#like calling him a terrible leader & captain

[mamaestapa]

omg the rutger hate rn is INSANE

rutger bby you didn’t do anything wrong. THE GIRLIES LOVE YOU

#like calling him a terrible leader & captain #saying hes over the top #not humble at all #is the most unlikeable guy #saying he acts like a kid #HES LITERALLY 19?? LET HIM HAVE FUN OMFG #these forty year olds are too much lol

[the-californicationist]

he doesn’t disappoint

Wrote this fic as I was inspired by the challenge from @sky-is-the-limit that asked for Price getting fed up with hearing his hot neighbor have really terrible sex.

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

MDNI/18+

AO3 Version here

Four long stories above the people and the pigeons, she sat, legs on the railing of her amazingly small balcony, reading and writing. Always dressed in that huge jumper with the fraying collar, it swallowed her, covering her little spandex shorts that barely managed to keep her thick arse from slipping out of them, and she had her hair in the braid again. It was his favorite. He liked the ponytails, too, but the braid did something to him. When she plaited her hair and let that heavy rope hang limply over her shoulder, she became Repunzel, and he was Gallahad - or whatever muppet was meant to be at the bottom of her tower.

Captain Price knew that, the moment his fingers flipped the lock on his window, he’d disturb her peace. She’d startle, like a doe, and turn to smile at him. He lived for that turn. Every few nights, he’d catch her out here again, and he could make her turn to him. Make her smile at him. Make her laugh and talk with him, until she went to bed. But, that was the problem. Lately, her bed was filled with the one thing that made Price’s body fill with frustrated rage: The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend was such a typical Yank, it made Price’s eyes roll back in his head. From the boat shoes to the bad fade haircut, the lad looked like an Abercrombie advert had escaped from one of those oversized shopping bags and landed in her apartment. He was small, first of all, despite the gym-made muscles. And he was as smooth as an otter, fully hairless. Price shuddered back to the memory of watching him try to put up the fire escape ladder shirtless, struggling to lift it with those tiny hands of his, making a disgusted face at the dirt on his palms afterward, wiping it on her blanket without her seeing him. Disgusting little gremlin.

She kept giving this wanker chance after chance to figure it out in the bedroom, and Price had heard just about enough of it, and his gut twisted in his belly knowing he’d have to hear it again tonight. He knew The Boyfriend was here because she was doing her work outside. The Boyfriend insisted on playing his Battle Zone videogames on full volume, bothering her, and complaining like a child if she asked him to put on his headphones. Price enjoyed imagining how quickly he’d expire on a real battlefield. That little prick could scream all the obscenities he wanted but he’d be dead in milliseconds against a man like Price.

His darling didn’t know about that, though. She knew he was in the military, but she didn’t know that he was the leader of the deadliest special forces team in the world. He imagined explaining it to her, pictured the fear flooding her face, confusion and shock hanging out of her open mouth. No. He couldn’t tell her about himself. Usually, when they talked together on the balcony, he would smoke long, densely-packed cigars and sip his whisky while she confessed the sins of her day to him. She told him about grad school, about her poetry, maybe showing him a sample or two. It was beautiful. When she was upset, she’d even tap on his window to see if he was home, sometimes tearful, asking for advice on how to handle something The Boyfriend had done. On really bad nights, she’d lean in and hug him, crying on his enormous shoulder, telling him what a good friend he was for listening to her. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and her warmth made his cock swell with furious need.

As the night dragged on, The Boyfriend would eventually remember her and call her inside. He’d croon all sorts of things to her. His little whining “come on, baby” and pathetic “I just really need you to” quips were the opening lines to the worst song on Earth. He’d then spend the next five to ten minutes whimpering away on top of her, the headboard slamming into Price’s wall without rhythm. If the gorgeous woman suffering beneath him ever had the audacity to actually be enjoying his attempt, he’d shush her, shaming her for making noises, telling her “the neighbors don’t need to hear that shit.” Meanwhile, The Neighbor would be plotting his slow, painful death.

The banging started, and Price wanted to burst through the wall and stop this trainwreck from happening to her again. Eventually, a short time after it had begun, the banging stopped. Then, an even shorter time after that, the jingle of keys and the “I have an early day tomorrow” and “I have to go” were the outro to The Boyfriend’s opus.

Enough was enough. Before he even knew what he was doing, Price had his hand, raised in a fist, knocking on her apartment door. 23B. Shadow in the peephole. The click and clatter of a lock chain.

“Oh! John, it’s you. Is everything okay?” Her voice was low and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed. She was standing in her doorway, wearing those shorts, that jumper, still full of her need.

“No,” was all he could manage as he looked at her, his blue eyes blown, mad with desire.

“Oh, okay. Come in, I’ll make us some of that delicious tea you bought me. What are you doing here?”

Price followed her inside, silently relocking the portal, stalking her into the tiny kitchen, a mirror to his own. He came up behind her as she was looking in her cupboard for their mugs. When he put his hands on her hips, she froze, startled, eyeing him over her shoulder. His voice was just above a whisper, gravelly and accented, and he said,

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

She was on her tiptoes, reaching for the cups, but as she registered what he said, she slowly lowered herself back down to the tile of her floor, turning to face her neighbor with a look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Price played with the end of her braid, turning the end of it over in his hand, wrapping it up along his knuckles like a rope. He snaked the other hand up underneath her sweatshirt, fingers lingering on her warm belly, searching for the smooth swell of her breast. He told her, snarling,

“If I have to hear him continue to use you like a warm fucking towel, leaving you wanting, I will lose my bloody mind. Call him. Tell him he’s done.”

“You could hear us?” She flushed quickly at that, recalling all of the times she’d been punished for her noises.

“And I always hear you afterwards, after he leaves, making up for his…shortcomings. Bit sad, innit? Needing to take care of yourself when he should be the one looking after you. Time for someone new. Get your phone, love.”

It took her a moment to register what he was suggesting, but she was fed up, too. She smiled at his comment, and she reached for her phone on the countertop.

“Put it on speaker, sweetheart,” he commanded her. She obeyed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Uh, what do you want?” The Boyfriend answered.

“Hey, Dick,” Price snarled, “We got some bad news, lad.”

“I’m breaking up with you, Richard,” she spoke into the phone very clearly, wrapping her free hand around Price’s huge bicep, not able to cover even half of its circumference, exploring him as he fondled her, one fist still holding her plait cruelly.

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“Why?” She scoffed, “Because every time I’ve come, for as long as we’ve been together, has been when you’re not here.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you, bitch. You’re just a -”

“Tha’s enough, Dick,” Price barked into the phone, “Look, no worries, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Click. Price hung up her phone and turned it off, tossing it back across the counter. It made a loud, plasticky bang as it fell. He pressed his heavy erection against her body, crushing her hips with his, and moved his hand back under her jumper, plucking at her nipple like a soft petal, pinching it to make it stand at attention, watching her watch him.

“John, you… you never said anything,” she looked up into his eyes, begging him to tell her the truth he’d kept locked away for months.

“This isn’t even the half of it, girl,” he started to kiss her neck, sucking at her skin, his body writhing on top of hers, mimicking actions it would soon employ once he could get her out of her clothes, “I’ve wanted you for so. Fucking. Long.”

