#victorian!cod au

[justadeadreaper]

❇COD Victorian! AU

A miserable, tiny island in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by sea on all sides, cutting it off from virtually any other country unless they had boats strong enough to sail the roaring seas that for some reason wanted to keep it separated. Surprisingly for such a small island it had a lot of influence and a lot of power, too much some people would say as they could not keep their fingers out of everyone else’s pies, greed destroying what they should have never owned in the first place. But, their influence did not stop there, no, not at all. It made one of the most famous Eras that would be used in the future for things such as movies or stories.

The Era of the Gentlemen. The Era of Industrialisation. The Era that kickstarted the start for the world we now know. The Era of the Victorians.

For it only lasting a few decades it had caused a great shift in the culture of the time. A focus on concepts such as charity, chastity, personal responsibility, controlled habits, and self-criticism. Especially for the upper class as with a changing society they had to somehow separate themselves from the growing middle class when the lines seemed to blur as the aristocracy slowly faded into the background as the focus for everyone became business and money. 

They created the Victorian “gentleman” and “lady”, the perfect incarnation of the Victorian ideals of the time that embodied everything that a Victorian should be but only if you were upper class as anyone subordinate them in status was too below to even dare to try and become these perfect embodiments that all the upper class was to the public eye. The middle class could try as hard as they wanted too but they were never able to get to the level that the upper class seemed to be on as the upper class had many more resources to be able to accomplish such a feat. They had the upper class blood that acted like a ticket to a good life, a golden pass through a gate that all wished to be able to go through but would never be granted such a privilege. To be a true Victorian they had made the standard of being cold and cruel in business allowing no emotions to cloud the matter that would allow them to grow their horde. While in public they would be modest, no promiscuous behaviour that anyone could blackmail them with as they promised to help with charity even if that promise would never be fulfilled. A truly controlled individual that by all accounts seemed responsible and in total control of their actions, never allowing for themselves to make a mistake as they kept by all the laws set by society and by themselves. But what lay behind the mask that was put up was the public and their business? What were their true selves that would only be seen in private? To their families they would either be warm and let out all the emotions they would never be allowed to show or experience in the real world or they would be extremely abusive, letting their anger out on the only thing they could think of as it could not be released on the world since there was nothing that could be done as no one would release the information for fear of what consequences would happen for dirtying such a name. But to strangers in the Victorian’s version of the “underworld” where they could do anything if they were smart enough or had enough money to get away with it. The mask would be completely dropped, not carrying at all as they let all of their inhibitions go to do anything they wanted. They could be as depraved as they wanted doing anything that ranged from dealing with occult to murder to starting their own organised crime rings to earn more profits to being as promiscuous as they wanted as they hopped from brothel to brothel to have some fun with anyone they could, especially the people they wanted but would never be able to have in public due to religious or social expectations, creating as many secret lovers as they wanted.

Set in the fog that masked the streets that were made up of buildings that filled every inch much like the masks that hid their owners was where the AU is set. Many from all around came to this now bustling city for their own business, both private or not, to make most of their connections and the more revolutionary machines that would fulfil their dreams or depraved their desires. We watch as the COD characters navigate this world and how they use what they have to their advantage, using their tactics and smarts for the upper class society they are caged in instead of on the battlefield.

Like my last AUs, this is an AU that anyone can use but this is just the foundation and base and the basic rules to it so people can build from it and have a starting point to expand from. All I ask is to use the tag I made for the AU, for you to credit me for the AU if you use this version, and credit me for using my version of the character, apart from that go wild and have fun with this AU, if you have any questions please ask as no question is a dumb question.

[bluegiragi]

in action (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[soullessdianthus]

w: hinted dark themes, dark romance?

Victorian AU where Reader moves to the secluded manor in the countryside as Lord Simon Riley has hired her to be a caretaker of the house. She barely sees him around, an odd yet respected man, but the cheery gardener Johnny keeps her company most of the time, walking by her side through the lawn swallowed by thick mist. 

As the winter approaches, she realizes there are no other living souls in the house than her, the Lord and Johnny. Some lies had been told and she started to doubt Simon’s true intentions of her stay here.

Something about that old manor is unsettling. Or rather, its residents.

Working on a longer piece, just need your patience. If you're interested.👉👈

[reds-skull]

Back with a sketch of this idiot (+how he looks in Rev AU's Limbo)

[sweet-thoot]

Alright, this time is Price-

Lord Price *sweat's ASF*

"Pale as a corpse, it was a man of about forty human years. His hair was brown and short, accompanied by a couple of traces of gray hair on his sides. On the other hand, his mouth was surrounded by a mustache that was connected to his well-groomed sideburns"

[diejager]

wdyt of the idea of high society victorian cod characters cus i saw one glimpse of the idea and thought hmmm occult ghost and im praying we get it

I can’t believe I went google searching for this Drabble XD

PS. I wrote this before seeing @justadeadreaper ‘s AU!

The Past Cw: SLIGHT DARK, DUB-CON, spiritualism, occult, sex magic, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, oral sex, tell me if I missed any.

You’d heard from other women that the dark and mystery-shrouded man was one of the best spiritualists in England —if not the only man practicing the dark arts. You were warned through loose lips and gossiping whispered that he was a giant for your time, dressed in the finest silks a man could buy for himself and portrayed an aura of pride and excellence, holding an air of finesse and savagery in every words he spoke. You had your own expectations before you met him, fingers trembling as you wrote your letter, a grieving tear rolling down your powdered cheek.

