he should be getting used to burns by now, considering all the times he’s accidentally been blasted with a fireball in the countless spelldrive training matches in savanaclaw, but what can he say? he’s a sensitive hyena.  
ruggie takes a moment to glance behind him. the corridor is empty. those heartslabyul kids seem to have given up on trying to trail him. 
he takes a moment to slow down and catch his breath. 
he’s not dumb. now is no time for rest. ruggie knows that at this very moment, he should go to the infirmary as soon as possible. or maybe his dorm instead, to ensure that those heartslabyul kids won’t find him and try to start something again. who cares if the sweltering heat of savanaclaw irritates his injury? at least he’d be safe.  
yet as he begins his trek to the hall of mirrors, he hesitates. stops again. glances around. and decides to make a detour to your place instead. 
stupid, he knows. but his feet seem to have a mind of its own, dragging him to you rather than back to his room. 
nobody would go looking for him at your place, he rationalizes, it’s safe. it wouldn’t aggravate his burns like savanaclaw would. 
most importantly though, there’s you there. and ruggie, the greedy hyena he is, would endure any pain if it meant a singular second longer with you. your presence is, admittedly, compensation enough for the troubles he has to face.
but the rational part of him doesn’t want to drag you into his problems. what if they do come looking for him at yours? you’re a stupid bleeding heart, and considering your track record for playing savior, he doesn’t doubt that you’d immediately try to help him. if he makes you take care of him, makes you deal with his own situations, then he owes you one. and if there’s anything he wants to avoid most, it’s owing people. 
and he absolutely cannot owe you, of all people, anything, lest he fall into madness trying to figure out the unsolvable problem of how to pay back someone who deserves something far more than what he can provide. what can ruggie bucchi offer you that matches anything you’ve done for him? honestly, he shivers to think about what sort of repentance would be enough for you. 
you’d probably tell him that you don’t need some sort of thank-you gift, and that’d make him go crazy. usually, he’d praise those people to heaven and back, grateful to keep his money and his time. but with you, he feels like he’s tearing his own hair out in frustration. just take his damn gifts of gratitude! 
but even as his brain tells him to turn right back around and go back to the hall of mirrors, he finds himself at your doorstep. he hesitates a little before pocketing the wallets and knocking. 
...now that he thinks about it, do you even have proper first aid equipment?
“ruggie?” you say as you open the door, interrupting his thoughts. your expression morphs from being confused to being worried. he feels like an insect under a microscope when your eyes flick to the rather prominent burn on his face.
“had a little run-in,” he laughs. the sound isn’t as smooth as he thought it’d be, and it only seems to make you frown even more. “can i, uh, y’know, crash on your couch real quick?”
he probably looks like a stray dog, begging for scraps at your doorstep. do you think he’s pitiful? is he someone to be pitied?
your eyes soften. “like i’d say no. come in.”
you step aside, allowing him access into your home. it’s funny, the way the outside is so rundown, but the inside is perfectly cozy. for some reason, you personally put in the effort into transforming an old house clearly falling apart at the seams into something somewhat decent looking. 
ruggie doesn’t really understand why you bothered. it isn’t your responsibility to take on the burden. if it were him, he would’ve just let someone else do it.
doesn’t mean he’s not a fan of your furniture choices though. you suggest he go sit on the couch and he practically collapses onto it. his ears pick up the sound of you running water and opening cabinets. probably looking for first aid. good to know you do, in fact, possess medical supplies. 
you scurry over to where he’s sprawled on your couch and hand him a cool, wet cloth.
“thanks,” he grins, sighing with relief as he presses it against the burn, “you’re too good to me, you know that? you okay with having me in your house like this?”
(are you okay with having me at all? are you okay with me?)
“of course i am,” you say with a huff, placing the kit on a nearby table, “why wouldn’t i be?” 
ruggie blinks. he can think of a multitude of reasons why you wouldn’t want him in your space.
“if someone who stole from me came up to me asking for help, i wouldn’t just, y’know, let them in with a smile and be like, ‘sure, why don’t you put your feet up on my couch, even!’” he says. with a more rueful sigh, adds on, “man, you’re just too nice for this school. ya gotta learn that not everyone has your best interests at heart.”
you roll your eyes playfully. clearly, it’s not the first time someone’s told you to be more alert. it surely isn’t ruggie’s first time telling you to watch your back. at this point, he’s pretty sure the information just goes in one ear and out the other.
why do you care so much? actually, scratch that, why don’t you care at all?
“you didn’t steal from me, you stole from grim,” you quip back, popping open the lid of the first aid kit, “so technically, you haven’t wronged me just yet. at least not enough to warrant me shutting the door in your face. anyways, i’ll let you know, i’ve been extremely, super-duper careful. haven’t gotten into a sticky situation in a week now.”
“...hate to be the one to break it to you, but most people don’t get into ‘sticky situations’ like overblots ever.”
you burst out into laughter, and the sound is just as soothing as the cool press of the cloth against his raw skin. maybe you do possess some sort of magical prowess after all, the way you make all aches dissipate into thin air. 
no, that’s not it. no amount of healing magic could hold a candle to how your smile heals his soul.
“ya know what,” he says with a smile, sitting up as you grab ointment, “i won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. if you’re offering oh-so politely to give me medical care for free, well, just who am i to refuse?”
“honest as always, huh?” you smile back. you gently pull ruggie’s hand away to apply ointment to the burn, and ruggie’s heart rate spikes. when you grip his chin so you can be more precise, he’s almost certain that you can feel the way his face heats up. 
he could’ve done it himself. but you just took it upon yourself to do it for him like the goody-two-shoes you are. what a savior. 
ruggie’s learned that in the real world, the only person he can rely on is himself. when he got hurt and scraped up, the only person that could help was him and him alone. but with you, he’s reminded of how his grammy used to kneel in front of him and kiss the cuts on his hands better. he’s reminded of that feeling of having somebody else take care of him for once. 
it’s nice. being here with you. letting you take care of him. really nice. 
you’re nice. 
ruggie can’t help but stare at your concentrated expression as you carefully dab at the raw skin. can’t help but stare at the furrow of your brow, the way your eyes squint slightly, the way you bite the bottom of your lip. how would you react if he told you the reason why he got burned was because he nabbed the wallets off some poor heartslabyul kids? how would you react if he told you, yet again, that he’s stolen something?
you probably wouldn’t care. you probably already know the reason why he got hurt was because of some nefarious act of greed. the thought that that’s what you think of him, someone who perpetually lies and steals, is a heavy one, but nonetheless true. 
but you still sit here and treat his wounds. you, who is possibly the very definition of an angel, treat the wounds of a thief without a moment’s hesitation. you and your stupid bleeding heart.
why?
“does it hurt?” you ask softly, pulling away. ruggie can’t help but try to chase after your touch like the greedy hyena he is. begging for more than what he’s allowed like he always does.
“‘course not,” he snickers, “who do you think i am? it’s gonna take a lot more than a little cream to get my hair standing on end.”
“of course,” you roll your eyes again with a smile, procuring gauze from your first aid kit, “shouldn’t have asked. you’re the most resilient student i’ve ever met.”
ruggie’s shoulders shake as he laughs, a hand coming to his mouth to partially hide the ever-familiar grin on his face.
“resilient, huh?” he says, “that’s definitely one way to put it.”
you reach out once more, cradling his face and covering the burn with gauze. you treat him like some sort of precious object. what a stark contrast to him being thrown against the floor only hours prior.  
does he deserve this genuine kindness from you? maybe not. but when has the concept of “deserving something” ever stopped ruggie? 
“and… there,” you breathe a sigh of relief, a proud smile working its way to your face as you gaze upon your incredible work of medical genius, “good as new!”
ruggie’s fingers reach up to gently brush against the gauze. he feels like he’s just cheated you of your time, medical supplies, and energy. 
…he hopes you can forgive him, because he doesn’t feel a lick of regret. 
(what can he say? he never said he was ashamed of being a thief.)
“thanks,” he says, “you’re surprisingly good with first aid. must’ve had to open up the kit a lot recently, huh?”
“you know it,” you sigh dramatically, closing the kit with a click! “you’d think after the third time, something would change! but nope, i’m still getting thrown around like a ragdoll left and right.”
you seem to realize something, and inquisitively tilt your head towards him. “now that i think about it, why’d you come here instead of the nurse? they could’ve healed you up in a second of what it took for me to bandage you.”
“you’re asking that now?” ruggie asks, “man, you really are too trusting. i could almost mistake you for kalim.”
“very funny. so?”
ruggie hums, pretending to be lost in thought.
“...i’m used to doing it this way,” is what he settles on. kicking up the dramatics, he sighs and places a hand on his heart. “back home, there weren’t many people who could do fancy-schmancy healing magic, y’know? so this is more familiar.”
“liar,” you accuse immediately, “you could’ve just done it yourself then.”
“i wasn’t lying! and anyways, fine, i guess i just wanted to leech off you, then.”
“hey!”
ruggie laughs again, leaning back on the couch as you giggle along with him. 
“okay, okay,” he relents, “you want an honest answer from lil’ ol’ me? i like being doted on. y’know, i’m always being run so ragged by leona all the time, i can’t do all the work myself. why should i when i could come here and get you to take care of me and serve me delicious snacks?”
you gasp in mock offense. “is that all i am to you? free help and food?”
“and free couches!”
okay, yeah. maybe he’s not being entirely honest. even though it is true he likes being doted on. having grandmas serve you biscuits whenever you feign sickness was always pretty nice. but when you dote on him, it’s just… well.. 
you make him feel like he’s worth more than he actually is.
but when you laugh with him and swat at his shoulder, he thinks that you probably don’t need to know all that. 
“...thanks again,” he smiles, “is it okay if i stay a little longer? i don’t feel like walking all the way back to my dorm.”
“duh!” you say immediately. the way you don’t even hesitate, the way you don’t think twice about having ruggie in your home, in the space you so carefully curated, it makes him feel butterflies in his stomach. 
you don’t mind if he stays. you don’t mind letting someone so obviously beneath you take up space in your home and use up your supplies. you don’t mind keeping a lowly thief. 
…you really are too trusting.
“wait,” you tell him, “let me go get you a drink or something.”
“there’s the free food part. been waiting for you to pull that out!”
“hey, don’t test me! or i’m gonna feed you grim’s cat food!”
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note: hey guys... GULP. i know i said the next fic would be a deuce fic but WHHEHEEEWW i underestimated how much school would be a pain and how much i'd have to write!! the slow burn really is slowly burning. Sorry if the plot kind of doesn't know its own identity i just wrote this because i wanted to write for ruggie and thats all that really matters right..............
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improbable-outset · 9 months ago
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📄 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫
Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k
𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst, post-break up, Miguel’s heartbroken, he really shouldn’t be though, sexual frustration, innuendos, soreness from sex, male masturbation, sexual flashbacks MINORS DNI🔞
𝐀/𝐍: Hey, hope you didn’t forget about me🥹 it’s been a while. I saw this fan art of Miggy in the shower after I wrote this and thought it was pretty fitting
𝐒��𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday and it was affecting his performance. Meanwhile, your dual life as a loyal lover and as Spider-Woman is putting a lingering strain on your new relationship. The ripple effect of your breakup is coming back to bite you in the ass in the most unexpected way possible.
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Things were already hard enough after you and Miguel broke things off. But having to be your boss while not allowing his heartbreak to get in the way of leading a group of Spider People, including yourself, was modifying.
He didn’t realise how much the aftermath affected him until his recruits had noticed his performance was lacking.
His combat skills were becoming sloppy making him prone to more injury. It was frustrating how much he was letting this get to his head— he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
After the third trip to the Spider Medbay, it dawned on him that he had to accept things as they were now and move on. His job as a leader will be at risk otherwise.
Initially, he thought he was doing a decent job ignoring his pain. He was growing used to seeing you everyday without your affection, especially since he was accustomed to being alone before you got together.
But after the latest Spider meeting, Miguel was left with fresh salt on the wound.
As you sat down on your seat before he commenced the meeting, your face scrunched slightly from the ache between your legs.
An obvious sign that you’ve just been dicked down by your current flame recently. No one else in the board room had noticed but he definitely did.
And he hated himself for it.
If the situation were different, where you didn't feel any resentment towards him after he broke your heart, he wouldn’t pay any mind to it.
There was a time where he would’ve felt his ego soar after seeing you struggling to sit down like that — only because he knew it was him and his dick that was the cause of that. But now he was left with bitter pain and yearning.
Back then, he knew he could manhandle you if he wanted to. But he would never do anything that could affect your agility and performance as a crime fighter.
Albeit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you good enough so you would get drunk from his dick and he got to witness your mind going numb.
But now he had lost that privilege. He couldn’t see your worn out face anymore after he made you come.
The mere notion of another man touching you like that, let alone seeing you in that state, was enough to send him spiraling. Not that he would let you be aware of that.
This new guy wasn’t even aware of your double life as Spiderwoman. He wouldn’t be as cautious and mindful when fucking you like Miguel would.
It was one of the convenient things in your relationship— why you were perfect for each other. Until it wasn’t. He had to force himself to continue like this wasn’t tearing him apart inside.
Eventually the meeting came to a conclusion and everyone made their way to the cafeteria for their lunch break. Miguel, on the other hand, headed back to his office in solitary.