She moaned at the way he was kissing her throat with his bearded mouth, licking her with his long tongue. She cradled his furry cheek in her hand, enjoying the feel of its coarse hairs, whispering to him,

“When he leaves, you’re the one I picture. In my head.”

She might as well have lit a bomb. That was all he needed to hear.

He was strong enough to hoist her up onto the counter with one of his arms, wrapping it around her waist and setting her on the edge, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his huge body in between them. He tugged on her braid, using it to expose her smooth throat. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself.

The captain stood over her, looming like a dark beast, warning her in his quiet, steady voice,

“If I ever, and I mean ever, hear that little prick banging your headboard on my wall again, it’ll be his last day above ground. Am I crystal clear, love?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, a little uncertain how serious he was.

“Good girl.”

Price let go of her hair and scooped her off of the counter, carrying her with her legs locked behind him, through the small flat, and crashed to the bed where she’d just been disappointed. He vowed to her, silently, that he would do anything but disappoint.

Clothes started coming off in peeled layers; shirts, bras, pants, underwear - everything was shucked away like the rind of a melon, leaving only the soft, sticky inside, ripe and ready to be devoured. Price made his way down her body, biting and sucking whenever he wanted to do so, leaving a trail of teeth marks behind. Eventually, he could feel the heat of her pussy against his cheek, and it made him shudder.

He had pulled her phone into his pocket, and now he wanted to twist the knife. He called The Boyfriend and sent his own number straight to voicemail, preparing to leave a delicious message.

As he began to eat her juices, sucking them off her folds like the drippings from a popsicle, he started to hear little mewlings, soft and sweet, but very reserved. He glanced up at the rest of his meal, wondering why she was holding back. Then, he remembered The Boyfriend’s number one rule.

“Look at me,” Price ordered from beneath her thighs.

She hesitated, trying to hide her shame, putting her face in her hands, breathing heavy and ragged.

He reached both hands up to grab her ribs, coming up and out from his position to let her get a better look at him.

“Look at me, love.” It was a softer, lower tone, and she came out of hiding to obey him. He continued to command her, gently, “I want to hear your pleasure, sweetness. The louder you get, the harder I get. I hope the whole bloody city hears you tonight.”

“Are you sure? You like it?” Fuck if he wasn’t about to hunt that man down and execute him, authority or not.

“God, yes, love. Let me make you scream.”

This voicemail was going to be incredible.

He returned to his duty post between her legs, excited to start his work anew. This time, as his tongue worked her open, fucking liquidly in and out of her pink hole, swirling up around her clit, and exploring every hidden gem between them, he listened to her keening. It was soft at first, but then, when he began to stretch her, pushing down with his two, rough fingers, thrusting them slowly in and out, she started to come. Her cries were incredible. She was screaming for him to fuck her, to take her, to do anything to her, and he loved it.

Crawling back over her, Price used his heavy cockhead to paint drooling precome all over her slick slit, soaking himself so he could more easily fit himself into her core. He didn’t want to hurt her, and other lovers had trained him to know that his was big enough to be a weapon.

“That’s my good girl. Do you feel good, you sweet little thing? You’re a fucking dream. Tell me that you’re ready for this cock in you. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, love.”

She was shaking from her orgasm, looking at him, bewildered, and she rushed the words out of her mouth like fire,

“I need it, please. John, I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, please, John. Put your cock in me,” and, like magic, Price obliged. Just as good at taking orders as he was at giving them.

Feeding his length inside of her wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that she was coming while he tried to do it. Price had a hand steadily working her clit, wetly pressing it where she needed it, and she was clenching against him so tightly, like a wet, molten fist, that it nearly pushed him out of her. He grabbed her body, looping his enormous arm behind her back, and shoved her down, locking her against his hips, deliciously impaled.

Her face was twisted into the most beautiful kind of agony, and as she came down from her high, he began to move in her. After she bloomed around his cock, opening like a flower, he was able to fuck into her even deeper, groaning with each of his thrusts. She gasped,

“Oh, God. John, you’re so good. You’re not done yet?”

He laughed, out loud and brazenly, holding her tighter,

“Oh, lovely girl, no. No,” he smiled down at his pretty little neighbor, “Those days are gone. I’m going to be inside of you all fucking night.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #cod #captain price pov

[five-hxrgreeves]

im dYIIIINGGGG with the adam warlock x quill sister! when he calls her 'little quill'??? with that accent of his??? so soft and husky??? im screaming at my phone dude aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need part iii right freaking now!!!

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

POWERS: adapted from D.C.'s Stargirl, although in this instance, the powers are a part of you and the staff just helps you use them.

WC: 1.9k (woo a shorter one this time!) 

SUMMARY: your first meeting with Adam wasn't one that indicated that you'd become friends anytime soon. Your second meeting. . . wasn't great either. But, somewhere along the line, you would develop a soft spot for the curious man-child.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, badly written original fight scene, possibly ooc canon!guardians.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OMG!!! This is my first-ever inbox message- thank you, anon! You made my day with this <3 I love Adam's/Will's accent; I definitely hope that we get to see (and hear) more of him in other Marvel movies. As requested, here's part three (even if it's technically part zero, lol.) I do take requests if anyone wants to send me stuff! (I just won't write smut, sorry!)

I hope you guys enjoy this part, although I'm not very confident about it since I'm terrible at writing fight scenes. It's hard enough for me to imagine original content (like the other two parts) but scenes where people move around a lot without the movie itself to rely on are very difficult for me because my mind doesn't think in pictures, but in words and I don't know how to describe fighting. I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other parts. 😭

And on a side note, the 'no shit, Captain Sherlock' is another reference to space people messing up Terran lingo :)

Part 1 , Part 2

You were admittedly not in the best mood when you first (officially) met Adam. Peter and Mantis had left only days ago, leaving you to sort out your feelings alone. You were currently in the training room, fueling your sadness into anger at their abandonment. You often used your powers to aid you while you were fighting, but they weren’t much use during everyday life— unless you wanted to fly. Now, however, they were very useful.

Brilliant blasts of golden light shot out from the staff that your hands gripped tightly. While your powers could be used without aid, the staff helped you control them; Ego had made it for you when you’d become old enough to serve as his protector. Although you were disgusted with the weapon’s origins, you couldn’t help but agree that it made your fighting much more effective.

Each of your blasts hit the targets squarely in the middle as you turned deftly to conquer the row. A scowl was prominent on your face as you pictured each of your targets as Peter’s or Mantis’ face. (While you would never really want to hurt them, of course, the sting of their desertion fueled your thoughts.) You were listening to a playlist by the Rage Against the Machine— which you had chosen solely because of the band’s name as it mirrored your feelings. The music that was blasting in your ears was so loud that, if someone had been standing next to you, they could have heard the lyrics as if they were wearing your headphones themselves.

As you moved up and down the line of targets, you were unaware of the audience of three that had entered the room. Groot, Rocket and Adam stopped by the entrance to watch you unleash your fury against whatever enemy you were envisioning. The new leader of the Guardians gestured to you. “There. See? I told you she’s nice.”

Adam hesitated, clearly uncertain. “She looks mad.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Shut up,” Rocket retorted, glaring slightly at the tree who was supposed to be helping his case. “She won’t hurt goldie. You’ve already seen her bad side, haven’t you? This is nuthin’.”