You waited with bated breath and tense shoulders for his reply, and when a letter arrived, the little skull wax seal playing a part to your excitement, you ripped in open and settled in your desk in an unladylike manner. For a man you didn’t know, you couldn’t help but admire his calligraphy, the hand which he used to write was skilfully gentle, his words curled with a gracefulness you envied. In the black lettering, he gave you a date and location, touched by your plight, he invited you to his house in an unknown part of Manchester.

You rode out a few days early to meet him, being aware that he’d extended his invitation to a week long stay after your second exchange. He expressed his solemnity and sympathy towards you, promising that he’d be able to help you and you couldn’t be any happier to be able to let the past rest.

But your expectations of him fell the moment he greeted you at the wide mahogany doors of his house, he was broad and talks, a giant dressed in black. The cuffs and collar of his long coat were woven with silver roses and vines, gracing pant-clad thighs, thick and strong as a tree’s tough bark. He wore leather gloves - black as the rest of his attire - and a gem-clipped cravat stuffed under his black waist coat, buttons holding it to his sculpted chest and a flared end with silver intricacies, silver flowers and plants sown into the fabric. He was dressed beautifully, like a phantom of the opera, but when you gazed up, his dark eyes stared back, skin painted black and face hidden with a mask, a smooth skull stitched into the fabric of his cover.

He was a masterpiece in dark garments, handsome and mysterious when he ushered you in, the rumble of his voice making your body tingle, warmth filling your abdomen. He was a quiet man, eyes expressing more than words could, he had a gentle silence to him with tender and guiding hands, herding you to his seance room —or so you thought. There weren’t any tables, only plush cushions and soft-padded chairs in the dimly lit room, shadows dancing on the dark walls when he laid you down, coaxing you to relax under his care.

“I need you to relax,” he whispered, pressing his covered mouth you your forehead, brushing your locks off your sweaty skin, “do you trust me, love?”

You felt light-headed, mind dazed with the warmth and comfort he provided you, you choked down a sob, your voice dying in your throat. So you gave him a small nod, shuddering when his hands grazed up your hips to cradle your cheek, brushing away your stray tear.

“Good, close your eyes for me, yeah?”

Darkness embraced you with soothing calmness as he cradled you in his arms, feeling you up until his hands slipped under your petticoat, his calloused - when had he taken his gloves off? - fingers hooking the band of your lacy underwear. He spread your legs, hanging them over his wide shoulders, his hot breath hitting your sensitive mound. You flinched when he pressed his lips to your covered slit, burying his nose in your thick bush as he drew a calming pattern on your inner thighs.

The fire brewing in your core boiled, strong and coming forth in giant waves. It was unknown, a strange sensation that rocked you whole. He dragged his tongue up your wet hole, circling your blinking cunt and to your twitching clit, lifting the hood to have better access to your sensitive nerve. You shuddered and jerked with every touch, little mewls and whimpers slipping past your painted lips and graced his ears with your pretty sounds.

His tongue was skilled, nimble as he dove into you, pumping your tight cunt with his hot muscle, slurping up your slick and rolling your virgin clit with his thumb, rough and calloused, yet gentle with you. You squirmed and murmured incoherent words, something about it feeling weird, about your body burning and your mind lost to it, but he only coaxed you further, praising you for being so good and compliant for him.

“Good girl, telling me how good you feel,” he panted, diving back into your gummy walls, tongue brushing your softness before he replaced them with his strong and thick finger, plunging into you and hitting your sweet spot, “M name’s Ghost, love. Scream my name, yeah?”

His soft praises and talented fingers had you tipping over, the fire spilling over the edge with a blinding light. You cried out his name - is moniker - with mewls and gasps, arching beneath him and wrapped your legs tightly around his head as you came, gushing around his fingers. He slowly pumped his fingers, tongue lapping and drinking up your slick, gorging on your drooling cunt as if it were the sacred waters of the fountain of youth.

He left you limp and numb, lashes fluttering, peering at him with tired eyes, bathing in the adoring eyes of the spiritualist that made you come with his mouth and fingers alone —something new to you, a stranger in your heart and throbbing core. With his mask pulled over his tongue, mouth and chin still wet with your slick, he mumbled to you, tender words coaxing you to sit up for him.

“Reckon we get started, love?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[frogchiro]

Let me just sneak in here. Just want to say thank you for the compliments, it has truly made my day. But I came in here because I just wanted to make sure I have your full permission to add to the COD Gods AU as I have so many ideas and I will admit that I am a world-building fanatic. Especially as I'm thinking about doing another one of my big character analyses but for Makarov this time as I have way too many ideas for God Makarov that I want to charge him rent. Also, I hope it's okay if I am allowed to add to the Slasher COD AU as I have ideas for König and Soap, as I myself see König as a creature hunting in the woods killer who has cannibalistic tendencies while I see Soap as a killer like Kuchisake-Onna (口裂け女) who is an onryō (怨霊); I say that as an onryō exact vengeance to "redress" the wrongs it received while alive while Kuchisake-Onna kills or hurts people by slitting their face through their mouth from ear to ear which is similar to a Glasgow Smile and I think the first part also fits Johnny as I still believe he is not y'know and Slasher Johnny could be extremely injured after the incident which has forced him to stop working so he takes his anger out on everybody else before he can get to Makarov and get revenge.