Every muscle in his body felt heavy and it felt like extra labour just to walk back to his office. He didn’t catch you following behind until you called out his name.
“Miguel,” he turned to see you walk up towards him.
As foolish as it was, for a fleeting moment he thought you were going to comfort him; put your hands on his shoulders and give him a massage or peppered his face with kisses when everyone had left, just like you used to.
The fantasy vanished just as quickly as it came when you spoke your mind.
“I think my watch needs calibrating, it’s acting up,” you told him, gesturing to your watch. Of course.
You would only approach him when you need something from him. That was how it had been, he shouldn’t expect anything more.
“Alright pass it over, I’ll give you a day pass in the meantime,” he said as he fished out a day pass for you to wear.
You removed your watch from your hand and passed it to him before taking the wrist band and putting it on.
Once it was secure, you turned your heels to leave. He felt his adrenaline spike as he watched you and out of impulse, he opened his mouth to speak again.
“Hey um,” He started, making you turn back around to look at him. Your eyes bore onto his, something he thought he’d never witness again after you split up. Except this time, there wasn’t any warmth in your gaze as there used to be; instead, there was nothing but a void.
Shit
The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. Or maybe that was the heat rushing to his cheeks out of sheer discomfort.
Either way he felt like his inner thoughts were written all over his face and you could read him. You probably could sense something was wrong but you weren’t going to comment on it.
He wouldn’t blame you…
Now you had your full attention on him, even if it was only brief. He had to make sure he played his card right and tread through this carefully.
“How’s everything?” He asked meekly. He tried to keep his composure as controlled as he could, keeping a tight lid on his raw emotions.
“Fine.” The word came out so curt, it didn’t even feel like a proper response.
It hurt his pride knowing another man could make you sore like he can, just the way you like it. On top of that, he was treating you better and was making you happy. Something that he couldn’t do.
You deserved a partner who would be there for you, support you and nurture that mutual love. Not just someone who was good in bed.
Unfortunately he was so drawn into his train of thoughts about your man, his mouth moved faster than his mind before he could even stop himself, initiating a word vomit.
“Is he treating you well,”
Shit shit shit…
Why did he bring him up? Now he probably looked pathetic. He could see you drift your gaze away after he asked that. Obviously the topic was pretty sensitive.
“Mhmm” you hummed in approval. You were clearly not comfortable with sharing more. Judging by how you responded, you had moved on and healed from the pain he had caused you.
He shouldn’t shit on your new man; he never even met the guy (other than watching the surveillance footage of your dimension while monitoring the Multiverse like he always did)
So he had no valid reason to hate on him if everything was going well with you.
And he knew you weren’t going to willingly share about your current relationship. You were a private person and he always valued that while you were both still together.
But now it was working against his favour. Despite being fully aware that your personal life wasn’t any of his business anymore, he was still desperate to know everything.
There was a sense of antipathy that was growing in his heart towards your new life without him in it. No matter how much he would lie to himself and deny it was there, it only heightened as more time passed.
The silence that was shared between the two of you was making it hard to breathe. It felt like all the oxygen in the room wasn’t enough to fill his lungs with the tranquility he needed.
You should get going, don’t want to hold you back any longer than I already have.
Eventually, Miguel gave a subtle nod before shifting his attention to your watch in his hand. He wanted to end the premature conversation before he said something he will regret.
The last thing he heard was your footsteps getting quieter as you left his office, leaving him in his own thoughts.
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Miguel felt some of the tension leaving his body, like melted candle wax, as he took the first step into his apartment— his confinement safe space.
But despite being surrounded by the comfortable air in his home, his muscles were still aching. Today was more physically demanding than usual as he was on his feet all day, containing not just one but three anomalies, all in different dimensions.
Fatigue seeped into his bones. But it wasn’t just the physical tasks that drained him. His mind was constantly running with relentless questions, though there was one that struck him the most.
Could he manage to lead the Spider Society without being consumed by his emotional turmoil? More importantly, without being consumed by the reminders of his loss. Gabriella.
You.
It has been a year since you both split up and he’s still unable to break free from the haunting memories of his past. Thinking about your breakup was making him dizzy. The overhead lights in his apartment suddenly felt too bright and sickening.
“Lyla, could you dim the lights please?” He called out before he headed to the bathroom. The lights dimmed just as demanded.
“Lights are dimmed now, Miguel,” Lyla’s digital voice chirped. Miguel’s thoughts remained on you as he made his way towards the shower.
He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the last conversation you both just had back in HQ. It was brief but your reluctant body language was enough to speak volume.
Part of him wanted to know what was going through your head when he asked about your current relationship, even if it was just a slip up. But at the same time, after seeing the way your demeanor shifted when he asked, he would rather stay clueless about it.
He stepped into the shower and twisted the shower knob, adjusting the water to the right temperature. Steam was released into the air from the hot water, creating condensation on the cold tiles.
The hot spray from the shower ran over him as he allowed the water to rinse over his whole body. He sighed as he felt his muscles instantly unwind from the hot water but the warmth also seemed to amplify his solitude.
He rested one of his hands on the glass panel that was fogging up from the steam. The shower continued to spray over his back and his mind continued to wander.
As much as he tried to forget about today, he couldn’t stop thinking back to the Spider meeting from earlier and how you were struggling to sit without the obvious sourness between your legs. Seeing you in that state gave him erotic flashbacks that he didn’t want to recrystallise in his head, especially now.
Suddenly, a memory that he had tried so hard to bury deep in his core resurfaced in his head, blaring at him. The image of you bent over in his shower; your hands and your bare tits being pressed against the same glass panel he had his hands on right now, while he was thrusting you from behind.
He couldn’t shake off the memory no matter how hard he tried. The thoughts continued to run through his head and just like clockwork, he felt himself getting bricked up.
How pathetic. He let his unwanted memories get the best of him and now it was affecting the rest of his body.
His cock was twitching and he could feel the subtle throb of his pulse from the sensitive areas. His free hand reached to clasped around the length with his mind conflicted from his aching predicament.
As much as he knew how bad his situation was right now, he couldn’t stop himself from caving into his own desperation. Out of impulse, he started to stroke at a steady pace with that image of you stuck behind his eyelids.
This was wrong. So wrong. Thinking about you in such an elaborate manner while getting off to it, especially when he was aware that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. After everything he put you through…
But his head wasn’t thinking about any reasoning or morals anymore. At least no one could see the state he was in right now.
The grip from his hands could never replicate the sensation of your walls clenching around him— along with your wetness that would coat his dick.
He was drawn back to those memories of you in his shower again. You always used to take him so well, especially from behind. He would nuzzle his face into your neck while fucking you relentlessly.
The bathroom would be filled with the sounds of your pretty moans over the spray of the water that would echo over the tiles in the shower.
Each thrust would push you further against the glass panel. Your hands and tits would always be imprinted on the surface by the end of it, and every time he would be reluctant to wipe it away.
He increased the pace of his strokes just from recalling that memory, with his eyes bored onto the panel. His heart was pulsated in his chest as he was losing himself in the bliss of his own fantasies.
The memory of your breakup was now forgotten as he was reliving these memories. It was almost tangible, he could almost hear you moaning out fragments of his name in his mind. But it was probably just his auditory hallucinations.
He longed to feel you again, hearing you say his name just like you used to. Feeling your touch again would scratch the irritable itch that had always lingered. Even if he knew he’d never have you again, he still dreamt about you.
His climax was crawling up to him painstakingly slow. He recalled those moments where you would touch yourself afterwards, just to feel how much he had stuffed you with his cum.
The memory, along with the built up anger and longing, was enough for him to unravel and his orgasm came crashing down on him— it was almost overwhelming.
The evidence of his guilt spilled over his knuckles before getting washed away by the spray of the shower. But it wasn’t enough to erase what he just did.
The post-nut clarity disappeared once he realised what he got himself into and how far he fell into the rabbit hole of his own desires. It felt like every object in the bathroom just witnessed his own sin.
He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower before he wrapped a towel around his waist. Water was dripping from his hair and fell over his bare shoulders and back, but he paid no attention to it.
Everything that had just happened a few moments ago was sinking into him, and although he scrubbed himself clean from his own cum, there was still the unsettling awareness of his own mishap weighing on his shoulders.
It was making his stomach twist with nausea. Shame quickly settled over him, like a cloud hovering over his head. It continued to follow him as he made his way to his bedroom.
Miguel grabbed a set of clean clothes from the dresser and got himself dressed for bed. Even with the unease that was lingering in his head, his routine still felt mechanical and familiar. Nothing else seemed to change.
Once he was dressed, he slipped under the cool covers of his bed, shutting out everything that had happened today.
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Part 2
Just lmk if you wanna be tagged
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @miguels-aranita @thealleydog @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @strawberryjuice9 @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @what-the-jams @mcmiracles @monarchberrysblog @niyahwhoreworld @keigoloveminty @ewan-tef @ginanet @mrsoharaa @flowerlemonss-blog @shadowarchon @smartyren @famouscattale @stressed-cherry @hrhmimieucliffe @ultravioletrayz @grxnde-dwt @homewreckingwreck @your-antares-universe @crimin4llyins4ne @tojishugetiddies @miguel-ohara-wifey
Now I’m gonna log off for two days bc I don’t want to see ppls immediate reaction to this 😟
Btw, I will be interacting with your fics and reblogging from my second account @lmaoyouwhore (don’t pree the blog too hard, it’s still under construction lol)
Ayrus xoxo
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amaryllis-22 · 1 month ago
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Alpha Simon "Ghost" Riley x Alpha Reader
Word count: 1.7k
WARNINGS: NSFW near the end, 18+, MDNI, Omegaverse AU
AN: I don't know what confidence boost prompted me to publish it, but by now the damage is done. I am quite shy and self-conscious about my writing, so bear with me on this one.
There was something extremely wrong with him; Ghost was sure of it — something that went against general opinion, against the organisation of their whole society, and unfortunately also against his own nature.
Simon Riley despised Omegas.
No, that was not the right verb to use.
He was scared to death of having to deal with one of them in the future, as one would expect from an Alpha worthy of the name.
The Omegas were too... soft for the likes of him.
Generalise was wrong, he knew. In his military career, he had met many who could give the most unhinged alphas a run for their money.
One thing, however, seemed to bloody well remain constant in each of them: that something sweet and gentle that sent him into complete turmoil, and not in a good way. He felt like an elephant in a glassware shop, as if his breath alone, if not calibrated well enough, could have completely shattered them.
Simon's entire life, for as long as he could remember, had been marked by violence. A mixture of blood, pain, and gunpowder that would have horrified any other ordinary man.
Truth be told, that was fine with him. Maybe even more than just fine. It was absolutely perfect. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, his skin torn by scars, the weight of a rifle in his hand was what made him feel alive, what defined him. Ghost, agile and silent on his feet, able to hide in the shadows as if he were one of them, deadlier than an army of men.
This was him, and what Simon Riley needed was not tenderness and care. It was fight, teeth, bites, a constant challenge that no Omega could bring him; something he could only find in someone like him. Another alpha.
Admitting it to himself had been harder than he had imagined. Perhaps that was why, for a very long time, he refused to consider it.
Soap often joked good-naturedly about how he was the only one who still had not found a mate. The reason, according to the Scot, was how little effort he had put into not looking like what was essentially inseparable from him.
"Ye just need tae catch up wi' someone who can stand up tae ye, Lt," Johnny had commented in that big, positive tone of his, landing a friendly punch on his arm (which earned him a not-so-subtle look of warning). "'N' when ye dae, och how ye'll regret nae givin' it a chance sooner."
Yeah, that was not going to happen, by any means.
He had tried, albeit half-heartedly, prompted by his Captain's suggestions. He had proposed an Omega made especially for him, one that would suit his way of being. Price knew them personally and could vouch for them. They were a great soldier, with a clear head and not afraid to confront him should he be an idiot, and yet...
... it was not what he needed. It was a copy, well done, but nevertheless only a pale imitation of what it should have been.
That was probably the moment when he realised no Omega would ever be good for him. The discovery came as a bit of a shock, a whiplash on the back of his neck, though deep down he had felt it for far too long.
Omegas were not made for him, just as he was not made for them.
That being said, coming across an Alpha he was interested in had proved to be equally difficult. The military base was full of them, but none had managed to catch his attention.
It almost seemed as though no one on the bloody planet was destined for him, that Ghost was doomed to be alone for the rest of his existence. He had pretended to be comfortable with that for a while, carrying on as if nothing had happened.
Until you had barged into his life out of nowhere, turning everything upside down without even noticing.
It was not unusual for new recruits to be accepted. What definitely felt out of the ordinary, however, was to put them into a Special Ops team like his when they looked like they had barely gotten out of prep school. You were an Alpha like him; that much was certain. Your strong, citrusy scent filled the room as if you wanted to let everyone know of your presence, no matter how discreet it appeared to his eyes.
Simon had to be critical of such things. Theirs was a serious job; he could not allow a rookie to ruin everything and put his comrades-in-arms in danger.
Oh, how wrong he was. His sixth sense had never been so incorrect before.
You were lethal, a war machine made and finished, and that had attracted him more than he cared to admit.
Why, when he had chosen to put his soul at rest, did you have to show up and serve him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter?