The golden boy had to admit that Rocket was right; he remembered only too well his first encounter with you as you’d jumped in to help your friends fight off his unexpected attack.

--

He’d just defeated the stupid tree-like thing and as it scuttled away like a demented spider, the faint sound of a whistle pierced through the air. An arrow shot out of nowhere, harmlessly bouncing off his skin and only annoying him more than anything else. He looked around sharply, but there didn’t seem to be anyone brave enough to fight him in the vicinity. “Hey! Who threw that?”

He scoffed when there was no answer, stalking towards where he’d last seen his target. But before he could get very far, a force came out of nowhere— this time much stronger than an errant arrow. It knocked him off his feet like a bullet and together they were sent flying through the town, which elicited more cries of fear from the citizens.

He landed harshly against a building that got in the way and debris fell on top of him from the force of the collision. Adam grunted irritably; this was the second time during this fight that his enemy thought that throwing him into a building would be enough to deter his attack— didn’t they ever learn? He stood and shook the dust off his clothes before he strode back out to the street to face this new opponent. Except— it wasn’t the same blue person from before.

The golden boy stared at the other person with disbelief, the only thing that he could come up with was: “you’re a girl!”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Captain Sherlock.” She twirled the staff in her hands expertly between her fingers before she set the butt down on the ground. It glowed softly as it lit up with her power, her face set. “Let’s do this thing.”

Adam had no qualms about fighting a girl, so they charged at each other without hesitation. He thought she’d be as easy to take down as her teammates but when they collided, she merely used her staff as a shield against his attack. They paced across the open space as they exchanged blows, the girl using her staff offensively and defensively interchangeably. As she flipped neatly out of the way of one of his advances, he began to see how evenly matched they were.

“You are stalling,” he realized. “If you just hand over your friend, we would not have to fight.”

The girl paused, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case—”

She charged at him again, her staff catching on his uniform. She followed him into the air and her swift kick to his stomach sent him tumbling away from her. It was then that he realized that she could fly— just like him— and that was what had powered her initial attack. In the time it took for him to recover from the spin, a blast of golden light was sent his way. Because of his more durable skin, though, the light only felt like volts of electricity rather than something that could do actual damage. The most effective part of her power was the blast itself, which he had to fight through to get closer to her.

Now that he knew where her power came from, he made to attack her staff in order to knock it out of her hands. She seemed to sense his plan— Adam figured most people she fought went this route— and she countered this by trying to fly above him to push him towards the ground. He responded by grabbing the staff in her hands directly while she was mid-swing. The girl was tiring slightly, her breath becoming shorter as the fight went on and she was now on the defensive.

She tried to yank her staff loose from his hold but as evenly matched as they were, he was still stronger. The girl then attempted to shake him off by lighting the staff up with her power. If he hadn’t been such a strong opponent, the golden light would have burned through his hands. As it was, the little volts were barely something that he registered. While he could have easily swung the staff to send her flying off the end and into the ground, he held back the true show of his strength as she didn’t seem to be as resilient as the two blue people or the tree.

Instead, he tried once more for the diplomatic route: “you have fought valiantly for your little friend. If you surrender him to me now I will leave your village in peace.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with fury as she continued to fight to free her weapon. “Go to hell!”

Adam sighed, having partially expected that response. “Very well. Have it your way, then.”

He smoothly jerked the staff from her grasp and carelessly tossed it to send the weapon spiraling towards the ground. He turned back towards the girl to finish her off as he had her teammates, but he paused. She seemed to hang, suspended, in the air as time appeared to freeze around her. Her eyes widened and, for the first time since he’d encountered her, a look of fear appeared on her face.

Then, she dropped like a stone.

They were very high off the ground by this point and the fall would likely kill a normal being. He wasn’t sure if she would survive, so his reflexes kicked in before he could really think about what he was doing.

By now, the shock had worn off and she fell through the air, she reached up to him as he was the only person who could help her. Adam put on a spurt of speed to try and catch her but she was falling faster than he had anticipated. The girl slammed into the ground and lay still just as he landed next to her. He told himself that saving her wasn’t his mission, and her incapacitation only made obtaining his goal easier. His mother’s orders echoed in his mind, so against his instinct he turned away from her in pursuit of the squirrel.

--

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you. You whirled around with your staff in a defensive position only to be met with the sight of your teammates. With a sigh, you pulled out one earbud but didn’t pause your music.

“What?” you asked shortly.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Little Quill. I’m ya superior now,” Rocket replied, unaffected by your attitude. “I wanted you to meet golden boy here.”

You gave Adam a once-over, ignoring how the sight of his. . . attractive features made your stomach curl pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, feeling once again ashamed of his previous actions. Before he could say anything, Rocket spoke again, adjusting the straps of his jumpsuit as he did so: “well, I ain’t great with humie ages, but I figured ya’d be about the same. I thought it might boost team morale to see ya two hangin’ out together or whatever humies your age do.”

While your first response was to dismiss the whole endeavor— you didn’t want to get close to someone else just to have them leave you, too— but a small, traitorous part of your mind whispered: he saved your brother. Another part chimed in: he’s not bad to look at.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “He can stay, but he better not get in my way. I’m not stopping my training because of him.”

“That’s the spirit, Little Quill,” your captain said, choosing to not acknowledge your reluctance. “I’ll leave ‘im in your hands. Let’s go, Groot.”

As you shoved the earbud back in your ear, you could faintly hear Adam’s protest: “wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

While Rocket’s reply was drowned out by your music, the boy’s words hit you unexpectedly; it sounded just like your response to Peter’s and Mantis’ disinclination to stay with the Guardians. Some of your anger faded as you glanced at the boy who stood awkwardly in your periphery. Despite all of his strength and power, Adam looked a bit like a lost puppy and his expression made your features soften against your will. Fine. Whatever. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.

You took out an earbud again. “Well, don’t just stand there. I know you can fight, so let’s see you use those skills.”

At the reminder of your first encounter, he sent you a guilty look. As he stepped up next to you, he said quietly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. For almost killing you.”

You patted him on the arm companionably. “Hey, no hard feelings. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, so just add your name to the list.”

All of the Guardians had forgiven him with surprising readiness and it seemed like you were no different— only, you were. His gaze stayed on the spot where your hand had touched him. There was a lingering warmth as if your hand was still there, the sensation sending tingles (not unlike the ones that he felt during your blasts of power) through him.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs , @trashpenguin

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock #adam warlock fanfiction #adam warlock imagine #gotg v3 #guardians of the galaxy #gotg imagine #adam warlock x you #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #will poulter x reader #will poulter #will poulter imagine #marvel x reader

[bethagain]

I wanna talk about Ed’s apology to Izzy.

I’ve seen some consternation about it, but I thought that scene was absolute perfection. 

I love how Izzy’s opening lines show us his state of mind. He wants to be on speaking terms with Ed again, but he doesn't especially want to admit it.

He didn’t mistake Ed for Roach. That’s not even remotely believable. And although we’re clearly meant to think Izzy’s a bit drunk, if you look at the rate he’s been drinking he’s probably got a huge tolerance for alcohol. Otherwise he wouldn’t be upright. 

The script could have given Izzy some other way to insist he wasn’t trying to talk to Ed. “I didn’t see you there.” “I’m looking for sharks.” What he did say is even better, because it’s got an insult built in: “I thought you were someone I actually wanted to see.”