Also as repayment for you blessing us with your AUs that I have added on to I will be spoiling you the AUs I've been thinking of for the COD boys that I will be talking about later on my blog: Angel AU, Demon AU, Royal AU, Cryptid AU, Mythical Creature AU, Bug AU, Plague AU, Victorian AU, Magic AU, Fairytale AU, Celestial/Solar AU, Wonderland AU, and many more which I will probably list in one post. These will probably take me weeks to do but I will be posting the summaries soon for people to use (and you can use them as much as you want) as the analyses take me around three to six hours to write depending on how much research is needed. I also want to post some other headcanons I have that are just general and my opinions on MW3 ending and how I would have done it which will also make me take longer. But anyone I shall run away now that I've dropped this on your doorstep and if you ever have any questions I shall answer. Sorry about how long this ask is but my family has a waffling issue and I tend to be one of the worst. Now much platonic love, have some cookies, and keep yourself safe but also well-rested.

Please know yourself out with these!! All my ideas are basically free for adding/interpreting them as someone pleases because I truly believe that's what will keep them going and alive!

You have no idea how happy I am that someone as talented and creative as you wants to do such in-depth workd building on my silly whimsical au😭💕💕

I'm sending you much platonical love too and have a good day/night love♡

[sailor-toni]

I Think My Neighbor’s Dead Son is Trying to Talk to Me?

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, or Wattpad

Summary:

Wes Weston has just moved into Amity Park but there is something seriously wrong with the destroyed house next door to him. Espically at night when the wind passed through the rusted Fenton Works sign. (AU Full Ghost Danny) (Phicc Phight prompt fill for kalyke/aggressivelyclueless)

The cold summer’s air blasted itself at the nape of his neck, chilling him to the bone. It was a threat, or a command from above to stop, but Wes saw something in the old Fenton Works, and he had to know whose eyes he saw in the brief flashes of lighting.

It started last week, his father had gotten a news anchor job in a medium size city called Amity Park, which according to the aged and weathered sign, was a great place to live. Was it really that great if they had to both underline and italicize the word? To Wes the strangeness of the sign was a single for the dull dread that was to come from life in Amity Park. 

It rained almost everyday in Amity Park, and when the sun decided to show itself the harsh winds kept everyone in jackets well past winter. The buildings were a mash up of white colonial paint with tall white columns, pointed Victorian roofs, and décor that looked like it belonged in the height of the eighties. All together it created a visual disaster of a town that seemed both lost in time and missing whatever soul it had once had. In short, Wes hated it here. He wanted to go back to Oklahoma where the sunset wasn’t obstructed by something every day, and back to where his friends were. 

Worst of all was the house next to them. It was a three story townhouse with a second metal house (It was a large metal circular structure with satellite dishes and antennas on top,  and random metal poles connecting it to the house below) on top, and a dead neon sign on the side that read Fenton Works. The whole building was abandoned and dilapidated with half the windows broken and the other half bored up. 

And Wes didn’t believe in ghost, he thought the idea was stupid. The dead can’t come back and anyone who told you otherwise was trying to sell you something. But one day at school he heard some of the other students talking. 

“So, Kwan are you in?” Dash, school bully, high school football star, and future used car salesman said.

“No way dude! I’m not about to spend my free night looking for Fenton’s Ghost,” Kwan, the only one on the football team who  had enough smarts go to college, said. 

“Aw, are you scared? Is the Kwan-ster scared of an old house?” 

“I’m not scared. We just don’t know what those people were doing there. What if they left a science experiment out and it gives us all cancer?” 

“You’re being ridiculous man, they probably took everything when they left.”

“You never know dude. I mean… their own son died because of what they were hiding in the basement. They probably didn’t want to carry that reminder with them when they left.”

“But doesn't that make you more curious to check it out? My Mom’s co-worker’s second cousin’s boyfriend said she saw strange lights in the house last halloween. Maybe the Fenton kid is still there as a ghost!” 

“Well, you and the girls can go deal with that. I will be home with fresh food, a warm blanket, and the new COD game.” 

  Wes tuned the rest of their conversation out. Instead writing down what he had hearn in his notebook. He didn’t know someone had died there. He assumed it was some business that lost all their money or something. But that would explain why every night as he looked out his window he swore he felt someone staring back. 

That night as the rainstorm turned nightmarish, he pushed his chair to the window in his room overlooking the old Fenton Works. If someone lived there he could have seen right into their bedroom. What kind of person lived there? He thought. Were they cool? Did they also like video editing and video games? Or were they like Dash and took sick pleasure in shoving peoples heads into the mystery meat specials. Wes was sure he could still smell it. 

BOOM! Lighting passed between the houses, staining everything a blinding white. He ducked his head and shielded his eyes, but in the bright light there was someone across the alleyway, with neon green eyes watching him. No, observing him. No, they looked like they were trying to say something. 

“Who…” The question sat on the tip of his tongue as the eyes faded into the clap of thunder. 

A week later, Wes stood outside the Fenton Works on a gray cloudy evening, Dash and Kwan standing beside him. The muted tones of the sky turned the world around them into shades of muted gray and blues, except the sign on the front door. The orange No Trespassing sign stood out like a neon flame. 

“Are you sure they are coming?” Kwan said. He looked nervous. 

“Yes! Paulina and Star just passed the Nasty Burger, they should be here soon,” Dash said. “Hey Kid.” 

“It’s Wes.” 

“Yeah, whatever, are you sure you saw something here?” 

“Yes, it was as clear as day, there was someone watching me with these neon green flashlight eyes,” Wes began. 

“Well you better be right. If we don’t see anything I’ll pummel your ass to timbuktu and back. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Wes said. He had only mentioned it to them because he didn’t want to go alone. 

“Hey guys!” Paulina yelled. Her and Star ran up to meet them with a bag of goodies. 