It was frustrating having to share common spaces with you, working closely together during missions. Although he didn't want to (lies), he was learning new parts of you that made him even further infatuated.
The situation was getting out of hand. Not only did his gaze find itself constantly following you around during the day (it was inevitable, he told himself; he had to make sure you didn't screw up everything), but to make matters worse, your stupid image had started to haunt him at night as well. Heated dreams of embraces, scratches, slaps of skin against skin that made him wake up in a pool of sweat, more aroused than ever.
It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic, that a man like him, with his past, had regressed to the status of a lovestruck schoolboy. A friendly touch was enough to send all the blood in his body straight to his cock. He had solely his mask to thank for concealing the almost shameful grimace in which his expression twisted into when that happened.
He couldn't go on like this; he was going insane.
Maybe that was why, in the middle of the night, after waking up from yet another wet dream, frustrated and needy, he had left his room to go bang on your door. The two glasses of bourbon he had drunk earlier had clouded his mind just enough to put aside his doubts and possible second thoughts. He was going to do it: put those fantasies to rest once and for all and replace them with the real thing.
It had taken you quite a bit to answer. He couldn't really blame you considering he had woken you up at two in the fucking morning. Your hair was slightly ruffled, your eyes clouded with sleep when you graced him with your presence.
God, he couldn't contain himself any longer.
Before you could ask him what the hell he wanted at that ungodly hour, one of his hands had gripped your shoulder, pushing you back into the dimly lit room, while the other had pulled up his balaclava just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. After absent-mindedly closing the door with the heel of his foot, his lips were pressed to yours, silencing any possible resistance.
Ghost knew he was being an asshole. It wasn't right to force contact on you when, until a few hours earlier, all you'd shared was polite chitchat. Yet you were a tough one, a fighter. You wouldn't have hesitated to push him away and kick him where the sun don't shine if you wanted to.
Simon almost expected it, though the sensation of a slap on the cheek and the accompanying outburst of possible insults never came. Instead, he sensed your fingers run through the light strands of his hair to press his face closer to yours, your tongue duelling with his for control.
You were returning his kiss with as much passion, if not more, than he had put into it.
It was overwhelming, making his head spin and taking the air out of his lungs at how intense it felt.
You wanted it; you really wanted it. You were not rejecting him; you were not rejecting that taboo contact, that something against nature that was the attraction between two Alphas.
Every thread of restraint that might have remained in him snapped at that realisation. His grip on you tightened, and he somehow managed to manoeuvre you underneath him, your back resting against the undone sheets of your bed. It was short-lived since you did not take long to reverse positions, grinding your lap against his whilst your teeth nibbled at the flesh of his neck.
Ghost would not have left you in charge long, but for the moment he could still enjoy the weight of your body on top of his. Your nails had dug into his skin as you sought the pleasure you craved. You were adorable in his eyes. Your pupils dilated, your skin heated, and the growl that echoed in your throat with every movement. All utterly perfect.
Oh, how pleasant was the feeling of your hole contracting around his dick, how immensely arousing was your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to take it all in one go. "Look at you, so greedy... You love it that much, don’t ya?" he grunted, amused, his chest pressing against yours as he forced your knees to rest against the sides of your face. Folding you in half.
You mumbled a "shut up" or something along those lines in return, but you were not denying his statement. He found it quite hilarious, actually, so much so that he cracked a laugh even as he was rearranging your insides.
No real words had been exchanged. They were superficial when the pent-up energy between the two of you had finally obtained an outlet. Thinking about the consequences of his actions did not seem right to Ghost, at least not at that time.
Would things get complicated once the fog of lust had cleared? Probably. Would he have regretted going on anyway? In no fuckin' way. You'd had the chance to push him away before. You hadn't, and now you had to deal with all that was him, Simon Riley.
Maybe, just maybe, there was really nothing wrong with him, just something misunderstood if you too, with those almost teary and yet fiery eyes, seemed to harbour the same feelings as him.
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saintsenara · 1 month ago
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I actually hear "the order of the phoenix is not a gang of child soldiers" a lot, and I agree to some level - especially because I like to use Dorcas and Marlene to explore corners of the wizard world and its timeline that the marauders scooby gang doesn't reach.
But isn't it also true that a lot of resistances and guerrillas through history have been manned mostly by young idealists, often university students and recent graduates?
Young, agile, energetic people to do the work older people don't have the disposition for, and that important people can't do because that would compromise their important positions?
i think there's an interesting quirk when it comes to the order and its demographic make-up which stems from jkr's own politics.
because the order is a resistance organisation, sure... but what it's resisting is revolution. its aims, across canon, are the maintenance of the status quo, with the state and its institutions [including the class system] left broadly untouched, except for the fact of a minor expansion of wizarding society's parameters to accommodate muggleborns [or, at least, muggleborns who also bear the markers of class-based acceptability]. its politics, across canon, are gradualist, liberal, pro-state, and demonstrably unradical.
that is to say, it represents the "adults in the room" - the sensible, rational, intelligent, considerate people who disapprove both of the reactionary, emotionally-led conservatism of fudge et al. and the radicalism of voldemort.
[he literally wants to rip up the principles by which the wizarding world is governed! he wants to tear everything about its social fabric apart!]
and so it makes perfect sense that its members would predominantly be adults - and adults directly involved in the maintenance of the state and its institutions.
whereas the death eaters do conform to the more typical make-up of revolutionary [and/or terrorist] organisations. huge numbers of the death eaters we meet in canon are people who are decades younger than voldemort and who, during the first war, were canonically in their teens or twenties - snape, mulciber, avery, wilkes, evan rosier, bellatrix, lucius malfoy, rodolphus [and presumably rabastan] lestrange, barty crouch jr., regulus black, peter pettigrew, and so on.
many of these death eaters are either stated or implied to be the children of voldemort's school friends and/or the knights of walpurgis, which invites the suggestion that they supersede their fathers in importance once voldemort returns to britain in the later 1960s because their attitudes are much more radical, zealous, and revolutionary, while their fathers want voldemort to take a more traditional political route to achieving his aims.
[which helps explain why voldemort is so furious about half of them claiming to be under the imperius curse in order not to face punishment, allowing them to live according to the social convention they once claimed to want to destroy...]
and voldemort's ability to recruit young, eager men continues during the second war - crabbe, goyle, draco malfoy, stan shunpike, the snatchers, and so on. the order, in contrast, only takes on young members due to the accident of proximity - the weasley children, who become part of it entirely because their parents are involved; fleur, who becomes part of it entirely because of her marriage.
the anti-voldemort resistance organisation which actually attracts young recruits is - despite the fact that harry spends half-blood prince and most of deathly hallows thinking of it as completely irrelevant to voldemort's defeat - dumbledore's army.
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zayed-gold87 · 20 days ago
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Zayed’s Ascent: The Journey to the Golden Team
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The clang of weights echoed through the gym as Zayed gritted his teeth, his legs trembling under the barbell’s crushing weight. His golden tank, drenched in sweat, shimmered with an almost ethereal glow under the overhead lights. Every lift, every drop of effort, brought him closer to his dream: becoming a core member of the Golden Team—a multinational brotherhood of elite athletes.
Their mission was as radiant as their uniform: to become a living embodiment of excellence and unity. For Zayed, the golden kit wasn’t just clothing. It was a symbol of transformation and belonging, one he was determined to earn.
The Golden Team
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The Golden Team was no ordinary group. Its members came from all corners of the globe, each bringing their unique strengths, styles, and cultures. Together, they formed a force greater than the sum of their parts, their golden uniforms gleaming like the sun as they trained, competed, and inspired. The golden kit was more than attire—it was a mantle of responsibility and a mark of achievement.
For Zayed, a young man with boundless determination, the allure of the Golden Team was irresistible. He imagined himself standing alongside his brothers, united in purpose, their golden kits glowing in unison. But to join their ranks required more than physical strength. It demanded discipline, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to the collective.
The Mentor and the Message
Among the Golden Team’s senior members was Zayed, a seasoned athlete whose name resonated within the team like a legend. A veteran of countless challenges, Zayed had become both a leader and a guide. He saw potential in the young recruit who shared his name and took him under his wing.
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“You’ve got the strength,” the elder Zayed said, his golden vest gleaming as he placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “But strength alone doesn’t make you one of us. The kit shines brightest for those who train not just for themselves, but for their brothers. You’ll find your place when you focus on the team, not the mirror.”
The words struck the younger Zayed deeply. From that day forward, his workouts took on a new meaning. He pushed himself not just for his own improvement but to match the collective strength of the Golden Team.
The Struggle and the Glow
Each day brought new challenges. Some days, Zayed trained barefoot, the cool gym floor grounding him as he pushed through grueling circuits. Other days, he slipped on simple white socks for sprints and agility drills. But the constant was the golden kit—a tank top that seemed to pulse with its own energy. As Zayed progressed, the vest’s shimmer grew brighter, almost as if it reflected his growing connection to the team.
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The trials weren’t just physical. One test required him to lift a barbell heavier than anything he had attempted before. His legs shook, his muscles burned, and for a moment, he doubted himself. But then he caught sight of the elder Zayed in the corner, nodding silently, his golden kit gleaming with quiet assurance.
The younger Zayed took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and let out a roar as he hoisted the weight above his head. The gym erupted in cheers, the sound of unity carrying him through the final rep.
“That’s how you do it,” the elder Zayed said afterward, clapping him on the back. “When you carry the weight, you carry it for all of us.”
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The Team and the Kit
As Zayed moved through the ranks, he began to notice the true power of the Golden Team. It wasn’t just their strength or their discipline—it was their connection. Athletes from different countries and cultures, united under a single golden banner, moved as one.
Their golden kits weren’t just uniforms—they were symbols of the unity they represented. Whether they were sprinting on a track, lifting in the gym, or strategizing together, their golden gear gleamed with a light that seemed to come from within.
Zayed’s own kit began to transform. No longer just a tank top, it felt like an extension of his body, glowing brighter as his connection to the team deepened.
Toward the Summit
The day Zayed was inducted into the core team was unlike any other. The gym buzzed with energy as the multinational group of athletes gathered around him. The elder Zayed stood at the front, his golden kit shining like the sun.
“You’ve earned this,” the mentor said, holding out a pristine, glowing golden tank. “But remember—the kit is only as bright as the bond you share with your brothers. It will demand more of you every day. Are you ready to serve?”
“I am,” the younger Zayed said, his voice steady.
As he pulled on the golden tank, he felt a surge of energy, a warmth that seemed to flow from the kit itself. Around him, the team erupted into cheers, their collective strength lighting up the room.
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A New Beginning
As Zayed stood among his new brothers, the golden kit glowing in harmony with theirs, he realized this was just the beginning. Every lift, every sprint, every bead of sweat was a step toward something greater—not just personal excellence, but the collective power of the Golden Team.
The floor beneath his feet, whether bare or covered, was a reminder of where he had come from. But the golden kit—the symbol of his transformation—was a reminder of where he was going. Together, with his brothers, Zayed would carry the team’s mission forward, glowing brighter with every step.
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Ready to join the team?
The Golden Army awaits. Contact us and take your place.
@brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001
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dirtytransmasc · 3 months ago
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ATLA! Avatar au ramblings, cause I need them out of my skull:
[Disclaimer: this is basically just Avatar, but if there were benders. there are no rules. god is dead. I wear his crown. we go by my rules now, even if they break atla canon. canon is a suggestion now]
each clean tends to be made up of benders from two of the elements, people from the clan can carry both traits, even if one is dormant.
for example, the Omatikaya are made up of earth and airbenders. both Mo'at and Eytukan were airbenders, yet their daughter Neytiri was an earth bender, and Sylwanin was also an air bender.
Humans are rarely benders, at least compared to the Na'vi, as the destruction of Earth led to the loss of benders, but when they are benders, they have only been fire benders. this includes avatars. the RDA specifically targets and recruits fire benders.
Fire benders are rare on Pandora. very few clans produce fire benders. and with the destruction the humans and the RDA have caused, fire benders are almost taboo, especially in the forest clans that faced the brunt of their efforts.
Jake is a fire bender, he is heavily disconnected from the idea of spirit, fluidity, or nature within his bending. it gets better as he lives with the Omatikaya, but old habits die hard, so he'll ways be a messy fire user, and his fighting style is messy, MMA like, the reckless assault of a soldier and not an art. he doesn't truly incorporate his bending into his day to day life either, it's like a gun to him, not a part of his spirit and being.
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Neytiri is an earth bender (and in my world, they can bend plants, because fuck you). while she is known for her combat on Ikran back, she is just as deadly in face to face combat, as she is a heavily offensive fighter, and she will punch you in the throat with a dagger she pulled from the earth. but in a more casual day to day, she uses it to get around the forest, to weave and craft, to cook even. she makes something solid like stone and wood look as fluid as air, and something as delicate as plant life look deadly and jagged. and as a healer she uses it not only to cultivate and refine healing plants, and even bone bend.
