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highwayorgantrade · 1 year

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An Echo In The Dark (PT II)

Pairing: König x Female!Reader x Ghost

Request: No request no thoughts just big scary men

Summary: On a recon mission gone horribly wrong, you, Ghost, and Konig are subject to an experimental drug created by the enemy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Playlist: An Echo In The Dark

Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT, Oh my god i am so sorry, sex pollen, (dub-con because of said sex pollen.), degradation, praise, double penetration, anyone wanna go to Paris?, oral (m and f receiving),, mention of war, cursing, mentions of drugs (it's the "pollen."), choking, Google translated German, brief mention of blood

Author's note: brb going to church

A gloved hand snaked its way around your neck, and fingers tilted your head back to see Ghost leaned over you, his gaze intense. You could see why people were intimidated by him now that he was standing above you, his chest rising and falling. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, and you finally got it.

They weren't your prey.

You were theirs.

Ghost clicked his tongue as realization of your situation dawned on you.

"Ah, there we go. She got there." He whispered, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at you. "Tell us what you want, or you're not getting it."

You barely had time to think of his demand before a new kind of fire made its way into the pit of your stomach. This one wasn't painful like the last one. That was weak, sated easily by König's touch. This felt like it was devouring you from the inside out, it was razing everything in its path, and you couldn't fucking care less.

"I want the both of you." You breathed, trying to press your thighs together, only to be blocked by König's broad shoulders, and a whine clawed its way out of your throat. "I need the both of you."

A groan sounded through the room as that was all the confirmation König needed. He wrenched your pants down, the threads ripping from the force on his way, and Ghost laughed.

"You good, mate?"

"Ich kann es kaum erwarten, ich muss..." König's speech was slurred, and the feel of his breath on your inner thigh made you involuntarily buck your hips. "No. None of that." He growled, and looked up at you, placing his forearm over your stomach, effectively holding you in place. He was teasing you, and you weren't even allowed to react to it! You groaned and let your head fall back, the mere sight of König nearly sending you over the edge.

A zipper sounded above you, and before you had the chance to open your eyes, you felt König wrap his lips around your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and your mouth opened in a silent gasp at the electricity that sparked from the contact.

"Open your eyes, princess." Ghost sounded from behind you, and he lightly tapped your cheeks to get your attention. Your eyes opened to see Ghost's head tilted down at you, his pupils blown from the adrenaline. "Look at 'cha. You're already a mess."

He was right. You were a mess. König was devouring like you were his last meal on earth, his mouth wavering every so often to bite the insides of your thighs.

"You're the one... Who's about to come... Just from watching." Talking was harder than you thought, your words interrupted by your own gasps and moans. It was clear Ghost didn't appreciate your comment, as his head straightened, and his eyes narrowed at you.

"Mate, why is she still talking? Do you know why she's talking?" He spoke to König, but his eyes were still locked onto you.

"Nein." König's voice was deeper than what it normally was, he sounded almost feral. Ghost reached down, and delivered two harsh taps to your cheek.

"Open."

You simply stared up at him. He couldn't possibly... Was he insinuating? His nearly desperate struggle with his belt told you that yes, yes he was.

"Open your fucking mouth, Echo."

A harsh nip on the inside of your thigh forced your mouth open in a surprised gasp, and you were grateful for the intake of air before Ghost's cock slid into your mouth, and he rested a gloved hand on your throat. With König's arm pulling your thighs toward his face, and Ghost groaning above you, an animalistic haze began to settle in your mind.

"Fucking hell, I can..." Ghost trailed off with a groan as his hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, feeling himself. It would be a lie if you told yourself the combining feelings weren't overwhelming, but God, you couldn't get enough. The need to breathe was completely lost to you until Ghost pulled out, and stroked your burning cheeks. "Wanna take more? Can you take more?"

Honestly, you weren't sure. König's ministrations were building an upsetting amount of pressure, and tears were beginning to well in your eyes at the feeling. In lieu of a response and a decisive huff, you leaned your head back, opening your mouth and letting your tongue fall past your bottom lip. A deep growl sounded from Ghost, and his hand found its way back onto your throat as he moved his hips forward one more time, this time continuing past half of his shaft until his cock was completely buried in your throat. Fingers began to toy with your entrance, and a moan tore through your throat, vibrating around Ghost.

Within moments, you could feel the coil in you screaming to snap, and both men could tell, from the way your nails tried to find purchase in anything, and your thighs shook around König's shoulders. A brief moment of panic rang through you as Ghost's hips stuttered in his rhythmic abuse of your throat, and your muffled screams were silenced as you finally, finally felt your release crashing through you, Ghost pushed down on your throat harder, effectively ceasing any possibility of breathing as he emptied himself in your mouth, his depth forcing you to swallow around him. He pulled out of you quickly, and you coughed at the sudden rush of air to your lungs, and König's soft kisses on his bites felt distant.

Ghost's heavy breathing brought you back, and he cradled the back of your hand, looking at you like he was admiring a work of art. His work of art. Your lashes were wet with tears, and your lips were red, tingling at the sudden loss of contact.

"Back to earth, Echo. Still here?" Ghost's gruff voice was barely above a whisper, his mask moving slightly with his heavy breathing. You nodded, not entirely trusting your voice to voice your feelings, the delicious ache spreading. "Good. Take one more, you can give us one more." His hand went to your upper back, pushing you so you sat up, and the sight of König was utterly holy. His eyes were wide, staring at you like a deer in headlights. His tongue was running over his bottom lip, jaw slack and the dim lighting reflected the shine that nearly dripped off his face. The sight was enough to send another jolt through you, and when he spoke, his shoulders drooped, and he looked down.

"Ich konnte nie genug von deinem Geschmack bekommen. Du bist göttlich. Du bist göttlich." His words sounded like a prayer, like he was confessing his reverence. You reached out, and hooked his chin with your finger gently, and his eyes lifted to you. König stood, towering over you, and your hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging at it pathetically while you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Mate." Ghost spoke from next to you. "I think she wants you to get on." His hand slid up your back until it reached the nape of your neck, pulling on your hair to force your head up to König. "Stupid little thing can't use her words."

Normally, the snide comment would have sent you arguing, but he was right. There was no logical or cohesive thought behind your eyes.

"Is that true?" König's voice was dark, and he sighed, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest absolutely littered with scars. "Is it true that you're so braindead? Just from one?" His teasing tone elicited a whine, and he laughed lowly. "I have a question, maus." The nickname sent you reeling, and if you weren't dripping where you at, you were now. "I don't think this is the drug at all." König yanked his belt out of place, and set it gently next to you, pulling you by your hips closer to him so you could feel his clothed bulge against your core, and holy fuck. Even through his pants, you could feel that König was huge.

"I don't think this is the drug at all, I think you've always wanted this." Your eyebrows knit together, and you looked up at him, trying to pull yourself together enough for form a response.

"No, I-" You could barely croak out your words before you felt the head of König's cock sliding against your entrance, teasing you. Your hands grasped at his biceps, and your head fell onto his chest.

"No? You don't think so?" His voice was wickedly sinful, and the sound made you want to cry. Shame burnt in your chest, and Ghost's low chuckle behind König only exacerbated it.

"No, König-" His head barely dipped inside of you before pulling out again, and you wanted to scream.

"Aw, is she too good to beg for us?" Ghost leaned against the desk, his arms folded across his chest. König slid his hands up your back, pressing your bare chest closer to his, and the heat radiating off of him was intoxicating.

"Fuck, König, please!" It came out like a cry of devotion, but once you started, you couldn't stop. "I do, I've needed this so bad, just please!"

That seemed to be enough for König, and he slowly pushed into you, letting out his own whimper. When he bottomed out, your shaky hands dragged angry red marks down his arm, and your heaving chest rose and fell with tremoring breaths.

"I know, maus, I know. You can take more. I know you can." His tone was mockingly gentle, words whispered into the crown of your head. More? What more could there possibly be? You felt entirely too full of him, and... No fucking way. You looked down, wanting to revel in the sight, finding König seated only halfway inside you. You groaned loudly, resigned to the fate laid in front of you. König's mouth met the expanse of your neck, and nipped gently as he continued, shushing your whines. Stars began to dance in your eyes, and when he was truly fully inside you, the feeling was dizzying. He moved his lips up to yours, and the kiss was surprisingly gentle, his thumb stroking your jaw, and when he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. "Ready?"

You nodded, and barely had time to think before König was snapping his hips into yours, both hands gripping your ass, lifting you up ever so slightly. The knowledge that König was using you like a toy, along with his relentless pace was making you breathless. All of his previous restraint was gone, and a mixture of whines and growls sounded from him. You could feel your orgasm building again, and before you can say anything, it crashed over you like a tsunami, and left you mere putty in König's hands. His arms and shoulders bore zebra stripes of screaming red, blood beginning to dot the lines. König halted inside of you, groaning and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of you unraveling beneath him. König pulled out of you quickly, and stood back, his chest heaving.