And Ed, who should be mortified, who should be on his knees begging forgiveness, slips right into talking to Izzy like they’re friends again. “Something’s wrong. Feels like a storm’s coming but I can’t see it.” 

It’s something you’d say to someone you’re comfortable with, someone you trust to weigh in. I think some fans wanted to see Ed open with an apology, but Blackbeard doesn’t apologize for things and Ed’s still figuring out how. Instead, the script gives us Ed avoiding the subject: If they don’t talk about it, maybe what he did can be swept under the rug. 

And Izzy’s going to let him do it. He tells Ed he thinks he’s being stupid about the storm, sure. A good first mate calls his captain on his bullshit. But he also passes over the bottle, and Ed takes it. Two comrades drinking together, drinking because life as a pirate is hard, drinking that much because they are tough men. They don’t have to talk, talking isn’t what they do. 

We’ve seen in both seasons that Izzy is used to taking Ed’s abuse. It’s been baked into the story. We’ve been told about Ed the brilliant pirate leader and Izzy the loyal first mate but what we’ve seen is twisted: Ed still brilliant but unstable, Izzy keeping him in line. Izzy trying to break away and failing, Ed taking him back every time. They are best friends and they are terrible for each other, and that is their frame.

But then! Taika and Con are both so good with the facial expressions. We can see the discomfort flickering across Ed’s face. Everything about this interaction has been set up so he could get away without apologizing. And I think that’s how the hurried “Sorry about your leg” hits as hard as it does for me, leaves me feeling something here has changed.  

And the scene confirms it: Even that small phrase is so huge that Ed’s got to run away as soon as he says it. 

And then, look at that tiny smile on Izzy’s face. That “fuck off” is almost happy. As the audience we know that wasn’t the apology Izzy deserved, not by a long shot. But in the frame of the story? It might be enough to set the two of them right again. 

#ofmd #meta #izzy hands #ed teach #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

I hope y’all like my OC’s!! I picked them cuz theyre the closest i have to Vampires and werewolves :) and also because theyre my favorite :)

For those who dont have an account on the artfight but are still interested in my oc’s, I’ve provided the description that i gave them on their pages under the cut off :)

These two are from the story im working on that i hope to turn into a webcomic one day called Where Does The Heart Lie! I hope you enjoy~

Kreios:

Overview:

Kreios is a 6'7" shaggy man who is visibly inconvenienced by most things in his life. He works as a Territory Patrol Captain for his Clan that resides in The Forest of Thieves. He is albino, has depression, is demiromantic/asexual and his personality type is ISFP

His design is based off of the idea of "a sheep in wolf's clothing" to compliment his counterpart, Ivaylo, whose design is based around "a wolf in sheep's clothing". As such, he wears a wolf hide Coat, but is otherwise a shaggy sheep of a man.

Mannerisms/Way of Life:

-Kreios is just gigantic and he lumbers and slouches everywhere he goes.

-He falls asleep randomly even while standing up and when he's asleep, you could put anything near him and he'd hold it.

-He doesn't respect other people much. He's only here to do a job, and when he's done, he goes home.

-When Kreios is in his little apartment, he's either carving, cooking, or sleeping. he doesnt have guests, he doesnt hold parties, he's simply alone. And that's the way he likes it.

-He makes money on the side taking carving commissions from others in his clan. What is usually ordered is a Chess set.

-Kreios is crazy good at playing chess.

-He's not blind nor is he not paying attention, he's a very strategically intelligent man. However, people often underestimate his intelligence because of his aloof nature.

-he is not very visibly expressive due to the hair in front of his eyes and he tends to keep a neutral mouth shape. However if he's feeling inconvenienced, he's gonna hit you with a scowl.

Where His Heart Lies:

Kreios feels so deeply. When he respects, when he protects, when he loves. He does it all with all of his Heart and his soul. If he loves you, you'll know it. He hates hiding any of his emotions and is also terrible at lying.

Dynamic With Ivaylo:

He and Ivaylo were childhood friends, but life kept pulling them apart. Their childhood village was destroyed by an ever-growing empire, they wound up finding homes in different clans in their young adult years, and now they must keep their relationship to each other bottled up even though their territories have moved to be right next to each-other's.

Until their clans can become allies, they cannot interact.

Ivaylo:

Overview:

Ivaylo is a very particular Clan Leader who expects the most from everyone. His clan is made up of those who were cast out of their own clans in the Forest of Thieves for their various disabilities. The first person he took in was a little girl missing the bottom half of her left leg and he now refers to her as his daughter. He has anxiety and mild OCD, is homoromantic/homosexual, and his personality type is ISFJ

His design is based off of the idea of "a Wolf in Sheep's clothing" to compliment his counterpart, Kreios, whose design is based around "a Sheep in Wolf's clothing". As such, he wears a sheep hide vest under his big fur coat.

Mannerisms/Way of Life:

-Ivaylo commands and expects respect from all.

-He is very particular about small details. When he started living in the forest, he couldnt control much, so what he can control, he will do so perfectly in his eyes. His hair may look unorderly, but rest assured it is perfectly quaffed.

if something isn't right orderly-wise in his eyes, he will only focus on that one thing and cannot focus even if he's having a conversation with someone or even fighting

-In a work setting, he is ruthless and cold, but out of work, he is also cold, but in a "leave me alone" kind of way. a lone wolf, if you will. He finds having close relationships with those he feels are his employees is incredibly improper.

-Though he is cold, he is never quick to anger. He keeps a level head always.

-He admires loyalty and is very loyal to ones he loves.

-He is crazy bad at playing chess.

-Ivaylo walks with his head held high.

Where His Heart Lies:

-He wants to make a better life for his whole clan, but mainly his daughter, Calbex, who he refers to as X. All he wants is to live a peaceful life with those he loves.

-Life twisted him into a cold monster, but at heart he's very childish and sports a very impish smile. You can get him to giggle if you compliment him.

Kreios:

He and Kreios were childhood friends, but life kept pulling them apart. Their childhood village was destroyed by an ever-growing empire, they wound up finding homes in different clans in their young adult years, and now they must keep their relationship to each other bottled up even though their territories have moved to be right next to each-other's.

Until their clans can become allies, they cannot interact.

Calbex:

Calbex is his daughter and he loves her so much. She's an eccentric gal, to say the very least. She knew him before he became a very large Clan leader and as such he can show his true self to her, but not completely. She is his daughter, after all, he must be strong for her and critical of her for her to learn to thrive in the environment they're in.

#my art #community post #artfight 2023 #WDTHL Kreios #WDTHL Ivaylo #my ocs

[tashacee]

It’s safe to say that everyone in the chain has ptsd or trauma of some sort right? I’m thinking about hero’s aspect!Wild having a nightmare and screaming and talking and begging in his sleep and he can’t wake, and the chain has no idea what he’s even experiencing because they can’t understand him

-🪱

OH BOY I know i kind of touched on this in the original Fic, but hell, Worm Anon, you gave me Brain Worms.

Aspects of A Nightmare

He'd been with them for two weeks. Long enough that the chain was starting to feel like they were getting to know him - or at least getting used to him - but not really long enough that they could communicate with Wild in any sort of meaningful way.