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a fire bender and an earth bender, have 3 kids:
Neteyam is an earth bender, he presented quite young, maybe 5 or 7, and he takes after his mommy, with the added aggression of Jake's fire bending attitude. he inherited less of his mother's likeness to plant bending, but can magma bend extremely well for his age, keeping that same fluidity. but as much of his life is taken up by combat and training, he's also a crafter and has plenty of little siblings bringing him rocks and asking him to make them beads, so he's also doing a lot of that. (he has attempted to bend a tree fort into existence and fell through it and on his ass, trust, I was there)
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Tuk is an air bender. she's only presented around 7, and only in little gusts, so she hasn't cultivated an exact style, she can only really play with little gusts of air, or go gliding about on her glider, but only when a sibling is with her, in case she falls. she's also just an agile little thing.
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Lo'ak (for angst value) doesn't present for a long while, he makes it to nearly 13 before presenting, and he ends up being a fire bender.... which did not help his self image, in any manner. not only is he the demon blooded son, the one that never lives up to Jake and Neteyam, who looks like a freak, but now he's a fire bender too? just shoot him now.
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Kiri, the child of Grace, who was not a bender, and Eywa, is an air bender (she's already Pandora Jesus, I'm not putting her through being the Avatar as well). she presented at 5, it never seemed like a big thing to her. Neytiri found her floating and that was that. she is heavily connected to her spirit, so she can astral project, and her world, which makes her very hyper sensitive to her surroundings. she uses her air bending to carry stuff, be more spry (in the comics she tends to fall behind her siblings, even Spider, who is much smaller than her. her air bending gives her the leg up to help her keep up). even after she gains an ikran, she tends to go gliding or just. floating. for funsies.
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that leaves my son, my baby boy, Spider:
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I'm making him the fucking avatar because I can.
[more bullshit below, this is just very long and I'd feel bad posting this behemoth and clogging people's feeds]
he is Eywa's first Sky child, her golden boy, and he is the bridge between humans and Na'vi— he is Na'vi in all but body, and human in all but soul —so she knows if anyone can soothe the tensions ripping her world apart, it will be him.
he starts out as a fire bender.
no one is shocked, even though he gave off his first sparks as a toddler. his parents had both been fire benders— Quaritch had mastered combustion, and Paz was known to give off smoke when pissed —this gets him even more ostracized than he was in canon from the get go. no one wants much to do with the fire bending son of Quaritch. no one can truly trust him, even as a child.
who's to say when he will become the wildfire everyone assumes he will become? who's to say he's not dangerous, even as a child? especially without the help of a fire bending master to aid him (could Jake do it? yes. do I think Jake would commit to that long term? absolutely not).
despite this, the Sully kids are his siblings, from the moment they meet. he's their big brother, watching out for them, promising his flames as their shield, forever and ever. no one will ever hurt them. that they don't need to be scared of him, because he'd burn himself to a crisp before burning them. and his will is so strong, he's never accidentally burned them like he has others. his spirit knows better. it's strong enough to render the heat to nothing.
so the second Spider can leave the confines of Hellsgate and go out into Eywa's jungle, he is more than pleased to do so. he isn't judged there. the animals don't flinch away from him or stare at him like they're seeing secrets from the future.
he bends in secret, first with fire, just dancing a flame over his hands, slowly gaining trust in himself and his control, and developing his own style of bending, one similar to the airbenders of the clan, as that's the closest thing he has to go off of.
and if he has dreams of Toruk like creatures, showing him the art of fire, when he falls asleep in the grassy clearings of Eywa's world, he won't question it.
and when he hears whispers of 'try it' when he thinks of attempting to bend a different element, even just pretending, child's play, he listens, because he trusts the soft voice in his ear.
he bends air first. while not rare, those who bend air are considered special, connect to the spirit of Eywa. it's a sign. well, it would be had anyone paid enough mind to the boy to see it.
air bending comes naturally. he'd been watching those around him air bend for years. he'd mimicked their movements while playing with his siblings. it feels right. like it was what he was destined for (Eywa just needed time to manipulate his soul). it keeps him alive in the jungle, not only cause it allows him to take riskier paths and such, but also because it allows him without an exopack.
earth comes next. again. he'd watched earth benders for years. longed to manipulate the forest like them. to create instead of destroy. wanted to heal instead of heal. wanted to use brute forced over his flames, because his flames were looked at with fear, while the other boys trained their bending and were cheered on. he can work plants as if it was as easy as breathing. weaving them together into forts and hide outs and supplies.
water is last, and seeing as it's the opposite of his birth element, he has no mentor, and not even a faint clue on how it works, it is his weakest. but he has an affinity for healing, even if it only works on little cuts and scrapes, maybe a bruise if he's lucky.
by twelve he is mostly living on his own in the woods. it's near impossible to keep him in the compound anymore. he's not interested.
no one has any idea what he is. Spider can't even fully believe it himself and all's down spirals of thinking he's giving into his human greed, somehow (don't blame him, he's just a little guy, a dumb little guy who doesn't know maths, and grew up around people who all but hated him. let him have a dumb dumb complex).
the only people who have a slight idea are his siblings; he bends too much on instinct. he reached out to catch his siblings, shifting the ground beneath them just a tad, or shooting a vine around their ankle or using a swift puff of wind to stop their descent. he heals small cuts while thumbing over them, rolling a little bead of water on the broken or bruised skin. he brings them up into elaborate tree forts.
his siblings only keep from saying something because of the look of pure terror he gets on his face when he catches himself.
as time goes on, he becomes more open with them. by 15 it's common knowledge amongst them who and what Spider is, but he still won't let them tell the clan. but he has Kiri and Neteyam to help him with his air and earth bending, as they can regurgitate their own lessons back to him, which makes him stronger over all, even if he continues to use his own methods.
Jake and Neytiri only find out the night he was taken; when he gave his all to protect his baby siblings from the recoms, all fire benders, and exposed the level of power he held... and was subsequently taken for.
and then he gets adventures with his papa and the squad. that he is so so so so so happy about (kill him).
bonus info that doesn't fit into the vaguely timeline coherent ramblings above:
Spider is a healer by nature, it's in his heart and soul. so while he trains himself for combat, it's simply natural for him to want to fix things, to help people, to give himself and his power over if it means he can soothe one ache in his people. so Spider learns all of the healing arts he can. he develops his own even. refines bone and blood bending to heal people. uses the scientific understanding of things that he picked up as a human to make better medicines, etc.
speaking of blood/bonebending. my boy is going to snap at some point during his captivity and fuck some people up with that, because he knows the dogs of the RDA deserve it. perhaps it's after Neteyam's death that triggers it. or maybe the Tulkun hunt/attack on the Ta'unui. it's something, something that has him going in a carnage spree.
he will train with Mo'at and Ronal when they find out about him. Mo'at will knowingly pass him over — she knew early in he was special, but knew, in terms of his learning, the forest was not his place, for there was too much pain. but she would watch out for him as she had his whole life, in her own ways — while Ronal will become one of his footholds in life. a place where he will always feel like he can drift back to.
~~~
that's all I have for now. it's a shit ton. I have maladaptive daydreamed part this point, but I'll probably be back on my bullshit eventually. I'll have more on Q and the water tribe and what not.
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perpetuallyobsessed0613 · 2 years ago
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Fontaine Characters Headcanons/Theories
Some of this info is known cause the siblings info got released but still:
Focalors
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Hedonist
Really only in it for entertainment (she’s just….kinda a loser 💀💀💀😭😭😭)
Hot-headed, a little childish, gives Neuvillette a hard time (yeeeah)
Would give up her Gnosis in a heartbeat if it was needed to place a bet
But would fight tooth and nail to get it back if she lost the bet
Hydro Archon (confirmed)
Hydro (confirmed, duh) /Sword (confirmed based on her Statue of the Seven)
Arlecchino
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Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers
The Knave
Used to be an actress
Method actress, used methods so outlandish she was kicked from theater
From Fontaine originally (HAH I WAS RIGHT)
Used to be an orphan
Runs an orphanage called House of the Hearth, uses it to recruit Fatui agents (!!!!!)
Those aren't gloves on her hands, she bears a curse or she's been turned into a non human entity
Pyro vision/Sword (leaks confirm she’s a Polearm!)
Cryo Delusion
Neuvillette
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Stone cold serious type (he’s literally the sweetest I love him????)
Huge proponent of justice (yup!)
Chief Justice of Fontaine
Puts up with Focalors’s attitude (Pretty much 😭)
Loyal to Archon (or is he)
Descended from mermaids (YALL YALL APPARENTLY HE'S THE HYDRO DRAGON SOVEREIGN???????!!!! WTF OMG)
Waiting for Wriothesley to slip up so he can put him in the slammer once and for all (political rival mayhaps idk)
His name deconstructed means "new city": mayhaps he's awaiting a moment to dethrone the archon and reconstruct Fontaine?
Hydro/Sword (apparently he's a Catalyst user,,,,missed the opportunity to give him a fencing sword as a weapon but whatever ig)
Clordine
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Assistant to Neuvillette
Bodyguard (yeeeah)
Prosecutor of Fontiane
Detail oriented, nothing gets past her
Vicious and Merciless (literally kinda the opposite but kinda not)
Eventually goes up against Arlecchino
Navia is her arch nemesis, seems as though Goldilocks is the only one having fun with their game of cat & mouse (the way I was off)
Electro (confirmed) /new weapon: Gun (Sword!)
Lyney
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Super protective of Lynette (rightfully so holy shit) 
Loves the chase
Cunning (eeeeh)
Very street smart (I mean kinda yeah)
You can’t tell whether he’s putting up a front, actually enjoys his web of lies, or a little bit of both
This man's gonna get used while thinking he's using the person that's using him at some point (oh Arlecchino I swear to god you better not)
Pyro (confirmed)/Bow (confirmed)
Lynette
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Something has happened to her in the past (…..well that was dark)
She’s not temperamental at all (yup)
She doesn’t smile too easily (mhm)
Strongest bond with Lyney (they twins lesgo)
Perceptive and agile (very!)
Lynette escapes her brother’s net of safety to save the traveler at some point (not so likely)
Anemo (confirmed) /Sword (confirmed)
Freminet
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Youngest sibling (yup)
introverted/enjoys personal space and quiet (lmfao I knew it)
Love for the water
Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine (confirmed)
Silent protector of both his older siblings (idrk)
Highkey that smartest book-wise out of the siblings (again idk)
Cryo (confirmed) /Claymore (confirmed)
Sigewinne
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Healer
Alchemist
Provides treatment for Wriothesley’s visual impairment
If not treatment, then she prefers sweet tasting drinks and Wriothesley prefers bitter but she still tries to get him on her new concoctions
Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Wriothesley
Hydro/Catalyst
Wriothesley
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May or may not be somewhat visually impaired
If so, not particularly compliant with treatment
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If not treatment, then he prefers bitter tasting drinks and sometimes humors Sigewinne by trying her new concoctions, mostly just pretends he’s converted to sweet and then goes for coffee or tea anyways
Likes to tease Sigewinne
Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Sigewinne
Investigator for Fontaine justice system (woeful news, he's a police officer. like not even a detective dude?)
Seems pretty chilled out, strategic, could be leading the organized crime w/Navia in secret
if he is secretly running robinhood-esque crimes with navia, then...Neuvillette sniffs something suspicious but never has the evidence to back it oop
Pyro/Claymore (He’s a Cryo Catalyst but his fists go boom boom like Heizou)
Navia
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Gives off Focalors vibes (was very wrong)
Playful (yeah I mean yeah)
Career Thief OR
Notorious organized criminal in Fontaine (literally what was I on)
Robin Hood of the sewers (I mean I was kinda sorta a tiny bit right)
Crafty, craftsman (ummm I guess her mind is?)
Super sweet, wonderful character (loved her so yes)
Loves messing with Clordine by making her think she's got her but escaping right in the nick of time (….needless to say I was way off)
Geo (confirmed)/Catalyst (claymore actually)
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demibats · 6 months ago
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how to survive a horror movie - the first to go. . .
we aren't gonna talk about the fact that it took me an entire year to revisit this fic and post the first chapter ok? but without further ado, WE ARE SO BACK. give the masterlist a visit for context if you'd like <3 -demi xx chapter warnings: weed mention, brief description of homic*de and violence. minors do not interact!
word count: 3.4k
July 1991.
You’re practically being boiled alive in the tin can castle known as Munson Manor. The Indiana heat isn’t the awful part, but the humidity has you and everyone else in Hawkins choking on the air. The measly little air conditioner situated in one of the living room windows is working overtime to cool off the small trailer to no avail. You and Eddie lay on the floor, staring up at his ceiling, opposite of one another. He turned his head to look over at you, but your eyes are closed, trying to think of anything but the heat. You can feel his heavy stare on you, but you keep your eyes closed, knowing that the blood would rush to both of your cheeks if you caught him staring. 
“It’s hotter than Satan’s ass crack outside, can’t we go swimming or somethin’?” Eddie complains next to you, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
You take this as an appropriate cue to open your eyes and turn to him, watching him writhe in the uncomfortable temperature. It makes you chuckle a little, examining the way his ‘Slayer’ muscle tank sticks to his torso from sweat. 
“I recommended that two hours ago and you whined at that too,” you challenge, resting your hands on your stomach, folded neatly there. Eddie shifts, taking his hands away from his eyes, those chocolate buttons fixating onto your gaze.
“The people of Hawkins don’t deserve to see what I’ve got underneath the denim and leather, sweetheart, but I’m bakin’ like a pie and I’ve already undressed to my comfort level.” He sounds too much like some kind of massage therapist as he says that last part, earning another breathy giggle from you. 