"On the ground, König." Ghost called, his voice raspy, and he approached the table where you sat, taking your face in his hands. "You're gonna take the both of us, okay, princess?" You could only nod, and you inched off the table, grateful that the floor was your final destination. As soon as your feet hit the ground, your legs shook violently, and you sat, looking up at Ghost. He loomed over you, his frame blocking out the only light source in the room. König crouched, forcing eye contact when he was on your level. His hand slid up your arm as you climbed into his lap, and he leaned back, exhaling deeply as you lowered yourself onto him, the rough flooring biting at your knees.

You could hear Ghost shuffling behind you, and fingers met the connection between you and König, gathering the mess between your legs, swiping it back on your ass. His finger plunged inside, and you gasped at the intrusion, your body jolting forward into König.

"Aw, can barely take that, can ya?" Ghost's voice was mocking, and you groaned, shaking your head.

"Shh, maus." König crooned under you, his voice strained. "You can do it for us, I know you can." Ghost let out a short, cruel laugh and worked himself further into you.

"I don't know mate. Think she'll be able to take it?"

"I know she can." König mumbled, switching between German and English in a frenzy. "I know she can. She's so good. So good for us." The way they both spoke like you weren't even there lit a fire in your chest, and indignation worked its way into your brain. You found your voice, finally.

"Please, Lieutenant." You whined breathily, pulling Ghost's rank in an effort just to get him to give you what you wanted so desperately. Ghost groaned behind you, and gave your ass a light slap before you could feel him aligning his tip with your entrance. König halted his thrusting up into you to allow you to get used to the size of Ghost inside you. Thankfully, he was going slowly, but the slight burn made you collapse onto König's chest. There was no doubt about it, your Lieutenant's size was nearly unbearable, and yet you couldn't get enough of it.

The feeling of the both of them fully seated inside you made your brain completely shut down, and a König let out a shaky breath as you pushed back against Ghost, his hands in a bruising grasp on your hips. They began to move in tandem, and it wasn't long before another orgasm washed its way through you, König meeting a similar fate. His cock twitched inside you, but he made no effort to remove himself as Ghost used you to chase his second high of the night. A hand trailed up your back, wrapping fingers in your hair and tugging, your broken moans echoing throughout the room. Just when you could feel black encroaching your vision, and your knees began to give out, Ghost's rhythm faltered once more, and he halted inside you, emptying himself with a moan you were sure you were going to remember forever.

The three of you stayed like that for a minute. Every part of you ached, and the intense heat and discomfort from before was replaced with a dull pain between your legs, and the telltale signs of a headache were approaching. Ghost tapped your back, signaling that he was going to pull out, and he did so agonizingly slow, your body twitching below him. König followed, his massive arms wrapping around your frame, pressing a soft kiss to your sweat-covered forehead.

"Did so well, maus, you did so well for us." He whispered his praises, peppering kisses on your face. Your head was absolutely swimming, and every word spoken went in one ear and out the other, A piece of cloth dabbed at your face, and you realized Ghost was using his shirt to wipe your face of the sweat and tears that stained.

Dressed. You have to get dressed. You have to get up and leave.

Just the thought of standing was nearly painful, and you slowly got there, König's hand under your arm to help you. Your legs shook aggressively, and he chuckled. You leaned against the table, and to your shock, Ghost began to help you with your clothes, beginning to slide on your pants. You'd never seen this side of Ghost before, and to be honest, you weren't sure it existed until now. Once you were relatively clothed, you sighed.

"How are we gonna explain this?" Your voice cracked, and König's eyes went wide.

"I... Uh, scheiße, I have no idea."

"You both are useless. We were hit with an unknown gas, Echo got sick, so we decided to wait it out before calling exfil." Ghost plugged his earpiece back into the communication device, and spoke into it, relaying the information, and switching it off again. "We'll be out of here in 30. Let's go."

You followed his direction silently, but your mind was racing with questions. How would you navigate being around him on base? You weren't around König as much, so that wasn't a huge concern. Would you ever be able to look at him and not think of the time he came in your throat? You resigned yourself to your fate of ignoring the two as much as possible. Try to forget what happened.

When you exited the room, you scooped down to pick up your once-abandoned gear, and sighed as you strapped in, your eyes once more adjusting to the cold, dark hallways. König nudged you, and picked up his hood, shooting you a concerned look.

"You want to say something." He stated simply, his eyes glancing up as you walked, trying desperately to ignore the dull ache.

"I just..." Should you be honest? Ask outright how to navigate this? "How do y'all want me to, like, be?"

Ghost stopped in his tracks, turning around to face you silently, and König tilted his head to one side. You continued, "Is this something we keep a secret, do you want me to forget about it... What do you want me to do?"

"Absolutely fucking not." Ghost's response was almost immediate. "I don't know about this one, but I am not letting you go now. Not unless you want me to, but," He stepped closer to you, the eye contact he was forcing was almost dizzying. "It seems like you don't want me to."

And he was right. That one fact, exposed like a raw nerve, hung in the air.

"Hope you know how to share your toys." König spoke, ruffling your already fucked hair, and the scrunch of his eyes told you that he was smiling under the mask. Ghost exhaled, turning back around.

"I guess I'll have to be, huh? Get on, we need to get the fuck out of here."

Ich kann es kaum erwarten, ich muss... "I can't wait, I have to..."

Ich konnte nie genug von deinem Geschmack bekommen. Du bist göttlich. Du bist göttlich. "I could never get enough of your taste. You are godlike. You are godlike."

Maus "Mouse."

scheiße "Shit."

#ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x könig x reader #könig x reader #könig call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley

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slippinmickeys · 6 months

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Proof of Life 6/?

1. It is a long road that gets bumpier every day. The thought of food makes her nauseous. The thought of work makes her sick. She doesn’t change out of pajamas, doesn’t leave the apartment, except when forced. Her hair is now roughly the same stringy mess as it was after weeks in captivity.

The network has retained a lauded psychiatrist and Scully meets with her several times, but doesn’t say much. Scully relays how Murray died, what she felt when the rebels put their hands on her. The doctor, who insists that Scully call her Karen, carefully tells her that Mikey is missing and presumed dead, his camera and equipment having turned up in a shot-up warehouse on the edge of the city. She tries to help Scully process her grief, but can tell that she is withholding something: Mulder, like a shadow standing in the corner of the room with them, a ghost only Scully can see.

Scully doesn’t want to share Mulder with her, with anyone. He’s hers, she thinks. Hers. Karen brings him up once, but Scully stays completely silent, keeping her face carefully and stonily neutral.

When she gets home and she closes her eyes, she pictures Mulder laying back in the rumpled Hilton bed, sucking his fingers clean, a sated look on his face. The more she thinks of him, the less she’s present.

She touches herself one night when Ethan is asleep beside her, but her gummy fingers can’t reproduce his touch.

He’s somewhere in the world, she tells herself. At least he’s somewhere out there. But then so was his sister, her picture on the side of a milk carton.

The world can be dark and cruel. The world is a very big place.

***

She can hear Ethan on the phone, hushed whispers. “She’s not really eating.” “I’m not certain she even wants help.” “It’s like she’s still in that hotel room. I don’t know what I can do to get her out of it.”

The last one actually makes Scully laugh out loud. Little do they all know. It’s not that she’s mentally stuck in room 1055 at the Hilton. It’s that she’s stuck outside of it. It’s that she wants to go back.

***

Her mother gets her in a pair of pants and she washes her hair just so she doesn’t have to hear about it.

“You look peaked,” her mother says, her hands wrapped around a tea cup, the waitress sashaying away from their table. Maggie’s head is tilted to the side, appraising.

“I’m not certain that helps, mother.”

Maggie’s eyes narrow and then relax. She looks down at the milk swirling in her Earl Grey.

“I know it’s a process, Dana,” she says. “But I wish you’d let us help you. Or at the very least attempt to help yourself.”

Scully sighs.

“Ethan says-“

“Oh fuck Ethan,” Scully hisses, the words coming out more vicious than she intended.

Instead of shock or offended pearl-clutching at Dana’s outburst, her mother’s face wilts in sympathetic grace. She reaches out a hand, her fingers cold, her aging skin like fine paper.

“I know you're afraid,” she says. “I know you’re afraid to tell me. But you have to tell someone.”

2. Mulder gestures at her jacket. “You a reporter?”

She nods, slips it off. It’s far too big. It was given to her to fit over the flak jacket she wears in the field. A flak jacket the rebels have taken, along with everything else she carried. The room feels small and she can sense the men who march back and forth outside of it.

“You?” It feels odd to make small talk.

He holds up the camera. “Photojournalist,” he says.

“Who do you work for?”

He shrugs. “I’m freelance. This month, it’s Newsweek.”

