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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

hello !! if it’s not too much of a bother can you write another piece featuring Lion 🫶 maybe another angsty piece, maybe a lil lion + farah combo or something else like lion and gaz getting separated from the 141 during a mission and having to fight their way back to the extraction point (?). totally up to you !!! also thank u for keeping us well fed 🙇‍♀️

Lions and Ibexes

PAIRING: John Price x Wife!Reader 'Codename Lion'

SYNOPSIS: Impulsive was what John always called you - affectionately, of course. But he sure does worry when you disappear without him.

WORDCOUNT: 4.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, death, canon typical violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, banter, no connection to 'I'll Take the Night Shift' except codenames, protective!Price, suggestive jokes, etc.

A/N: I wanna give Farah a big smooch on her forehead.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“So this is the woman that the Captain won’t keep quiet about,” you smirk and place your hand into Farah Karim’s, eyes shimmering as you both share a tight grip.

“Commander,” greeting the black-haired woman, your light gear hangs off of you easily and efficiently; clean and well-taken care of.

“Lion,” she nods, smirking back. “A pleasure.”

“Please,” you huff a laugh, “I wish it could be.” Expressions dim as you instantly get to work, the hot sun and dry air sticking to your flesh like a second skin of humidity. Releasing Farah’s hand you sigh and look around the old town, skimming over the forms of other Urzikstan Liberation Force soldiers.

Farah does the same, breathing lowly.

“On that, I believe you’d be right.” Brown eyes flick to yours, looking you over before the woman nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” your feet push you onward, following behind the Commander as your wedding band clinks against your chest. Held on that long chain, a hand comes up to brush it carefully, letting the man who wears the mirrored piece bring you comfort even from so far away.

John was set to ship out in two days—there were some other important operations that had taken precedence. While you could have stayed behind with him, as you had wanted to do, a plea from one of the far-distant operators of One-Four-One had caught your ear. The name Farah Karim was known.

If you didn’t offer assistance, you’d never feel right with yourself. One call to Laswell and it was all set up.

“I’ll be there in two days,” John had muttered into your scalp as you both lay in bed, tight to one another; lashes fluttering. “Wait for me, yeah? No running off.”

Your smirk had made him sigh a chuckle. “No stunts of heroics, my Love? Please, do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know?”

“Well,” the words are uttered into his neck and John pulls you tighter into him. “I think that’s just about the most romantic thing to happen to someone.”

Smiling to yourself, you bring the ring to your lips and kiss it lightly before letting it drop. In your head, John is still in your shared flat in London, and you’ll be back by the hour. If only.

“You contacted Laswell and said you had encountered more of Barkov's remaining cells?” Your voice carries easy authority; ingrained confidence.

Farah looks back and nods firmly.

“They’ve taken over a town in the mountains, my forces can’t break the line.” She sighs aggressively and you stare with a sliding frown. “Even dead, Barkov cannot leave my people alone.”

In the back of your throat, you hum, “Well, parasites tend to be resilient.” Farah leads you into a home with maps on the tables and low talking of strategies from others. They pause when you enter and you nod politely. Many here knew your husband as the Commander did—all those years back when he was still only a Lieutenant and had broken Farah and her brother Hadir out from the Russian’s jail; labeled as prisoners of war.

John had told you about it during one of the many late nights in your joint offices. Eyes tired and his hands playing with your hair.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask genially, standing near the table and placing your hands down on it—standard M4A1 resting over your chest and your secondary weapon strapped to your thigh. Unlike most, you’d opted for lighter gear to allow you to move faster.

Fewer packs sit on your vest, and the gleam of the knife on your shoulder was a testament to your preference to close, silent, encounters. Though you liked to use your silver tongue to get out of situations, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work in this instance.

“Captain Price told me you’re one of the best undercover agents he’s seen.” You perk at this, looking over with raised brows.

“Hell,” your chuckle echoes, “when you said he couldn’t keep quiet I thought you were exaggerating.”

Farah smiles cheekily at you before pointing to the map of a mountain town surrounded by red Xs.

“My soldiers have marked off choke points all around the area. They’re the only pathways to the town, but heavily guarded.” She glances around the room and you hear her sigh heavily. “I wouldn’t have asked for assistance unless I knew I needed it. I’d prefer to leave foreign fighters out of this conflict, unlike my enemy.”

“I understand,” your head shakes. “It’s your home—I’ll go where you need me to. John should be here in two days to assist.”

Farah’s face flashes with surprise, her full brows rising on her head. “Price is coming?”

You shrug and laugh, “he’s stubborn.”

The woman chuffs before moving to fold her arms over her chest. “I think perhaps he’s more of a smitten husband, hm?” At the sheepish expression on your face and dipping eyes, Farah barks a laugh.

The band around your neck clinks into the stock of your gun as you stand to your full height.

“Is it that obvious,” you tease, tilting your head to her. You knew it was.

“I believe the simple action of asking is proof enough, Lion.” The commander looks at her work on the table, smiling easily but focusing still on her plan of attack. “But, regardless, I give my thanks for flying out on such short notice.”

“We help our own.” Resting your hands on the body of your weapon, you smile fondly. “Now, who do I need to kill?”

—

As it turns out, killing was the very baseline of what you needed to do.

Shuffling into the dark armor of the dead Russian soldier at your feet, you grunt at the slick spread of blood on the ground as you strap arm braces to your limbs.

“Heavy as all hell,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the large helmet and shoving it over your head with a puff of air.

Farah was going to lead a distraction on the far side of the western choke point while you slipped into the ranks, placing packs of C4 in some of the large-stocked weapons buildings. Easy enough for you, you admitted. You’d done things like this a million times over.

When all was said and done, slipping your knife into the new belt at your waist, you gaze down at the dead man with a huff of air; seeing the blood still pooling from the very obvious signs of a slit up the left armpit. You blink and stuff your wedding band down your shirt.

“Bad day, buddy,” grabbing his legs, you bare your heels and drag the body behind a large outcropping of rocks—long streaks of crimson left behind. “I’d hate to be you right now.”

Grunting, you drop the limp flesh with a thump like a paper-towel roll meeting the counter.

Shuffling back into the open, your feet make tracks to get you closer toward your targets. You hike the small pouch Farah gave you farther up your back without a word more.

John had always said you were quick-witted, but when he got here he’d lose that hat of his in disbelief. The truth was that you had forgotten what little of the Russian language you’d initially known, and the situation you found yourself in now was frankly not ideal.

C’mon Lion, you think to yourself, just pick up social cues and you’ll be good.

Oh, your husband was going to lose his shit.

—

“Come again?” The Captain barks. “What do you fuckin’ mean she’s in the base?!”

“I just explained it,” Farah levels, raising a brow. Blue eyes narrow with a growl until the Commander's lips flicker in a smirk. “We just had word three minutes ago. She’s fine, Captain.” Fingers find John’s nose bridge, digging deep into the flesh in large exasperation and worry.

He had caught a C17 and came here a day early after he’d gotten a bad feeling—internal wife radar going off as it usually did when you placed yourself in danger without him. Which was more often than not.

I told her not to be impulsive.

John sighs long and low, shaking his head. “Farah…you sent her in alone?”

“She is quite capable, Price.”

“I fucking…” He stops himself and puts his hands on the table in the center of the building. Men and women were snickering from the corners, sending amused glances. “I know.”

Farah sends a glance to her soldiers and they turn away to cover their smiling mouths. Enjoyment was in her tone as she grabs the walkie-talkie from the table top and clips it to her vest.

“There were more men than we anticipated—she had to be more careful when placing the charges. Captain,” John glares up at her when his eyes leave the maps. The Commander teases, “She is fine.”

As if on cue, the radio fizzles with your voice. Farah looks down with surprise and the Brit's eyes snap to it immediately; body tense.

There’s a moment of garbled static where the Captain feels his heart beating out of his chest. The panic that had snapped through him when you hadn’t come out to greet him when he’d landed was primal; genuine fear stuck in his bones like spiky grass. The bond the two of you had was closer than anything on this plane of existence. It was rare to not see one without the other.

Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

“You should tell your men to move unless they want to be scorched, Farah!” The woman in the room smiles ferally and raises a smug brow as she looks at John.

“Copy, Lion. You have my thanks.”

“I didn’t know you could improvise Russian—it’s like the Slavic blood just entered my body!” The Brit covers his eyes with his hand and groans at the base of his throat.

“Tell her to get her arse back here before she gets bloody shot.” John takes off his bucket hat and tosses it to the table with a gloved hand, punching his hair back from his forehead. “Giving me gray hairs,” he grunts.

Farah laughs and says eagerly into the walkie, “Someone’s here to say hello.”

“...Oh, fuck.” Your panting breath clears and after a long glare at the device, John hears you say in a slow and awkward tone, “Hello, my Love!”

Farah tilts the radio closer to him and looks highly pleased.

“Get back here. Now.” John grunts out, fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them. “I told you to wait for me.”

You laugh nervously, deflecting, “...did you, Dear? I guess I misheard you.” The Brit’s jaw clenches but Farah can speak before he can.

“Lion, are all the charges set, then?” You seem thankful for the distraction, sighing over the line.

“All good over here! I just need the O.K from your men and then it’s about to get a whole lot brighter.”

“I’ll relay the news—get away, as far as you can.”

“Already on it,” your breathy chuckle exits and you pause before saying. “See you soon, Love!”

Tiny blue eyes bug, “Wait–!” The line clicks off and Farah is already tapping into the frequency for her soldiers, turning slightly away to converse in quick Arabic.

—

Evening rolls around and you jog back into the Liberation Force’s base, greeting the guards stationed with a breathless sigh; utterly sweaty but happy you’d gotten half a ride back from some locals. You’re back in your original gear, sear marks on your cheeks and hair slightly burned, but nonetheless unharmed.

Everyone welcomes you back with handshakes and pats on your shoulders—brushes to your arm as people pass. You guide yourself back to the main building with chuckles and deep smiles of achievement.

“Someone’s happy.” John’s voice freezes you halfway into the home and you cringe like a leaf. After a moment your eyebrows slide up with a cheeky smile.

“John,” you draw out his name and turn, seeing him leaning against the house with his arms crossed and legs stiff. He looks unimpressed in all of his handsome glory. “Well, don’t you look nice—did you trim your beard before coming out?”

Walking slowly towards him, you loop your hands around his waist and press kisses into his neck sweetly. The man sighs long and you feel his large palms rest on your hips heavily. You blink innocently into his orbs.

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Love.” The glint in his expression eggs you on as his nose tints down to touch yours. You smile brightly, seeing the wrinkles on his forehead dim as he melts into you easily.

Whispering, you utter to the air, “I’d say you like my tongue, you brute. Tell me often enough.” Not a beat is missed, but you feel his cheeks go slightly red.

“Keep it on a leash and maybe I’d like it more, yeah?” You snort loudly, head dipping only to feel his lips press into your scalp; his smile is teasing as his beard drags against you.

John breathes you in along with the scent of sand. One of his hands travels up to lock into the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your necklace. The one that mirrors his own down to the very dents and scratches.

“You alright?” The words are a murmur into your flesh. You let him play with your wedding band as your smile softens to the same sensation of warm pelts on a wooden floor.

There was no use telling you to stop your crusades, the Brit knew that. You did what you wanted and damn the consequences; John was stuck with damage control but knew you had the skills and know-how to break all odds. You still held that same fire that the woman he married wore like a crown of fangs without fail.

“Always,” you reassure him, hugging his waist tighter and staring into his eyes.

The both of you lapse into a delicate hold. John’s arms cage you in and you’d have it no other way as fingers drag over warm flesh, never mind the brutal dig of gear or the stain of blood. Neither could keep you away from the other.

“When will you stop making my heart rip out of my chest, Sweetheart?” John asks, smirking down at you. “Trying to give me a heart attack before forty, eh?”

“Oh, please,” you whisper against his lips, eyes alight with mischief as he watches you closely—pulse pounding against yours. He could never be angry at you. “We both know that if you have one, I’ll be having one too. We’ll end up being brain-dead at the same damn time, no doubt.”

He laughs against you lowly, having to pull back to shake his head at your bland confession. “You’re fuckin’ mental, Love.” He breathes in soft puffs of breath. You gaze up at him, laced with affection and care, as he rests his forehead on yours. “Ah, but that’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all a bit crazy.”

“You might be a little bit higher on the metaphorical scale,” you tease, face serious but eyes betraying you. They always would when it came to John; the only person to break through that ‘cunning nuisance’ that everyone always mentioned in your file.

“Really, now?” He blinks, smirking and rubbing at your hip absentmindedly and leaning closer—pushing your neck to the side.

“Just a bit,” you huff, not even realizing.

Before you can utter another word, firm lips capture you like a beast in iron bars, bulky forearms stuck at the curve of your spine. You chirp into John’s mouth in surprise but melt into him as his large purr resonates into your bloodstream. Singing, you bring your hands to his cheeks, digging through those bristles to feel the burn on your hands.