Your gaze lingers too long on his cut-off jeans, muscle tank, and bunched up crew socks that he ends up snapping his fingers in front of you, “Hellooooooo? Do I need to adjust the antennas on this thing?” He teases, gesturing to the top of your head as if it’s his old television. 
Waving him off, you push yourself onto your elbows, then off the cool carpet you’d been laying atop of for the last few hours, trying to will the heat away with Eddie at your side. He scrambles to his feet as well, long limbs making him look less like an agile ballerina and more like a newborn giraffe. All leg, no coordination. 
“I’ll give Robs and Steve a call, see if either of them can get a hold of Jonathan and Nance. You can be in charge of recruiting Argyle,” as you give him his set of instructions, he pushes his bottom lip out in a faux pout, “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, they don’t work on me anymore, Munson.”
He mumbles something along the lines of ‘they used to’ before heading toward the front door, the jingling of his keychain making you turn your head toward him, his landline nestled between your ear and shoulder, “Make sure he brings sunscreen this time and not just pizza nachos!”
“I’ll make sure he brings both!” Eddie quips before the door is closed between the two of you.
. . . 
Hawkins Community Pool is always packed during the summer. It’s the one reliable spot to cool off, unless you prefer the hose from your backyard. The poolside is lined with women in bikinis, magazine in hand and sunglasses shading their eyes from the harsh light of the midday sun. Kids splash around in the pool, being scolded by lifeguards being underpaid to make sure none of the little shitheads drown. It's the picture perfect scenery for a small midwest town summer. 
Sitting at the edge of the pool, your legs barely in the water, you sway your feet and the crystalline liquid ripples around you. Jonathan and Argyle are two knuckles deep in pizza nachos, a delicacy only the ladder’s cannabis-coated mind could craft. Underneath your dark shades, you lift your gaze over to watch Eddie in the pool with Robin on his shoulders, Nancy on Steve’s as they poorly attempt a game of ‘Chicken’, before one of the lifeguards beckons them to stop. 
After getting reprimanded by the pool police, Eddie hangs his head in pretend shame as he slides next to you at the pool’s edge , the ends of his curls wet and dripping onto his shoulders. “I bet you could’ve knocked Nance over. Robin’s too soft to head into a brutal ‘Chicken’ battle and win.” He says this because he knows it to be true, although you aren’t so sure.
“I’m surprised Robin was being so nervous about it.” You respond coyly, pretending like neither of you know about Robin’s enormous crush on Nancy. 
Disregarding the conversation about Robin and Nance, Eddie looks around the pool at the moms helping their kids towel-dry off and the meatheads and their girlfriends either arguing or borderline fucking poolside. It makes his skin crawl a bit to see such blatant public displays of affection. 
However, you think otherwise. It might be nice to have someone dote on you the way some of the boys of Hawkins do to their girlfriends. Maybe not the kind of boy like Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove, but someone like— 
“Hey! Come play Marco Polo with us!” Steve shouts, Robin and Nancy wading around him like sharks circling their prey. 
Eddie immediately slides back into the water, but he’s facing you, droplets sliding down his tattooed skin, glistening in the sunlight, “Come on, it’s not every day you get to see how oblivious Steve is to echolocation.” He chides, bringing a ring-adorned hand up to rest on top of your knee. His gesture sends a shiver up your spine, but you nod, more excited than you should be about the prospect of playing Marco Polo. But truthfully, you know why you're vibrating with joy.
The first two games are way too easy. Robin is Marco the first round and finds Eddie first, bumbling around the water like a scared duck. Once Eddie is Marco, he finds Steve and nearly drowns him, causing the lifeguard to give Eddie a final warning. When Steve is Marco, he can’t find a single one of you to save his life. 
“You suck at this, Steve!” Robin shouts from her spot. Nancy even tries splashing water at Steve to make him find her easier, but to no avail. Eddie has half a mind to try to drown him again. You wade around, trying to stay away from the other three stooges, especially since they’re actively trying to get Steve to catch them. It’s amusing, watching the four of them seem so carefree. 
Marco Polo ends on a high note, Steve finally finding Nancy (by accident). The five of you exit the pool to reapply sunscreen and try to pick at the crumbs of the pizza nachos, but the two megastoners have demolished more than half of them. The heat and water games have you exhausted, skin dry and pruning from the chlorine water. You slip your plastic flip flops on, your towel still wrapped around your torso. 
“Credit where credit is due, it was a genius idea to go to the pool today,” Eddie compliments, drying his frizzing curls with an old Power Rangers towel, “Wanna ditch these crazies and get a slushee?”
. . .
Eddie convinces Nancy to load the whole gaggle of twenty-somethings into her station wagon while you and Eddie leave from Hawkins Community Pool early. She agrees with a roll of her eyes before she’s back in the pool with Robin and Argyle as she tries to explain how to play mermaids to the long-haired boy. 
Your thighs stick together in the heat of his van, the chlorine-water creating a layer of discomfort against your skin. You try not to squirm in the seat, flesh itching from the pool drying out your pores. After shoving miscellaneous items into the already packed and trashed back of his van, Eddie most elegantly thrashes into the driver’s seat, his typical dopey grin seated perfectly on his pink lips. He’s fumbling for a tape to slide into his player, realizing how disorganized his music collection is, he laughs at himself, “Maybe I’ll have Robin organize these by alphabetical order or somethin’, Jesus.”
“Do that and she may try to sneak some Madonna,” You quip, thinking about Eddie’s disgruntled disagreements with Robin about her taste in music. 
Turning around, his arm reaching around the back of the passenger seat, he cranes his neck and torso to look back as he backs out of his parking spot. There’s something about this gesture, something so simple and plain, that makes your cheeks burn. He doesn’t see this, but he notices how you straighten your back up into your seat as you turn to look out the window, “You’re good on this side,” you offer.
“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got us covered.”
Eddie’s not the best driver, but he’s confident and has always kept you safe when you’re riding shotgun. He’s even let you pick the music that plays, despite his limited options, leaning toward 80’s thrash metal more than anything else, but it’s grown on you. 
The drive to 7/11 is about fifteen minutes, give or take. The sun is fading behind the tree line, the bright orange orb glowing beneath, creating a silhouette of twisted tree limbs. It’s as haunting as it is beautiful. Eddie drums along the steering wheel with the beat to ‘Sweet Leaf’, his hair still dripping onto his muscle tank. 
You adjust the flimsy cover over your bathing suit, trying to find a more comfortable spot in your seat. Eddie turns into the parking lot to the 7/11, pulling up right in front of the doors. You’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Eddie is quicker, hopping out of his driver’s seat to run around the hood of his van, opening your door for you, “M’lady,” he purrs, offering his tattooed hand out to you. 
You take it with a gentle courtesy, “M’lord,” you respond as you jump onto the pavement, your flip flops clapping against your heels as you do so. 
“I’ve always pictured myself as the court jester. Yknow, fuckin’ around and makin’ a fool outta myself just because I can.” He opens the door to the mini mart for you as well, earning a hushed ‘thank you’ from you. 
You laugh at his comment, reflecting on his words, “Don’t you do that anyway?”
“I’m taking that as a compliment, so thank you.” Eddie’s tone is a bit sassy , assuming you meant your comment to be an insult, but it is in fact a compliment. 
The 7/11 is desolate, with the exception of one customer talking to the sole cashier who looks bored out of her mind. She’s twirling her red curls around her fingers, popping bubblegum between her lips as the middle-aged man in a baseball cap tries to flirt with her to no avail. Meandering through the maze of aisles, Eddie snags a bag of chips off the shelf before skipping up to the slushee machine, “What flavor of tooth-rotting sugar can I interest you in today?” He jests, eyes fixated on the sloshing colored ice in the machine.
Aftering pondering over the two options you have, cherry and blue raspberry, you decide to mix the two flavors, Eddie following suit. Walking through the sweet treats aisle, eyes scamming over the packaging to see if anything in particular looks good, the two of you head to the register, seeing that the man flirting with the cashier had left. Offering a smile to the ginger behind the counter, who’s name appears to be ‘Barb’ from her nametag, Eddie chats her up a bit, asking how her shift is going and commenting on the weather finally cooling down. She responds blandly, while ringing up the slushees. You reach for your wallet but Eddie’s already handing over bills from his own wallet. Always one step ahead. 
The bell above the door dings as you exit, Eddie holding it open for you as you step outside, a skip in your step, “I think her and Nancy used to be friends,” Eddie chides as the door closes, “She was in school with us.”
You nod, agreeing and acknowledging, “Yeah, I never got the full story out of Nance, but they had a falling out.”
The conversation ends there as the two of you climb back into Eddie’s van, treats finally acquired, mission accomplished. Blue raspberry and cherry slushee in hand, you take leisurely sips as Eddie drives, unsure of his decided destination. The Munson trailer had become like a second home to you, your tiny closet of an apartment being the unfortunate first. Even though having your own space is nice and preferable to any alternative, it’s stuffy and during the summer tends to smell like a gym locker room if air isn’t properly circulating. 
In the end, Eddie drives the both of you back to his trailer. Once his van comes to a shuddering halt and the metalhead removes the key from the ignition, the two of you climb out of the vehicle, goodies in hand, and head into the trailer. Wayne’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, you assumed he still must be at the shop, despite the slowly setting sun off in the distance. Unlocking the front door, Eddie gives it the typical shove the break the seal of the door against the frame. In the summer it’s indefinitely worse due to the heat and humidity. 
Kicking his damp converse off, his curls beginning to frizz up upon drying, he places the plastic bag on the small, cluttered dining room table, “Movie night?” he asks, gesturing to the tv, sitting low to the ground atop a beat-up entertainment center, a few stacks of VHS tapes piled up next to it. 
“Have I ever declined a movie night invitation?” You quip at him as you saunter backward toward the trailer’s bathroom, ready to change out of your still damp swimsuit. Backpack slung over your shoulder, turning on your heels, you can hear Eddie chuckling and making a snide comment under his breath. 
Once you’ve peeled yourself out of the fabric, you exit the bathroom adorning a clean and dry t-shirt and pair of jean shorts settling snugly around your waist. Eddie has already poured the chips from the corner store into a bowl, a smaller bowl of gummy worms sitting next to it on the couch. Eddie sits on his knees in front of the entertainment center, looking through movies that the two of you have watched numerous times before. Two tapes are set aside, as he picks through the rest, “The Evil Dead, Hellraiser… those are the two I’m feelin’. Penny for your thoughts, Dear Watson?” he looks over his shoulder behind you with a lopsided grin on his face. 
“Hellraiser, undoubtedly.” You chirp in a faux English accent back to him. 
. . . 
Before the end of the movie, both you and Eddie are passed out on the floor, the snacks only half-eaten and forgotten before your inevitable slumber. You wake with a start at the sound of the landline ringing, nearly jumping out of your skin the moment you’re awake, eyes wide open. Eddie, still sleeping peacefully, isn’t bothered by the phone ringing. You harshly nudge him awake, both hands shaking his shoulder. 
“Eddie, the phone.” You say with a yawn, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. 
Curls matted to the side of his face, he’s barely awake as he clambers off of the floor, limbs adjusting to consciousness. Sauntering too casually to the phone, he lifts it off the hook and up to his ear with a yawn, “Munson residence.” He states through the yawn. His demeanor shifts all too quickly, spine straightening at the drop of a hat, dragging the palm of his hand over his face roughly. He speaks in a calm manner, giving you pause. 
“Wayne, slow down… Yeah, I’m fine… she’s here, yes… We went swimming, left earlier than the others, grabbed some snacks… What?” He answers his uncle, who you gathered was on the other end once Eddie spoke his uncle’s name. 
Eddie shoots you a worried look over his shoulder. You hadn’t seen Eddie this pale since the summer he was set to graduate, worried half to death that he wouldn’t be walking across the stage with the rest of the class of 1986. But this worry… was more akin to fear than anything else. Climbing up off the floor, you tiptoe over to him and stand beside him, still unable to hear Wayne on the other side of the call. 
“When did this happen?” Eddie asked, his tone borderline frantic. There’s another pause.
At first, you think there’s been an accident at the auto shop Wayne (and Eddie) works at, that he or someone has been injured and he has to wait for the ambulance or police to arrive. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the brunette man to speak again. 
“Jesus Christ… No, she’s standing right next to me… Yes sir… I’ll see you when you get home… Okay… Yeah, I know, I know… Alright,” he mutters the last part under his breath as he hangs his head, as well as the phone back on the hook. 
“Shit…” he blows out a breath of air, cheeks puffed up as he exhales.
“What, what’s going on?” you ask meekly, anxiety spiked through the roof already. 
Eddie lifts his head up, expression damn near impossible to read, but that fear is still there, even more prominent than before.Extending a tattooed arm out, he brings you in for a tight embrace. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his torso, holding his figure just as tight against you. As you separate, Eddie’s sluggish as he walks over to the couch, plopping down. 
“I uh, I think you should sit down for this.” He pats the spot next to him, chewing the skin on his bottom lip. 