She isn’t sure where to put the jacket, what to do with herself. He looks so relaxed and comfortable that she feels like she’s trespassing.

“Listen,” he says, no doubt sensing her discomfort. “Mi casa es su casa. Please make yourself at home. I’ve been here for a few days, but it’s not like I’m paying for the room.” He quirks a smile at her and she relaxes a little, throws the jacket over the back of the room’s only chair.

He pulls his knees up, sits up a little straighter.

“Are you… okay? They didn’t hurt you?” His face is cut like a Roman bust, all nose and character.

She wants to tell him about Warren. About Mikey, who she hopes is still alive.

“They didn’t hurt me,” she says instead.

He looks relieved. “They drop off food every couple of days,” he says. “The water in the bathroom works, but just barely.” He makes a move to stand and she flinches, which causes him to freeze. She feels stupid, but she hasn’t come out of flight or fight yet, her amygdala controlling her higher functions.

“I swear on my life, Dana Scully,” he says quite seriously. “I won’t hurt you, either.”

For some reason, she believes him.

3. In the taxi on the way to the studio, she brings up something that has bothered her since he said it.

“They didn’t release me,” she says.

“What?” Ethan asks, perplexed. He has been staring out through the window, lost in thought.

“You said…When we were on the phone, right after we were rescued, you said that the network paid the rebels a lot of money to release us. But the rebels didn’t release us. The Navy did. The rebels are dead.”

Ethan doesn’t seem to have an answer, turns back to the window.

“You keep saying ‘us.’”

It wasn’t just me in that room, she thinks, but Ethan knows it. She thinks he finally understands.

The cab smells like fake pine tree and B.O. Odd that they didn’t send a town car.

“We’re almost there,” he says, dejected. The window he’s staring through is streaked with rain, the outside world smeared like a watercolor.

4. She’s weary of her own pain. It’s all very tedious, even to her.

She awakes one night suddenly from the hard grip of a dream, her stomach a tight knot, her pajamas soaked with sweat. There is something happening to her, something not right.

She stumbles to the bathroom. Behind her, Ethan breathes deeply once and rolls onto his side.

When she stands up from the toilet and looks down, the bowl is bright with blood, clots sliding down and pooling in the bottom. It has been three months since her last period, but she has been underweight, under pressure, under water; her body as uncooperative as her mind.

In the morning, still wracked with a backache like a metal hand clamped around her spine, she calls a friend from med school, gets an appointment first thing.

***

“Were you raped?” Rebecca asks her, no nonsense, peeling off her nitrile gloves and depositing them in the exam room trash can.

“Was I…?”

“You’re having a miscarriage, Dana,” her friend says, with a little more empathy, rolling her little exam stool back over to the table where Scully is pulling her feet out of the stirrups.

“I know you were…” Nobody can really bring themselves to say ‘held hostage.’

“No, I… No,” Scully says. “I wasn’t raped.”

Rebecca tries to talk to her, but there is something happening. The numbness she has been feeling begins to shed from around her heart like a calving glacier; the pain, the hurt, the apathy all slough off and are replaced, not by anger or sadness, but by a blooming, unbridled and pure conviction.

When she gets home, she walks up to Ethan, her strides so quick he’s actually startled.

“I’ll do the interview,” she says, a little aggressively. He stares at her a long moment before picking up the phone.

5. Morocco, sun bleached, Moorish influence writ large. She treads ancient Amazigh paths, walks across bright patterned tiles soft with heat. She’s wearing white, not just for the weather, but for the purity of it; she feels cleansed of a burden and born anew.

There are tall stools in front of an old zinc bar, a row of dead soldiers. Overhead a ceiling fan rotates lazily, swirling the hot, sticky air.

“You’re a hard man to find,” she says.

“Not hard enough, apparently.” His speech is slightly slurred. He’s older than she thought he’d be, grizzled as a possum.

She swings into the seat next to him, motions to the bartender. On the tabletop in front of them, next to all those empty beers, sits a felted hat all wrong for the climate. She doesn’t speak again until there are two new bottles in front of them, already blanketed in condensation.

“Marrakesh is certainly a choice,” she says, taking a pull.

“I like to haggle in the souks.”

“That where you got those gloves?”

He is wearing fingerless gloves; leather, worn in the palms.

He finally turns to look at her and must be startled, as he begins to blink rapidly.

“Do you know who I am?” she asks.

He nods, a dry swallow dipping his Adam’s apple.

“Where’s Mulder?” she asks. Simple, direct.

His forehead crumples.

“I fucked up,” Frohike says on a hiccup. “I fucked up and I almost got him killed.”

Scully nods silently. There’s no refuting that one simple fact.

She turns on her stool to look out the entrance of the bar, where a wall of red clay and chalk runs just beyond it, the ramparts circling around the medina of the ancient city, the fortifications the same color as her hair.

“There’s one part of that particular narrative that you’re failing to realize,” she says.

The little man turns to her as one might twist to gaze upon the divine.

“If he hadn’t been there,” Scully starts. “If he hadn’t been taken, too,” she goes on. “I’m not sure what would have happened to me. I’m not certain I would have survived. So really”—she picks up his hat and hands it to him, turning to look him in the eye—“what you did was save my life.”

Frohike gazes up at her like he’s witnessing a miracle. His eyes are watery, red-rimmed, his expression full of awe. He takes his proffered hat.

“I need you to help me find him,” she says.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #war correspondent/photojournalist AU #WIP

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nik-barinova · 6 months

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Call of Duty OC: Zoey “Doe” Kilduff

Born to a zealous cult leader and notorious international arms dealer, Doe knew only to kill and fight since an early age and would face various forms of punishments if training was not done right under her father’s eye. She has grown to be the SAS’s most efficient soldier, despite her empowering emotions in the field. Though often rash and reckless, Doe’s impressive skills proved herself to be worthy of being a part of Task Force 141, joining Ghost and Soap in Las Almas for a new assignment… and hopes for allowing the mask to crack.

GENERAL

Name: Zoey Elaine Kilduff

Alias(es): Doe, Zo (by Ghost), Bambi (by Graves), El Demonio (by Valeria)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Birthday: March 27

Star Sign: Aries

Nationality: Scottish

Ethnicity: Romani, Balinese, Afghani, Moroccan, Lepcha

Place of Birth: Edinburgh, Scotland

Home: A repurposed Victorian era factory warehouse, Edinburg, Scotland (like this x)

Spoken Languages: Romani Sanskrit as first language, English as second, Scots Gaelic as third, Spanish, Russian, Somali, some Arabic

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation: SAS soldier, painter, dancer, Task Force 141

APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Grey blue

Hair Color: Natural dark brown, almost black

Hair Length: Long, waist length

Hair Texture: Wavy

Distinguished Facial Features: Long face shape, high cheek bones, big aquiline nose

Height: 5’10” / 177 cm

Build: Slender muscular

Blood type: AB-

Scars: Several on her body. Most obvious ones are on the right side of her face, on her eye brow and on her mouth, exposing two front teeth

Face Claim: Gratiela Brancusi

Voice Claim: Karen Gillan

Character Aesthetic:

FAVORITES

Color(s): Black, gold, and purple

Food: Sate meats

Drink: Scotch

Song(s): Zombie by The Cranberries and Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Movie(s): As Above, So Below and Lord of the Rings

Show(s): Doctor Who and Greylock

Flower: Black rose

Fashion Sense: Alternative, vampire gothic (think Anjelica Huston’s Morticia Addams), biker, casual

Hairstyle: Either down or in a messy bun, sometimes done with a diklo when doing her art

Hair color: Blood red dyed at the tips

PERSONALITY

Myers Briggs Type: ENFJ - A beast on the field, impulsive, reckless, and can be easy to provoke, but can really be joyful and positive. Hilarious but can unintentionally be blunt. Strategical and forward but can often times allow emotions to cloud her judgement. Paradoxical by nature, and for a reason. Tends to be scary when she feels like it and could kill you, but is a cinnamon roll deep down with a heart of gold

Positive and Joyful: Can make the room brighter with her unwavering positivity and put a smile on someone’s face when she can tell they need it

Empathetic: Basically a human mind reader. Can tell when someone’s sad or angry. Also works great as a walking red flag detector

Eye for Detail: Able to see hidden details and find something not many can see at first glance

Strategic and Logical: Can make plans with precision and logistics

Loyal and Loving: Strong sense of loyalty to the ones she grows close to and will do everything in her power to let them know how much she loves them

NEGATIVE TRAITS

Tends to let emotions get in the way of her thinking and may take it too far, ie. taking her impulsive anger out on the enemy and overkilling

Overprotective and argumentative. Will push back the offender with force and give them a death glare

Masks. She hides away everything that bothers her and will not speak about it for too long to the point of bottling up

Touch starved and emotionally depraved. Tends to come off as super clingy when she doesn’t mean to