Humming, your husband nuzzles his nose into your cheek like a dog would, letting him take in your scent as you feel your legs go weak. You enjoy the worship he gives you; always would. Your body is tightly held against his own and you gladly would have shown him how much you enjoyed him being here if only for the small fact you needed to talk to Farah.

With one last pass of his reddened lips, you slip back and kiss his bristly cheek with a chuckle.

“Later.”

He groans into you. “Tease.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” You laugh loudly, moving out of his hold to walk into the house as he follows at your heels. John’s hands go to the top of his vest collar to rest.

He leans down and whispers, “Don’t need to, Love.”

Your face burns for him and only him as he grumbles out chuckles at your blown pupils. Huffing, you turn and roll your eyes, trying to dispel your flaming blood. Farah waits for you and with a happy glance up she comes from around the table and claps you on both shoulders. You grunt in surprise but grip her elbows with a laugh.

“Barkov’s remaining cell was wiped out—my soldiers are hunting down the remnants as we speak.” She squeezes your gear and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lion, for coming out when you did. The Captain was not wrong in his assessment.”

You turn your head to the side and glance back at John. “Hear that my Love, I’ve heard you talk about me. That’s so precious.”

His face goes red under his beard, and his feet shuffle as you and Farah share a joking glance. John releases under-the-breath grumbles before the Commander addresses him. The woman releases you but speaks past your person.

“Some of my younger soldiers wanted you to mentor them with the use of their weapons, do you plan on staying the night?” You and John share a look, a seeming telepathic communication going on.

He nods at you and you smile. “Only tonight, we ship out at first light. I’ll do what I’m able.”

“Then you also have my thanks. They’ll learn much, I’m sure. Lion,” John comes and gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving. You watch him go for a moment before rubbing at your dirty neck while you listen to Farah. “Come with me, there’s fresh water on the roof.”

“Oh,” you perk, suddenly realizing the fatigue in your bones and the dryness of your throat. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

As you both ascend the stairs to the roof, there’s a still silence that falls, a calm nothingness. When you finally stand on the flat roof, you look over the vast land as Farah hands you a chilled water bottle from a mini-fridge. You take it with a small nod in thanks.

“Nice view,” you motion with the bottle before taking a long sip—downing half of it in one go.

Farah smiles and hums. “Urzikatan is a beautiful place,” you listen and wipe at your mouth; seeing people walk the streets below as the red sun grows even lower. In the wind, your nose twitches to sand and dust, with some hint of floral notes and arid cleanliness. Farah’s face seeps with a low sadness when she looks out to the land and you pause your drinking. Brows pulling in, you watch her.

“Farah?” You ask, carefully. It’s a moment before she responds.

“I…” She crosses her arms and sets her feet. “I wonder if this place will ever see its freedom. We’ve been fighting for so long already. My family has known war more than anything else.” Brown eyes drift to you from the side of her eye.

There’s a tightness in your chest. You can’t imagine what Farah feels right now, what she has felt. Years of this…and still her home is under foreign subjugation. A frown grows on your face and you put the half-full bottle to the small wooden table near the roof’s corner.

“You’ll get your sovereignty, Farah.” You try your best to speak your mind to the woman but remain truthful to your belief. Farah stares out as you sigh lowly. “Maybe not now—maybe not in this generation—but someday the sun is going to set on a free Urzikatan. You’re plenty strong enough to assure that and you’ve done a proper job so far. The frames are already set.”

The Commander hums and gazes at her soldiers below as they mull about, laughing with each other and enjoying the company of their fellow countrymen.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?” Farah asks you, and you study her genuine interest in her own thoughts. “Who we would be if nothing ever happened to us.”

You stare for a moment, skull tilting down to gaze at the top of the roof. It’s not an easy question to answer.

“Sometimes,” your lips admit. Farch eagerly pivots to your form like you hold the greatest answer imaginable. She’s been through so much—losing her family, and her home. Humming, your eyes shift to the setting sun; blinking at it. Against all of this, your lips flinch up into a smile. “But not often.”

Farah’s eager gaze turns confused, her brows furrowing deeply with a scrunched face.

“Because right here, right now,” John walks down the street below, and your eyes fall to him as easily as a leaf dances to the ground. The expression on your face eases. “It couldn’t have happened if there were never bad days.” Your husband looks up, and you see him pause among the ranks of other fighters. You chuckle softly, head tilting to the side.

John stares at you as if you’re the only person to exist, moving one hand from his vest to jerk two fingers in a subtle greeting. Farsh watches the interaction closely, tension loosening from her body. Your head nods slowly to your husband and you say to the woman, absent-minded, “I’m right where I need to be…And the sun has never looked brighter.”

Farah huffs a laugh, eyes running back and forth between the two of you.

“He loves you,” she says, “deeply.”

“God,” your laugh echoes, “I sure hope so.” The both of you laugh.

It felt easy to speak to the Commander, truthfully. Being surrounded by four men all of the time can get catty even with such a strong bond as you had with One-Four-One.

You dare to share more.

"In my mind, John and I are still in Hertfordshire for our wedding,” The words come out of you slowly, unwrapping emotions one layer at a time as if swaddled in a dark veil of internal nostalgia. You watch John as he walks along, oddly sad but filled with something that makes you want to take him up into your arms with a wet laugh. “Sitting back on the grassy hills outside of town in my gown and him in his tux. The wind is cold…but neither of us can find it in ourselves to shiver. The sun's setting on our heads and making everything glow gold. His fingers are running through my hair…” You pause and hear Farah’s soft breath in the air, but you don’t look at her. Your eyes stay stuck on one person only. “When I die,” your words continue, “I can't ask for anything more than just a glimpse of that again. Just a flicker of that hill. Of those blue eyes looking into mine. I don't think it would be all that bad if I could live in that moment for senseless eternity. If I could live in it for only one second."

John looks back at you from over his shoulder, your form shrouded in the setting sun as he slowly walks away from you. You gaze with melted eyes, the ring around your neck shining all the brighter.

“I’m right where I need to be,” finishing, you turn your glossy eyes to Farah, who stares with a wide pull to her lids. “And you need to believe that even if you never get to see that freedom—that hill—you’ll make sure someone else can climb it just an inch farther.”

It’s a long moment before Farah answers.

“The both of you will do this until one of you dies, hm?” You blink before you shrug.

“Not one.” Your tone is easy, and John’s shadow turns a corner; out of sight. “I’d never let him go without me.”

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devildomwriter · 6 months

Text

Horror Movie Marathon: They React to The Blair Witch Project

Luke was put to bed and is not allowed to watch the movie

Lucifer

• He appreciates the realism of found footage and the naturalist of the characters

• He keeps mentioning things they’re doing wrong almost as soon as they begin and you get camping with Lucifer flashbacks

• As soon as the characters find the graveyard and accidentally knock a cairn over he shakes his head. “Childish mistake” What does that even mean?

• Lucifer doesn’t get scared by horror movies but he appreciates the tension building as noises and bizarre happenings increase every night until someone disappears

• When the map is lost he begins informing you how to avoid that situation and what to do to get out, including escaping actual paranormal circumstances which just unnerves you

• He nods his head and smiles as it ends, approving of the movie and genuinely enjoying it

Mammon

• If you tell him it’s a real documentary, he will dead-ass believe you and be that much more scared

• He thinks he’s safe in the daylight until they go deeper into the forest and he just knows something’s gonna pop up but when nothing does he’s more disturbed. What’s making the snapping stick sound?

• They’re just lost, where’s all the bad stuff? Then he wonders if it’s a ghost and he’s even more terrified because you can’t really see those

• The noises get weirder and people begin to vanish and lose their minds and he’s so unsettled, he keeps waiting for the witch to pop up and scare him

• Suddenly the movie ends with a scream and he’s screaming too. He’s so fucking unsettled that he never saw the Blair Witch and will not go near a forest for a while. He’s pretty convinced the Blair Witch is real.

Leviathan

• He’s okay with watching a horror movie but even more so a found footage film. He loves the awkwardness of the lead, it’s relatable

• He tells you how he would’ve gone about documenting it and what they got right and wrong. He enjoys how authentic it feels as a documentary

• He’s creeped out as things start happening at night and clings a little closer to you

• When everyone starts arguing it reminds him of a dinner they had the previous week and relaxes until it gets so much worse

• He’s pretty stiff when the ending comes, he’s prepared to see the witch but instead it’s a loud scream and he jumps

• He enjoys it but uses this movie as an excuse to stay inside

Satan

• Satan loves genuine documentaries so he really likes watching found film movies and this is basically the OG, the one that popularized the genre so he’s excited to see it with you

• Without spoiling it for himself he researches the directors, cast, and artistic direction. He also watches the fake documentary that aired before the movie

• He loves camping so he enjoys the forest setting and laughs creepily when things begin going wrong. He finds it amusing for some reason.

• He keeps mumbling directions under his breath by mistake and he’s really invested and paying attention to details you wouldn’t have seen on a seventh watch.

• He loves the movie, especially the fear of the unknown you get with never seeing the Blair Witch

• “Did they base this off the Cranber Witch?”

• “The what?”

• “Never mind, it’s better you not know.”

Asmodeus

• He’s not so big on the idea of a horror movie, especially after he wanted to relax for the night but he comes around to it for you

• He thinks the idea of tracking down a witch sounds like fun and is under the assumption it’s an actual documentary about missing persons.

• It’s fun and relaxing until they come across the graves and he knows that’s a bad sign. “Never disturb the graves, that’s what happened to Mammon.”

• When the first guy disappears and they find what’s left of him later in a bundle of sticks he begins snuggling up to you, feigning fear

• By the end of it he’s actually scared and shaking and must be comforted and told it’s not real or he won’t be able to get his beauty sleep

Beelzebub

• He doesn’t mind documentaries or horror, it’s perfect for snacking on popcorn

• He really enjoys it and then it gets to the forest and it’s a little unnerving hearing all the sticks breaking and things moving around

• He thinks they’re just lost but he’s so wrong. He keeps asking you questions about what’s happening and grows more concerned

• When Josh vanishes he really starts worrying and keeps looking over at you and occasionally pauses chewing so he can focus better on the movie

• He shakes his head when Heather follows the disembodied voice into the abandoned house and when the movie ends suddenly after a scream, he jumps a little

• He wonders what happened to all of them and is happy to be told it’s not a real documentary

Belphegor

• He’s against these people from the beginning. He just seems to genuinely dislike the characters

• He theorizes which of the rumors of the Blair witch will turn out to be true

• He calls almost everything, that Josh would vanish first since he knocked over the gravestone, that they’d be lost, that they’d hear children laughing

• Nothing surprises him, he’s commenting on it very casually as if he’d seen it before

• When things really start going wrong and everyone is panicking he laughs at them and cheers when things go wrong. He just really doesn’t like them and calls them idiots.

• He’s satisfied with the ending and asks if the bodies were ever found. He’s somewhat disappointed it’s completely fictional.

Solomon

• Solomon has heard a lot about the movie and has a general idea of what happens but is still excited to see it with you

• The rumors of the Blair witch were so intense when it came out he had to look into it as someone who guards humanity

• He’s excited to finally see what it’s all about and enjoys the dedication to the roles and the incredible improv the cast uses

• He sees all the strange things in the background and correctly predicts the eerie things coming their way. He also explains when and why some of these things would show up which makes the movie unnerving for you.

• When it’s over he’s very happy with it but says it’s oddly familiar to the Cranber witch and refuses to elaborate

Simeon

• Simeon isn’t a fan of horror movies and relaxes that it’s in the form of a documentary.

• He finds all the rumors of the Blair witch to be dreadful and wonders what kind of bloodshed he’s gotten himself into watching

• He enjoys the movie growing increasingly eerie and compliments the writers and actors about it.

• He analyzes the witchcraft-like things he sees and explains what would happen in real life which makes you cling to him a little so he makes a point of spooking you a little for fun.

• He’s disturbed when Josh’s remains are found but figured it’d happen.

• He’s very surprised by the ending and his heart beats fast as he waits for the appearance of the Blair Witch but it never happens and he’s still convinced it’ll happen during the credits

• He likes the movie but he’s not fond of all the cursing

Raphael

• He pays very close attention to the movie, not even speaking. He looks like he’s taking mental notes of all the Blair Witch rumors as if he intends to do something about the fictional situation

• His eye twitches each time someone curses, so the big argument scene is not a favorite of his

• He keeps looking at you, wondering why you aren’t disturbed and you realize he thinks this is all real. You don’t tell him because you want to see it he’ll actually go hunt down a fake witch.