Even as you sit down next to him, you can't shake the uneasy feeling that’s raging in your chest. He won’t meet your gaze, even with you staring daggers at him, trying to will the words out of him with just your eyes, though he doesn’t budge just yet. The metalhead leans forward, elbows balancing on his knees as he holds his head in his hands. “Wayne just called me from the shop… Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins were murdered.”
The anxiety dropped into the pit of your stomach like a large stone dropping into a calm pond. Bile burns at the base of your throat, but you quickly swallow the thick, intangible lump stuck there. A hand over your stomach, you take a deep breath, then another, trying to remain calm. Neither you or Eddie were particularly fond or even close to Tommy Hagan. He was a bit of an uncouth airhead during the years in high school together, and Carol was about as much of a girl’s girl as Tommy Hagan himself, always following him around like a lost puppy, but that didn’t mean that anyone wished any harm to either of them. 
After an unnerving silence between the two of you, Eddie hesitantly reaches over to take your hand into his. He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, noticing the subtle way your hand shakes. “He didn’t… say much. Carol’s mom found Tommy in the backyard, face down in the pool… Carol was… Listen, Wayne’s gonna be home soon, okay? Him and I can take you home-” Before he’s able to finish his line of thinking, you’re cutting him off.
“Can I stay with you?” you mumble, lifting your chin up to meet Eddie’s sorrowful gaze. He softens immediately, nodding. 
“You don’t even have to ask, m’lady. This castle is just as much yours as it is mine.” Hand over his heart, he gives a small bow, trying to incorporate his signature humor to such a grim time. 
Even with Eddie keeping you company through the night, both of you back to back in his bed. His pillow smells like his laundry detergent and stale weed and the dip next to you in the mattress gives you a sense of peace. Shifting in the bed for what seems like the fifteenth time in the past hour, you can’t get comfortable. Between the news of the double murder of your former classmates and the unruly heat, there is no finding comfort. 
A tattooed arm snakes around your waist, the warm fan of breath over your shoulder, “Quit fidgeting,” Eddie’s sleep-riddled, raspy voice says next to you. Part of you wonders if he realizes what he's doing, or if he’s not awake enough to, but you don’t argue. Though, you find your eyes drifting shut as you keen against Eddie’s touch, sleep slowly pulling you under, even with the macabre thoughts of the evening still plaguing your subconscious. 
tag list: @yaspillz feedback is always appreciated, and let me know if you're interested in being apart of the taglist <3
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ghcstao3 · 1 year ago
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(feel free to ignore!) Hi!! can we get more cat shifter!ghost headcanons? istg i can't get enough of it😭😭
i can sure try to provide more hcs
(if there are repeats… no there aren’t)
- part of the reason ghost wears a mask/sunglasses most of the time is actually to keep shade over his eyes because even in human form they constrict and dilate like a cat’s and it’d give him away as a shifter
- cat ghost does have the uncanny ability to always smell good like a lot of cats do. maybe in human form he’ll smell like gunpowder, blood, dirt, sweat, whatever—but in cat form he just… doesn’t. sure, in part it’s a cause of grooming himself frequently, but sometimes he’ll just smell like something freshly baked or a scented candle and no one knows why. ghost himself doesn’t even know why most days
- one of few things he hasn’t learned to control is his purring—he just can’t. and it’s embarrassing when he doesn’t want to purr but can’t help it whenever it involves other people, like soap. who ghost will literally just start purring around if he so much as enters the room
- sometimes, just for fun, if ever price has to reprimand a recruit, he’ll call them into his office just so that he can do the “evil villain slowly turning in chair while petting a mean looking cat” move because somehow it works like a charm with ghost as his cat
- ghost in human form is more flexible/agile than most as a cause of his shifter status. he also doesn’t need night vision goggles, just “uses” them for show
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cardinalcanis · 2 months ago
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CODEX: The Viridian Phantoms
Summary: I did a thing. Been wanting to write about the custom space marine chapter that has been eating my brain the last few days. The Viridian Phantoms, my loyalist Mortarion successor chapter. They have been SO much fun to write and will totally do more things with them in the future. They are my first ever custom chapter so I would LOVE LOVE LOVE your reviews and opinions about them.
TW: People WAY too comfortable with death.
Word count: 3314
"Can I make my own fanart/OCs/head cannons/fics about/with the Viridian Phantoms?" First of all I will die <3, second of all, of course! As long as you credit me as the og creator of them I have no issue with it!
Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus
@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal @moodymisty
@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea @lemon-russ
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General information: 
“We are Death, so Humanity may live.”
-Chapter name: Viridian Phantoms. 
-Other nicknames and given monikers (at least the nice ones): Angels of Krieg, The Bone Collectors, Krieger Kites, Jumping Tanks, Climbing Banshees. 
-Loyalty: Loyalist. 
-Homeworld: Krieg. 
-Symbol: A ghostly skull wreathed in chains.
-Colors: Light viridian green accented with black and silver.
Origin: 
“Father, see your children, battle-worn and pale,
Holy Chains and hooks prepared, 
Father, see your children, dead but not failed, 
By their blood may the corruption be cleansed.” 
After the events of Baal and the Plague Wars Belisarius Cawl saw the necessity of having more resistant troops. Capable of weathering extreme conditions, facing bio-monstrosities and gargantuan enemies, and being Immune to plagues and other chaos or mortal-made maladies. 
The Viridian Phantoms were born from Cawl’s experiments, using a modified strand of Mortarion’s gene-seed to create warriors who could endure almost everything. They stand as an act of defiance to Roboute Guilliman’s will in the face of what he considers advancements in the name of the Imperium’s survival, magnificent discoveries that honor the Omnissiah.  Making them only female was the loophole he found to make their existence possible, even though kept in secret for many years.  Recruited and trained on Krieg for their innate resilience and loyalty, these Marines are honed to become the embodiment of human perseverance. 
They possess their gene father’s legendary resistance combined with an aspect of Mortarion not exploited by the previous Death Guard; his untapped psyker potential. The Viridian Phantoms are unyielding assaulters, designed to weather any blow; be it a plague, environment non compatible with life, or physical force. Their combat style is defined by their heavy armor, equipped with hooks and chains, allowing them to latch onto massive foes, scale them, and pull them down into submission so they can be butchered. Despite their heavily reinforced armor, their biomantic prowess allows them bursts of agility, enabling them to jump over large enemies and strike from unexpected angles. Even other Astartes speak about a sense of uneasiness seeing what in all senses is a terminator-like unit swinging in the air and climbing light as a feather. This makes them formidable in melee, where they wield chainswords and scythes with deadly precision. Learning from the Thousand Sons’ mistakes, they do not over rely on their psyker powers, biomancy is meant as another tool in their arsenal. Their uncanny resistance aided by biomantic regenerative capabilities make them the perfect unmovable wall for humanity. 
Made behind the primarch’s back: 
“Father, we are ready, take us if you must.”
Cawl’s unprecedented authority within the Mechanicus and his status as the architect of the Primaris project provided him with enough leeway to conduct this experiment. His known… quirks and disregard for strict Imperial protocol helped him fly under the radar. His projects are already known for secrecy, but even with the trust on his skill and status he couldn’t afford for Guilliman discovering the Phantoms before they were ready. 
The choice of  Krieg didn't only rest on its hardy loyal woman but also for its isolation, secrecy of what truly goes in their underground hives and lack of general scrutiny from the Imperium. Krieg’s conditions allow for secretive experimentation; the people of  Krieg, known for their discipline and loyalty never questioned nor revealed Cawl’s activities, they were ordered not to anyways. It is said that long lines are made to this day for parents to proudly offer their daughters for testing, even though they didn’t know what it was about, the Emperor was looking for female children so they served accordingly. 
Cawl carefully controlled who knew about the Phantoms’ existence and purpose, involving only trusted Mechanicus personnel and Kriegsmen who were at a need to know bases of their assignment and sworn to secrecy. Any record-keeping or tracking was obfuscated through a complex mix of bureaucracy and Mechanicus’ religious beliefs, already only revealing the biggest secrets to the worthy in the  Omnissiah’ eyes. 
The Phantoms were obviously kept isolated from other Astartes chapters and Imperial forces to avoid detection. In their deployments, the Phantoms engaged enemies with minimal support, focusing on missions that required little to no backup. Training and conditioning was completed in Mechanicus-controlled facilities under Cawl’s lock and key, keeping them away from inquisitive eyes. He implemented protocols restricting their interaction with other Imperial personnel, ensuring their knowledge and exposure remained minimal.
The Phantoms’ early deployments were limited  remote or particularly hazardous battlefields far from populated areas or Imperial forces, where only the toughest units were expected to survive. These are regions affected by warp taint, plague, or xenos threats, where the survival of any unit would be notable but not easily verified. 
Cawl specifically chose high-mortality missions where the Phantoms could demonstrate their resilience. By deploying the Phantoms to zones where no ordinary Astartes force could feasibly operate, Cawl ensured they’d operate in isolated conditions, where successful missions were difficult to track or verify independently.
Later on he made use of trusted Rogue Traders and Mechanicus explorator missions to test the Viridian Phantoms in the fringes of the Imperium. 
Reports and data on the Phantoms were  filed under vague terms or ambiguous classifications, described in ways that did not reveal their true origin or makeup. Listed as specialized Krieg regiments or other “experimental” Mechanicus units when deployed. These reports kept them concealed, making it appear as if they were simply part of a contingent of the Death Korps or other Mechanicus-approved forces rather than a unique chapter of Astartes.
Physical appearance, chapter culture and personality: 
“Through pain and flame, we fall
And if you can stay, sister, then we'll show you the way
To return from the ashes we call.”
Moration’s gene seed gives the Viridian Phantoms a formidable yet eerie appearance that sets them apart from other chapters. Considered some if not the tallest Primaris Marines, they are built like a block of muscle, needing great upper body strength to hold their full armored weight while hanging mid air. Their skin turns a pale white or slightly grayish hue with visible veins. Their hair typically ranges in shades of white, silver, or light gray. They tend to keep their hair very long and extensively braided. Their eyes are described as a ‘pale gaze’ and ‘lifeless’ or with an almost glassy appearance, people claim that the Phantoms' gaze is ‘detached’ looking through them rather than at them. The intensity of their gaze is increased by how little they tend to blink unnerving those unaccustomed to their manner. All of these add up into giving them their phantom-like appearance they are named after.
They barely speak, when they do, it is done with precision and brevity. There is no room for flowery language or embellishment; they say what needs to be said and nothing more. Their speaking cadence tends to be emotionless and unenthusiastic, not due to lack of emotion but their little interaction with non Phantoms. As very sensible biomancers, they are constantly in touch with the inner processes inside those around them, including emotional responses. Spoken and gestured communication is just a poor mockery of the higher level subtle, unspoken connections they share. This makes them seem distant or even cold to those who rely more on direct communication, this lack of visible emotion could create misunderstandings or discomfort.
The Phantoms struggle hard to connect with outsiders, as they find typical methods of bonding cumbersome or shallow compared to the natural closeness they share among themselves. When interacting with other chapters, they struggle to adapt to more conventional forms of camaraderie, finding it challenging to communicate complex intentions in ways others understand and at the same time making them highly aware of the moods or intents of others. Knowing of the fear, frustration, anger and paranoia they cause first hand; but without the skills to properly address other's concerns. 
This sensitivity fosters deep bonds between the Phantoms, allowing them to anticipate and understand each other in ways that most Astartes can’t. It creates a near-unbreakable trust, as they’re constantly aware of each other's emotional state, intentions, and even physical condition, reinforcing the idea of sisterhood beyond the individual. The electrical discharge in one sister’s muscles ordering to lift a bolter is sensed by the others, copying the same movements, making them capable of reacting to their environment like a well coordinated flock of birds. This gives them an almost meditative focus in battle. Their awareness of their sisters’ movements allows them to coordinate without spoken commands, making them seem eerily calm and united.
Krieg’s women to the core, their loyalty to the Emperor and their battalion is absolute. They see themselves as living tools of the Imperium, willing to sacrifice anything, including their lives, without hesitation. This unwavering dedication makes them reliable but can come across as suicidal, looking for death in death’s sake. Each Phantom believes their existence is expendable if it means the mission succeeds or the forces of humanity are protected. 
The Viridian Phantoms also hold a profound respect for their fallen allies, whether they are their own sisters, other Astartes, or even mortal guardsmen and civilians. They view these fallen as martyrs of the Emperor’s cause. As a tribute, unless the remains are corrupted by Chaos, Phantoms often collect small pieces of armor, bones, cloth, strands of hair, or even rubble from the battlefield and fashion them into beads and charms. These adornments are extensively braided into their hair or hung across their weapons and armor, serving as personal memorials and tokens of respect. Teeth, in particular, are a favored keepsake known among the Phantoms as "flesh pearls," close second to hair which they braid with their own.  
With so much of their time spent among the Mechanicus it is of no surprise that one of the most significant aspects of their culture is the ceremonial tending to their gear and weapons. Each battle-sister sees her armor and weapons as an extension of herself, considering them "bound" to her flesh and spirit. Outside of battle, Phantoms often spend hours in silent preparation, maintaining and blessing their chains, hooks, and weapons in a ritual that reinforces their connection. It has been reported that this strong belief on their gear as part of their flesh has ended into several occurrences where their biomantic powers also restore cracked ceramite or instances where guns keep shooting when it is obvious that the magazine must have been emptied. 