Reckless and impulsive in execution, ready to fight when the time comes and tends to get out of hand

Zero fucks given attitude when she hears something she doesn’t like. This along with her tendency to have a sailor’s mouth has gotten her in trouble and makes her come off as rash

Overworks herself in order to earn peoples’ approval of her, just wants someone to be proud of her

Bottled up rage over the years waiting to be let out

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

Fighting style: Any, but leans more towards UFC style and judo

Weapon(s): Can John Wick her way through anything

Distinct Weapon: None

Special Skills: Flexible and can squeeze through tighter spaces. Specializes in silent combat and stealth. Street smart due to her past

FAMILY

Status in family: Eldest daughter, first born triplet

Siblings: One younger brother, Gavril (Male), middle born triplet, currently in the Royal Air Force as a pilot; One younger sibling, Zayne (Non-Binary), youngest born triplet, currently Senior Operative in M16 specializing in undercover and disguises

Father: Rozric “Lord Ragnarok” Kilduff, notorious international arms dealer and zealous cult leader. Abusive and power hungry. Sociopathic and unstable. Possibly schizophrenic, but unable to properly diagnose by professionals. Currently imprisoned in Broadmoore Hospital for life

Mother: Ayta Batwal Kilduff, deceased, attempted to escape her “husband’s” growing cult and take their triplet children with her but was killed. Kind and protective. Fierce and compassionate. Died not knowing whether or not her children would make it out alive

Relationship with parents: Despises her father and wishes for him to rot away in his prison cell as his punishment for making her and her siblings’ lives a living hell. Does not remember much of her mother but remembers how warm and caring she was to her children. She knows that her mother would sing for them whenever their father abused them to calm them and Zoey swore she would grow up and protect her mother from her father.

Brother: Gavril Bayek Kilduff, alive, loves him dearly and will do anything to keep him safe while also letting him take on the world for himself. Has protected him many times from their father. Currently in the Royal Air Force as a pilot under the call sign “Vulture”. Very into making music

Sibling: Zayne Arachne Kilduff, alive, loves them dearly but often times have gotten into plenty of disagreements on what to do and how to do it. They tried to keep up with their older sister, but could never seem to do so. Currently in the M16 as a Senior Operative specializing in espionage and undercover. Drag queen on the side and makeup artist

Pet: None, but is a dog person (also loves cats)

TRIVIA

The name Kilduff is of Irish or Scottish origin, an Anglicized form of Gaelic Mac Giolla Duibh ‘son of Giolla Dubh’ ‘the black-haired lad’ from dubh ‘dark black-haired’

Zoey has had four previous relationships in her younger days: two girlfriends, one boyfriend, and one partner. While she has kissed before, she has never actually gone all the way, and therefore is still technically a virgin. She qualifies in giving relationship advice and can pick up red flags in an individual. Despite having four failed relationships, she yearns for having a lifelong partner to give her the love she gives her partners

Ethically collects deer skulls for her art projects and paints them. Most of the paintings are of her fallen soldiers under her watch and makes them as a memorial in their honor

Tends to use dark humor too often and accidentally lets the mask crack to reveal the darkest parts of her past

Swears. Like a lot

Takes pride in her figure and has no problem showing skin. Likes wearing crop tops, sports bras, and tank tops

LOVES Anjelica Huston’s Morticia Addams and Elvira and aspires to be like both women

Her first concert was a Rob Zombie concert and her uncle snuck her out to let her have some fun for the day when she was younger

If she wants to dress up more, her fashion sense leans way more into gothic and alternative fashion

Used to be able to braid her hair in minutes but due to losing her right arm, she can’t do it as fast (and tends to get her strands caught in the prosthetic’s joints)

Her arm tattoos used to be symmetrical but after losing her right arm, her left arm is the only half she has of the tattoo

Speaking of, she has a deer skull tattoo with roses on her chest and one on her back

She was trained in ballet, and she can dance on a more professional level

BACKSTORY

Born to a zealous cult leader and notorious international arms dealer, Zoey knew nothing more than hardships and crime. Her father only wanted a first born son to live up to his expectations and inherit his empire. Sadly for him, Zoey ended up being born first in a set of triplets, and hence forth swore to make her life a living hell for her. She had been set up for failure right from the start, living up to her father’s impossible expectations, enduring beatings and other punishments from him. Her mother would shield her three children from their father’s unpredictable wrath and fought with him, stood up to him and swore she would leave him and never let him see the triplets again.

At age 7, that was the last time Zoey would ever see her mother. No one would tell her or her siblings what happened to her or why she left without them, causing deep heartbreak in Zoey’s heart. However, that was also the same day she vowed to step up in her mother’s place and pick up where she left off. Her father’s cult only grew as did his underground arms dealership. His global connections allowed him to have his children be trained to be his own soldiers in his little cult army. Their teachers also set higher expectations on the triplets and some would take extreme measures to keep them in line, but Zoey would get the worst of it. Despite the cruel and unusual punishments, Zoey still tried to keep her siblings safe and did everything she could to make them smile.

She ended up proving to have above average intelligence than her father expected from her. Her specialties included espionage, sabotage, stealth, and hand-to-hand combat. At 14 after her and her siblings returned from a personal mission of her father’s in Ethiopia as child soldiers, the M16, SAS, FBI, and CIA had surrounded her father’s compound after they finally received a distress call coming from within. Her father suspected it was Zoey and so he used her as leverage to make any further threats, not wanting to be taken into custody. What none of them knew was that Rozric had planted bombs within the compounds’ walls in case he was to be arrested and captured.

As a last ditch effort, Rozric blew up the building and allowed it to collapse, hoping the rubble would kill everyone in the compound, Zoey and her siblings included. By some miracle, Zoey, Gavril, and Zayne were still alive and the two younger siblings were taken to safety, but medics and SAS soldiers had to get a huge concrete wall off of Zoey’s right arm. Unfortunately, they had to amputate her whole arm in order to get her out, and could not save her arm. CIA and M16 eventually found Rozric still alive and captured him, ending his criminal empire and forcing him into custody at the Broadmoore Hospital as he continues his ongoing trial for his crimes.

Once Zoey had recovered and was given a prosthetic arm, she and her siblings did their best to live a relatively normal life with their uncle, but Zoey was always getting into fights she wasn’t involved in and even bullied by the kids during secondary school. By 17, she recalled the day she was rescued by the SAS members and thought about joining the military as an escape from her troubled past, and possibly a way to give closure to her father’s criminal empire for good. She waited until her 18th birthday and both her and her siblings set out to join their respective branches.

Despite being an amputee prior to joining the Royal Army, Zoey’s skills and speed overpowered her disability and was given the name “Doe”. While her skills and abilities had her climb up to the top of the SAS, her behavior problems have gotten her into trouble plenty of times and threaten to be written up if she didn’t improve on them. It wasn’t until she was personally approached by Captain John Price himself that she was recruited into Task Force 141 and assigned a mission in Las Almas would Zoey allow herself to let loose and break the mask she kept up.

#canon x oc #call of duty #call of duty oc #oc art #original character #task force 141 #task force 141 oc #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x original character #simon riley x oc #oc profile #original character profile #Ghost x Zoey

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hanquarter · 1 month

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List Mods & Custom Content Indonesia

Mod & custom content yang aku pake di gameplay Kampung Paguyuban, semuanya aku tulis disini yaa! ⚠️ADA BEBERAPA MOD YANG HARUS PAKE DLC FOR RENT EXPANSION PACK.⚠️

TONTON GAMEPLAY NYA ✨ DISINI ✨

MOD Gameplay: 1. Indonesia Culture Fanmade Stuff Pack by Cepzid dan Waronk download Ada warung, saung, bajaj, becak, kompor, gas LPG, gerobak, sepeda jamu, dll. Bisa masak makanan Indo juga lewat kompor yang ada mods ini. 2. Functional Broom (Bisa Nyapu) download 3. Choose Your Helmet (Ngelepas Helm) download 4. Everyone Can Play Marbles download 5. Rock Paper Scissor (Suit Gunting Batu Kertas) download 6. Fashion Authority (Assign Uniform) download 7. High School More Classmate download 8. Solat Together download 9. Mukena + Quran Reading download 10. Control Any Sims download *NEW* Custom Content: 1. Indonesian High School Uniform (Seragam SMA) download 2. Indonesian Traditional Clothes (Baju Adat) download 3. Sarong (Sarung) download 4. Graveyard (Kuburan) & Pocong download 5. Saung Siskamling + Baju Petani download 6. Tiang Bendera Indonesia + Seragam Paskibra download 7. Shades of Green Walls by Veranka download 8. Tartosa Floors download 9. Cigarettes & Ashtray (Rokok & Asbak) download Custom Food Recipe (By Icemunmun): TO RUN THE MOD, MUST DOWNLOAD THIS 1. Fried Rice (Nasi Goreng) download 2. Javanese Fried Chicken (Ayam Penyet) download 3. Banana Fritters (Pisang Goreng) download 4. Fried Tempe (Tempe Goreng) download 5. Fried Tofu (Tahu Goreng) download 6. Lontong (Rice Cake) download 7. Fish in Banana Leaf (Pepes Ikan) download 8. Chicken Satay with Peanut Sauce (Sate Ayam) download 9. Donut Heart (Donat Hati) download 10. Popsicle (Es Loli) download

Kalau ada mod baru yang aku download, bakalan aku update disini! Last update: 21/04/2024

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neocatharsis · 10 months

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youtube

SEMPETIN MAKAN SIANG SEBELUM PULANG KE KOREA,NAGITA SIAPIN ES CENDOL,SATE AYAM KESUKAAN TAEYONG NCT!