• He’ll let you hold him if you get scared or feign fear because he thinks that is a natural response to the increasingly hopeless situation the trio have found themselves in

• By the end when Heather screams and is dragged away and the credits roll, he’s shaking his head and really looks like he’s about to go fight something. If you decide not to tell him it’s fake he will be pretty annoyed with you after looking for a witch that never existed. If you do tell him it’s fake he relaxes a little and can take in the movie and enjoy it more

Thirteen

• Thirteen loves a good horror movie, she also thinks they’re great inspiration for traps, especially during Halloween

• She doesn’t really vibe with the main characters and tells you this is why humans die so easily in the real world because they chase after dangerous things with too much confidence

• Thirteen enjoys all the gruesome rumors of the witch and loves it when all the bad things begin popping up. She takes notes on small stationery for ideas of scaring people, like children laughing, shaking camper’s tents, and making twig figures

• She keeps thinking the Blair witch will show up because she wants costume ideas and even though she’s a little disappointed she never got to see it she has a eureka moment and begins planning an ultimate prank to scare Solomon without ever being seen

• She enjoys the movie and would 10/10 watch it again

Mephistopheles

• As a reporter he appreciates the found-footage style horror genre. Though he’d never usually watch horror for the fun of it, he does enjoy seeing the movie that popularized a new genre of horror

• He critiques the character’s style of directing and tells you what questions would be better to ask

• He knows it’s supposed to be horror but he finds getting lost in a forest so easily to be a little silly—until things go very wrong

• Things escalate so quickly he completely rethinks his opinion of the movie thus far and by the end of it when Heather screams and disappears he is a little shaken

• He claps when it ends and praises the directing of the movie and the growing unease you get as you watch it.

• Immediately proceeds to write a lengthy review that might show up in the RAD newspaper about human world horror movies.

Barbatos

• Horror doesn’t affect Barbatos and even without his powers he can tell exactly what’s going to happen but he’s happy to relax with you and watch it anyway.

• He’s mostly silent as he watches but asks for your opinion now and then

• He shakes his head when the grave is knocked over and warns you that this is a fast way to make spirits angry with you

• He also warms you against continuing your path when you see piles of rocks or twig figures. He explains these things are very much real and you’re guaranteed an awful fate if you find them and to just call for him if you do.

• He makes the movie a thousand times more unsettling with his real-life input and horrific trivia

• He laughs when they hear strange noises and scolds them when they leave the tent. Compulsory advice is now a habit after caring for Diavolo

• He enjoys the movie and finds it a pleasant experience. He can see why some humans were “Foolish” enough to believe it was real

Diavolo

• Diavolo loves watching horror movies so he was very excited to see the good reviews the movie got, and before it could begin he goes over the trivia and history of it with you to get you more excited about it

• He’s munching away on the popcorn pretty eagerly at first and complimenting the backstory and scenery

• He becomes more quiet as things begin to go wrong and holds your hand when scary noises and twigs break sound through the night

• He begins feeling bad for the characters, even though he knows it’s just a movie, and tries giving advice to them

• “Oh no,” he says completely seriously when they find Josh’s remains. Practically shouts at Heather not to enter the cabin and when she disappears he shakes his head and says he told her not to. He does this very seriously

• He smiles again when the credits are over and pretends he wasn’t scared (unless it’ll get attention from you) but he avoids the forest for a while because he’s well aware those terrors truly exist. He just doesn’t tell you that.

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me mephistopheles #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me barbatos #obey me beelzebub #obey me horror movies

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ghouljams · 7 months

Note

I been binging your cowboy AU and is pure gold. And I was thinking about maybe for some reason Duck and Price finding themselves in the same country and the army using the first aid to help the team. Like Price's heart beating so fast (this is before the family reveal jsjs). Keeping it profesional n front of the collegues but once the curtain is closed you two just holding eachothers

This is something I think about all the time actually. When I first thought of Duck doing red cross/doctors without borders aid stuff I thought it would be funny if she ended up in Price’s camp helping soldiers and civilians. Nerve wracking for both of them, but especially Price who has to see his wife in an active combat zone.

I think they've both briefly talked about how it's good they don't work together because it means the likelihood of Goose losing both her parents is lower. They didn't really think they'd ever cross paths on the job.

You step off the helo into blinding sunlight and raise a hand to shield your eyes. The rest of your colleagues are busy unloading equipment and supplies as you scan the surrounding area. It’s grim. Disaster sites usually are. Burned buildings, rubble, scared civilians; you recognize the fatigues that you see, British boots on sandy ground. You sigh. Your fellow supervisor comes to stand by you, clipboard in hand.

“Should be a camp around here somewhere,” They grumble, you turn to check the progress of unloading supplies. Already a crowd is starting to form, one you wish you could do more to help. You hate seeing people suffer, it’s one of the reasons you became a doctor.

“It’ll be outside of town,” You inform them.

“Forgot,” They flip through their paperwork, voice sarcastic, “You’re a military wife.”

There’s no love lost there, everyone has their own opinion on it. Your opinion is wishing your husband would stop putting himself in harm's way, but you could never ask him to stop doing what he- well you hesitate to say loves, what calls to him.

“I’ll handle it,” You snatch the clipboard from your colleague, “you can focus on medical while I let the army know we’re here.”

“Better you than me.” They mutter. You don’t bother letting their pouting get to you. At least when you yell at petty officers they listen. You have plenty of practice.

You’re quickly pointed to the commanding officer’s tent when you do find the military encampment. Everyone recognizes the red cross on your arm band, the set of your shoulders, you can already smell the medical requests that’ll be hitting your desk. You follow the sergeant assigned to you and duck under the tent flap he holds up for you. You stop dead staring at your husband. Price is hunched over a map laden table, his head jerked up to check who was intruding. His mouth twitches, eyes barely moving from you.

“Red Cross is here,” The sergeant breaks the silence.

“I can see that,” Price pushes off the table, rolling his shoulders back to stand at his full height. You swallow, try to quiet the rapid heartbeat in your chest. You can’t both be here. “When did you get in?” Your husband asks, all professionalism.

“A little more than an hour ago,” You tell him, your mind still reeling, spinning out worst case scenarios, “I thought you might have a decent idea of where needs the most aid.”

“How much time do you have?” He says with a small smile, a joke that isn’t a joke.

“We’re just getting unloaded and set up now, I’d have more time if you could spare a few men,” You glance at the sergeant. Price nods, waves the man off.

“Sergeant Shaw and his team would be glad to help.”

Sergeant Shaw salutes and disappears, leaving you alone in the tent with your husband. You all but rush to the table, he barely moves.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss.

“Me?” He leans his hands on the table, “What are you doing here?”

“There was an earthquake,” You remind him, you’re sure he felt it. His face drops, eyes solemn as they hold yours.

“Wasn’t an earthquake,” He tells you quietly.

“What?” You breathe. You don’t want to think about what that implies. His eyes say it all, the clear and present threat that hangs over this region. The sword of Damocles that now hangs over both of your heads.

“How long are you here?” His expression hurts to look at. Everything in you aching to touch him. You can’t, not while you’re both working.

“Three months until the next shift arrives, I was going to volunteer to stay on.” You’re rethinking it now, but it isn’t as if you could run back to your team and force them to evacuate, not without tipping everyone off.

“You’re leaving at shift change,” Price tells you, without room for argument. You press your lips into a thin line, holding back your complaints.

“If they need doctors-”

“They’ll find them somewhere else,” He cuts you off. You’ve both operated this long on the understanding that your work is unpredictable, it’s carried you through deployments for years. Now, staring down your husband in his element, in your element, you don’t know how you ever managed it.

“John,” He winces when you say his name, “What are you doing out here?” Your voice trembles a little, you lay your hand near his on the table. His fingers spread against the maps, lace between yours. Quiet, intimate, less than you want but more than you should be getting.

“You’ll sleep better not knowing,” His eyes stare down at the table, head hung in exhaustion.

“How are you sleeping?” You ask quietly, as both his doctor and his wife. Price shakes his head with a sigh.

“I’m not.” Your being here won’t help that.

“Stop by for a check-up when you have a moment,” You murmur, reaching to cup his cheek with concern. He looks pale, his eyes dark, overworked. He hums, presses against your gentle hold, a man starved for comfort out here.

Three months is a long time to be in longing distance with your husband. Somehow it’s easier when you’re on different continents. Seeing him and knowing you can’t touch him will be the death of you. He’s right though, you can’t stay here. You’ve lived every deployment wondering if Price will come home, you can’t sit around and wait for him when the danger is so closeby. You can’t help him either. You know the danger of just touching him with so many eyes looking for chinks in his armor.

“I’m saving my exhaustion for when we get home, when I can kiss you properly,” He tells you softly. You drop your hand before either of you can follow that line any further.

Price has never known fear quite like seeing you around camp. His heart races, his mouth dries, he can’t focus on anything but how fragile you are. You’re not even- You’d hate to hear him thinking that, but it’s true. You’re a civilian in an active war zone, treating soldiers like it doesn’t kill him every time he catches a glimpse of you. His nerves are fried, overthinking every glance, every brushing touch, every word he speaks to you. Is it professional enough? Distant enough? Does anyone know?

So many years on deployment, happy knowing you were safe and sound at home with the kid but missing you terribly. Now here you were, dangerously close to the action, anything but safe, and he still misses you. Three months, he has to cover you for three months. Has to make sure nothing gets through the defenses that have been set up.

He’s always fought with your safety in mind, but now the danger is so much closer. If something happens to you, to either of you, it’s on him. If one of you can’t come home, God forbid if neither of you can go home…

You smile at the soldier you’re treating, sunshine in the middle of his camp. It doesn’t help that you’re the prettiest thing half these idiots have seen in months. The amount of red cheeks and overenthusiastic smiles you’ve inspired could almost be called a plague. Not that Price doesn’t get it, but if one of these fucks tries to lay a hand on you it’ll be a court martial for him and them.

That’s a quick way home, he supposes. Though not as painless as he’d like.

“Captain Price,” You jostle him from his glowering, your pen tapping against a medical chart.

“Doctor,” He greets, thankful you still use your maiden name in these situations.

“When I said everyone was getting a physical I meant everyone, commanding officers included, and yet I haven’t seen your name on the list.” You smile at him so sweetly. He nods shortly.

“Didn’t see the need for one,” He still doesn’t. He feels fine, and being alone in a room with you just makes him feel worse.

“Oh, you didn’t?” You tilt your head, “Did your medical officer already give you one?”

“No.”

“Got it, you’re a doctor and you did the exam yourself,” Sarcasm drips from your lips. He loves it when you get like this. One more word and he won’t care who sees him grab you.

“Are doctors allowed to do that?” He feels a smile tug at his lips.

“You know, now that I think about it, they’re not,” You scrunch your nose, brows drawn down as you pretend to think, “So then, how do you figure you don’t need one? Not a doctor, not signed off by a doctor…”

“You think you’re cute,” He likes the sparkle in your eyes, the mischief you only get into with him.

“I think I’m married,” You tell him, pretending to be offended.

“Happily?” He asks, you nod, “Lucky man.”

“If you’re going to flirt the whole time I’ll find a different doctor to do your physical,” You warn him.

“I won’t say another word,” Price promises.

And he doesn’t, but he does kiss you as soon as you’re in the privacy of the medical tent. His fingers tight in your hair, tipping your head back so he can waste no time sliding his lips against yours. God he missed you. You smell like heat, like the sun on your skin, taste like filtered water and whatever rations the Red Cross is feeding you, but it’s you. Your soft entreating lips, just on the edge of chapped from the dry desert wind, that press so eagerly to his. You’re so still, both of you trying to get your fill of the other without losing what little ability you have to jump away from each other.

Which you do at the crunch of boots outside the tent. Price coughs, watching you smooth down your hair and check down your chart as another officer pulls the tent flap to the side. Price moves to speak to them quietly, giving short orders he makes sure you don’t hear. When he turns back to you, you’re all business. Ever the diligent doctor.

“Any aches, pains, etcetera?” You ask, he shakes his head. You look at him more critically.

“I’m really alright, Momma,” He offers you a tight smile, you sigh and sign something on his form.

“You know it’ll be worse if you lie to me,” You inform him, setting your chart down and gesturing for him to strip for the exam.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Three months pass like a rainy day. Terribly. Soldiers are some of the worst patients you swear. If they aren’t lying to you about one thing they’re whining about another. They disappear for weeks and reappear with injuries you don’t want to think about past treating. You’re supposed to be working disaster relief but it’s not like you or your superiors can say no to the army. You do your best not to look for your husband through all of this. The few small stolen moments together that you’ve gotten do nothing to abate the worry you hold when he’s gone. It’s worse being here, you always knew it would be.

You shade your eyes from the dust the helo kicks up as it lands. Your relief shift finally arriving a day late. You suppose you can’t blame them for the delay, things have been rocky here to say the least. You bark orders and direct the rest of your team to help with getting people settled and supplies catalogued. This’ll take the better part of the day, just long enough for the helicopter to get refueled before it carts the rest of you to the airstrip.

One of your juniors keeps track of the crates being unloaded while you ensure there are enough doctors to go around. You know Price told you they’d find ways to cover for you, but you can’t help feeling the pull to help. A weight drops off your chest when you count an extra two doctors than was initially planned. Someone must’ve mentioned how much you were covering the military and put in for extra medical staff.