“What do you got babe?” Kwan said. 

“My Mom used to go ghost hunting all the time with friends back in New York, so she let me borrow some of her stuff. We have an EVP, flashlights, motion dictators, and this radio the ghost can speak through,” Star said. 

“A ghost is going to talk to us through that little thing?” Dask asked.

“Well, kind of, the ghost will flip through the radio stations and use whatever words are being broadcasted to speak to us. According to my Mom it can be a bit buggy at times.” 

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Wes said. 

“Thanks dude! I think it's amazing. I didn’t know she had all this stuff,” Star said. 

“And what did you bring Paulina?” Kwan asked. 

“My Mom made me bring a cross, a bottle of holy water, and a knife, just in case. God, she is so annoying,” Paulina pulled out a nine inch hunting knife as she said this. 

“Holy Shit! Paulina’s packing!”

“Don’t shout it Kwan! Do you want to get the cops called on us?” Paulina shoved the knife back into her low rise jeans. 

“Sorry.” 

“On that note let’s get in there, Wes you go first,” Dash said. 

“Me? Why me?”

“Cuz’, you saw the ghost first, now go before it tries to rain on us.” Dash pushed Wes forward. 

The inside of the Fenton works was worse than the outside. A pipe had burst some time ago and the carpet smelled of sour mold. There were some lights from the windows but the rest of the home was dark. Their shoes squished on the carpet, and the standing water threatened to fill their shoes. Through the groans of disgust and fake puking the teenager found their way to the staircase. The downstairs had nothing in it besides a broken stove and a fridge that had been locked shut. Dash and Kwan tried to pull on it but the lock hadn’t rusted through yet. 

The upstairs was picked clean as well. The fading sunlight showed spots on the wallpaper where pictures once hung proudly on display, but now there were brightly colored spots along the fading wall. Dash kicked open a door that was stuck and yelled for the rest. This room had everything, a bed, computer, desk, faded space posters, and action figures along the wall. 

“Woah! Do you think this is his room?” Paulina asked. 

“Whose room?” Star said. 

“The Fenton’s son, I think his name was Danny? According to the news he was messing around in his parents lab and suffered a fatal accident,” Kwan said. 

“And his parents left everything behind?” Wes said. He noticed a large window that looked directly into the building next door. 

“Maybe it was too hard. I hear some parents won’t touch anything that belonged to their kids after they pass,” Paulina brushed the dust off the computer monitor. 

“That is… understandable, but they didn’t even take his clothes with them. Apparently the kid wore briefs,” Dash was rummaging through the drawers. 

“That’s fucked up, Danny didn’t deserve this,” Kwan said. 

“Did you know him?” Wes said. 

“Yeah, we were in the third grade together. I wasn’t really friends with him, he was friends with Tucker, the nerd kid. But he was nice. I remember he did his whole show and tell about space and what it took to become an astronaut,” Kwan said. “We didn’t share a fourth grade teacher, but the school had an assembly when he died.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Dash patted his friend on the back. 

“It’s okay. I didn’t really know him too well, but I felt bad for his sister. She was in sixth grade and during the assembly all she did was cry.” 

“I would too. That’s a lot for a kid to go through,” Star said. “But maybe you can talk to Danny one more time with the radio.” The radio turned on with a loud static noise, with garbled speech mixed in as the dial moved back and forth. “DANNY IF YOU ARE HERE PLEASE LET US KNOW!” 

“Do you have to yell?” Paulina said. Wes could only hear her because he was standing next to her. 

“WHAT DID YOU SAY PAULINA?” 

“NOTHING!”

“OKAY!” 

“DANNY IF YOU ARE STILL HERE, MAKE THE RADIO SAY YES!” Star yelled. 

The radio flickered between a few channels “...zzzz…Now…Yes sir!...Home…” 

“KWAN DID YOU HEAR THAT! DANNY IS HERE!” 

“STAR THE RADIO IS TOO LOUD!”” Kwan yelled 

“WHAT!” 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD STAR!” Kwan grabbed the radio and turned down the volume. “Does it have to be that loud?” 

“Yes, we have to make sure the ghost can hear it.” 

“Star the ghost is dead, not deaf,” Dash said. “Here Wes grab the radio and let’s do it again.” 

“Why me?”

“Because you saw the ghost, maybe it left some ghost trace on you that will make the radio work better.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works but whatever,” Wes took the radio from Kwan. “Hey Danny, are you here?” 

The radio flickered, “zzz…YES sir you are getting …. Yes … hello…zzz” 

“Omg did you hear it! He said yes! Quick, someone ask him another question!” Star began to jump with joy. 

“Danny, how old are you?” Paulina asked. 

“zzz…Now for the low price of nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine…zzz”

“Danny, how did you die?” Dash asked. 

“zzz… Supernatural … GHOST! … Home … Man … zzz” 

“What does that mean?” Dash said. 

“I don’t know. Danny, can you try again, we don’t understand?” Paulina said. 

“Zzz… Ghostly ghouls .. you are now entering … ghost! … Twilight Zone …” 

“Did you guys understand that? Paulina said. 

“Nope.” 

“No.” 

“Something about ghosts?” 

“Nah. Try something else, like where did he die?” Wes said. 

“Danny, where did you die?” Paulina asked the box once more. 

“Zzz… deep down below … Dad’s workshop … she opened the basement door … AHHH! ..zzz” 

“It sounds like it was in the basement?’ Wes said. 

“I don’t wanna walk through that carpet again, it’s so gross.” Star said. 