This meticulous care for their gear makes the Phantoms selective about who is allowed to handle it. They permit only trusted Mechanicus priests or highly skilled serfs with whom they have overseen working many times to assist in maintaining their equipment. These chosen few would be expected to respect the Phantoms' many rituals and understand the reverence the Phantoms have for their weapons and armor. These selected few granted the honor of working with the Phantoms' gear have to undergo bonding rites, long meditations and purification rituals to align with each specific Phantom that has chosen them to tend to this sacred part of themselves to the highest of standards. 
The Phantoms’ secret rites, meditations and mantras help them both handle their oversensitivity to all life around them and reinforce their religious adoration for death and sacrifice.  The Phantoms hold pre-battle rituals where they recite personal death vows. These vows are spoken in low, emotionless tones, acknowledging their acceptance of death and pledging to die honorably if it serves the Imperium. Followed by their well known Death Hymns which they sing in ritual and even during battle, Viridian Phantom Death Hymns are the only instance of them raising their voices and carrying emotionally charged statements. They most are directed to a figure they ‘Father’, if it refers to either The Emperor, Mortarion or both is unknown. These chants carry an ominous, almost haunting quality, blending grim acceptance, defiance, and reverence for their purpose. The chants are rhythmic, echoing through the battlefield and unnerving allies and enemies alike with their strange, almost theatrical longing for death. They possess sections where the volume crescendos to shouts or quiets to an eerie whisper, transitioning between powerful declarations and subdued, haunting verses.
Currently, the Viridian Phantoms have no official Chapter Master due to their uncertain experimental state. Leadership has fallen by the battle sisters consensus upon Revenant (Captain) Lena Arendt, a figure respected for her exceptional combat skill and biomantic abilities. She is often referred to as the ‘Ceramite Fae’, due to even amongst other Phantoms her seamless grace mid air while fully armored creates the illusion of effortless flight. A fatal flaw her and many phantoms inherit from Mortarion is how much of a hard time they have at asking for help from non Phantoms, maybe not much out of their gene seed but their desire to prove their chapter is worthy to exist.
Gear and unconventional battle tactics: 
“We are the scythe that reaps the corruption, 
We are the chain that bounds the monstrosity to a kneel, 
We are the knife that carves the names of the fallen onto our enemies, 
We are the Emperor’s unbroken might, 
We are his bleeding sacrifice so we could still have a light, 
We are to fall so the many may rise, 
We are the Viridian Phantoms, 
And we are Death, so Humanity may live.”
As mentioned, The Phantoms hold close reverence to their gear and decorate them extensively with allies’ remains, one of the most memorable are their oracles (librarians) and gravekeepers’ (chaplains) complex teeth veils. Their armor is modeled on the reinforced Mark X, heavily modified for maximum durability. The plating is reinforced to withstand corrosive environments, disease, and warp-tainted toxins, often appearing thicker and more robust than standard armor. It is painted in a ghostly viridian green with black accents on the trim and silver detailing. Their helmets’ visors emit a ghostly pale green glow, most of them are inscribed with small runes or faint biomantic symbols.
Each Phantom carries many sets of chains and hooks designed for their signature combat style. These chains are attached to their gauntlets or armor and can be used to latch onto large enemies, structures, or terrain. The chains have runic symbols carved along each link alongside attached beads and charms, and when combined with their biomantic abilities, they become unbreakable extensions of the Phantom’s will, allowing them to anchor enemies or secure themselves in chaotic battles. The hooks are often engraved with the names of fallen sisters or even fallen guardsmen or civilians whose names they find on dog tags and forgotten personal effects among the rubble. 
The Viridian Phantoms favor chain swords and most importantly scythes for close combat, weapons that symbolize their affinity for melee and their willingness to face foes up close. All of them also have the ability to extend into chain and grappling hooks. Their scythes are heavy, with blade edges honed to a sheen, used for sweeping attacks against larger foes. Made to grab, mutilate and disembowel in single clean swipes. Alongside their melee weapons they can also favor large shields that chained together create shield walls to push back at the latest of waves.
They are no strangers to range weaponry, which even if they aren’t their favored, each is shown equal love and customization as the melee does. Sometimes even consecrating every individual bullet in day or even week long rituals meant for deep meditation and calming their psyker abilities. 
Even though they may be great assets for them, The Phantoms shun the use of chemical and viral weapons of any kind in their fight to distance themselves from their genesire’s legacy and fall into nurgle’s claws. 
Appart to what they are known for, falling gargantuan monstrosities; the Viridian Phantoms' unparalleled resilience, little regard for their own lives and biomantic abilities would lend themselves to shockingly bold, almost reckless battle tactics and strategies. These tactics seem suicidal to other Space Marines and not Codex Compliant at all:
-Shield killbox: The Phantoms would march forward under heavy enemy fire interlocking shields with one another. Using their scythes they would pull and mutilate anything that comes closer, then throw the helpless bodies behind them where other sisters await to finish them up. Functioning as an efficient assembly line of carnage. 
-Fire on my position: In coordination with allied forces, the Phantoms move into a position where friendly heavy artillery or orbital bombardment is directed. Knowing their unique resilience, they would withstand the controlled onslaught that devastates their foes, emerging from the smoke and flames, most of the time.
-Living bait: Phantoms would feign retreat or send vulnerable looking single units, drawing enemy forces into pre-arranged kill zones laden with explosives. Then, they would walk on the trap while still in the blast radius, relying on their enhanced durability to survive. Phantoms might also herd unknowing enemies into the blast radius of allied tanks. Or charge headlong into fortified enemy positions or into the path of tanks, absorbing fire and drawing attention while the rest of the battalion encircles the distracted enemy.
-Suicide landings: Phantoms generally do not fight alone unless they have a strategic purpose. Like sending one charging (or jumping off flying vehicle) into enemy positions or even the heart of their formations with explosives strapped to their armor, activating them upon impact. This act would be often followed by the surreal sight of the Phantom emerging from the carnage, bloodied but alive. 
-Walking beacons: They do have a unique skill to escort survivors through dangerous zones normal humans would not survive. Making the helpless human stay close to them inside their auras so fire, disease or acid would not hurt them or would not feel the pain and heal quickly. They tend to cover the survivors' eyes and even ears so they feel no fear or run away in the presence of danger, as running away gets them out of the Phantom's aura, which means they will succumb to the factors the are being protected against. And the people's trust and faith that the Phantoms can protect them actually makes it easier to work their biomancy on them. 
Cawl’s secret brought to the light: 
“Hear hear, Father, we're all going to die
Father, we're all going to die
Do not sing me any farewells, for me you must not cry,
hear hear, Father, we're all going to die.”
The Viridian Phantoms' first encounter with Guilliman was intense and deeply scrutinized. After proving themselves time and time again completing dangerous missions in secret under Cawl’s direction, the Phantoms were finally brought to Guilliman’s attention as a fully-formed, specialized force created to withstand the most hostile environments and fight the Imperium’s most monstrous foes. Masking themselves as just another battalion of the Unnumbered Sons, with the help of voice modulators in their voxes making them sound masculine (aside from restricting their vox channels when singing). 
They were deployed alongside his forces in a brutal battle. Observing them, Guilliman noted their resilience and uncanny coordination as they maneuvered in unison, taking down enormous threats with sacrificial tactics. The Phantoms suffered grave wounds but continued to fight, showing an almost eerie selflessness that unsettled many nearby Ultramarines.
After the battle, Guilliman confronted the Phantoms directly, demanding to know their origins. Their leader, Revenant Lena Arendt, revealed their loyalty and their gene-sire without hesitation, asserting their purpose and loyalty to the Emperor, not to Mortarion’s legacy. Guilliman, appalled by Cawl’s audacity, proclaimed that their very existence was an affront to the Imperium and must be erased.
The Phantoms responded by raising their bolters to their own heads, ready to end their lives at Guilliman's command. Stunned, Guilliman halted them. They remain a battalion awaiting Guilliman’s final judgment, will they be eliminated? Given a suicide mission hoping they never return? Will they ever back their birthright as the 14th? The future looks bleak and uncertain for the Viridian Phantoms. But the primarch must hasten as talk is spreading.
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galaxysupreme17 · 6 months ago
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Scarlet Widow
Okay, so I have been on an Avengers and Criminal Minds binge. I was pacing around my room thinking of writing prompts, and a crossover between the two came to my mind, and I needed to get it out before I forgot. This is Emily Prentiss X Tara Lewis. (I love Temily). This is also the x daughter!Reader!!
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Y/n Danvers had lived many lives in her seventeen years. Trained in the Black Widow program from the tender age of five, she had seen more hardship and danger than most people experienced in a lifetime. 
Rescued at fifteen by Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, she found solace and guidance under Natasha's care until she was legally an adult. Now, Nick Fury, the ever-watchful director of SHIELD, had given her a new mission: infiltrate the BAU and gather intelligence on a rogue agent named James Monroe.
James Monroe had been suspected of targeting various federal bureaus, and SHIELD was next on his list after the BAU. He used his status to collect young kids and send them to train in Hydra or the Black Widow Program. Y/n's mission was clear, but it was complicated by her assignment to live undercover with two foster mothers, Emily Prentiss and Tara Lewis, both prominent members of the BAU.
In the foster system, Y/n had been taken in by Emily and Tara. At first, it was just another mission. But over ten months, Y/n had grown attached to the two women who had become her foster mothers. They had no idea their new daughter was the Scarlet Widow, an Avenger with unparalleled combat skills.
Emily and Tara treated Y/n with kindness and care, giving her a sense of stability she hadn't felt in years. They attended her school events, celebrated her successes, and provided comfort during tough times. Y/n felt like a normal teenager for the first time in a long while despite the weight of her secret.
Late one evening, Y/n sat in her room, scrolling through her phone. The glow of the screen illuminated her face as she messaged Natasha.
Y/n: I don't know how much longer I can keep this secret from them, Nat. They've been so good to me.
Natasha: I know it's tough, kid. But you're doing this to protect them and many others. Stay strong.
Y/n: I know. It's just... they're starting to feel like real family.
Natasha: That's a good thing, Y/n. It means you're healing. Just remember, you can always talk to me. We're in this together.
Y/n: Thanks, Nat. I don't know what I'd do without you.
Natasha: You'd probably be even more of a badass than you already are. 😉
Y/n smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest. Natasha had always been like a big sister to her, guiding her, protecting her, and pushing her to be her best. Their bond was unbreakable, forged in the fires of their shared experiences.
Y/n: How's everything at HQ?
Natasha: Busy as always. Clint's been teaching the new recruits some archery tricks. You'd love to see it.
Y/n: I miss you guys.
Natasha: We miss you too. Just focus on the mission for now. We'll have a big reunion when this is all over.
Y/n: Deal. Stay safe, Nat.
Natasha: You too, Y/n. Remember, if you need anything, I'm just a call away.
The next day, the BAU team was called to a scene that quickly became a nightmare. Held hostage by James Monroe's partner, Jessica Black, the team found themselves in dire straits.
"Everyone stay calm," Aaron Hotchner ordered, trying to maintain control. "We'll find a way out of this."
In a nearby park, Y/n received a call from Agent Coulson. "Y/n, the team is in trouble. Jessica Black has them hostage. You need to reveal yourself and take them down."
Y/n's heart raced. This was the moment she had dreaded and prepared for. She suited up in her combat uniform, the familiar feel of her gear grounding her. She was no longer just Y/n Danvers; she was the Scarlet Widow.
The compound was heavily guarded, but Y/n moved through it with the precision and agility drilled into her during her years of training. She dispatched guards with swift, calculated moves, her senses on high alert.
Inside the building, Jessica noticed the disturbance on the security monitors. "James," she called, "we have company."
James turned his attention to the monitors, a sly smile creeping across his face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Scarlet Widow. Or is it Y/n?"
Tara looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
James chuckled. "Your little foster daughter has quite the secret."
Emily and Tara exchanged worried glances. "What secret?" Emily demanded.
"You'll see soon enough," James said, returning to the screen.
Y/n moved through the corridors, her focus unwavering. She reached the door to the room where the BAU team was being held and took a deep breath. This was it.
She burst through the door, gun drawn. "Everyone, stay down!"
James laughed. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Scarlet Widow. Or is it Y/n?"
"Shut up, James," Y/n snapped, her eyes narrowing.
"What are you going to do? You don't have the rest of your team here."
"I don't need them. I can handle myself pretty well."
"Sure you can. Why don't you remove that mask and show our guests who you truly are?"
"Stop talking," Y/n growled, her patience wearing thin.
She lunged at James, their fight a blur of fists and kicks. Jessica joined in, and Y/n found herself outnumbered but undeterred. She fought with a ferocity that came from years of training and a deep-seated need to protect those she cared about.
James managed to pin Y/n down at one point, ripping her mask off. Emily and Tara gasped as they recognized their foster daughter.
"Y/n?" Tara whispered, her voice trembling.
Y/n didn't let the revelation slow her down. She kicked James off her, using the momentum to flip back onto her feet. She moved with deadly precision, taking down Jessica and James in a series of swift, calculated moves. Within moments, both were on the floor, tied up and subdued.
"Agent Coulson, the room is secure," Y/n spoke into her comms. "You can bring in the rest of the agents."