Speaking of the military, and your husband more specifically, you’d hoped he would find a way to see you off. Maybe not in a personal capacity, but professionally. You’ve been the main point of contact for his team since you landed, he could at least spare you a good-bye.

You spot him by his swagger alone, the distinctly masculine movement of his hips, the way the crowd parts for him without so much as a word. He looks good in his tac gear. Supervising his men, you’re sure. You smile at him, glance around for somewhere private that you could get a proper good-bye. Not much privacy out here you’ve learned. Not that he seems to care, stopping in front of you with a grin.

“Not putting in for an extension I hope,” He raises a brow. You shake your head.

“No, I’m happy to be heading home. Don’t think I can stomach patching you boys up again,” You sigh, honest with your husband even when you shouldn’t be. You know it hurts him, his eyes softening for you.

“We’ll miss you, you’re probably the best doctor that’s run through here.” You roll your eyes, flatterer.

“Maybe I should stay then,” you tease. His smile widens.

“Not a chance, go home, I’m sure your husband’s worried about you,” More honesty where there shouldn’t be any. You know he’s worried, and despite your desire to stay you’re willing to compromise this for him. Your heart clenches tight staring up at him. You desperately want to kiss your husband, want him to wrap his arms around you and promise he’ll come home safe.

Price looks over your head into the open helo. “Looks like you could still use some help unloading,” He nods.

You glance into the cavernous darkness, you’re sure everything’s been unloaded. That’s not the point. You smile.

“Shouldn’t take more than the two of us.”

In the back corner of the helo, far out of the light, your husband presses against you and gives you a proper good-bye, kissing you through the tightness in your throat. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, eyes closed as he nearly lifts you to keep you pressed against his chest. The warmth of him is as solid as the metal at your back, sturdy as he’s ever been. You know the risk he’s taking by kissing you where someone could see, but you really can’t bring yourself to care. The thought of leaving him makes you hold on all the tighter.

“I love you,” He murmurs, pulling back to kiss your cheeks, your nose, over each eyelid, delicate pressure wherever he can. You can’t imagine what this must’ve been like for him. Having you so close to combat must have been torture. You know he has nightmares about it even without this fuel on the fire.

“I love you,” You agree, letting him catch your lips for another slow kiss. Indulgent and exploratory, just like coming home after months away. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging you for more that you can’t give him. This has to be enough, has to carry you through however long he’s away. When he finally lets you go you can hardly stop the sandy feeling pushing against your eyes.

“Be safe,” You tell him, trying your hardest not to cry like it's his first deployment, “for me, please be safe.” Price sighs, kisses you soft and chaste a final time.

“Give Goose my love,” He tells you. He can’t promise you safety, you should know better than to ask for it. He grabs whatever he can think of and walks down the back plank of the helo, back into the blinding sun. The best good-bye you could’ve hoped for is never enough to tie you over until he’s home again.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #oc: duck #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x oc #john price mw2 #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #cowboy!price #cowboy!141

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soapyghostie · 10 months

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HIIII OMG I have a request!!

Doctor and Huntress with a survivor S/O who is incredibly sneaky. Like they cannot find the reader anywhere. When the other 3 survivors are gone, the reader comes out of hiding with a cute little smile and a skip in their step like nothing ever happened.

Bonus if the killer is worried and like "where were you 😭"

Yayyyyy!!! Another Dead by Daylight request! I hope you like it!

The Doctor/Herman Carter

You’d think Herman would be able to find you with his shocking ability, but no. You sneaky little shit must be hiding in the lockers. He knows that the survivors can’t be shocked if they are in lockers.

Herman literally checks all the lockers on the map and there is no sign of you. Seriously, how the hell are you just disappearing? Did you already die without him even getting a chance to sacrifice you? Did the entity kill you off for good? Herman starts creating a whole bunch of scenarios in his head of things that could’ve happened to you.

Herman is normally a pretty collective and calm person, but, oh boy, don’t you have him in a frenzy. He literally dropped all his objectives to look for you. You’re his baby; he needs to make sure you’re okay.

Once all three survivors left the trial, you skip over to Herman, humming a tune while he’s still frantically looking for you. You tapped him on his shoulder and gave him a big o’ innocent smile.

Herman is now pissed off. You’ve been playing games with him this whole time?! He was worried about you! He thought you died! Yeah, long story short, you get sacrificed. That’s what you get for messing with him.

The Huntress/Anna

Anna hadn’t seen you all trial; she thought you were off doing survivor things. Technically you were, but that’s not what she had in mind when thinking about survivor things: generators and totems.

Well, she started to get worried when she came across your other three teammates doing a generator and you weren’t there helping. She chased down one of them and cornered them to ask you where you were. They said they hadn’t seen you all trial. Now Anna was really panicked.

She dropped all of her objectives to look for you. She searched high, low, and in every locker. No sign of you. She was scared that you had gotten lost. She needed to find you before you got eaten by the crows! She thinks the crows are deadly animals that hurt the survivors. Why else would the entity put them in trials?

Once your teammates escaped, you finally decided to come out of the hiding. When she saw you, Anna ran full speed at you and gave you the biggest bear hug, crying. She thought she lost you! Thankfully, you are okay now.

Anna gives you a serious pep talk, using her broken English, about how dangerous it is to be by yourself in the woods; she should know since her home is in them. Anna just doesn’t understand that you’ve been messing with her the whole trial. Oh well! At least you get the hatch.

#horror #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #dbd killer #herman carter #the doctor #doctor dbd #anna the huntress #the huntress #huntress dbd #sophi ghostie writes #herman carter x reader #the huntress x reader #the doctor x reader

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hi!! im pretty sure your requests are open, but if they’re not feel free to ignore this. i keep thinking about holding steve’s hand or like holding onto his bicep. especially in public and with a shy reader. i just want a steve and i want him to hold my hand when im feeling anxious

thank you for ur request! ♡ shy!gn!reader | 1k words

Steve can see you hesitating from the corner of his eye. The lunch club (minus its Californian counterparts) have all somehow managed to fit inside the 733i, survive the journey up to Indianapolis city centre, and now meander through a mall that feels bigger than Hawkins' in its entirety.

Robin and Max are talking about something Steve is too 'boy' to understand, apparently, and you're getting your ear talked off by Eddie and Dustin, though their nerd explosion seems pretty self contained. You're more of a bystander than an active part of the conversation.

And Steve knows it isn't their fault that you're anxious. It's just how you get sometimes, especially in places like this: it's loud, it's busy, people rush past and don't stop.

He holds his hand out across the way. You smile at him shyly and move from Eddie's left, almost stepping on Dustin's rubber toes as you cross the walkway and take Steve's hand.

Your hand is cold. He gives your fingers a good squeeze and pulls you close, your elbows brushing with every step forward.

"Look, there it is!" Dustin says excitedly.

Steve looks forward and finds a bad dream in front of him – a nerd store. Dork paraphernalia lines the windows, merchandise and action figures, posters boasting comic books and the newest sci-fi novels.

"Oh my god," he groans, tipping his head back just slightly. The ceiling is out of reach, big glass skylights that showcase the blue sky outside. "I can't believe we're gonna waste one of the hottest days of the year here."

Your fingers jump in his. He pulls his gaze back to you and is less than pleased with what he finds. You're tense, your back a stiff board, your shoulders rising slowly towards your ears and your eyes glued to the floor.

"Don't be a jock," Max says.

"Let's not stereotype our dear Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so smooth he knows what's coming before it happens, "he's not a jock. You have to actually play a sport to be a jock. Steve's more like, a washout." He says 'washout' with feigned perplexion.

Steve knows he's only joking – Eddie's funny, and despite any better judgement Steve really likes him these days. It's the perfect invitation for some bantering back and forth. He can feel something scathing on the tip of his tongue and Eddie looks excited to hear it, but you make this really small sound that stops Steve dead. A ragged inhale.

He smiles at Eddie and the metalhead looks surprised and then understanding, him and Robin ushering the kids inside the store.

You're in your own head enough not to notice their departure.

Steve walks past the store slowly, squeezing your hand in time to a song he can't hear. "Babe, are you hungry? I saw a pretzel stand somewhere on the map."

You blink and look up at him. You finally notice that you're alone and turn in a half circle, your joined hands tugging against your chest as you do. "Where did everyone go?"

"That weird nerd haven. I'm selfish so I thought we'd give it a miss. Do you care?" he asks lightly.

Your smile is chest-aching in its softness. "No. And yeah, uh… I'm hungry if you are."

He takes his hand from yours and draws close, head inclined to yours as he takes your warm cheek into his palm. "Thanks, baby. You're the best."

Your expression slackens. Steve loves to get you like this, loves to melt you to the bone with small, soft touches and pet names that you clearly adore even when you scold him like you do.

"Stop," you whisper. You're smiling so much it barely sounds like a word, more a fond sound, the 'o' completely disappearing.

"Sorry," he says. He moves his hand to kiss your cheek where it had been and then taps your shoulder lightly. "It's this way."

Your hand tucks itself between his torso and his arm, fingers curling around his bicep. Steve worries he might blush at your careful touch, feeling shy himself for once as he walks you both through the crowd to join the line for pretzels.

"You okay?" he murmurs to you.

You step closer until the side of your converse touches his. "It's… yeah, I'm okay."

"No, tell me. Honestly," he says, gentle but pleading.

Your hand tightens incrementally around his skin. He covers your fingertips peeking out with his hand and leans down, waiting. Your head drops into his arm.

"I'm really okay, it's only…" Your voice lightens a little. "My heart's, like, racing."

He isn't happy to hear that. "God, I'm sorry. I'll try to stop being so handsome," he jokes in efforts to get you to smile.

It works. You laugh, bringing your other hand to his arm as you say, "It would be a big help."

And to hear you joking around is always something he can't handle, it makes him weirdly, stupidly happy.

He laughs a riot and you come apart, drifting away from each other to giggle. Your hand stays firmly wedged in that place between his arm and his chest, but your grip relaxes.

"Just- you know. Let me know if you need to find somewhere quiet, okay?" he asks.

"I will. Thanks, Stevie." You say it like you're embarrassed, your eyes to the floor again. He wrinkles his nose.

"You're welcome. If you wanna find somewhere secluded for other reasons, I wouldn't be opposed to that either. For your information only, of course."

"Other reasons," you repeat wryly, giving him a knowing look from under your lashes.

He winks at you. It's not a good wink. You giggle and a lot of the stiffness you'd held before falls away. Not all of it, but Steve thinks it's a pretty good start.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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whatitshouldvebeen · 6 months

Text

GUN has really shot themselves in the foot with TCM recently. I'm going to rant beneath the cut, feel free to let me know your thoughts too.

I main family (Johnny, Cook, Nubbins, or Leatherface if our team needs it) with my husband and we absolutely hate going against 4 man squads. They bully the shit out of the family and then act like they won the Olympics as they t-bag at the exits until we come to watch their asses grind the dirt.

If they get the valve on, someone has to camp it the rest of the game. Often, two people have to guard it in case two victims team up to chain backstab the poor guy.

Now that they've hidden groups and levels, I feel really ambivalent about playing family anymore. I used to enjoy playing with lower level victims and giving them a fun game, letting them get away, and generally ensuring they aren't turned off from the game. Or playing against non-teamed high levels for a fun challenge. Now I have to treat every game like I'm going against the aforementioned t-bagging Olympic athlete Navy seal 4-man team and it isn't fun for me to try hard every goddamn game. But if I don't, and they do turn out to be a 4 man squad of level 80+, then I've fucked myself going easy on them. And you can be assured they will act high and mighty about beating me.

But it isn't even just four man squads. Let's face it—Texas Chainsaw maps are puzzles and most victims have them figured out. Now the entire game is patrolling doors and if you somehow miss them on your patrol they're out and you're fucked. You can't re-lock doors. You can't guard almost opened doors like you can generators in Dead by Daylight until they regress. And dont even think about going into the basement as anyone other than Sissy and Nubbins because they'll disappear into any one of the cracks never to be seen again and while you're fruitlessly chasing them, Connie has blown a lock and escaped.

And now they're nerfing Cook's ear stacking even though while he's stacking it he's literally standing still AND you can counter it by 1. Stopping running or 2. Clear all stacks by going into a freezer/dresser.

It takes minimum TWENTY MINUTES to find a match now, even if one of us plays Leatherface. And even though there's 1 family player per 50 victim players, the victims still treat us like they're hot shit and we're piñatas there to be beaten up for their entertainment. And that's not even to say we're bad, we're actually quite good at family. But when we do win, victims have some shit to say.

Not all victims are shitheads but so many of them are and I'm sure you non-shithead victim players have had to listen to your teammates rant at the family in the end game lobby.

And GUN is not making anything better. They could, idk, make it so only ONE fuse and ONE valve spawn on the map so at least the victims have to look a little bit longer. They could give the family a fucking mini map so we have knowledge of our own property. They could give us shirtless Johnny all-fucking-ready.