It grated. Warriors was a leader of men, 'The Captain', always in control, who prided himself on being able to relate to those he served with. Sure, he wasn't in the army now and his brothers were anything but soldiers, but still. The point was, he liked to know the people he was fighting with, and despite his best efforts he just didn't know Wild.

It was easy to ignore most of the time. Ah, yes, that was Wild. He likes to cook, fights like a maniac, and will straight up pick you up if you're being annoying.

Sometimes, though, their lack of communication was all too obvious.

Like tonight. Wars was on second watch when he heard it. Wild, but not his customary rumble or the soft purrs he made in his sleep. A whine, long and low and distressed. Like a call for help.

Wars dashed over to him, wondering if somehow a monster had invaded the camp while he was turned the other way, but no.

As usual, Wild was sleeping with Wind cuddled up beside him. While their newest brother's blanket was thin and ratty, barely big enough to cover his massive form, Wind's was vast, more than big enough for the both of them.

Wild had somehow gotten himself tangled up in the blanket as he slept. Wars could see him trying to lift his arms, move his legs, but to no avail. He whined in his sleep, the sound pitiful and terrified.

Warriors didn't know what he was dreaming of. Nothing good, that was for sure, especially if it had to do with his current trapped position.

Wild tried to thrash again, and still stuck, he whined.

Wars bent down. Normally waking up a hero was something best done from a distance. They could be a violent lot, especially when woken from nightmares, but. Well.

It wasn't like Wild could move enough to do anything.

Wars gently touched his shoulder and shook him awake. Wild's eyes flew open in a flash, and as expected he bared his teeth, snarling. Not particularly intimidating, though, given that he was currently a giant cat-burrito.

"Hey." Warriors whispered, glancing over at where Wind was somehow still asleep. "You were having a nightmare."

Wild blinked, coming back to himself, and then looked down at the sheets. As if reassuring himself that it was just a blanket. That his nightmare wasn't real.

He whimpered, a low grumbling noise almost as if he was attempting speech. Then he sniffed and began to wiggle out of the blankets. Wars helped him untangle himself, and then guided his massive brother over to the fire.

"It's okay." he said, not knowing if it was true or not. He didn't know what Wild had been dreaming about, after all. It was hard to comfort someone when you didn't know what you were comforting them about. "It- it's over now."

Wild fixed his gaze on him, his lower lip trembling. He made a few more of those almost-word-mostly-grumbles before his face just. Crumpled. Here he was, this massive, musclebound lion man, dissolving into tears.

And Warriors? Warriors froze. He wasn't proud of it, and it was only for a second, but he froze.

Wild was big. He was strong. When Wars shot him through the shoulder the other day he barely flinched. But whatever that nightmare must have been about, it must have been truly, unrelentingly terrible. Warriors could scarcely imagine what could be so horrible that it made someone as big and strong as Wild sob.

Then his body kicked into action. Like waking them up, giving heroes unexpected hugs could go very badly, but Warriors was on autopilot. He gathered Wild into his arms (well, as best he could, with the height difference) and pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair and rubbing the fur on his back.

Wild sobbed into his chest, twisting his hands into his tunic. He may have tried to communicate again, but honestly, Warriors found it hard to distinguish from the sobs and he sort of hated himself for that. He wanted to talk to Wild. He needed to know what had hurt him so very badly, what had taken his arm and left him scarred and sobbing in a strange place in a strange time. He need to know so that he could go and fight it, make it pay for hurting his brother.

But he couldn't do that. So he did the next best thing. He held his brother as he cried, and helped him dry his tears when he finally calmed down. He made him a cup of tea and sat with him until his hands stopped shaking enough that he was ready to go back to bed.

Warriors knew next to nothing about Wild.

But by Hylia, he would do anything to learn.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #my writing #i probably should have saved this for the hiatus #but whatever #wild was dreaming that he was put back in the Shrine #and forgot everything again #ah #shrine trauma #you are an excellent stick with which to beat the blorbo #kinda whumpy #hurt/comfort

[w1ldthoughts]

Wilted Flowers and a Lightsaber

A/n: Anon Requested

Tonight was going to be absolutely perfect. You and Justin had been planning this six month anniversary dinner for a while and because of the chaos of the season, you had to schedule this quality time early. Two bowls of pasta were set out, the wine was poured and all you had to do was wait for him to arrive. You pulled out your phone to text him a gentle reminder, not that he was forgetful by any means but he did have a lot on his plate and with the way the season had been going, he’d spent more time at the facility than anywhere else these days. But having you did bring him back to himself in realizing that there was sometimes more to life than just football.

Justin was nothing if not punctual. It was a rarity for him to not be early and even more unheard of for him to be late. You’d be lying if it didn’t worry you a bit but you didn’t want to let your mind automatically assume the worst. Maybe he was just picking up some dessert? Ice cream did always make him feel like he was on top of the world and his appreciation for sweets was one of your favorite things about him. Yeah that was definitely it, he’s just picking up an anniversary cake or something and the line must be long, you tried to tell yourself.

After waiting an hour, you called him. It went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, it's me. Um…just wondering if you’re on your way. The food is kind of cold but I can warm it up for us and we can just hang out and watch a movie or something. Anyway, just let me know you’re alive. Bye.”

45 minutes after you left him a voicemail, you went back to your room to change out of your dress and take your makeup off. It took every ounce of strength in you not to cry but somehow you managed to get it done. Just in time to hear your door being opened. You walked back into the living room and started cleaning up, ignoring the man in front of you.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I stayed after practice to throw with some of the receivers and we lost track of time.” He was met with silence, so he continued, helping you clean up. “I didn’t even see your texts or calls until I got back to the locker room and I just showered and headed straight here. I feel terrible for having you wait here for me but you know it’s—”

“Important?” You spit out, pouring the last of the wine into the sink. “I know it is. I know this is your life and the NFL is what you’ve always dreamed of, I get that. And I get it you’re one of the captains, you’re the quarterback and their leader and all that and it’s great. I love that you get to live your dreams and play the game you love everyday. That's not the problem.”

He stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, towering over you even more. “Well then what is the problem?”

“Are—are you serious?”

“Yes y/n, please enlighten me. Because last time I checked, I told you this is my job. This is the most important thing in my life and you told me you understood that. I already apologized and I’m here now, so let’s just enjoy the time we have. Unless you have something else to say?”

There were so many things about him to love. He is kind and smart and genuinely doesn’t understand how beautiful of a person he is inside and out. But he also had the tendency to have tunnel vision when it comes to certain things, especially during the season. And that was not fun to deal with. “Justin, you stood me up with no communication. I thought you got hurt at practice or were in an accident. It’s not about you staying late at the facility, it's about me constantly being put on the backburner. I have things to do too. I have a job and friends and family to see, but I still make all of that work because I want to be with you. And it just feels like I’m the very last thing on your list and that really fucking sucks.”

Here come the tears that you’d tried so hard to keep at bay. You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, a sleeve that you now realized was attached to a shirt that belonged to him and it made you even more sad. “I think about you when I do things, I made dinner for us to celebrate the best six months of my life and I feel like I’m the only one who’s trying here.”