Coulson and a team of SHIELD agents stormed in, quickly securing the area. Y/n ran over to Emily and Tara, her heart pounding. "Are you both okay?"
Emily and Tara nodded, still in shock. "Y/n, we had no idea," Emily said, her voice breaking.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Y/n replied, her eyes full of emotion. "I had to keep it a secret."
Coulson approached, calling Y/n to the side. "Fury wants you back for a new mission," he said quietly.
Y/n glanced at Emily and Tara, who talked with JJ and Matt. They all took glances at her and Coulson. "Tell Fury no. I need to clean some things up here."
Coulson nodded, understanding. "Take the time you need."
As Coulson walked away, Emily and Tara approached, unsure what to say. They just stood there for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in. Y/n looked at them, tears welling up in her eyes, and immediately fell into their arms, hugging them tightly. Emily started checking Y/n for any severe injuries, her maternal instincts kicking in.
"Are you hurt?" Emily asked, her hands gently inspecting Y/n's face and arms.
"I'm okay, really," Y/n assured her, a small smile on her lips.
Back at the BAU, the team gathered in the conference room. Y/n stood at the front, taking a deep breath. "It's okay to ask questions," she said, her voice steady.
Before anyone could speak, Penelope Garcia burst through the door. "I found out everything about Y/n!" she exclaimed, waving a folder. "Emily and Tara asked me to look into her background."
The team smiled, and Y/n nodded at Penelope to continue. "Go ahead, Penelope."
Penelope explained Y/n's history, from her early years in the Black Widow program to her rescue by Natasha and Clint. Y/n filled in the details, explaining her training and the mission that brought her to the BAU. Emily and Tara listened intently, taking in every word.
As the meeting ended and everyone left, Emily and Tara lingered. "What does this mean for our little family?" Emily asked softly, looking at Y/n with concern.
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tanglepelt · 2 years ago
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dc x dp snippet? idea? not too sure....
Essentially amity park is a front. The whole town was designed to recruit member for an evil group. The end game to destroy the justice league. My brain took the idea and ran with it. I may continue this. I may not.
Amity Park had always been a strange place. For as log as anyone could remember. A gimmick, a spooky town. It played its role perfectly. No one really looked into it. No one saw the mad scientist or weapons facility as odd. Who would ever think to investigate a tourist trap. The showier they were the more believable. The Fenton’s were assets at keeping tourist gullible, their driving, and obsession sold the show. Keeping the tourist distracted and money coming in. Who would notice the laser watches, they just looked normal. Any ghost attack was just a show. Any damage done and its fixed the next day as if It was planned. The town had was obviously committed to there “haunted” town.
Ghost hunters in amity just made sense. Walking around with weapons was a normal and not suspicious. Locals didn’t care and anyone else thought it was part of the gig. The bigger the dramatics the more they could get away with. With all the chaos and attacks the tourist would be distracted.
It let them track anyone who came into town. They would check in visitors with the guise of making sure they stayed in the living world. Waivers had to be signed or there was no entry permitted.
No one to see how all the kids were more observant, no one to see the the gym coach or classes, no one to see the experiments, and no one to notice the secret town meetings while the children slumbered.
The meetings discussing the children and how they’ve advanced. Who needed to be terminated, who was improving and who would soon be integrated into the loop. Every year they discussed the first-year students. It was there last chance to become incorporated or “move” after high school. They couldn’t risk any of them leaving the town unless they were in the loop. 
After all of if the kids thought their schooling was normal, they’d never question it. The president challenge was harder then most. Why would an average school require flips off the bars or the ability to scale a rope to the roof if a building. The last two years of high school centered around obstacle courses, agility and parkour in gym.
An amity child leaving without being in the fold could be catastrophic. It would only take one to alert authorities for a slight inconvenience. Authorities could be paid to look the other way or easily put down. A hero however would be a headache to deal with. This town was the center of there recruiting. It was do or die.
Now the organization will admit the ghost were a welcomed surprise. A front row sear to watch the progress the kids had. They expected the jocks or even geeks to manage it the best. The seniors to take arms and manage the threat at the very least. The oddball trio was not what they had wanted or expected.
Those three were the problem students after-all. One so into technology it would be hard to keep him in line. The network was heavily blocked a monitored but using him was an issue. He had nearly bi-passed there security on accident. Imagine if he knew what was going on. Then the goth, the activist. She was too much an individual, free thought and radical views. They’d have to break her spirit. Then there was Danny Fenton.
He had promise in the beginning. Well rounded. Wasn’t so caught up in improving others as his sister. Held good grades through elementary and through middle school and was the golden candidate until the previous summer. No longer set to focus on study’s but off with his friends.
As Sam had grown falling away from their potential, she dragged Danny and Tucker with her. Both now had more individual thoughts and opinions straying from his parents. His grades had dropped even before the ghost. Just to A- or so. Attempts to steer them away from her only brought them closer.
If they couldn’t get sam in line they’d have to cut there loses. They’d lose a good potential hacker, the masons would need a new heir someone they could actually mold to gain more funds and business, and they’d lose a potential leader or scientist.
Cutting just Sam would have led to problems. They had tried. Sam was abruptly moved for a week to see what would happen. The guise a business trip. Danny and tucker given no notice. The two took matters in their hands and hunted for her. They nearly discovered the truth of the town. Only once the Fentons explained she was on a trip did they calm down. The trio were deemed lost causes. They were set to bet terminated.
Two weeks before the plan was set to eliminate them the ghost appeared, and it was them who took charge. Now the ghost was always planned, the Fenton’s had been close to opening the portal. So close to new weapons and infinite power supply. Nothing they had done activated the portal. But the problem trio when left alone somehow got it working. The power from the portal shorted the cameras in the lab and they were unable to see how.
 Sam and tucker were out on the field. They were learning at a rapid pace. With them constantly fighting and winning. The three were considered candidates again. They’d still have to break the girl, it was worth the effort now. Add the fact they had a viable solution now.
The newest hero of amity park. Phantom.
Phantom himself would simple a ghost to take care of. Allowing the Fenton to play around for now. What fun was a hunt to them if they couldn’t play with there prey. Once it was time to rid themselves of the pest the Fenton’s could truly hunt.
For now, phantom was getting Sam and Tucker more suited for future missions. He could keep “his” team for now. Danny was obviously the one with the plan. He was never with them but had to be the main contact with phantom. Whenever Danny was around phantom would show to clear his messes.
The surprise reunion with Vlad confirmed their suspicion. Not to mention the Youngblood incident. Danny led his schoolmates to board the ship and free their parents. Only once the ghost shield was down did he go and contact phantom to come handle the rest.
An accident would be in order. It was only a matter of time until the trio grew stagnant and needed more focused teaching. The masons were still an asset they just would not be allowed to be a caretaker again. Jeremy and Pamela mason still were the main source of income. The two were good the schmoozing. Sam would just have to manage field work with her business persona as her “grandmother” had. The Fenton’s were non-negotiable and a necessity to the group. If the need arises, they be allowed to raise another.
The foleys would work. They were good caretakers but served no other purpose to the group. Framing phantom for there deaths should be enough to ignite a need for revenge and break the group apart. Introduce a new fourth to them after the shock wore off.
Valerie had grown as well. She would be brought into the loop soon. The red huntress would be an asset. Her original purpose no longer mattered. Valerie would be easy to recruit. All it seemed to take was some money and a reason to dislike a group. All it took for her to despise ghost was her father losing his job, one of the groups smartest moves yet.
Good thing that reason was already in motion. The anti-ecto acts were set to be announced tomorrow. The justice league would publicly denounce the acts within an hour. They had no reason to condemn an entire species that had shown no sign of aggression. Most ghost weren’t even visible to the public.
With Amitys gimmick who would believe the reports of supposed ghost destruction. Viral videos of it just to be explained through special effects. Keep the rest of the world believing the gimmick and the young in amity only seeing the disbelief.
The justice league would be the key to their own demise. Events have been ruined, the children had been infected by the ghost flu, Sam had been kidnapped by a ghost, and the constant attacks on the school. This was the wedge they needed to keep them in line. To bring them into the fold. The towns caretakers would make sure any opinions of the hero’s would be bad. The only mentions of the hero’s permitted of the hero’s online would be failures and misunderstandings.
Citizens of the infinite realm and ghost were two very different species. Not that the children would ever be allowed to know.
Soon the justice league would fall.
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ukiyowi · 1 year ago
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Mini PAC IV
If you were a character in a fantasy novel, what would your quest or adventure look like?
Piles read 1 -> 4
Note: This is a bit different, more intuitive and wrote this in the train back home, hope you enjoyyy
Book a reading! || Ko-fi
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🪽 Pile 1
In your fantasy novel adventure, you are an aspiring mage with a unique ability to communicate with ancient spirits. Your quest is to find a codex, a legendary book said to contain the secrets of controlling the elements. With this power, you hope to prevent a catastrophic war between rival mage factions.
Your journey takes you through enchanted forests, treacherous mountains, and forgotten ruins, where you encounter magical creatures and uncover cryptic clues. Along the way, you must make choices that balance the ethical use of your newfound powers with the greater good of your realm.
As you get closer to your goal, you discover that the Codex is protected by a guardian spirit, and you must undergo a series of trials to prove your worthiness. These trials test your wisdom, empathy, and resolve. Ultimately, you succeed but must decide whether to keep the Codex's power for yourself or use it to broker peace among the warring factions, knowing that doing so may come at a great personal cost. Your adventure is a tale of magic, self-discovery, and the enduring struggle between power and responsibility.
🪽 Pile 2
In your fantasy novel adventure, you are a skilled rogue known for your exceptional agility and wit. Your quest is to track down a notorious group of thieves known as the "Shadowed Serpents" who have stolen a powerful, cursed gemstone that can control minds.
To catch the Shadowed Serpents, you'll navigate a sprawling, ancient city filled with hidden passages, secret societies, and corrupt officials. Alongside your trusty band of misfit companions, each with their unique skills, you'll decode cryptic clues, outsmart traps, and engage in thrilling rooftop chases.
As you close in on the thieves, you'll discover their leader possesses a dark secret connected to the gemstone's curse. Your journey becomes a moral dilemma, as you must decide whether to break the curse, which might endanger the city, or use the gemstone to expose corruption and free the minds of its victims. Your adventure is a thrilling blend of espionage, cunning heists, and the complexities of right and wrong in a shadowy world.
🪽 Pile 3
Your adventure takes a darker turn as you become the leader of a formidable group of supervillains. Your quest is to unleash chaos and establish dominance over a sprawling metropolis known for its vigilant superheroes.
As the cunning mastermind behind the Syndicate, you'll recruit a diverse array of superpowered individuals, each with their own unique abilities and motivations. Together, you'll concoct ingenious schemes to disrupt the city's peace and challenge the superheroes who stand in your way.
Your journey will involve heists on a grand scale, unleashing destructive powers, and psychological manipulation to exploit the heroes' weaknesses. Along the way, you'll delve into your own character's complex backstory, exploring the motivations that drove you to become a villain and your desire for ultimate power.
As your plans escalate, you'll face increasingly powerful heroes, leading to epic showdowns and thrilling battles that could determine the fate of the city. Your adventure is a morally ambiguous tale that delves into the depths of villainy, exploring the complex motivations and personal struggles of those who choose to walk the path of darkness.
🪽 Pile 4
In your story, you are a talented, yet reclusive, artist living in a picturesque coastal village. Your quiet life takes an unexpected turn when a charismatic and mysterious stranger arrives in town. This stranger, exudes an aura of intrigue and possesses a passion for restoring antique books.
Your adventure begins when the stranger discovers a hidden chamber in the village's ancient library, rumored to contain a love letter written centuries ago by a long-lost soul. They enlist your artistic skills to bring the letter's sentiments to life through illustrations.
As you both work together on this project, you unravel the story of a profound, forbidden love between two people from different eras. The more you delve into the past, the closer you grow to the strabger. Sparks fly as the line between the story and reality blurs, and a deep connection forms between you two.
Yet, secrets from their past threaten to tear you apart. The quest for the truth behind their enigmatic identity becomes as important as preserving the love story from the past. Along this romantic journey, you'll confront your own fears, past heartaches, and find the courage to embrace a love that transcends time.
All rights reserved - Ukiyowi©
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pixeldolly · 1 month ago
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Apocalypse Challenge - Fallow Shores
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Crowl had no time to stand around and chat - he needed to get to the military outpost and begin organizing the town's defense. That was his priority.
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Hopefully, there would be some potential recruits among the other survivors...
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Such as Fred Whitmore. Crowl appraised him quickly: he was a former high school football captain, and he had fought zombies and survived - that qualified him in his book.
The boy also seemed desperate for an authority figure, which suited Crowl just fine.
Erwin Pries: *openly eavesdrops*
Not everyone he met that day was suitable.
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"And after we tore off its legs - so it couldn't come at us - I punched the zombie's head clean off! Well, sort of, but it stopped moving after that."
Erwin snorted, unimpressed. Typical jock.
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"Impressive; assuming it's true, of course. I'll be needing to test those claims for myself, though."
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"Well, um...My coach always said kicky bag is a great way to train your agility and reflexes. My top score was 120."
"Let's see, then."
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"Speaking of agility and reflexes - check this out! Guys...? Hello? Is everyone watching?"
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