But no, we must instead suffer not knowing what sort of victims we're going against and completely annihilating newer players just in case they do turn out to be those four man 99 squads we so dread. As 2 players with a random, we just can't coordinate well enough to properly face off against a 4 man. They should make lobbies for full squads to go against full squads so solo q and duos dont have to be shit on, on either side.

Idk man. I love Texas Chainsaw. I have almost 300 hours in it. And I still have a MASSIVE crush on Johnny Slaughter. But... I think I'm going to quit. I'll come back and play for a week when new maps come out so we can all enjoy the freshness of no one knowing what's going on, but the moment that map is solved, I'm not gonna deal with it. Playing family is hell, most of the time I feel like the victim.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tcm #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #dead by deadlight #dbd

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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months

Text

Implications

Jazz liked to think he was pretty smart and capable of standing his ground. He'd been a spy for almost every big political player, gotten involved with the army, and messed around in pretty much every under the table association. When Orion asked him to join up and support the war effort, Jazz saw no reason to decline. He knew his friend... until he didn't.

Since the new guy came in, Jazz decided he values his life more than honesty.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Jazz was always a mech who lived by the rule of knowing everything so that he could act in response to anything. He liked to present himself as if he were ignorant or uncaring of the situation through the use of cheerful tones, but that was largely just to blend in. He was no fool. He knew the moment Orion was named Prime that things were going to go to slag. So he prepared, he cleared his history, pulled up his contracts, and got ready to fight or flee. He only chose to stay because Orion asked him to. How could he ever say no to his dear friend? Especially when peace seemed to be somewhere on the horizon in light of agreeable peace treaties beginning to form in spite of the Senate's efforts to continue the war.

Things were looking up despite the fact that the war still raged. There was light at the end of the tunnel, and Orion even seemed to be truly hopeful. But of course, that was when everything had to fall apart. Jazz was dutiful in his work, but someone was even better than he was at breaking and entering. How else would Orion have been stolen from his berth without so much as a whiff of where he had vanished to? The Autobots of course panicked, Ultra Magnus did what he could to keep the army in line, and the Decepticons pushed their advantage in light of Orion's disappearance. Jazz did all he could to hunt down his missing leader and friend, but to no avail. Wherever Orion was, he had completely dropped off the map.

Then Orion came back and promptly fell to pieces. Jazz was hardly able to see his friend before he was shipped off to containment to ensure whatever was happening to him didn't spread. But what Jazz saw was enough for him to know that Orion was not well... and he likely wouldn't be ever again. He was only able to sneak in to see Orion a few times, but that was all he needed.

"Hey Rion... are you in there buddy?"

"Jazz? Are you here with us?"

"Yeah I'm here. Is there somebody else in the room I should know about?"

"The voice... it speaks, questioning, asking. It wants answers. I try to answer, but I am not fast enough. It takes what I don't tell it."

"Is the voice what is making you like this?"

"I... do not know. It is curious, callous. It wants something, it wants all of me. But it does not seem to be malicious."

"Can we get rid of it?"

"No. It is already too late. It is here, burrowed deep. We will both die if you try."

"There's gotta be something we can do Rion. I am not letting you die here."

"There is... no choice. Either it lives, or we both die. It is too deep, too close to finishing its work. It does not have many questions left..."

"..."

"Once the questions end, it will have no need of me... I don't want to die in this room, alone with its voice in my mind."

"..."

"When it is time... will you let me die out of this place?"

"Yeah... I can do that Rion. I can do that."

Jazz came a few more times over the following deca-cycles. He snuck in through the vents in the dead of most mecha's recharge cycles and sat by Orion's side as his friend deteriorated. He got thinner, sickly, and more lifeless with every passing cycle. Eventually he stopped being able to talk much, only murmuring about how much it hurt. Jazz did make attempts to understand what exactly was afflicting his friend, if only so that he might have some comfort when Orion did offline. He never got anything of note aside from the pain being contributed to 'the voice'. It reached a breaking point when Orion sat up for the first time on the edge of his berth, his optics unfocused and fluid dripping from his vents.

Jazz knew what he needed to do. He had a promise to keep.

Without informing anyone, he used what authority he had to have the facility cleared. At that point, he gently took Orion's stick thin servo in his own and laced their digits together. No words were spoken as he guided his unsteady friend through hallways and rooms until they exited the bunker Orion was being kept in. They left Autobot territory and Jazz guided Orion toward the only place he could think of where his leader would possibly appreciate his final resting place to be. Jazz had every intention of guiding Orion deep into the last standing spire forest and remaining nearby so that the former archivist could rest in peace. However halfway through the journey, Orion stopped, and for the first time in deca-cycles, he seemed focused.

"Rion?"

"I don't want you to watch. I don't want you to see what we will become."

"I am your friend, Rion. I'm not about to leave you alone out here. You deserve to have someone nearby when-"

"Please. I do not wish for you to see the voice finish its work."

Jazz was unable to object as Orion wobbled past him, dragging himself in the general direction of the forest. Jazz grieved, but he did not show it as he stayed put, watching Orion's spark signature on his radar and waiting for it to go out. The moment it did, he allowed himself a klik to lament before he gathered himself and returned to the Autobots. He took his time, and when he arrived, he and the others who loved their leader grieved together. It was a rough few stellar cycles, but Ultra Magnus kept the army together and the Decepticons were even being somewhat amicable in ongoing peace arrangements. The loss of Orion Pax was still brutal and ached horribly, but Jazz, Ratchet, and the others were finally beginning to get themselves together again when someone far too familiar looking crossed the border.

Whoever it was looked like Orion if he were pumped full of protomatter and cranked up on battle protocols. The mech was huge and looked deadly even from a distance. Yet, he had Orion's face, his colors, and his voice. The mech came forward and called himself Optimus Prime, quickly presenting the Matrix of leadership. He explained in perfect almost clinical Iaconian that the reason he was presumed dead was due to the Matrix reforging him. He tried to write all of the oddities off as the Matrix doing its work and the process of being remade taking a great deal out of him, hence his slow arrival. The Autobots as a whole were skeptical, but the Matrix combined with the newcomer's almost immediate skill and his memory which matched Orion's had them accepting him quickly.

Jazz was not among that number.

He saw Orion's state, he escorted Orion to the middle of nowhere to die for Primus's sake. There was no way Orion hauled himself down to Primus's core to get the Matrix. It was impossible, not to mention the tallest tale Jazz had ever heard. The results and spectacular leadership the Prime presented were undeniable, but Jazz knew that whoever he was... he was not Orion. Optimus was quick to pick up on that fact, and the moment the Prime realized that Jazz, Ratchet, and a few select others did not fully buy his story, he became... unsettling. He held his persona with godly expertise around all others, but with Jazz and Ratchet, the two who doubted... he seemed to let himself go a bit. At first it was small, but those things grew larger with time.

Optimus's ability to blend in matched that of a master spy. He always performed perfectly in public or any area that was not checked for security by the Prime himself. He was dutiful, always keeping a kind smile or a stern expression plastered on his stolen face. His voice never wavered and he forever held himself with a complete air of calm... one that felt so fake to Jazz as to almost be suffocating. Optimus's EM field was chilled, static in a way. There was emotion there, but it was strange, unreadable, and largely left those who bothered to feel it on edge. Most chalked it up to Optimus being a Prime, but Jazz knew better. It certainly did not ease Jazz at all when Optimus purposefully extended his field when they were together. It almost felt like he was being tested with how closely Optimus watched him during those moments.

There was also the matter of how the Prime held himself. He was highly calculating, so much so that Jazz doubted he had any actual emotion in him at all. The Prime moved with determination wherever he went, but his motives were totally alien. Every action was carefully selected, and poor responses to things Optimus did always had the Prime adapting at record speed. It did not take much for the Autobots to accept him, especially when Optimus led them to war. But of course, around Jazz and Ratchet, Optimus purposefully did things that should have been beyond the bounds of normal. He twisted in ways which shouldn't have been possible just to gauge their reactions. He would poke and prod, clawing at their plating to watch their reactions. There was always a new and somewhat malicious test for him to run whenever he returned from war. Jazz came back to find Ratchet warding off the Prime with a scalpel once. And there was even an occasion were Optimus purposefully dug a blade into Jazz's leg just to watch him try to act normal around the others.

No one else suffered Optimus's abuse. No one else had to deal with the oddities. Outside of Ratchet and Jazz, Optimus was the perfect leader they needed. Well, mostly. Megatron seemed to know that Optimus was no Orion Pax, and the warlord threw away any idea relating to peace in response. He was dead set on killing the Prime, and honestly, Jazz couldn't blame him. He didn't know what Optimus was, but he most certainly was not any brand of Cybertronian Jazz was familiar with. But whatever the case, things were tolerable, and Optimus seemed to have some goal that aligned with Cybertron being brought to a peaceful state. So Jazz let him be and followed orders.

Then Optimus brought back a sparkling.

It was so out of left field that he and Ratchet were flabbergasted by the whole thing. More so when they took one look at the sparkling and knew he was just. like. Optimus. The little one acted just like his Sire for his first few vorns of life, always listening, always watching. It was frightening for Jazz to walk in to see Optimus glaring at Bumblebee with what almost seemed to be anger or hatred. Then whenever Bee cried, Optimus would tell him to quiet and Bee would stop immediately. It was terrifying to witness, even more so when Optimus brought back suspicious vials for Bee to feed from and began taking the sparkling out to the battlefield to do things Jazz did not want to know about. Optimus was focused on his creation to the point of attention falling away from Jazz and Ratchet nearly entirely. It was a small mercy, but it hurt to watch Bumblebee begin to act like a regular Cybertronian and express genuine emotions only to then suffer Optimus's treatment. The Prime treated his sparkling horribly by any standard.

Always uttering angered words, always glaring, never offering physical affection or words of affirmation, never so much as praising Bumblebee for performing well. It was as if Bumblebee was expected to succeed. Not only that, but the few times Bumblebee acted out of sorts, Optimus would beat or otherwise hurt the poor youngling until he returned to himself. More than once Ratchet did his best to stand up to the Prime in Bumblebee's defense. But Ratchet did not see the coldness in Bee's optics that Jazz did. Bumblebee was most certainly more normal than his Sire and far less monstrous, but he was still Optimus's sparkling. He never cried at the abuse, he never even seemed upset about it. The youngling accepted it all with grace, and that seemed to be what caused Ratchet to break.

The medic tolerated Optimus for his work, but seeing Bee hurt so often seemed to be a sore spot for Ratchet. Eventually, he tried to take Bee away. Jazz watched it all but did nothing to intervene. It was not his place, and he had long ago decided he enjoyed living. That belief was only confirmed when Optimus dropped out of the fragging celling as Ratchet tried to grab Bee and flee. Jazz did not stay to watch, but his horror only grew when Ratchet began to get sick mere cycles later.

When they locked optics, they both knew. Green fluid, voices in the processing units... Whatever had been done to Orion was now being inflicted on Ratchet. The medic couldn't even end his own life, not with Optimus hovering around him at all times under the guise of 'caring for his oldest friend'. Even Bee did not seem concerned. If anything, Bumblebee looked happy with every passing cycle. Still, Jazz lingered, hoping beyond hope that Optimus wasn't as bad as he seemed to be. That somehow this was all just a bad situation that would come to an end... it had to... right?

It did not.

Six stellar cycles after it began, Ratchet vanished off the face of Cybertron while the sickness was at its worst. Jazz hunted him down, but he wished he hadn't. The thing that he saw barely looked like Ratchet as it fed on raw energon like an animal. Scattered plating and organs were strewn about, and Bee eagerly seemed to be bringing over more crystals for the thing to consume Standing beside it was the one and only Optimus Prime who observed with what could have been glee as the thing's mandibles crushed through crystalized energon shards. That was when Jazz knew.

These were monsters. Optimus Prime was not the only one, and he had proven he could spread. It didn't matter what cause he fought for or how good a Prime he was. This was unnatural. And so Jazz did the only thing he could think of. He ran toward the one mech on the planet who knew what Optimus was and hated him enough to possibly put him down.

He ran to Megatron.

"MEGATRON! This is Jazz! Special operations agent for the Autobots! I need immediate evac!"

"Why would I ever help and Autobot?"

"It's Optimus! He's SPREADING!"

"Soundwave, get that mech on board the Nemesis, no matter the cost!"

If there was one mech who could save their kind from whatever Optimus was, it would be Megatron. Jazz had to believe that Megatron could.

Ratchet was already gone. How many more would follow?

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #bumblebee #ratchet #megatron #jazz #pretender au #alternate universe #eldritch abomination #jazz cant catch a break #poor guy is screwed #welp #time to write the next part!

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kittievampire · 1 year

Text

Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 8)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, MC is a fuckin unit, Childhood trauma, Drug usage (not MC) , Alcohol usage (not MC), Child Abuse, Female MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo, MC is like super-bffs with Belphegor

Link to part 1

Link to part 2

Link to part 3

Link to part 4

Link to part 5

Link to part 6

Link to part 7

Link to part 9

Enjoy.