“You don't have much of a choice Star,” Dash said. 

“Here Babe, I’ll carry you,” Kwan scooped her sup in his arms. 

“Awww! Thank you Babe!” 

Paulina looked to Dash. “What?” Dash said. 

“Nothing,” Paulina rolled her eyes. 

The basement smelled of rot and decay, and like Danny’s room it was filled with stuff. Parts of the room had a strange green glow to it. It wasn't bright enough to illuminate anything, but when Wes moved his flashlight he could see it was emitting some light. 

“Okay Danny, what happened here?” Wes asked. 

“Zzz.. Zone … just turn it on and … bright lights of the city … hole deep below…zzz”

“Did you turn one of your parents' experiments on?” Star asked, her arms wrapped around Kwan’s neck. 

“Zzz.. yes.. Pain.. lights … AHHH!...zzz” 

“Omg! Kwan did you hear that?” 

“Yeah, poor Danny.” 

“Danny, why haven’t you left yet?” Wes asked the box. 

“Zzz … Mommy … Daddy … Jazz ha- … alone … zzz” 

“Oh Danny,” Paulina sounded like she was about to start crying soon. 

“Danny, your parents left. Why don’t you follow them?” Wes asked. 

“Wes! You can’t just ask a ghost that?” Star said. 

“Why not?”

“Ghosts are stuck where they die, Danny can’t leave.” 

The radio box sprung to life once again, “zzz… no! … he’s stuck in quicksand … Mommy! …zzz”

“Well can we do anything?” Wes asked Star. 

“We can help him pass on, usually you just have to find out what killed them or tell a relative some dark secret or something. My Mom was telling me that ghosts only stay behind when they have unfinished business.” 

“Okay kid, what do you want?” Dash asked. 

“Zzz… Mommy and Daddy … Jazz hands … Okay! Okay! Okay! … Love you! … zzz” 

“Uhhh kid, we don't know where your parents are, can we do something else?” Dash said. 

“Dash! Don’t be so mean,” Paulina shouted. 

“What, it’s the truth, nobody knows where the Fentons moved to. Plus I heard that the Dad was thrown in prison for child endangerment anyways. We can’t bust him out of prison,” 

The radio box flew out of Wes’s hands, the volume rising as the box did. 

“zzz… Mommy! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY! … zzz” Junk started flying around them, slamming against the walls and trying to slam against them. 

“Oh shit! Run!” Dash shoved Wes out of the way and b-lined it to the door. Paulina grabbed Wes and they followed Kwan up the stairs. The floor rocking as they ran through the water and mold. Wes slammed the door shut behind them and kept running with the others into the night. He looked behind once to see a pair of eyes watching them.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You write so beautifully, I have loved everything of yours that I’ve read. Your COD AU’s are my favorites <3 Thank you so much for sharing your art with us! I look forward to seeing more of your wonderful stories ^-^

Thank you! I'm excited to write more for the AUs - I really like how they make me think about different time periods/settings/etc.

I'm especially excited about Werewolf!Ghost, I love the setting of the 1830s/during the Victorian era. The atmosphere and the attire are just so beautiful to look at.

[artdrawsok]

COD Ghosts: Monster AU - BONUS CHARACTER

First Half - Second Half

Absolutely pumped this out like a victorian woman craving bare ankles

[justadeadreaper]

Please read.

I realised that I need to do a post for my boundaries and for people to get to know me. So let me just say some basic facts about me: ❇Hi my name is Ozzie. ❇I’m 19. ❇I’m 6’2”. ❇I’m from the same country as Bell in the Wych Elm. ❇I am a trangender man and use he/they/it pronouns but I don’t mind feminine terms being used as I don’t care much about gender rules. ❇I have autism so sometimes I can come off as a bit robotic. But, my special interests are mythology, folklore, history, cryptids, and more which I may add later. ❇My favourtie song is Lover, Don’t Leave Me by Bocce. ❇My favourite food is ice cream sandwiches made with marshmallow chunks in vanilla clotted cream ice cream and white chocolate, dried strawberries, and honeycomb cookies (I have a concerning sweet tooth). ❇My favourite season is Winter. ❇My favourite musical is Beetlejuice. ❇My favourite movie genre is Horror.

I will try to reply to comments but if there are too many comments I will not be able to as it will get overwhelming so please don’t be mad at me. But please feel free to ask me questions about anything or to talk to me at any time as I want to build a loving community. Besides me telling you my headcanons for our favourite COD characters or you telling me yours or me talking about my AU ideas, I’d be extremely ecstatic to talk to you about anything to build a bond between all of us. What fandoms do I write for? This will be a list of fandoms I will write for which may be added onto if I decide: ❇Call of Duty (Which it will mostly be about as I am a big fan and see so much potential in it.) What fandoms am I in which you can talk to me about? This will be a list of fandoms I would love to talk about as I absolutely adore them or have a love hate relationship, it may be added onto if I decide: ❇Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel ❇Call of Duty ❇Cookie Run Kingdom ❇Good Omens What are my interests which you can talk to me about? This will be a list of fandoms I would love to talk about which may be added onto if I decide: ❇Mythology and folklore (Greek, Norse, Slavic, Chinese, Japanese, etc.) ❇History (Most eras such as the Victorian, famous Pirates, Tudor, but I’d love to talk about others) ❇Demonology and Angelology ❇Cryptids ❇Musicals ❇Masked men ❇Horror movies ❇Baking ❇Analog Horror