#nct #nct 127 #video #taeyong #Youtube

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morenocaleb · 18 days

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[ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver (AU bc i don't want him to be shot rn ty but, Harley)

It was beautiful outside and even in the afterlife, Caleb would suspect that it had been personal, someone wanting him to have something good right before the end; the last wish of a dead man.

What had they both been laughing about? He could remember, but it didn't matter, because seeing Harley smile and laugh was always something precious to him. A couple more years had passed; opened relationship people called it, and Caleb had found more fulfilment in this shared love than anything else he'd experienced before. Seeing Harley love others and dance like the free bird he still was brought warmth to his heart, had brought life to it, gave him hope again. And even now, Caleb could never fully sate the hunger he felt around the man he loved... fuck did he love Harley. So much. He would lay down his life for him.

A soft but sharp whistle in the warm summer breeze.

His name cried out with worry.

A limp body leaning heavily against him.

People screaming suddenly and running around.

And there, he saw the body of Harley slipping to the ground blood seeping through the front of his shirt right above his heart. Caleb caught him, falling to his knees as he started to panic. He understood that the bullet had been meant for him, but it didn't matter, the panic was due to the state his lover was in. "N-no... no... Harley... mi vida... Te amo tanto. Por favor, quédate conmigo. Por favor... No, no..." Not this... not like that... Caleb tried to put pressure to the wound as he cried.

People screamed around them to call for an ambulance, not seeing that a shadow walked amongst them.

Caleb felt a hand on his own. "Mi rey, bésame por favor." He heard Harley say weakly, and he did as he'd been told. "Estás vivo, eso es bueno. Te amo mi vida." The underboss wanted to tell his lover to keep his strength, but there was none of that left as he heard Harley exhale their last breath.

Caleb felt like his whole world had suddenly lost all color and breaking apart as he gazed into the lifeless eyes of his dead lover who still had that soft smile on his lips. And he wailed loudly, unable to endure the pain in felt inside of him. "Por favor, quédate conmigo. Por favor..." He screamed through his sobs, but there was nothing to take away that pay.

But there was... wasn't it?!

"Lo siento mucho Caleb." Was the last words he heard and they sounded filled with guilt.

Another whistle, this time, the target wasn't missed. As he felt the life leave his body; gaze fixed on Harley's; because they were the last he wanted to see, Caleb wondered if his mom had felt this way in her last moment.

The Brotherhood meant nothing, friends, family, loved ones... nothing. But here... he wouldn't be separated from the one he loved with all his heart for too long. "Por favor espérame mi amor." He whispered with his last breath and fell into his lover's arms somewhere else, somewhere beautiful and warm.

@theyperform

#{{meme×weekend #harley hidalgo #tw: death #tw: blood #//read more for length

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dyrewrites · 1 month

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Before Deluca -- What We Are

As most cities of the time, they were a lot less mesmerizing up close. If not for how dreadfully packed every street was, the stench of what looked quite lovely from afar overpowered all else. I won’t detail what that stench was, but I will remind that most water in Paris at the time came from—and drained into—the Seine.

The buildings, however, were a delight. As were the street vendors and some colorful entertainers that danced by us. Also of note were the lack of stares at how tightly we walked together, how our hands were ever on the other, making it nigh-impossible to mistake us for anything but a couple—even without our pleasantly matched attire.

And hunger or not, our distraction stayed with me, bubbling my mood.

“Je t’aime, Lucient,” I whispered, close enough for my breath to shiver him.

Focused as he was—eyes and mind alert for someone to sate our hunger—he nuzzled into my shoulder, returning my love and scolding, “Anch'io ti amo, bestia.”

“Your beast,” I teased, tasting his ear before he nudged me away.

Kissing my cheek, his eyes twitched to those passing before returning brighter to me, “So pleased you seem, treasure, yet I know you ache.”

“You help,” I explained, “having you near, touching, I can forget what gnaws.”

“Do I,” he swooned before realization narrowed his eyes, “wait, is that why you’ve been so—”

A gaggle of women in layers of skirts and paint caught both of us off-guard, cutting Lucient’s words as they stopped in front of us—giggling without speaking.

Socialites, my thoughts sneered, what could they want with us?

We are a curiosity, my love, Lucient’s cool voice sang, sharpening to add, but it may work to our advantage.

The women were whispering, and tittering, attempting to decide who would speak to us. Yet I knew the tone Lucient took and the look in those moonlight eyes, as I raised an eyebrow at him, confirmed it.

I feared the taste of socialite on my tongue, Someone else, my love, I beg you.

The nibble of his lip and gleam in his eyes worried as he suggested an alternative, there’s that brothel downtown, run by one of our own, if you’d prefer an easier meal.

“After all we did to smother similar—” that smile quirked and I held my tongue, checked the women and, finding them tittering still, I answered in thought, no, no offense to them, my love but I’ll not see you in that environment again.

Ever aware of the eyes on us, he leaned and whispered words they’d understand in my ear, “Tu es trop parfait, mon trésor…”

Is that a yes to these ladies then? He asked me alone, yet he turned to watch them, tilting his head, studying—earning more fervent giggles with his gaze, we could have all three...and you are starving, aren’t you?

I wouldn’t answer, the thought of luring them—young as they appeared, too well dressed not to have escorts—into some dark place, subduing, biting, tasting. It soured me with memories of parties turned too intimate, of perfumed and painted faces pressed too close. More than that it raked with worries, monstrous worries, that I would take too much, that I would delight in their stuttered final breaths...

Lucient took to nibbling that lip again, eyes again on me even as one of the women was chosen and pushed forward.

She played with her perfectly painted nails as, voice a gentle melody on the air, she asked if we were together, “Excusez-moi, messieurs, mais êtes-vous...ensemble?”

“Oui, ma chérie, tous les soirs,” Lucient cooed, holding me tighter and sending the poor women into fits of giggles—every night, he’d told them.

But I have the filthy mouth? I asked his salacious tone, if not precisely the words, and immediately shivered with my notice of a quicker rhythm singing to me. Separate though they were, all three women were pulsing at similar speeds. Their hearts racing, blood rushing loud as rivers in my ears. And the aroma, oh, light and delicate their aroma. The heavy perfumes that coated them could not mask what throbbed within, what sang to me as any siren song.

I growled, I hadn’t meant to, and they hadn’t noticed...but Lucient did. I focused on the class-pale flesh of their necks, wrists, the thin veins in their ears. Any, any I would take, bite, drink and drink until that heady song sputtered and died.

Lucient grabbed me as I twitched for them, turning me to face him and fed me his tongue, which I fell to—as I always did. Collective their gasp. But he didn’t stop with the kiss. Balancing his parasol on our shoulders, he slid one hand up the back of my neck to dig his fingers into my hair. When my own instinctively grabbed his waist, he sent his other to grasp my backside.

“Tellement romantique,” one of the women swooned.

Another cooed wordlessly. The one who spoke to us, however, kept quiet while Lucient yanked me ever-closer—grinding me into him—moaning softly with me.

That poor woman, truly, left to watch with no idea how to respond, entirely unaware of how close she came to death—assured that, with how I burned, how I ached to drown in her blood. The others grabbed her, tittering as they hurried passed us, taking their delicious pulses and sweet-smelling life with them.

When they were out of earshot, Lucient released me to lick the taste of me off his lips and wipe mine with his thumb. Decidedly refusing to meet my glare, he did address it, “Se détendre, mon tresor, you said you didn’t want to eat them. This way they get a thrill,” teasing my beard, he stood taller to kiss my nose and added, “and so do we.”

“Perché dobbiamo essere uno spettacolo,” I didn’t ask so much as complain.

And he laughed, “Better we be the show than the one your hunger would have given, non?” He retook my arm when I groaned and guided me toward more mundane scents. Namely, baked scents. The aroma of fresh baked bread overwhelming all others. It didn’t help the renewed awareness of my hunger, but Lucient did and, stealing a taste of my lips, he pointed to an alley.

Following his finger, I caught a woman in fewer layers than the others on the street. She was looking over her shoulder as she disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway, with a man in even less a few steps behind.