"Lord Diavolo!" Lucifer called out, rushing through the halls of the Demon Lord's Castle. They seemed longer than they were normally. Of course, that may have been because his mind was plagued with worry.

Not that his brothers were in any better shape though.

When the eldest entered the room, he saw Diavolo standing at your bedside, broken pieces of the door on the ground, and you on the bed with your eyes closed.

Only, the infant that was usually next to you was missing.

"MC!" Mammon and Asmodeus yelled in unison, both of them pushing past Lucifer to rush to your side. "What happened to her, huh? Is she dead?" Mammon asked. "No! MC can't be dead, she's too young and pretty to die!" Asmodeus whined right after, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

Lucifer stepped to the side, allowing Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor to step into the room. The Avatar of Sloth stared at you for a moment before glancing at his two brothers who were almost sobbing. "She's asleep, dimwits."

Satan took a step forward, lifting his hand toward your figure, a green glyph appearing before his palm. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's a sleep spell. Someone maximized it multiple times over." He flinched, pulling his hand away as the glyph disappeared. "She was hexed too?" He asked rhetorically, taking a step closer.

Diavolo looked up at the blond. "And that means?" The Avatar of Wrath shifted in his position so he could better face the demon prince. "That means magic won't do anything but deepen her state of slumber." Diavolo clenched his teeth, frustration evident on his face as he stood up. "Lucifer, Mammon, with me," He ordered, making his way out of the room. Lucifer followed closely after while Mammon was confused for a moment. "W-Wait, why does he want me to go too?" He asked, earning an elbow from Leviathan. "Does it matter? Just go, Stupidmammon, it probably has something to do with MC!"

Diavolo led the two brothers to a different room, Barbatos waiting patiently for them, spreading out a large paper, that the sins identified to be a map of the Human World, over the table that sat in the middle of this room. Lucifer had seen this map before. He'd witnessed Diavolo placing tacs or marking certain areas on this map with a pen whenever he'd get the "strange feeling" that was supposedly coming from the Human World.

Mammon swallowed the lump in his throat as he and Lucifer took a step toward the table to inspect the map. Diavolo walked by the two, arms crossed as he peered down at it as well. "Selene was missing when I discovered MC in the state she's in. If what Satan said is true, and magic was used, then whoever was in that room and hexed her took Selene as well," Diavolo stated, shooting a knowing look at Lucifer.

Mammon blinked a couple of times, pulling off his shades. "Who's Selene?" The eldest turned to look at the Avatar of Greed, crossing his arms as well. "Selene is MC and Lord Diavolo's infant daughter," He explained, earning a look of shock from the white-haired demon. "Daughter?" Mammon turned to look at the demon prince. "You and MC have a kid?! When'd that happen, huh?" He asked dumbly, earning a smack on the head from Lucifer. "Mammon, focus on the matter at hand."

Diavolo glanced between the two brothers before looking at the map before him. "Selene's missing and MC's under a powerful spell and a hex on her. I could only imagine who could be the culprit of all of this," He said, leaning against the table, trying to focus. If he could feel something, he could point it out and locate Selene. Lucifer scowled. "Solomon," He murmured.

Now, Mammon was an idiot, that was a given, but he could follow along, albeit slower than ideally possible. "Wait... Are ya sayin' that sorcerer is why MC's asleep?" He asked, earning a nod from the demon prince. "He's no doubt the one responsible for my daughter's disappearance as well. Solomon currently has a cloaking spell up, meaning we have no idea where he is, what he's doing, or what his intentions are with Selene."

Lucifer nodded his head. "I will inform my brothers. However, I can't help but wonder why Mammon was called in here as well. Forgive my ignorance, but I highly doubt he'll be of any use," The raven-haired demon sighed, earning an "Oi!" from the Avatar of Greed. Diavolo turned to Mammon, looking him sternly in the eye. "I need you to come with Barbatos and me to the human world, Mammon. You are the fastest among your brothers, and I know you'd do anything for MC and our child. I know MC would trust you with our daughter's life, and, if I'm not fast enough to reach her, you will be," He spoke, the severe tone of his voice making Mammon shift in his spot. Suddenly, the white-haired demon adopted to same demeanor, which was rare. "Ya think Solomon'd be that stupid? To do somethin' to yer kid?" He asked genuinely, earning a nod from the prince.

Mammon bit his lip for a moment, pondering. "Okay. But, I gotta tell ya, killin' Solomon is off the table—" He shifted— "Asmo and yer helluva butler over there are still in pacts with him. M'not too fond of the idea that if the sorcerer dies, my brother will goin' down as well," He said, crossing his arms as he looked forward, not meeting anyone's eyes. Diavolo furrowed his brows for a moment. "I see. You're right, we can't risk the possible perishing of anyone here. And, I'm not entirely well-versed in pacts myself, nor in what happens when one side passes." The prince turned his head to look at his butler, who responded with a reassuring smile. "If I may, Lord," Barbatos spoke. "Perhaps the brothers should accompany you and Mammon to the human realm rather than I. Once the sorcerer is in our possession, we will need an area to contain him. I must prepare the dungeon for your return." Diavolo nodded, turning his head back to the brothers. "Hardly an issue, yes?"

Mammon glanced at Lucifer, who turned his head and responded with a nod. Diavolo sat down, placing his forehead against his clasped hands as he tried to focus. The Avatar of Pride turned to his brother. "I will inform the others. Stay with him— And don't. Touch. Anything." The raven-haired demon glared at his brother, earning a dramatic gasp in response. "I'd never do anythin' like that! C'mon, who'dya take me for?"

Leviathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat beside you, shooting a worried glanced at Satan. "Is there really no way we can help her? No spells, nothing?" Satan shook his head with a frown. "Any spells used could risk the chance of her falling even deeper into whatever magic-induced slumber she's in. I'm surprised I was even able to identify what it was without it causing any form of damage."

Asmodeus sighed dramatically. "There has to be something! I think that MC looks absolutely stunning when she's asleep, but this is different! Satan—" He squealed, grasping onto his older brother's arm— "Do something! The more I worry, the more likely I'll get wrinkles!"

Beelzebub was chewing on his fifth devil-burger, pieces of the wrapper getting caught between his teeth as he stared at you with a frown. "Belphie," He muttered out softly with a full mouth, looking up at his twin. Belphegor looked up at his brother through his messy bangs, having adjusted your pillow so you wouldn't have a sore neck. "Can you make sure MC isn't having any nightmares?" The Avatar of Gluttony asked, taking another bite of his burger. "Give her happy dreams with all kinds of good food and sweets." The youngest smiled at his twin's request, adjusting your covers.

"That's it!" Satan's voice boomed slightly, causing the other four in the room to flinch. The blond stood, stern gaze landing on the Avatar of Sloth before him. "You can penetrate her dreams, can't you? Does your ability require magic?" Belphegor slowly shook his head. "No, entering the dream realm does, but not going into someone's head when they're asleep," He explained softly, trying to remember how it was explained to him when he first got the ability. Leviathan gasped. "So, it's less of a spell and more of a skill! Like natural resistance to poison or certain elements that align with your class and power! One also has to account for their level, SP or mana..." The Avatar of Envy continued on his little rant, straying away from the topic multiple times during his monologue.

Satan and Belphegor deadpanned at him before turning toward each other, allowing their older brother to continue talking. "Do you think you'll be able to wake her up at all?" The blond asked, green eyes shifting to you. "I'm not sure. I can't wake anyone up from sleep, I can only go into their dreams. That being said, I can try and get her to wake herself up, but I'm not sure how much time it will take. She's in a deep state of sleep right now, I don't think it'll be easy," The youngest explained, resting his head on his folded arms at the edge of your bed, letting out a yawn as he felt himself getting sleepy.

"She doesn't have much... Of a choice, though..." He mumbled out, closing his eyes as he began to drift off.

"MC! You fucking rat, where are you?!"

You gasped, immediately clasping both hands over your mouth. The familiar voice that called out to you was accompanied by the sound of heavy yet distorted footsteps. "The hell did I say was gonna happen if you disobeyed me?! Huh?!" You could hear doors behind slammed open, the liquid in his beer bottle sloshing around loudly, and every now and then, you'd hear him gulp some more down.

You were hidden, tucked away inside of a small cabinet. You fit among the pot lids and little amount of pans in there, mainly because the rest of them were in the sink. The dishes were never clean, you remembered, so this was where you hid.

You closed your eyes, tears beginning to gather on your lower lash line. This scene played over and over again in your childhood. One of the monsters would be passed out in the living room in front of a line of white powder, an open medicine bottle, or an odd looking glass container; the other monster would be wasted out of his mind and initiate this game of hide and seek, where, if he found you, you would get beaten badly; and you would hide until you heard the shouting stop and the front door slam shut. Sometimes, it'd take hours; other times, it'd take a few minutes.

But it'd never taken this long.

"MC?"

"You ungrateful bitch! How dare you disobey your parents?!" Voices echoed around you, making you think the world was spinning.

No, that wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be awake.

"MC!"

Tears streamed down your face, staining your cheeks and your clothes as you covered your ears. "Stop... Please, stop," You whimpered out quietly.

"Coward!"

"Bitch!"

"Little punk!"

"Rat!"

"Waste of space!"

"Stop," You cried softly.

Suddenly, the cabinet door slammed open. You screamed,

"NO!"

Silence.

You heard nothing. Nor did you feel anything.

"MC, it's okay," You heard the faint whispers of a calm, soothing voice. The familiarity of it made your tense form relax a little. Still, you were reluctant to open your eyes. You felt the warmth of a hand gently touch your wrist and flinched, recoiling as you backed away. "No! No! Get away!" You sobbed, shaking as tears continued to fall from your eyes.

"MC, it's me, don't you recognize my voice?"

You did.

You swore you did, but your mind remained in lockdown, your body unmoving.

"MC, please look at me,"

No, you couldn't. You couldn't possibly open your eyes, not when the monsters were still out there.

Silence again.

Then a heavy sigh.

"MC, you have to wake up. Selene was missing when we found you here, you have to wake up and tell us what happened."

His voice was muffled thanks to your hands. Though the name sound familiar to you, it made you open your eyes, looking down at the ground. The familiar wooden floor of the attic in the House of Lamentation greeted your blurry vision, though little droplets of salty tears now stained the floorboards. "Se... Selene...?" You whimpered out softly.

"Yes! Yes, Selene! She's out there somewhere, and we can't find her unless you wake up!" Suddenly, hands reached out to girl your shoulders and you looked up at the man before you, hands pulling away instinctively from your ears.

"Belphie?" The Avatar of Sloth before you shook his head. "Listen, MC, I think Solomon might be behind this! There's no way a spell this powerful could've been cast by some lower demon! He might have taken her. I don't know, but you have to wake up!" The look of desperation on his face made you quiver.

"MC, you have to! You can't let him win! What about Diavolo, huh? What about Selene? Are you just going to let them—"

His voice was slowly fading away. You could feel yourself slipping.

"No, no, no! Stay with me, MC, stay with me!"

"That's it, MC... Rest just a while longer..."

Solomon carried Selene close to his chest, shielding her from the pouring rain as he approached a familiar building. It was the temple he and Asmodeus had built long ago, in all of it's aged glory. His smile never faded.

"There we are, my dear," The sorcerer said softly to the sleeping infant. "Mommy's sound asleep, daddy's probably feeling helpless by now. And you, dear, are going to play your part well!" He chuckled softly at the child.

Placing her down on a table before him, one that used to be a shrine, he turned away from her, gathering magical herbs and items he'd need.

What he didn't realize, however, was Selene slowly transforming as tears welled up in her eyes. A small cry escaped her mouth as horns sprouted from the top of her head and wings pushed against the table.

Solomon froze.

If she was crying, that meant she was shifting.

No, she wasn't supposed to shift. She was supposed to be under a containment spell, why was she shifting?

That would mean...

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#obey me mc #obey me #obey me angst #obey me diavolo #kin of the demon prince #obey me mc x diavolo #obey me diavolo x you #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo obey me #diavolo x female mc #obey me diavolo x female reader #obey me diavolo x mc #swd diavolo #swd diavolo x you #obey me swd

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x-0ophelia0-x · 7 months

Text

two separated souls, reunited.

Pairings: Ezra Bridger x F!Reader Warnings: Ahsoka S1 Spoiler!, it’s my first fic too, please have mercy, it’s also not proof read, supposed to wake up for school in 4h :D

word count: 1,4k

summary: you and Ezra were in a relationship. After his disappearance back in Lothals big fight, you promise to yourself to find him, no matter the cost.

authors note: as I mentioned before this is my first story, well in english at least. I’ll correct the mistakes tomorrow, just wanted to post this already due of the lack of Ezra content here :´D

I hope you like it! <3

„I couldn’t have wished for a better family…can’t wait to come home“

Those lines were stuck in her head.

10 years had already passed since that eventful day.

10 long years of not knowing what to do.

Her nightmares where plagued by her memories.

The horrific sight of Thrawns flagship being held by purrgils, ready to jump into hyperspace. Knowing that he was still in there.