Rules? I have some very basic rules that I want to go over with you but more can be added depended on what happens: ❇I can write SFW or NSFW content depending on what you guys want, now if you do not want to see any NSFW content then please do not interact as I will not take the hate and will block. ❇For all NSFW content all of the characters will be 18+ as MAPs/Pedos with all those different kinds based on the child’s age (gross) or anything and everything in between are not welcome and can not kindly fuck off as you fuck yourself home with a cactus in your ass. I am not joking, I will block and report you. ❇This blog may contain triggering or dark content as I am a heavy angst or darker writer. I will most likely write it very often once I’ve finished with my character analyses and I’ll probably be reblogging or interacting with other dark content blogs if I see something that does catch my eye. If you’re not comfortable with any of that then pretty please do not interact with this blog or please block the tags. Do not blame me as I will be thoroughly tagging my posts as I need to find them myself. ❇This blog will contain spoilers which are tagged appropriately so if you see a spoiler do not complain or harass me for it as it has been tagged and it says spoilers in capitals and bold. ❇This is an 18+ blog, even if it does not look like it yet as the NSFW will be coming later, so absolutely no minors and people under 18 at all. End of discussion. I know and you obviously know that I can't control everyone and how they use the internet or what they interact with but please just be respectful of my boundaries and not to interact with this blog, I don’t encourage you to read this but if you have to for some unbeknownst reason to me then at least don’t reblog or like my posts. You will be blocked if you do. ❇Absolutely no harassment as I want this to be a safeplace for almost all except Pedos, Bigots, Homophobes, Racists, Transphobes, Woman-haters (like Andrew Tate or Sneako), etc. If you harass someone or me or post stuff about those then you will be blocked. ❇Every once in a while I will be checking my followers so you will be blocked if you go against my rules. What I can or will write about? Things that I will write about if you ask me: ❇Gore as in body wounds, torture, interrogations, body horror, cannibalism, etc. ❇I will write “yandere” but please call it stalker or obsessed as I do not like that term. ❇Omegaverse ❇Hybrids ❇AUs ❇Fluff/SFW ❇NSFW, I may be a virgin but I will write about kinky scenarios. ❇Requested scenarios with characters (Such as “What would it be like to have {insert character} help you confront your alcohol issues?). ❇Long and miniature fics. ❇Angst ❇Gore as in body wounds, torture, interrogations, body horror, etc. ❇Requests or suggestions if I like them or find them interesting. ❇I will write female, male, transgender, gender neutral, nonbinary, genderfluid, etc. reader. ❇Character x Character ❇Character Analysis ❇Triggering subjects ❇OC x Canon ❇My own OCs or friends’ OCs. What I can not or will not write: Things that I will not write about if you ask me and more will be added on as I go along and see what I’m comfortable with: ❇Vore, I am comfortable writing cannibalism but vore is just too far for me. ❇Adult/Minor, as I’ve said before Pedos can fuck off. I will most likely be adding more as I spend more time writing here and seeing what I am or am not comfortable with, but these are the rules for now and the most basic ones I have. Now I know I haven’t listed everything as I haven’t thought of everything so if you want to ask to make sure, please do. But please just be respectful to me and each other and yourself. Make sure that you understand the rules before requesting or interacting.

Now I will do any type of reader. Due to being transgender, reader will almost always be either female, AFAB, transgender male, or gender neutral. I will do others if it is requested by a lot of people but male reader is thin ice which I may avoid due to how common it is to be harassed for being a fetishist of gay men for writing male, since yes I may be a man but I have been told before that I’m only transgender to get away with it and I have seen others be harassed. So yes I might do it but I will tread those waters carefully and most likely only do it when asked but if I am harassed I will stop it completely. But honestly, for most of my posts reader will be gender neutral or AFAB if not stated otherwise for scenarios but specific fics will be female or transgender male. Other things such as race, body type, height, weight, tattoos, scars, specific body characteristics, etc. will be completely neutral unless I have stated otherwise or have been requested by someone. I will also do disabilities if requested but all readers will have a slight tinge of neurodivergence as I am autistic and that tends to bleed into my writing. Sorry if any of this seems rude or harsh or hostile but I have been advised to be firm with my boundaries to stop me from having problems in the long run and I am going with it as I am normally a pushover. Masterlist and AUs? I will not be having a normal masterlist as most of my posts will either be character analyses for my AUs or fics based upon those AUs or talking about scenarios for characters so I do not see the need for a normal masterlist. Instead, once I have posted the summary for that AU I will link it to here, and under the summaries in that post I will have links to all the other parts of the AU like the fics, scenarios with characters, and analyses which I will try to update as I go along, this is to just make everything easier to find. The list at the moment will just be a list of the AUs I’m going to be doing so see it as spoilers but as I go along the links will be added: ❇COD Angel! AU ❇COD Bug! AU ❇COD Celestial! AU ❇COD Cryptid! AU ❇COD Demon! AU ❇COD Fairytale! AU ❇COD Magical! AU ❇COD Mythological! AU ❇COD Pirate! AU ❇COD Plague! AU ❇COD Royal! AU ❇COD Shopkeeper! AU ❇COD Victorian! AU ❇COD Wonderland! AU

Anyone can use my AUs as long as I am credited as I do not care much and I like see how people will use my AUs as I love sharing ideas and helping people create things by giving them a basic base. Just have fun with it.