“That’s not fair,” he sighs, “I told you that football season is long and intense and you know the amount of stress I’ve been under. I mean the team is not performing the way we should be and I know that the only opinions that matter are the ones inside the building but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hear it and it doesn't affect me. You know it does. So yes sometimes I’m gonna have to stay late and have team meetings and miss a date or two here and there but babe…you signed up for this.”

You signed up for this. “You’re right.” You sniffle. “I can’t imagine the stress you’re under right now and I’m sorry. I thought I could just get your mind off things for a bit. That this…this relationship would be enough. Maybe I’ve been a little selfish, you’re being pulled in all these different directions already and here I am asking for a piece of you like everyone else.”

He shook his head once, stepping forward a bit to reach out to you. “No—that’s not what I meant.”

“Justin, I'm not with you because you’re an incredible quarterback. I love you because I think you’re the greatest person I’ve ever known. But I—I can’t just be another thing on your list. I can’t be another chore and that’s how I feel right now.” Your eyes turn down to the floor, tears continuing to wet your cheeks. “I think you should go.”

“Did you just say you love me?” You look up to meet his now glistening eyes. “Because I love you too and I don’t think we should call it a night just yet. We can—we can just talk and figure something out. I need to fix my work/life balance and I’ll make us more of a priority, I will.” He tries to reason, attempting to mask the hurt in his voice.

The words never come so you just shake your head sadly, holding his hand to walk him out the door.

Two weeks later, the apology flowers that you’d received from him were still sitting on the table, very much on their last leg. Upstairs, you were looking in your closet for a jacket when you stumbled upon your Padme costume. Of course. You and Justin were supposed to go to Keenan and his wife’s Halloween party tonight but instead you’d be on the couch wearing fuzzy socks, ordering takeout and watching Halloweentown on your own. Your phone interrupted Aggie meeting the hooded demon in the theater, much to your disappointment.

“Before you say no to coming to the party, please hear me out.” Of course Ally would call. Ever since her husband Eric had signed with the Chargers this past offseason you both had bonded immediately. She’d been a football wife for a while, so she took you under her wing while also letting you do things your way.

“You have two minutes to convince me not to dig into this tub of ice cream and not leave my house for the next 3-5 business days. Go.”

She laughs on the other end of the line. “There’s karaoke. And drinks. And people who love you and would really like to see you. Please don’t make me beg because I’m already two drinks in, our nanny is staying at our house overnight and I have nothing to lose. So just say you’re coming.”

The movie that was paused in front of you was appealing, but you couldn’t hide forever. Not when these people have become so important to you. And yeah maybe some part of you did want to see him, even if it was just for a little bit. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“See you in 60 minutes, I’ve set a timer.” Ally laughs.

Keenan and Ciandra definitely knew how to throw a party. You weaved through the different crowds until you spotted Ally, dressed in her finest 70s wear talking to other players' wives.

“Y/n! You’re here. It’s so good to see you baby.” Ciandra called out, pulling you in for a hug. “Your hand is empty, there needs to be a drink in it. I’ll be right back, you should mingle.”

As you caught up with the girls, you tried to sneak glances around the room, not having any luck. “He’s in the back room with some of the guys.” Ally whispers to you. “I don’t think anyone’s told him you’re here yet. You two should talk.”

“I wasn’t—I’m not looking for him. There’s nothing for us to talk about. We broke up and…that’s it.”

She gives you the look. “Yeah sure. Tell that to your face.”

The next hour was spent doing anything humanly possible to address the elephant in the room. There were drinks to be had, people to talk to and somehow you’d avoided Justin at every turn.

“Oh shoot, my phone is dead and I need to check in on Knight and see how he’s doing. I’m gonna go find Eric and use his phone but I have a portable charger in my jacket pocket upstairs in the coat room, will you grab it for me please?”

You nodded immediately, slightly thankful to step away from the music for a bit. “Of course, I’ll be right back Al.”

The trek upstairs wasn’t as easy in your white combat boots after three poison apple cocktails but you made it. Ally’s jacket was right where she’d described and you were just about to walk back downstairs when he walked in. The two of you almost ran into each other.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. Wait…y/n? What—what are you doing here?”

The beard had grown even more since the last time you’d seen him. It worked, in a weird way. “Ally forced me to come. I didn’t have time to get another costume, I really wasn’t going to come at first but—”

“No, I like the costume. It looks good on you.” He whispers, thankful that his robe was covering up his slightly shaky hands. The door suddenly closed behind him and they both heard it lock. Justin immediately walks over it, shaking it open without any results.

“You two are going to stay in there until you talk. I’m not taking no for an answer so you better fix it. We have all night and I have four kids so I’m very patient.” Ciandra yells from the other side of the door.

“She is! It’s probably for the best if y’all just listen and do what she says.” Keenan utters. “Good luck.”

The long haired man turned around to meet your eyes. “Did they just?”

“Lock us in this room like we’re children being put in timeout? Yeah.” You sighed, sitting on the bed.

He leaned against the wall, huffing out a breath. For a few minutes the only sound that could be heard was the faint bass of the music from the party.

“I’m sorry.” You both said at the same time, laughing at the irony.

Communication got you in this mess and now here you were using the exact same words. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one that ruined this for us. CiMo keeps telling people I messed things up with her partner in crime. I didn’t even know you two were criminals.”

“Well if eating a basket full of chicken tenders every game is a crime, then we are definitely guilty. And if there’s ever a tender shortage, you know who to blame.” You laugh softly, still looking at the floor.

“As much as I would love to keep talking about your obsession with breaded chicken, I need to be honest.”

“What is it?” You could tell he was nervous, subtly running his fingers along his chin so he wouldn’t pick at the skin on his face.

“I don’t know how to do this” he whispers, almost at a loss for words or what to say next without making the situation worse. “My entire life I’ve prided myself on working hard and being competitive in the classroom and on the field, no matter what field it is. And now? My entire life revolves around football and the team and the guys.”

“I want to be prepared for things. I watch film, I practice, I throw after practice. There’s tools out there for everything but this? I don’t—I can’t prepare. There’s no playbook to follow, plays to learn. I just feel…and that’s really fucking scary to me. I was overwhelmingly unprepared to feel this way about you so I tried to bury it and it was stupid and I hurt you. Y/n I’m so sorry for making you feel like another thing on the list. You are not a chore, you are the best thing in my life and I was too proud and caught up in my own shit to tell you that. And I’m not very good at expressing my feelings with words but—”

Your laugh interrupts him, “here I thought you were an open book.”

He chuckles lowly, shaking his head. “I’m definitely a book. I don’t know if it’s open but there’s a lot of pages and tiny writing that most people can’t see.”

With a sigh, you stand up and face him, grabbing ahold of his hand. “Good thing I like to read. Especially the chapters that you have hidden.”

One of your hands found their way into his hair, faces inches apart. “I love you. So much.” He whispers, holding you close. The kiss was slow at first, silent apologies and words of forgiveness all wrapped into one lengthy, desperate embrace. His entire body curved into yours, there was no way you could be any closer to him if you tried. You never wanted to forget this feeling, as long as you lived.

“I love you too, Justin.”

He leaned in again, asking “so we’re good?” In between pecks. You simply nodded, running your hands over his robe.

“Good.” He whispers, intertwining your fingers together with his right hand and pulling his phone out of his pocket with his left, telling Keenan thank you. The door was opened immediately after.