Not being able to see him one last time before their ways parted for who knows how long.

Only hearing his voice through her comm link.

And just like that he was gone.

Gone somewhere far away from them.

y/n didn’t want to give up.

Ezra meant the world to her and that day just broke her.

And as the years passed by she started to lose hope.

What if he didn’t survive the hyperjump? What if he lost his memories?

What if-

What if he died?

She didn’t want to think about that, she’d feel it if something would’ve happened to him, right? Their bond was strong, there’d be some sign trough the force if he really was dead.

But just as she started to accept the fact that finding him would be impossible, Ahsoka had found a map that may have Ezra’s location on it. And with Ezra’s of corse Thrawn‘s too. Her discovery didn’t go unnoticed though.

Morgan Elsbeth who was currently working on to get Thrawn back found out about Ahsoka finding the map, sending the ex Jedi Baylan Skoll and his apprentice Shin Hati after her.

That was kind of the start of how everything started to go downhill after that.

Sabine managed to unlock the map but the joy didn’t last long.

Droids attacked her, followed by Shin. They managed to steal the map, leaving Sabine wounded.

Those days where filled with quite the action, leading them to this point.

Ahsoka, Sabine and y/n tracked the hyperspace ring.

They then hid themselves somewhere on that planet.

Shin and the Inquisitor Marrok found them, attacking them to eliminate the threads to Thrawns return.

A lot happened, leading to the situation of Ahsoka being thrown off a cliff, Sabine lying knocked out on the cold unforgiving ground and y/n having to make an decision.

Whether to give them the map and follow them as their prisoner, having the chance to finally find Ezra. Or destroy the map and with that the last chance to find her lover.

It was a tough decision but deep down she knew what she had to do.

If there was a chance that Ezra was still alive, she’d have to try her best to find him, to bring him home.

And just like that she handed the map over to Baylan.

And her journey began.

She was now riding on a howler, recalling everything that had happened.

Thrawn was alive. And he had an army.

There were more Nightsisters, helping Thrawn.

But the strangest thing?

They just let her go, even gave her some Proviant and a Howler.

y/n already got attacked by some smugglers or hunters…

honestly, whatever they where, they wouldn’t stop her from finding him.

Not when she was so close.

The attack destroyed some kind of device though, showing her Ezra’s last known location. y/n Just hoped to find him by some miracle.

At some point the howler seemed to have found something.

It went to a dried out river she assumed, sniffling on some rocks.

„damn.. I think you’ve lost it.. those are just rocks“

She chuckled, stroking the howlers back.

But it didn’t stop and just when it’s sniffling intensified, the rock moved.

„karabast..“

She whispered.

That rock just moved.

The howler ran closer to that.. thing?

„Hey.. we’re not going to harm you.. and you don’t have to hide anymore

since we kind of already know about your camouflage“

It took some seconds but the creature in front of them revealed itself.

It was some kind of an walking crab thing, looking innocent.

„There you go.. so…“

y/n was at a loss of words. She didn’t even knew if that creature understood her, well most likely not considering that she was from another Galaxy.

But then something caught her attention.

That crab creature wore some kind of necklace, with a sign on it.

It was Sabines firebird.

Her eyes widened at the realization.

„E-Ezra Bridger..“

She looked deep into it’s eyes, hoping that it’d understand her.

„Do you know Ezra Bridger?“

It seemed to be confused at first, but it also seemed to recognize the name.

„Ezra Bridger?“

It asked with a high voice.

y/n nodded.

„Yes.. I’m his friend! Do you know where he is now?“

The creature seemed to think about something, it then called

for his friends, leading to some ‚rocks’ start to move and reveal themselves as crab creatures.

They then gestured her to follow them, leading her to a small village.

Their houses were small, looking like they would only be temporary there.

Crab people where walking around, doing their daily chores or just relax, sitting, sleeping or playing while the others looked at their new guest.

They then stopped, leaving her alone.

She looked around, capturing the sight in front of her.

Never in her life would’ve she expected herself to be standing in the middle of a village, somewhere in another Galaxy on a planet called Perridea.

Just as she was looking at some things of the village, she heard a voice.

„I knew I could count on you… y/n“

She felt like as if her heart skipped a beat.

She’d recognize his voice everywhere.

The voice of the one person whose made the ultimate sacrifice to keep his new family, his planet and his Galaxy safe from Thrawns games.

Ezras voice

She slowly turned around, her eyes fixating on the man in front of her.

He was leaning against the wall of one of those houses, his arms crossed. A smile, so warm, kind and loving placed on his face.

He had grown, which was to be expected after 10 years of corse.

His hair had grown longer, his curly waves being a stark contrast to the buzz cut he had when she last saw him.

He even had a beard now.

Her eyes then shifted to his, locking gazes with him.

They were still the same vibrant blue as the day she lost him.

Still so beautiful that she got lost in them for some seconds.

„Ezra..?“

She then asked, giving her everything to hold back tears.

„It sure took you long enough to find me..“

He chuckled, but his voice gave away that he also was holding his tears back.

Her legs then started to move on their own, running to him, not wanting to waste any more second.

Ezra still stood there, opening his arms to catch her, to pull her into a tight embrace. And so he did.

She clung to him as if he was her lifeline, not daring to let go, scared that he’d disappear again if she’d loosened her grip on him.

„I missed you.. so much..!“

She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

They now streamed freely down her face.

„I missed you too..“

He said, holding her as close as he could.

Both of them had so many questions that didn’t seem to matter right now.

Everything they needed was this one embrace, ensuring them that they found each other again.

When they pulled apart, they were again looking into each others eyes.

Ezra then wiped away y/s‘s tears, placing his hand on her left cheek while trying to find the right words.

„Thank you… thank you for finding me“

She then placed her hand over his hand, holding it gently.

„Don’t thank me for that… I love you, I’d do anything for you, even if it means to fly into another Galaxy to find you“

She said, laughing at the last part. And he too chuckled while hearing it.

„I love you too.. and I can’t wait to come home“

#ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x y/n #ezra bridger #Star Wars rebels

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haydanakin · 8 months

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- Why the absolute ever loving FUCK would Ahsoka take A NON FORCE SENSITIVE PADAWAN?!?!??! Wielding the lightsaber without feeling the force is hard. The kyber crystal is of the force and the Jedi’s partner, an extension of their force signature. It’s not just picking up a sword, it’s hard and will fight and struggle against you. Rebels and the mandalorian both demonstrated this concept with the dark saber.

- Sabine should be DEAD. Both Qui-Gon and Satine Kryze received a lightsaber through their entire body and died within minutes. There is no way Ahsoka could heal Sabine from a gut wound in 3 minutes

- This show feels so soulless. Im watching Ahsoka but she’s not my Ahsoka. Hera doesn’t feel like my Hera. Sabine is the closest to her animated counterpart and yet even she doesn’t feel like my Sabine. General Ackbar was the best character of the first episode and he had two lines!

- Im hella confused and I’ve seen both Rebels and The Mandalorian/TBOBF. Im so lost. Why are we finding an ancient map to find a man who disappeared only somewhat over a decade ago? A casual ahsoka fan who hasn’t seen rebels I think would be MORE lost but idk. Maybe not knowing what I know about rebels and Mando verde would be a blessing in this case. I can suspend my disbelief.

- Also I see you A New Hope rip off with scrolling beginning and star ship space shot and the first dialogue being from a droid. Oh and don’t think I didn’t notice the vader hallway scene copycat. You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, but I did.

- Ahsoka has psychometry?? Since WHEN!?

- When do we get Anakin? Like Hayden is my only saving grace right now istg

#ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka series spoilers #ahsoka show #Star Wars #ahsoka tano #sw rebels #shale.txt #spoilers #like SO MUCH SPOILERS #ahsoka

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writer-room · 10 months

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You ever think about how, if we’re looking at the timeline (which is always a horrible thing to do with Ninjago), then its pretty apparent that Garmadon only succumbed to the snake venom like...a decade or so before the main events of the story? And it was least a few months after Lloyd was born if we take a look at the comics? And this guy is, like, two thousand or so years old? Cause I sure think about it.

You ever think about how Garmadon and Wu knew all the previous Elemental Masters? Might’ve been genuine friends with them? Kai and Nya’s parents, Cole’s grandfather, Jay’s mom, the previous Ice Master? Isn’t that wild. Ray and Maya went off the map for ages and were probably assumed dead by everyone until they finally reappeared. Cole’s grandad is who-knows-where but his daughter just straight up died so lets hope nobody learned that was how he had a kid in the first place. Jay’s mom ran with a fancy actor, had a kid, and promptly fucked off into the unknown. The previous Ice Master looked old as hell by the time he came across Zane, so it’s assumed he also disappeared into the ether, gave this kid some powers, and died sometime later. There seems to be a habit of all these guys vanishing into the air, usually with no trace left to find out what happened to them. Isn’t that a little sad?

You ever think about how Garmadon probably met Morro while he was training? The other Masters might’ve met Morro, too? You ever think about that. How Garmadon could’ve been right there with Wu, sitting at the kitchen table, assuring him that Morro was just some angry teenager trying to prove himself, he’d get over it and come home soon enough, and then Wu could make up some bullshit to make him feel better. And then they kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting. By the time Garmadon was worried near to death himself, it was already much, much too late. And they all had to live with that.

I think about it.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lord garmadon #ninjago wu #sensei wu #master wu #morro #ninjago morro #elemental masters #great devourer venom #ninjago ray #ninjago maya #ninjago coles grandfather #ninjago jays mom #previous master of ice #headcanons #ideas #talk #ninjago zane #jays mom particularly is like. we know cliff gordon is dead #we also know the two of them married but later split bc cliff was a womanizer. so heres my question #whyd she leave jay with cliff? why didnt she try to stay in his life or send letters? is she dead? what killed her? did anyone look for her?#did no one reach out to find her or did she legitimately drop off the map. i like to think she just dropped off somewhere from the others #she just kinda. uprooted and left. and it was like that chapter of her life never happened in the first place #i also think about the ice master picking some random kid in the woods he thought was funky! and coles grandad possibly outliving his kid!#and his grandad also being unable to bear being part of coles life! and just how bloody long garmadon fought to stay good!#how he mightve had a joke with his elemental friends about 'its the venom talking' or just stupid stuff that made him feel a little better #'give into the venom for like a minute to beat this guy up and i'll buy you lunch from the fancy noodle place' 'DEAL'#was morro the baby of the group? did he get teased by the others and cooed at. did they all joke wu was a teenage (1k year old) dad #did wu ever look at pictures of him & morro. look across the monastery to lloyd hanging off kai & swear it was like staring into a mirror

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gaysullengirl · 24 days

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𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞

❝ we're two slow dancers, last one's out. ❞

- two slow dancers, mitski

Isabelle looked out of the plane window, she caught Spencer's gaze in the corner of her eye but she didn't look his way.

She was stressed to say the least, about Spencer but also the fact this was the first case she was working with the Behavior Analysis Unit.

The case was gruesome to say the least- three women picked up at bars and murdered in hotel rooms, the unsub disemboweled them then forced them to clean up their own blood.

"Reid, work up a geographic profile, focus on location of the murder, Prentiss and Rossi, concentrate on the victims, Morgan, Cruz, and I will go deal with Vanessa Holden." Hotch said.

୨୧

"I'm sorry you came all the way out here, it's a waste of time, Ashley knows absolutely nothing." Ashley's mom announced sternly.

"And we want to get this behind us as soon as possible." she added.

"Mrs. Holden, we can't begin to fathom the loss you've suffered." Isabelle said sympathetically.

"That's right, you can't."

"Um, I lost my younger sister when she was just seventeen, it was really hard on me and my family." Isabelle subconsciously softened her face.

"I was always the responsible one, I made sure she remembered her homework and lunch, she's- she was so forgetful."

"I can't even begin to think about if I was the one who passed away, she'd probably lose her head." She laughed slightly.

"Mrs. Holden, I want to catch him and make sure he never sees the light of day, I wanna help you but to do that we need you and your daughter's help."

Ashley's mom let them in the house and they talked with Ashley.

Isabelle walked down their driveway with confidence, she was proud, she got Ashley's mom to open up and let them in the house.

"The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?" Hotch asked when they arrived at the car.

"It was an educated guess." Isabelle shrugged, "You guessed, then proceeded to lie." Hotch criticized.

"Hmm?" Isabelle scrunched her nose up, "I read your file, your sister isn't dead."

Isabelle's heart dropped, a lot of the time she forget Juliana isn't dead- well not officially.

Isabelle considered telling the truth, but it was a long and complicated story and he'd probably never believe her anyway.

"I- I got us in the door, we talked to Ashley." Isabelle argued.

"Not only do you represent the fbi, you represent this team, to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives., if you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears." Hotch lectured her.

"Do I make myself clear?"

Isabelle clenched her fists, "Yes."

୨୧

Isabelle stared at the whiteboard in front of her, across it was a map and pictures of the victims.

Spencer sighed, "Based on the geography, he isn't just changing his victimology, he's changed his whole tax bracket."