[paddyfitz]

the CoD victorian gothic AU where soap just starts talking about misogyny and the patriarchy like a fifth grade info sheet in the middle... It is lowkey iconic

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[thecallofapotato]

Hi and welcome to my potato blog! I have cookies and tea to make you feel comfortable. It’s always nice to see you! 🥺🥺🥺

Sorry if I seem to be pretty weird or/and chaotic, but I try to fight my social phobia, so sometimes I feel bold just to feel like total dumbass right after (and over the smallest things), so yeah 😅

This blog is pretty much multifandom chaos. My newest obsession is Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley from CoD Modern Warfare 2 (sweet baby girl)  😌 Moodboards for him and Soap are coming!

Moodboard masterlist below!

Sometimes, when I feel inspired, I create moodboards. I have a concept to make moodboards series where each series will be different AU. For now it’s mafia AU, but I already have ideas for a few other AUs (Monster AU, Victorian Era AU...)! You can treat my moodboards as prompts, I don’t mind, I even encourage this! And please tag me if any piece of my content inspire you, I would love to read it! (unless it contains things that I’m not into 😂but don’t worry about it!)

Warning: some of my moodboards have 18+ content.

my English isn’t very good, but I’m trying!

✤ Mafia AU

mafia boss! August Walker x reader 

mafia boss! Steve Rogers x reader 

mafia boss! Clark Kent x reader

hitman! Lloyd Hansen x reader 

[redadm1ral-moved]

Me when I see the next Mix-It Up Monday question is about crossovers-

I have an entire AU centered around what I think would happen if a COD character was inserted into a different game (well, a few COD characters, to be more accurate), with part one of my planned five part series currently in progress!

I'll drop a link for anyone interested at the end of the post, but without further ado, allow me to be briefly insufferable about Call of Honor! :D

Call of Honor is an AU where a few COD characters (namely Soap, Makarov, Yuri, and perhaps a few OCs) wake up after their deaths in the Dishonored universe, in the middle of the Plague Crisis (so, right in the middle of the events of Dishonored 1). Soap, Makarov, and Yuri all have their own individual arcs and pathways through this fucked up new world, but since the OP asked about one Call of Duty character specifically, and the currently planned series primarily follows Soap's journey, I'll focus on Soap for this post.

(The rest of this post is going under a cut to save y'all's dashboards! CW for mentions/brief discussions of racism and xenophobia.)

Soap's thrown right into the deep end: after dying in Prague, he wakes up in the abandoned Old Port District (quarantined and evacuated because of plague), and stumbles across the Loyalist Conspiracy, who take him in as part-refugee, part-prisoner. Which could be good or bad luck, depending on the way you slice it. They feed him, at least, and he's free to wander their headquarters, the Hound Pits Pub, as he pleases. So it's not as bad as it could be.

Right away he needs to adjust to differing technology, both old and new; for example, everyone uses chamber pots and only the rich have access to plumbing beyond just sinks, but Soap also must learn to navigate the new hazards that are walls of light and arc pylons. And this isn't even getting into the weaponry! Gone are the guns he's used to; he adjusts pistols more similar to flintlocks than anything else, and learning his way around a sword is essential for survival. The culture is also different—the culture and societal norms of 1837 Dunwall are much more similar to Victorian England than the modern day, though obviously not exact.

He must adapt to new geography and politics, and new expectations for him in Dishonored's world. To the people of Dishonored, he'd be considered Morleyan, which puts him at a disadvantage in Dunwall; xenophobia is woven into the fabric of the Empire, and the Morley Insurrection is still in living memory, meaning he's more likely to face discrimination and violence and less likely to receive recourse. My Soap is also mixed race and visibly Black, meaning he would also be navigating Dunwallian society as a "colored" man—and Dunwall is not kind to colored men or Morleyans, as he very quickly finds out.

Dunwall is also in the midst of what will be known as the Plague Crisis, which starts in 1835 and ends with the development and distribution of a cure in 1838 (canonically). The Rat Plague (a fictional disease based heavily off the real-world bubonic plague) is introduced to Dunwall's slums and spreads wildly, killing half of Dunwall's population by the end of the crisis. This, understandably, freaks Soap out; there is no cure, no known treatment, and though he's had vaccinations for just about anything one could think of back home, his immune system is not accustomed to the diseases native to the Isles or to Pandyssia, so he's even less equipped to fight the plague than his hosts. Death by plague is a horrible, slow way to go as well; failure to keep himself safe could result into him becoming a weeper, and the idea of such a fate would keep him up at night.

And if all of this weren't enough, Dunwall is also in the middle of a power crisis; the last Empress was assassinated and her daughter, the only known heir, was kidnapped at the same time. When Soap arrives, a Lord Regent and his entourage are running the city into the ground—and the conspiracy who took Soap in are the ones aiming to remove the Lord Regent, find the lost heir, and install her on the throne.

It's hard. One of these various issues would be difficult enough, but on top of adjusting to a new nation/empire and culture, bearing the weight of a different flavor of otherwise painfully familiar racism and xenophobia, and navigating a deadly epidemic with a tyrannical government in the center of it all, Soap has to grapple with his own death. He's dead, with everything that implies, and the chances of him reversing this cosmic error and going home are slim to none (spoilers: it's none). He grieves for himself, the future he lost, and the lives he left behind—he lives he fears he failed, because he died without ever killing Makarov or seeing the end of World War 3. And that's a fucked up thought to have, that he's a casualty of a third world war.

And being dragged into the middle of a conspiracy he had no idea existed does not do much for his mental state, either. Everyone has an ulterior motive, something they want above anything else, and Soap is in a uniquely vulnerable position that rivals even Corvo's. He's a complete nobody, someone who can be used and discarded without ever being missed. And he's not as important as everyone else, too, meaning that if something goes wrong and he's to blame, the Loyalists will have no qualms about disposing of him. Suffice to say, paranoia is ever-present.