“Did you know they were going to do this?”

His cheeks turn a subtle tint of pink as he nods, “Who do you think begged Ally to get you to come to this party in the first place? Desperate times call for desperate measures. I didn’t want to risk you leaving without me apologizing.”

“Oh you’re doing anything I want for all of eternity for making me think we were stuck in this room. Starting with an anniversary redo?”

He smiles and nods slowly, making you melt. “You are in my very soul, tormenting me. I would do anything you ask.”

“My dear Anakin Skywalker…you are so lucky you’re cute.”

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert fluff #nfl imagine #justin herbert x reader

[philippeauguste]

There’s an interesting parallel about Stede’s strength in season 1 and 2.

In S1E4 when Stede wakes up after being stabbed by the Spanish officer and complains to Ed about being a terrible pirate, Ed tells him that most pirates he knows, they’re dead so he’s going a lot better than them.

(It’s a pivoting moment for the relationship, Stede calls Ed a good man, something that clearly means a lot to Edward).

Then in S2E5, when Izzy trains Stede to become a decent captain, Izzy tells him that he’s known better fighters, shooters, better men.. but they were all killed. And yet here Stede stands. Izzy begrudgingly recognized Stede’s amazing survival instincts.

Stede puts himself in dangerous situations over and over again and when others drop like flies (bye Ricky’s nose! Have a long happy life in Jackie’s jar), he remains mostly unscathed.

That’s his super power, he actually has great instincts but was taught to smother them and hide who he is by his father, his peers, society. But I think that he has the potential to become a really good leader.

🐛-> 🦋

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #stede #blackbeard #izzy hands

[sprout-fics]

Just read your John Price fic "Mind the Drop" and oh man I loved it! Excellent work lol. But it got me thinking about the dom/sub world in it... there's a thing called subdrop, but is there also domdrop? When a dom accidentally makes a sub feel unsafe and vulnerable (like not registering a safe word during a scene for example) and causes them to subdrop, does the dom also feel terrible? Do they also spiral, feeling like their biological tendency to dom only leads to harming others? Are they consumed by an ache to be seen as reliable again, the same way the reader in your fic ached to feel safe again?

I like to imagine it takes a sub to willingly put themselves in the dropping dom's hands to provide them the reassurance that they're a protector, a caregiver, a leader and not a monster. That the previous scene was an accident.

Anyway, I headcannon that Captain Price was so willing to help the reader through her drop because he's experienced really intense dom drops before and doesn't want to see someone he cares about drop either. He's a real mentor figure to the rest of 141 as well, advising them that doms like them, military men like them, are capable of just as much comfort as they are harm.

Anyway... just wanted to write that out somewhere. I know this was kinda long, but if you can, I'd love to read your interpretation of the dom drop idea. Anything really, fic or otherwise. Thanks!

You are VERY correct! Domdrops absolutely are a thing, both in this BDSM-verse and in real life. It's exactly as you described. I am not familiar with domdrop (I've also seen it referred to as topdrop) as I am with subdrop, but it is very similar to what you've written.

I've seen it described as a horrible realization of sorts- of questioning yourself and your ability to be a proper dom, to wondering if your partner has compromised their boundaries so they can please you in their submission, the guilt of making your partner feel unsafe, of feeling gross and awful and disgusted inside.

In this BDSM verse with Price- I have no doubt he tangoed with domdrop as a younger man. In his age now, he's much less prone to it because he intensely vets his partners and their willingness to communicate their needs and boundaries. I definitely think when Price was still learning his role as a dom he made some mistakes with his partners- mistakes he's learned from. But he still remembers the ache, the disgust, the guilt, the depression over having failed someone in a way that inherently went against his designation as a dom. I imagine he had assistance- be it from one of his dominant superiors or another familiar sub.

I also think Price is someone who would be the one to remind his subordinates that domdrop does exist, that is isn't a myth. He also provides a welcome space for those who may be struggling. Personally, I see him assisting Simon with domdrop at some point as well.

All very interesting thoughts! I'm a big fan of the sociology and psychology behind BDSM dynamics both real and fictional. Thank you for sharing! ❤️

[bucket-barnes]

(Suggestion from @shouldwemaybe)

Isle Christmas traditions

The Isle of the lost isn’t a place many would consider “merry”…quite the opposite actually, joy is an unknown emotion to most residents of the Isle, schadenfreude sure, but not any forms of Joy or merriment. When winter rolls around, and when Auradonians start getting ready for the holidays, Isle residents find their own ways to celebrate…though that term is used loosely, more so “things done to make the winter more bearable”.

The pirates often found winter to be the ample time for “caroling”, or more accurately “getting drunk and singing sea shanties at the top of your lungs to distract yourself from the frostbite” (pirate ships aren’t exactly known for being warm places to sleep). This was a tradition that the lost revenge crew found themselves partaking in during Uma’s absence (Uma wasn’t very fond of the tradition as the pirates drunken singing often drove away customers). Harry, as de facto captain in Uma’s absence, was definitely a leader in this intoxicated choir, because if he drank enough rum and sang enough shanties…who’s to say his fingertips weren’t turning dark blue? Severe frostbite? No! You’re just drunk! (Safe to say Uma was less than pleased once Gil spilled the beans after she asked him where all the new scars on Harry’s hands came from)

The Tremaine’s were a more sophisticated lot, often decorating their apartment above the salon with whatever tossed out and broken ornaments from Auradon that came in on the barges, Anthony doing his best to make a nice dinner with whatever food was the least spoiled, and little Dizzy making gifts for her family, often taking inspiration from what she saw Evie wearing on TV and daydreaming about when she would get to Auradon and would be able to give her grandmother a broach made of real emerald or give Anthony a new coat not made from leather scraps

If you were of the more religious variety, Claud Frollo often held church services from inside the crepery (a church to some), though attendance tended to be low since most people abandoned their gods once they realized they were on the isle. The Tremaine’s were often in attendance, on occasion Captain Hook would be there if the sober guilt started getting to him, maybe a couple goblins wandered inside. Claudine didn’t mind her father’s sermons, it was nice change from him berating her and calling her a sin and disappointment. She always sat at the register listening to her father speak as she continued to serve customers that weren’t there for religion

The Legume family had their own traditions. Gaston would take his sons on a “hunting trip” on the far side of the isle, well…except Gil, he was too busy making sure no one had to cut off Harry’s hands because of the frostbite he refused to acknowledge. This hunting trip usually consisted of picking off whatever wildlife managed to survive on the isle and then taking it home for Gaston’s wife to cook into…they wouldn’t call it a feast, more so the only decent food the Legume boys are gonna see for a while. Gil’s stepmother, though married to Gaston, wasn’t terrible, she always saved a little bit of meat for Gil for when he came home, it wasn’t much but, better than nothing

Overall, the Isle of the lost is far from merry or very festive but…people adapt

Hope you liked this! It’s kinda short and admittedly not my best work (it’s kinda hard to come up with unique traditions while keeping the Isle’s normal levels of overall shittiness) I’d love to flesh out some of these ideas though so let me know if you have one in particular you’d like to see made into it’s own story! And feel free to keep giving me festive writing prompts!