"The high profile of Vanessa Holden bears that out, by killing her, he was climbing the social ladder, on the sex workers advertisements they said they would come to you."

"That cuts out the social interaction of meeting on a street corner." Morgan said.

"Exactly, that's a long way from a self-assured unsub who hits the clubs." Spencer responded.

"He took a year off between the murders maybe he took that time to change himself." Isabelle offered.

"That's impossible." Spencer replied flatly.

"Why?" She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I mean, you're talking about a total transformation here, I mean how you talk, I mean how you dress, how you think about yourself."

"Difficult maybe, but not impossible." Hotch added.

"He already started killing, there must have been a secondary trigger that motivated him to change who he was." Emily explained.

"So if you're gonna completely transform yourself, how would you do it?" Rossi asked.

"Cut everyone off." Isabelle said, everyone gave her a questioning look, "I was joking." She explained with a small laugh.

Isabelle saw the way Spencer kept his eyes on her, even thought the team couldn't see through her lie- he could.

"A steady diet of self-help books."

"Start hitting the gym."

"You have to learn how to read people."

"A pick-up is basically just a profile, decoding cues of interest and recoding similar ones."

"If you're too obvious, you turn off your target, if you're oblivious, your target moves on to a better profiler."

"That doesn't sound like something he could do on his own, maybe he went to a self-help class?" Isabelle offered.

Rossi held up a news paper and pointed to an ad for a self-help class.

୨୧

Isabelle and Emily walked over to the balcony and looked over the edge, the blood of becky- the latest victim pooled on the sidewalk.

"At all the other scenes, the bottles were arranged in a precise order, here they're just part of the mess." Emily said as she examined the scene.

"Maybe she fought back. And when becky went over the railing, his routine had been compromised because he knew the police would respond.". Isabelle offered.

"Or she could have jumped, her nervous system was pumping adrenaline, her flight or fight response kicks in."

"He struck two fridays in a row, and if his routine's been interrupted, It might compel him to strike again." Hotch added.

"It's Saturday, the clubs will be packed tonight." Isabelle said.

"Take a look at the classes the unsub might have taken." Hotch commanded causing Isabelle to clench her jaw.

୨୧

"I can't believe he actually said that to you." Isabelle scrunched her face after hearing Emily description of Viper.

Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi walked up to the two women, "The answer might be something in Viper's class, But to figure that out, we need to profile the teacher."

"We need to study his style up close and personal, it's gonna take someone that he's already attracted to." Morgan smirked as the whole team looked to Emily.

"Oh, this is really gonna suck." Emily said, "Cruz, you're also going in." Hotch added.

"What!" Spencer said louder than he expected to, "Why can't Emily just go in by herself?"

"Spencer it's fine." Isabelle empathized.

authors note!

sorry this chapter is mostly just the case, the next few will be more about isabelle and spencer!! <3

#jade’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ *#criminal minds #fanfic #fbi #fbi agent #spencer reid #mgg #alexa demie #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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halevren · 2 months

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FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 8

I am playing tomodachi life as I watch this. if anyone is curious, I named my island Yorb Island. I just restarted it

IT'S OUR TIME IT'S OUR YEAR

The lip syncing

see you at basrars! goodnight everyone

"Confirmed to be dead" NO. she is confirmed to not be on the mortal plane, perhaps she simply is chilling in the astral realm (I don't want her to be actually dead she looks too lovely)

licking baby..... :(

the lobster bisque

"Gorgug's roots of never being good" CRYING

I feel adaine right now. I am in such a point where I am very antisocial

glassblowing!!!

This disadvantage stuff is actually making me stressed

There's something beautiful about the bad kids not really caring that Kristen doesn't have magic, they still love her. A true "would you still love me if I was a worm?" She has nothing to offer right now, and yet, her friends move her more than anything

Riz can't focus :(

LYDIA 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

OH NO.... ADAINE.....

A d100???????????????????

91?!?!!?! oh no

ADAINE?!!?!??

FLASH OF RED??????? HUH???? WHAT??? WHAT IS GOING ON??

Not Cassandra???? Familiar scream???

"Maybe it's not your fault at all"

"Yeah I definitely killed her..."

Fiendish aura??

"I out wretchrot on it!" "oh good..."

"I thought it was because he was a straight man wearing the pride armor"

"Are you talking about emo music...?"

Lala Embers..

AW DON'T CRY

I feel like the cup of tea..... would be the worst idea

"All drums welcome!"

"What the fuck are we doing?"

there's a nudity tent

There's nothing wrong with a body 🔥

CASSANDRA WAS MARRIED?

I can't wait to see all the theories after this episode

"I don't want to talk about it"

"Do you want a bardic" no one wants fig'd bardic 😭😭😭😭

oh thanks goodness he has meticulous notes

Theothantic silence

There's so much information being thrown at us

Gods could always remember dead goda

"I thought you were dead" oh my

Lucy was possessed...

AYDA MENTION!!!!

OH MY GOD AYDA MENTION!!!!! ADAINE MENTIONED AYDA!!!!

Alter Emo

"It's all natural, man"

"sexy"

BUCKY!!!!!!!!!! BUCKY BOY!!!!!

24 point starts have to be the red crystals

I love all this theorizing. This feels like a debriefing

"Wretchrot is so fucking god at his job."

Minor illustration running drills 😭😭😭😭

"That's my owl bear!!!!"

"8 foot Fabian on the field next week"

"You know how you see the unknown? You shine a light on it."

"Pop off my first prayer"

A 6TH LEVEL SPELL SLOT?

a lot of invisible naked people

I want to partake in this festival

FICUS

MURPH IMMEDIATELY PUTTING HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS AFTER FIG TURNS INTO WANDA CHILDA 😭😭

not a mosh pit environment

4 1/2 long pipe??!!? ;!

"You wanna get fucking high?"

RUBEN

"Fig had to take a shit."

"Why are there so many naked old people at your house?" "I don't know man! I don't have anything to do with that."

Gorgug disliking Ruben is so good I can't stop giggling

MY CLERICAL GNOMANCE

There is. Something going on.

PRINCIPAL GRIX

RIP RUBEN???? DISINTEGRATE???

NEW MAP!!!

I can't believe Ruben is the front man of MCG

COUNTERSPELL

"don't do this...."

OH NO. OH GOD.

oh god.......... dildo lawnmower

"I've had sex before!"

IT WAS ALL UNDER THE TARP

NOOOOOO WILMA AND DIGBY!!!!!!! NOOOOO

"Ruthless... So they were into fucking machines?"

"These are your champions, Grix?!?!!?!"

"You're not perfect order."

Save the turtle!!!!!

yeah -5 movement. that's tough.

FABIAN TURN 🔥🔥

26 to hit 🔥🔥

they're all just from this summer 😭

"I'm in"

REMOTE ACCESS

That is a four!!!

GAMER POSE 😭

"We got him Porter."

The shoe rack

"Come with me!"

So many nude gnomes

MURPH CANCELLED A CRIT INTO A MISS

"♪I'M GONNA SAVE YOU♪"

DIMENSION DOOR

SO MUCH GOING ON WITH WANDA

"But that moment of terror does happen, 'cause I want him to feel it. I want him to know what would it feel like if the most important thing in his world disappeared."

LISTENING TO A PODCAST AT A MUSIC FESTIVAL

CLOBICA!!

He's not raging???? Let him rage!!!

Bypasses the shield?!?

STUNNED??

What A Day.

Can the air elemental go up Grix's butthole?

Intelligence saving throws

ALLY GOT THE 3 MUSKETEERS

D12 bardic??????

42 POINTS OF PSYCHIC DAMAGE?

NOOO CLOBICA

Rip Clobica

FOR THE LAWN AND FOR PLEASURE

HE BYPASSES'S GRIX'S SHIELD

Wilma and Digby to the rescue!

Kristen healing 🔥

11 points to Riz </3

33 POINTS OF FIRE DAMAGE?

the little mini displays of what's going on is so cool and cute I love them

Four parents on a battlefield is too many

MY CLERICAL GNOMANCE GIVING OUT BARDIC INSPIRATION

THE VULTURE

Gilearean!

THE COMPLICATED WOMEN PODCAST

I love the CW

BIG GRIX

I love Lou and Ally's energy together is so good

RIZ GUKGAK

"If I take 5 stress tokens—"

HE'S ABOUT TO WHAT? TAKE OVER WHO? RIZ NO!!!!!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOO RIZ IS GETTING MIND CONTROLLED

"I'm mad at you for asking."

NOOO HE GOT A ONE NOOOOO

HE'S GONNA HIT THE TUBE

FINALLY HIS BAD ROLLS HELP

omg the vulture

"Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely, Brennan. Ally Beardsley is at a place of doubt and uncertainty with this move."

hey hirlie

OH MY GOD THE BACKDROP

THE CULTURE DIMENSION???

WHAT?????? WHAT????? THAT'S WHERE IT'S ENDING????????????

#fantasy high junior year spoilers #fhjy spoilers #spoilers #d20 #fantasy high #dimension 20 #d20 fantasy high #dimension 20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year

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probablyaseamonster · 2 months

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On fWhip's new SMP

fWhip, years after ending the Empires series and New Life drizzled out, has decided to create what appears to be the first season of a new series: SOS smp.

Not an acronym (well, i mean, technically) for a longer name, that's the official title and not the fandom tag.

Other fans have addressed the "no lore" thing already, even though the series is only a day old. Check the tag if you want clarity. Or just, you know, watch the videos.

What I want to discuss is the "twist" that sets it apart from other related SMP concepts.

In SOS, every time you die, you leave behind a gravestone. But, the gravestone will also disappear if a set time runs out. This doesn't just take your stuff away, like one might expect. When you die, you enter spectator mode. And if the time runs out and no one ELSE comes to save you, you are banned from the server.

But that's not all! In order to save someone's life, one must ALSO insert a special currency. Each person starts the server with one coin, but you can get more from doing things. This means that a person could not save you, even if they dug into the deep dark or traveled to the end island, if they did not have a coin with them. Horrifying concept, right?

Now that the basic game mechanics are layed out, let's discuss how this relates to other popular SMPs.

This series could not be another edition of the X Life series, for one thing because of there being no world-gen mods, let alone the numerous amounts of other potential gamechangers Afterlife and New Life came with. Excepting everything related to the gravestones, this is a normal minecraft world.

This also clearly can't be the third empires season, for obvious reasons as well as personal context. And as far as I know, no other SMPs fWhip has played in have been this simple.

In fact, this series most closely resembles the Life Series with its simplicity, modded items, and death mechanics. It most obviously resembles the two newest seasons, with the time limit and an implied otherworldly force that could easily be headcanoned as evil.

Now, what REALLY makes me think is how SOS at its core, is set up to foster relationships. A player is 100% dependant on being rescued, but there are no rules that say a person can't NOT rescue someone else, and no penalizing for it. The worst thing a person could do is completely isolate themselves in a far off corner of the map, or worse, antagonize people without making any friends to balance it out. If nobody LIKES or cares about you, or if everyone agrees the server would be better off WITHOUT you, you will be dead forever. Everyone is encouraged to play nice, buy more importantly, develop a deep bond with at least one other person. But even then, there's a chance that person might not even be ABLE to save you. And THAT results in guilt, hatred, and hurt.

Everen, the person who made the iconic Who Are You Really, Everybody Wants To Rule the World, Running Up That Hill, and Battle Cry animatics, once said on stream that Secret Life has been her least favourite season so far, because she felt that none of the alliances really cared about each other. Now, I highly disagree with that take, but I was thinking about it. She said that the creators seemed more focused on making each new episode a Crazy Action-Packed Banger, that they forgot that what most fans really cared about were the quiet moments that make you root for a couple to survive. That, much like Last Life, the twist that season ended up driving people apart and breaking trust, even though the shenigans were funny to watch in comparison to largely angst-inducing. And, unlike Last Life, the winner that season was not the one person who defied the rules more than anyone else; the winner was someone who had played the game, had no allies, and was forced to hurt people and not explain himself. And considering the observation that each season's new rules seems to be based off of the previous winner's Life, I only fear that the next season will be even worse in those regards.

Then, you have fWhip, who'd never been a member of the Life Series (kinda hoped he would, but thats just me), and his new server seems like... like it's rules were made in opposition of that trend.

SOS will, there is no doubt, have at least one tragedy like I had formerly mentioned. Someone will eventually permadie because they had no allies, or were general jerks. In order for the server to end, everyone has to stop saving each other, until there is no one left to save the "winner". There WILL be angst. And there will be relationship drama to make it all hurt more. Even if there is no "lore", no characters or backstories or connections to prior series, there will be fanfics made, fanart drawn, analysis thought of, poetry written, and even songs produced. People will care about this server, even if the community is small and Hermitcraft's stories are booming.

And I am so glad that this series has been made, at this time when Hermitcraft and Life Series seem to hold a monopoly on this fandom.

#SOS smp #Empires smp #Life Series smp #Criticism #fWhip

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