“A couple?” I asked, near to a scoff as it was.

And he sighed at me, chuckling softly after, “that is no couple, treasure, she went in first and led him...both of them cautious of watching eyes?”

His memories have been enough to explain how he knew, but perhaps I should explain how I did. There were exactly two working women in my little town, both did so out of the Amici...and we saw each other often. So yes, I was aware of what sort of target he’d chosen.

I was less aware of why it excited him.

“She’s working then,” I asked that excitement.

“Yes, she is,” it slithered from his lips, in a manner I did not at all care for as he walked towards them, careful to keep my arm as he did—eyes vigilant for others.

I kept close and confused while he hummed an unknown and lilting melody.

We caught up to them at the end of the cluttered alley. Despite the black of shadows, and wood crates and bottles in our path, they were easy for our eyes to find. Up against a wall they slammed, rhythmic but quieter than expected. The woman’s skirts were pulled up to her hips, her leg wrapped around the man’s bare backside. Yet she did not scream, did not make a sound in fact, she only held him, expression distant toward the boxes around them while he grunted and thrust into her.

Lucient laughed.

It took them by surprise, his laugh, but as they could not see us they went back to their business while I was taken by what he muttered, “Femme honteuse, lures a man in broad daylight, into this filthy alley, and can't even pretend?”

With the peculiar rage icing in his thoughts cooling my hunger, as much as it amplified what I felt of his, I was struck with a twinge of guilt. While the socialites had stoked my fear of becoming the monster—the demon—my mother’s memory kept calling me...it was there, with those two bright, hot pulsing bodies that it burned.

I knew, without a doubt I knew, that Lucient had no plans to leave them breathing. So where did that leave me, and my wretched aching hunger. Would I stop before they did, could I...did I want to?

Ice the eyes that turned on me, yet not for me, begging as they were while his voice came rich as ever, “They are easy prey, treasure, aching for our teeth and I am so very hungry, as are you, yet you hesitate?”

I waited a breath, then another, lip firm in my teeth for that face, those eyes. But I fell to them and pulled him to me, leaving the lovers to continue—ignoring us entirely.

With Lucient's tongue on mine, I still could not answer, but as his fingers dug into my hair, shoving that chill tongue deeper, he asked more, will you deny what we are, my love, or will you feast?

I had no chance to answer—not that I had one, uncertainty popping still.

As the lovers noticed us. Or, rather, one of them did.

The woman’s harsh voice interrupted, stuttering with the steady rhythm of the man inside her, essentially telling whoever was there to take a number, “Ey, si vous cherchez de la compagnie, vous devrez attendre votre tour.”

Lucient’s smoother one sang back, after he separated from me with a wink that worried, “Darling, you can't even keep the man inside you rapt, and you think you can please me?” on her before she had breath to say more, he threw her client towards me and cooed, “Let’s see if your death can manage it.”

In that chill voice and edge of his tone I was held, mesmerized...but aware enough to grab the half-naked man attempting to flee. Slamming said man into the nearest crate, I took him by the throat as he made to scream, but kept eyes on my dream.

“Je serai avec vous dans un instant, monsieur,” I told choking gasps to wait a moment as the man kicked and yanked at my arm—my voice perhaps too distant.

Oh, the hunger scraped, it raked and growled and gnashed its teeth. But I didn’t care, couldn’t, not with what unfolded before me stoking a greater fire.

Up against the wall Lucient pinned the woman and she moaned beneath his teeth, not kicking or squirming but holding—with more passion than she showed her client. And the sight of those hands so tight on his back burned me, but not so much as the leg that rose to hold him closer. His moans sang with hers, hungry if not lustful, but they seared all the same.

I’d not disturb him, starving as he was, as I was.

Yet all my worries of causing death burnt up in those wretched moans and I gripped the man in my hand tighter and tighter until his neck crackled. Weak as his cry sang, it sputtered in my slam of him against the wall—opposite Lucient and the gasping moans of his meal—and died as I tore into the soft flesh between neck and shoulder.

Filthy though his skin, grimy on my teeth as it was on my fingers, I tasted none of it. That salt-sweet life swelled in my veins, as all others, but I wouldn’t take time to savor it and while it soothed the burn of my skin, my blood, every fiber of my being...it wouldn’t cool what those moans set aflame.

Not a spasm of his muscles were enjoyed—barely even noticed—before I jerked free so roughly I took chunks with me. Hunger sated, my muscles yet twitched, my vision jittering as I spit flesh to the ground and dragged him to Lucient.

Tossing my spent meal at his feet, I waited until he finished with his. He dropped her beside mine and I was treated to the quirked grin of my dream—his thoughts bubbling with desires of being my nightmare.

“Well, that was quick,” he cooed, “Was he no good?”

Slamming him into the wall, in the precise spot he’d had the woman seconds before, I pinned his arms to his sides but didn’t speak.

He did, “Something I said...or, perhaps, did?”

“Testing me again,” I didn’t ask and my attempt not to growl a curse failed miserably, “Tu fottuto monello geloso.”

“Mm, your jealous brat,” he cooed, repeating the insult while carefully omitting my curse, “and I had my reasons. You were hesitating, treasure, about to taste without eating. Again. All the blood you’ve spilled and still you refuse to accept what you are, what we are.” Wriggling his arms free, he gasped as I snatched his wrists, pinning them above him, still he smiled, kept his cooing tone, “We’re predators, my love, you must learn to let that nagging humanity die.”

“And this is how you seek to teach me,” I snipped, turning as his bloody lips came for mine, “you play, you tease, to rile me, force me?”

“Force? How did I force?” He tried again and I leaned.

But while I didn’t taste it, that blood pumped inside me, singing of its want, its lust and it spilled into my voice, “The way you fed, how you let her touch and grab,” Avoiding another attempt at my lips, I fed them to his neck, delighting in the gasps that were mine, “You knew what it would do to me.”

“Did I,” he breathed, moaning ever so as I nibbled his ear, “I’m the jealous one, remember, treasure? You said so yourself; a little jealous brat.”

His greater gasp ignited me as I pressed in closer, tighter against him, whispering, “I didn’t say little.”

“Mm, but I’m a brat?” He asked, catching my lips, feeding me a warmed tongue.

You are, I said through it, savoring the gasp on mine, the moans as I held his wrists with one hand and teased above his breeches with my other. Pulling my lips free, I licked the bloody mess I left on his neck and cooed, “my brat.”

Reaching again for my lips, he snapped his teeth when he missed and pouted, “You only ask for more if this is my punishment.”

Mess cleaned from his neck, I licked what remained on his lips and dropped my voice flat, “No, this is.”

He whimpered as I released him, scoffing as I tossed the bodies at our feet behind the crates. My slow walk towards the street earned me another, and yet another when I bent to grab his dropped parasol.

Holding it out for him, I smiled and waited.

“Tease,” he accused, snatching the parasol and swatting me too sharply sweet.

“Learned from the best,” I giggled, kissing his cheek and wiping the dirt from his jacket before taking his arm.

Nudging me as I swooned in the light he hid from, he asked, “Are we done with that then, will you embrace what you are and be the magnificent monster I adore?”

I smiled, but didn’t answer...and didn’t need to.

We left our meals to the alley—safe and dark as it would remain—and, with his test of me successful, I left the rest of my humanity with them.

That was his way, to tease and taunt and make it seem always my choice to attack and kill. Had I not been so enamored by him—obsessed with him—those tricks would not have worked so well. He never did force, never demanded, only asked or teased or presented too delicious an opportunity to my ever-gnawing hunger.

My brat, my love, my partner…and my master—whether he enjoyed the title or not it was his. There were few things he could ask I would not do, even if I responded with sarcasm, even if I played at fighting back; I would beg and kill and die for him.

Without a twinge of remorse.

#writeblr #snippet #writing #novel #before deluca #vampire romance #we're accepting that as the genre now #tw: death #tw: suggestive #pardon my google and microsoft translations #no one better be coming out of this book thinking these two are a relationship to aspire to or i will be disappointed

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true-blue-sonic · 10 months

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So, between Espilver, who's the one to make the weirdest questions like "Honey, would you still love me if I were a worm?"?

100% Silver, who's got no filter and has enough random thoughts to ask the weirdest things. I like to think he's naturally very curious about the world and the universe at large, but there are many things he struggles to wrap his head around... and thus Espio gets constantly barraged by a stream of questions like "What's it like to be a star?" or "What if the ocean was land and the land was ocean and mountains were valleys and valleys were mountains?" or "What if I ate a rock, just very hypothetically" (that last one netted him a visit to the doctor, lmao). Espio would be more than happy to provide answers where he can, but I think there's quite a few things where he is forced to admit he either has no idea or where an answer basically transcends sentient experience. I figure that is also a determining factor for Espio to increase Silver's reading level, so that he can access literature and information to find answers to things Espio has no idea about. But if anything, that might just make Silver ask even more questions! Good thing Espio thinks it is very sweet and a virtue to be so curious.