But Soap isn't completely alone. He has relationships with his new hosts—some positive, some negative. Corvo takes Soap under his wing and refuses to give up on him, and Lydia and Samuel treat him with respect and kindness (if a little fear, in the beginning). Even Cecelia eventually warms up to him, and even Wallace may come to respect him in the end. He and Martin connect over their similar identities (Soap being Scottish, Martin being Morleyan and, more specifically, the in-universe equivalent of Irish), and though his relationships with Pendleton and Havelock are fairly awkward, there is still some mutual interest. (But all things come to an end...eventually.)

Anyway this post is becoming HUGE, so here is where I'll cut it off for now. I don't have a lot of stuff in my Call of Honor tag currently (I don't think so, at least), but if you wanna hear more about this AU or have any questions, my inbox is open! :D

Like I mentioned in the beginning of the post, I'm also working on a fic series following the events of this AU! The first fic, The Plagued Capital, is currently in progress, and there are four other parts currently being planned. TPC will focus entirely on the events of Dishonored 1, from Soap appearing in the Old Port to the resolution after Kingsparrow.

The Plagued Capital can be read on AO3 and FFN. I recommend the AO3 version honestly, the FFN version is just there for mirroring purposes. I haven't updated the fic in a few months (and no set in stone ETA, sorry), but I do plan on updating when I have the time.

I'm also planning a Makarov-centric spinoff that follows his perspective through the entire series, from The Plagued Capital to the final part of COH, The Unquiet Grave (which takes place in 1852 and follows/mirrors the events of Dishonored 2). There's no fic up for it yet; I plan to start writing it once I've gotten through with at least some of the main series.

One of my partners, @solnishka1927, is also working on a companion series called Call of Absolution, which focuses on Yuri's perspective in the same AU and timeline. Currently they're waiting on me to work more on The Plagued Capital to edit and update their work, since Yuri and Soap's storylines run pretty closely together and cross over at times, but the first few chapters are available on AO3 if you'd like to take a gander at what they've got so far! (Be sure to leave a kudos and/or a comment if you do! :D)

I also have a tag for this AU, which I've tagged this post with for organizational purposes and ease of navigation. Feel free to peruse it, though I...honestly can't remember how much I've posted in it, oops.

Thank you @onlycodcanjudgeme for giving me the perfect excuse to ramble about my favorite AU, my baby, my fucking cinnamon apple, and to anyone who read this entire post through, you're a real one.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

ABO ask that has nothing to do with ABO... oh well. What media would you say Mitch has partaken in? Star Wars, music, etc. Are there any other headcanons in this area you have about him, just as a general ask? I like your way of writing him, it always fits so well. You build the character in such a great way. Hope you continue to have a good day! Im not great at giving compliments, but you’re a really good writer!

Lol I love <3 

It’s mostly AU specific; like, I have one or two AUs where he’s an avid gamer (and one where he’s a game developer, Stiles loves), one where he’s a cosplayer, etc. 

I do know that in canon he hates EDM, and would probably hate Eurovision if it was around at the time lol. But a running head canon I have for him, inspired by book canon, is that he likes French media. 

Mitch doesn’t strike me as someone who would keep up on the latest pop culture most of the time, but I would say he’s probably casually into the Marvel movies, with Iron Man being his favorite. And he probably likes Black Widow & Clint bc spies. Oh, and also Bucky & Sam. Actually I take back my Iron Man comment, Deadpool is absolutely his favorite of the Marvel Movies. 

Just for the sake of comedy, I think he would enjoy movies like Mission Impossible, Bourne, Olympus Has Fallen (actually a rip off of i believe the first Mitch book lmao) etc, and shows like Designated Survivor and Nikita. 

Music wise, I tend to see him as a classic rock & 80s music kind of guy. But he also grew up in Virginia, so I see him listening to old school Country, too. Johnny Cash, Hank Williams/Jr., etc. 

And as much as I hate FPS games, Mitch probably grew up playing CoD lmao TT_TT I mean, if he could even find time to game around his obsessive lacrosse hobby. 

Idk how much of his book canon you’re interested in/know about, but Mitch was a lacrosse star in high school (might have also been on the football team? I can’t remember, and also I hate football, so i probably blocked it out.) But I remember a line that he would spend his summers at lacrosse camp and was basically practicing all the time, which later landed him a full ride sports  scholarship. He then went on to be a super awesome lacrosse player, I believe it was Dr. Lewis that said he was apparently one of the best players to ever live. 

I also know he likes history to some degree, so you could totally do something with that if you wanted!

what else what elseeee....

Tbh I love to keep up the running gag that Mitch hasn’t seen Star Wars, bc I love how much Stiles hated that Scott had never seen it xD Also gives the perfect excuse to write a little movie marathon date 

One of my few headcanons that actually carried across all of my AUs, is that Mitch loves to cook & is really good at it! (Also for ABO specific AUs, this ties really nicely into his nesting and mating instinct. Must take care of the mate!) For Estranged, this presented itself as Mitch actually wanting to become a professional chef before his dad died, but it crops up in basically everything I write. Mitch seduces Stiles with his superior cooking skills, and John is begging them to get married the first time Mitch has him over for dinner. 

But yeah, it’s all up to you! For me when I’m writing, I can see just about anything working so long as there’s the appropriate context for it. I mean, I even have an AU where Mitch cross dresses in women’s Victorian clothing, which sounds Weird, but I promise the execution makes it Work