But he would still love Silver if Silver were a worm, Silv gets assured. Espio would take very good care of him if he was a worm, but Es is also glad he is not a worm, because if he were, it would mean he'd be much less fluffy than he is now. Good enough of an answer to sate Silver <3

#silver the hedgehog #espio the chameleon #espilver #Silver is basically crash-coursing being an actual child in the way how he explores the world and learns more about others #since he was never able to go through that development in the ruined future he stems from #but I think he's far more clever and sharp than people tend to give him credit for and thus it's little issue for him to learn about-#-things he likes and expresses interest in... which is lots of stuff!

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soapydoodles · 19 days

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S&S Nyx/Morgan Ref

Nyx and her daylight civilian persona Morgan! They are polar opposites of eachother. Where Morgan is withdrawn, nervous, and comes off as a weeb femcel, Nyx is confident, cocky, and mischevious. Both personas are chronically tired, although Morgan is assumed to be up late watching anime, she's actually moonlighting around as Nyx.

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tatanooki · 1 year

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LAPAR is an illustration featuring all kinds of street food sold all around the streets of Jakarta, in this work I added bakmie, nasi goreng, sate ayam, tempe mendoan, dadar gulung, es teler and a certain bottled tea product I choose not to explicitly name in this work ;)

yes this girl has a huge stomach

#illustration #art #food art #street food #indonesian food

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fuyuesu · 1 year

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schjfnf teehee!! seisoukan fire!!

it started back in mid octoberish last year, i was still riding off the tragedy high of There’s Something I Have To Say and i watched several youtube videos about building collapses and fires and i thought hehe i should do this to the seisoukan dormitory

BUT I COULDNT JUST BE NORMAL ABOUT IT NO.. i had to decide who dies now.. who lives.. who gets injured.. and i couldnt decided that on my Own of course . so i had a randomizer decide for me! live on vc with erin, i had a randomizer choose how many idols died and who would die ^_^

i cannot stress enough it chose violence Off The Fucking Bat . it killed TEN idols. THATS A FIFTH OF THE CAST DEAD. and what more it chose THE most tragic people to kill LOOK

AIRA? TSUMUGI? TORI? KANATA HIMERU YUTA MAO SHU? MITSURU AND NAGISA?? ALL THOSE FATALITIES.. i also determined casualties and witnesses through the randomizer and my GAWD.. not a single unit went unaffected by this mf fire!!!!!!

i started this fic actually because i really really wanted to write disaster aftermath and maybe a little bit of anzu stress 👉👈 becos i thought itd be so slay if ensemble square suffered an insane loss and had to figure out how to bounce back when its biggest greatest stars have been snuffed out by tragic fate.. also wanted to write some insane political dialogue between P-Association, ES’ executive board, Eichi, etc etc etc becos i havent read main story at awll and wanna see P-Association fight for their lives trying to keep ES together

for what i actually have of the plot!! it starts with Anzu reflecting on the aftermath of the tragedy (but i may change it to be her presence at the scene after emergency services are called in?) and the actions she has taken since. to mitigate immediate public outcry and limit how much backlash the idols themselves got, after releasing a very rushed investigation, Eichi determines that it was simply an unprecedented accident with no one at fault, but was unable to produce evidence in what exactly even caused the fire; of course, people start to blame the P-Association for not protecting their idols better, so Anzu turns to launching her own investigation into what happened with Ibara’s help !!

for reasons on what actually caused the fire i have very little . something something building’s integrity was failing but no inspections were scheduled for a few months before the incident. Tetora left the gas stove on and the kitchen brerw orp . Natsume performed some insane tragedy curse Gone Wrong . i do not have anything set in stone because its all about Anzu + producers managing the aftermath

at one point Anzu and Ibara ask the idols themselves for help because terrible as it is, first-hand account is some of the best evidence one can hav.. leading to a big therapy-styled circle <- this is The most daunting part of writing because i have to write everyone Right or ill die. but i do like what little i have so far.. maybei will bost it.. b it thank you for reading my looong long rant about seisoukan fire ^_^ my idea is that it really was Tetoras fault but not entirely his. something something Tetora leaves the gas stove on overnight, the building’s gas meter is malfunctioning so all the propane goes unnoticed, an explosion occurs the next morning and several gas mains go craaazy and also ecplode. there is no sense to any of this by the way i just want insane amounts of literal tragedy to happen to ES

also yes the enstragedy mood WAS inspired by hiddeneclipse’s We will be fine i cannot stress enough how much that fic has changed me how much it had rewired m . if i ever meet hiddeneclipseni think i would simply fall to my knees and kiss their feet

eto.… blehh!!

BLOWS THE FUCK UP HELLOOOO HELLO HELLO IF I COULD READ THE COMPLETED THING ONE DAY I WOUDL DIE HAPPY BC THIS IS RIGHT UP MY ALLEY IM SO GLAD I COUDL HAVE MY CURIOSITY FINALLY SATED !!! i olve readign abt the aftermath of tragedies it activates some kind of demon in my brain <3 acn i just say tho Poor Fucking Natsume dear lord . theres a lot of characters that have it bad in this situation ubt fuckigng. i immediately fixated on natsume. kanata and shu and tsumugi dyign and rei and sora being injured what the HELL . the survivors guilt must go CRAZY

#melty answers #enstarsposting #also not to be a kanameP hwen he literally is not even involved at all but dear LORD the implciations of himerus death #ibara . kaname is in Your hands now

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starsweetiie · 1 year

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Blorbo info post

Synopses for my Mains.

These are my main scrimblos. I do have a couple side OCs but I'll make a post for them some other time.

Detailed info for Hoshi (and Sorrel eventually) is at their carrd links which are here: https://starsweetiie.tumblr.com/characters

Hoshi Shimazaki

Name: Hoshi Shimazaki

Alias: “Starling”, Other fake/temporary names

Gender: fluid (male-leaning)

Age: Around 30 post-EW

Race: Born Hyur-Midlander. Shapeshifts. Normally Viera-Veena now.

Height: 165cm (5'5")

Class(es):

➺ from Pregame: None (BLU?)“, BLM

➺ from Post-HW: DRK

➺ from EW: Fatale (custom class; basically BLM+RPR, but he uses it with his shifting abilities instead of a weapon. Druid-like.)

➺ SCH somewhere in there

note: in canon he is very single, but I ship him with a lot of npcs so I’ll probably talk about ALL of them sorry LOL. He’s very horny affectionate so he’s still kissing everyone anyways.

Orientation: Ambiamorous Homosexual

Relationship Status: Single

An ex-criminal, now the Warrior of Light. Hoshi is a shapeshifter, void-lover and generally a menace to society. Despite this, he did save the world or whatever, so a lot of people do their best to tolerate him (they’re very strong, I commend them).

Hoshi is very loud and chaotic and more than a little destructive. It’s in his nature to be annoying and he does so very much on purpose, often prodding others relentlessly to get a reaction out of them or getting waayyyy too close for comfort. He often flirts with anyone who'll allow him to and makes lewd and inappropriate comments quite often; he actually has no shame filter.

Regardless all this, he isn’t impossible to be around. He is quite intelligent (as much as he fakes being not) and very much enjoys debating and conversation. He is also easily sated with attention or sweets if he’s being a problem.

He uses a viera appearance normally but does sometimes change this; for practicality’s sake but most of the time just for fun. Due to a lot of his shifting antics, many people still believe there are several Warriors of Light and not just the one.

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Eris (Hoshi’s Azem)

Name: Eris

Gender: Female (she/they)

Height: 165cm (5'5”)

Class(es):

➺ Healer (WHM+AST-like)

Literally, honestly the worst and the epitome of the 'i'm a healer but-' brainwaves.

Orientation: Heterosexual (probably?)

Relationship Status: Dating (triad with Hades/Hythlodaeus)

Eris has the fakest personality ever and is very soft and caring at first glance, often drawing in others with her intellect and her ability to solve almost all problems with little issue.

However, though she is greatly intelligent, her methods for helping others are often questioned. In reality, she enjoys causing problems more so than fixing them, but often finds a way to do so that ultimately helps those involved. That is not to say there is not hurt or loss or problems along the way, but in her opinion, as long as the outcome is good, the rest doesn’t matter.

She has a very specific worldview, which revolves largely around herself, and is likely somewhat of a narcissist. It isn’t unusual for her to push and prod others or manipulate other people into getting what she wants; which pushes many to avoid her even if her results are very good.

Unlike most Ancients, she is very weak magically and has an extremely weak aura; weak enough that most can hardly sense her. Due to this, she is not very good at creation and has made very few concepts in her lifetime. She, is however, unusually attuned to what is now known as dynamis and the feelings of others. Unfortunately, she often uses this to other’s detriment rather than their gain.

She is currently in a dating triad with Hades and Hythlodaeus, though one would very much doubt it just from seeing them. She and Hades quarrel quite often due to their differences in views on a myriad of topics but do have their moments nonetheless. She is noticeably much more relaxed with Hyth. They, Venat and Themis are the few she is not an ass to largely due to their abilities to sense her despite her weak aura.

It is vaguely known by some that Eris once had a twin, with whom she was never separated. However one day, she simply disappeared and, as she was extremely disliked, many disregarded her existence altogether.

Spoiler alert tho: She is the disappeared twin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Sorrel Arae

Name: Sorrel Arae

Gender: Male

Age: ???

Race: Viera-Rava

Height: 6'0"

Class(es):

➺ from Pregame: PLD, DRG

➺ from Mid-SB: DRK

➺ WAR, SAM somewhere in there

(I am doing my MSQ replay with this muse and will update (him and Hoshi) as I go along!!! Currently in Post-ARR. Sorrel is somewhat of a co-wol with a friend's wol.)

Orientation: Heterosexual (probably)

Relationship Status: Single

A knight from a small kingdom once known as Laurentia. Sorrel was once a knight serving the royal family before the Calamity destroyed their kingdom. Luckily, at the time, he was stationed away from the main city, and was there by unharmed.

The princess of the Kingdom, who he was bound to protect, escaped the destruction of the Calamity, having run away after numerous failed attempts to warn the Queen of her visions (Echo). She left Sorrel a letter in the ruins of the castle, bidding him to leave the broken kingdom to find her.

So, of course, he did and has been on a journey to locate the Princess ever since.

Sorrel is a stereotypically brave and stoic knight, or at least he tries to be. Though he is well versed in combat, he is known for being extremely bad with people and quite violent with anyone who falls outside of the realm of what he deems a ‘good person’. He is extremely black-and-white when judging others and doesn’t really understand how to take people’s feelings into consideration.

Despite these things, he really does believe he is doing good and tries to avoid doing bad things himself. Though he very much enjoys a fight, he will not pick one without reason.

He is extremely loyal and dedicated to the Princess and would do anything (I do mean anything) to find her.

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Ares (Sorrel’s Azem)

(Lmao this is such a bad sketch I'm sorry)

Name: Ares

Gender: Female

Height: 6'0”

Class(es):

➺ Tank (WAR-like)

➺ Melee DPS (DRG-like)

Probably, like the angriest person in all of Amaurot.

Orientation: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Single

Ares is a very skilled fighter and survivalist, most likely one of the best of all the Ancients; however, she is notoriously known for her extremely explosive attitude rather than any of her skills.

She is unpredictable in terms of her anger and can get set off by any number of things; though, honestly, she really does try to keep herself contained, she is just not very good at it.

It is very common to find her getting into fights with Hades and most avoid them when they are seen in the same area or are forced to work together to avoid getting caught between them. Aside from Hades, she generally gets along with anyone who isn't bothering her on purpose; though she has a noticeably soft spot for Hythlodaeus, who seems to be able to bother her with no consequence.

Despite her attitude, she cares very much for others and the star and does what she can and knows how to do to ensure its best. She is very much a tough-love type and probably a bit of a tsundere.

Ares is the creator of Death Hornets and all other thereby deadly hornet species, invented on a day that she was particularly pissed off with Hades.

#ffxiv #wol #azem #profiles:hoshi #profiles:eris #profiles:sorrel #profiles:ares #the deed is done its now time for me to shitpost about my ocs

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annon-guy2 · 9 months

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XBLAZEWeek - Day 6

🖤💙💚💜❤️

Post Game Headcanon: Nu's Free Will 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

As we all know by now, Unomaru created Nine Embryo Storage Nu Units to replace Es after the Azure Maiden developed free will and emotions. While the eight mechanical beings proved deadly, Es, Mei, Kuon and even Sechs put them all down. The ninth unit would be adopted by Mei to help her and Touya track down future Unions.

While the Units were sated to be incapable of Free Will, I'd like to believe the ninth unit, Nu, can be capableof developing free will and emotions just like her 'sister' Es. I even explored this possibility in my fanfic, XBLAZE: A New Start. It's a shame thay Lost Memories didn't utilize Nu to her full potential and if there's EVER a third game, we can hopefully see more of Nu's untapped potential as a character.

==============================

In the meantime, feel free to check out my XBLAZE Fanfiction.

#xblazeweek #XBLAZE #Nu/Es-N #🖤💙💚💜❤️

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logi1974 · 1 year

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Südafrika 2022/23 - Tag 19 Teil 1

Happy New Year!

Herrschaften und Oukies!

Heute stehen wir nicht ganz so früh auf. Wir haben keinen weiteren Gamedrive gebucht, sondern wollen uns heute, an unserem letzten Morgen nicht abhetzen.

Wir schauen aus den Fenstern und uns trifft fast der Schlag: es schüttet wie aus Kübeln.

Was für ein Glück, dass wir der anderen Reisegruppe so selbstlos unseren Morning Gamedrive überlassen hatten. Zu der genialen Idee können wir uns nur selbst gratulieren!

Wir packen wehmütig unsere Sachen und hoffen, dass wir nicht wieder etwas vergessen und liegen lassen.

Wegen des ergiebigen Regens wagen sich sogar die Afrikanischen Riesenschnecken aus ihrer Deckung. Die Tiere sind eigentlich nachtaktiv und werden bis zu 20 cm lang. Dabei bringt sie es auf ein stolzes Gesamtgewicht von bis zu 500 Gramm.

Auch dieses Mal hat es uns in der Raptor Retreat Game Lodge ausgesprochen gut gefallen. Eine tolle Unterkunft, die wir wieder gerne weiter empfehlen. Für die vielen, liebevollen Details konnten wir uns erneut begeistern.

Wegen der Regenmassen kann heute niemand draußen auf der Terrasse sitzen, denn da schwimmt alles. Schließlich handelt es sich um ein Sonnensegel und kein Regensegel.

Wir müssen alle etwas im Hauptraum zusammenrücken, damit alle Gäste darin Platz finden.

Sharmaine legt allen Gästen diskret die Rechnung zum Frühstück auf den Tisch. Wir zahlen kurz vor der Abfahrt und verabschieden uns total herzlich.

Dann machten wir uns auf den Weg. Erst einmal zum Gate kommen, das dauert bereits rund 45 Minuten und ist gleichzeitig ein letzter, kleiner Gamedrive.

Ausgerechnet dieses Mal haben wir keinen 4x4 als Fahrzeug. Zum Glück lässt der Regen jetzt nach.

Unser Endziel heute ist die Ortschaft Graskop an der Panorama Route. Zunächst geht es in Richtung Westen, wo wir dann in den Süden, auf die R 40, abbiegen.

Bei “Three Bidges” überqueren wir den Olifants River und schauen dabei auf die alte, historische Olifants River Railway Bridge. Der Olifants führt auch dieses Mal wieder ordentlich Wasser.

Unser erster Stopp findet in Hoedspruit an einer Metzgerei statt, die uns unseren lieben Freunde Claus & Conny aus dem Namibia-Forum (Bayernschorsch & Schorschine) empfohlen hatten.

Meine Güte, was für eine Auswahl! Nach dem Motto “Fleisch ist mein Gemüse” stürzen wir uns in den Laden.

Die Boerewors wandert schon einmal in den Einkaufskorb. Die mögen wir immer sehr und nirgendwo gibt es sie in dieser Vielfalt, wie im südlichen Afrika.

Sehr nett finden wir auch die Deko an den oberen Wänden. Da weiß man doch sofort, um welches Tier es sich da handelt, das man zu verspeisen gedenkt.

Nach der abgepackten Ware, wenden wir uns der frische Abteilung zu. Was nehmen wir denn mit? Wir können uns erst gar nicht entscheiden und wollen für uns 2 Männekes aber auch nicht zu viel kaufen.

Am Ende entscheiden wir uns für verschiedene Sosaties. Die kann man auch immer prima auf den Grill ...äääh ... ich meinte natürlich den Braai hauen.

Sosaties sind ursprünglich ein kapmalaiisches Gericht und der Name kommt von den Wörtern „sate“, was Fleischspieße bedeutet, und „saus“, einer würzigen Soße auf Afrikaans. Sosaties bestehen also aus marinierten Fleischstücken, die auf einem dünnen Holz- oder Bambusspieß aufgereiht werden.

Unverkennbar die nahe Verwandtschaft zum indonesischen Saté-Spieß. Die alten Holländer der Dutch East India Company sind halt viel herum gekommen in der Welt!

Anschließend geht es noch nach nebenan in den Laden “Le Bamba”. Überall ist es brechend voll...

#Raptor Retreat Game Lodge #Hoedspruit #Südafrika #South Africa #Afrika #Africa

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