#disney descendants #harry hook #descendants 3 #gil descendants #ben descendants #carlos descendants #jay descendants #evie descendants #mal descendants #disney #christmas #festive #i don’t care that it’s november i want to be christmas festive #descendants fandom #descendants fanfiction

[spooky-pomegranate]

Spooky Pomegranate's Masterlist

🔥 = spicy (18+ only) 🗣️ = new chapters coming soon ⭐️ = completed series

*You can also find me on AO3 at Spooky_Pomegranate for more content.

Violence and Timing: 🔥 Price has tried to quell his more lustful urges when it comes to you, fearing he won't be able to keep you safe if he doesn't. But everything changes when you beg him to be more than just your protector.

Testing His Will: 🔥 Price desperately wants to be physical with you but after you’re injured he worries he’ll be too aggressive. His fear only intensifies after you kiss him for the first time.

Falling Apart: 🔥 After Price wakes up from a violent nightmare you find creative ways to help him get some much-needed sleep.

Use Your Words: 🔥 Price shows you the scars on his body and reassures you that everything will be alright.

Through The Door: 🔥 (ft. Simon “Ghost” Riley) Ghost doesn't trust you and when he hears you and Captain Price fighting in his office he stops to listen. But he hears and sees more than he ever expected.

Handcuffed and Blindfolded: 🔥 You strip Captain Price naked and cuff him to your bed. But this isn't a game about power and dominance. It's a last chance for Price to prove he can be vulnerable with the one person he loves more than anything. They'll Hear Us: 🔥 On the eve of your first mission with Taskforce 141, your nerves have you wired. You beg Price to help you find some release but he worries the others will hear you through the walls of the dingy safe-house. Will you be able to stay quiet?

It Was Supposed to Be Simple: For Price, it was supposed to be a simple mission. For you, it was supposed to be the most important meeting of your life. But nothing ever goes to plan, does it? Everyone Needs An Office Plant: Price is reminded of you when an office plant catches his eye.

I'm Not Like You: You lead your first mission. Price is there for you in the aftermath.

Price's Scars: You reflect on what it means to have seen the scars that linger on Price's body.

Price, What's Wrong?: Price struggles to deal with his emotions after your first mission with the 141 goes terribly wrong. Light in Darkness: Price grapples with the duality of himself. On one hand, he is a violent protector and fearsome leader but on the other, he is a man desperately aching for love. Can you reconcile his two halves?

Pablo's Ghost: ⭐️ Two nights after Horacio Carrillo is gunned down by Pablo Escobar in the streets of Columbia the drug lord receives a phone call that makes him question everything he's ever known. Meanwhile, you and Steve Murphy attend the Colonel's funeral and Javier Peña struggles to cope with the loss of his most trusted ally.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 🔥

Chapter 4 🔥

#masterlist #narcos fic #cod fanfic #captain price cod #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #horacio carrillo #colonel horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo

[palin-tropos]

44🙏

“If you die, I’m going to kill you.”

I am giving you Mazov/Nilsen for this one! And I got kind of fascinated by an outsider’s perspective for this story.

—

Account of a Mirovan citizen.

The roar of the crowd was the sea, prone to its swells and valleys, a unity of averages, but then—as all who witnessed the disaster would recount—that fateful barrage of bullets was first swallowed by the noise, then the shocked lull followed like an ominous retreat of the seashore, before the moment it surged, typhonic.

To say that the class war was declared that day on the streets of Mirova would be to mock the broader truth, that it had been waged ever since the city’s founding. One could hardly even call it a ceasefire broken. But it was true that the bourgeois class declared a new battle in the moment a particular captain of the guard gave the order to fire upon the strikers.

In that collectively held breath before the chaos broke loose, when the demonstrators realized in a rippling shockwave that some of their own were dead, it was Kras Mazov who leapt onto the pedestal of the General ——insky’s statue and pointed towards the mounted gendarmerie, exactly in the opposite direction of the General’s perpetually outstretched sword, crying out in accusation. But inevitably this was taken as a call to stand one’s ground and attack back. This must have been the intention.

At that point, years before the Revolution, you may be surprised to hear that Mazov was fielding accusations of timidity from his rivals, that he was a clever scholar but hadn’t really the stomach for violence. Anyone who met him personally saw that sensitivity. But it was that same tender soul that turned him into a commander that day.

And history could have been knocked from its tracks by a stray bullet in the moment that he rose above the crowd. The row of soldiers blockading the plaza aimed with the same thought—up, and away from the mass of workers, at the presumed leader.

This was a mistake. There was enough time for the men leading the march to rush forward, brandishing their signs—for they had no weapons—and try to drag the officers by their legs off their horses.

And Mazov, rigid and alone beside the unflinching legs of a horse and its rider cast in bronze, was suddenly joined by another man in a darker, high-collared coat, leaping with desperate vigor up onto the pedestal, clutching Mazov by his shoulders and turning them both round so that Mazov would be shielded behind his own body.

In the moment of another volley of rifle cracks, the man spasmed and his knees gave out. They fell together under the legs of the bronze horse for partial cover, Mazov with his back to the stone and the dark-coated man atop him.

I was there, you see, directly beside the statue. I thought at first that Mazov had been grabbed by an imperial officer because the other man’s coat was cut in a very military style, but I quickly realized the man was an ally of his. The two of them lay under an unfortunately lifelike metal cast of a horse’s genitalia—the indignity of it was hard to forget.

Mazov’s savior had such a thunderous voice that rang in my ears, exclaiming, “If you die here, I shall have to kill you!”

After trying more than once to speak over the mob clamoring for revenge, the winded Mazov had to drag the other man down to him by his necktie and enunciate in his ear, “No, you poor fool, it’s you who’s been shot!”

And at that point I hauled myself up onto the stone pedestal as well and reached for the man who seemed stunned to hear that he had a bullet in his back���but he did, I saw the hole torn in the dark coat. He refused to slump over, but the sensation must have broken through the shock, and his features twisted with pain, while Mazov sat up enough to cradle the comrade against his breast.

Mazov himself turned to me and ordered, “Get help!” and despite me being just a lad, he was baring a terrible vulnerability in that moment. I saw that tender soul people spoke of—his eyes were dewy and creased with so much simple, human pain.

As for the other man… strangely his face blurs like blended paint in my memory, which hasn’t been right ever since I somehow survived that dreadful plague… but there is no doubt in my mind that someone tackled Mazov down that day and saved him. I put my hands on his wounded back, and tried to staunch the blood, until some other group of communists suddenly appeared and whisked the both of them away.

It was the soldiers who fired first, yes. That I do remember.

#asks #mazovian yaoi #kras mazov #ignus nilsen #my fic #disco elysium

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

❝ Adachi Star held no love for pirates, but she did not hate them either - rather, she feared them, which was certainly unexpected in someone who had essentially been raised on the open water. Her father, a pirate captain in his youth who had given up the life upon meeting her mother and having a child, had been only too eager to take to East Blue once again after his wife had died from illness, taking his young daughter with him, and as such some of Star’s earliest memories had taken place on her father’s ship, learning how to sail and being snuck the best bits of meals by the crew’s chef.

To many, it would have seemed like an idyllic childhood, going on adventures and spending every day surrounded by the beautiful ocean… but it was not nearly as lovely as it seemed. Like many other pirates, Star’s father was obsessed with finding the legendary One Piece, Gold Roger’s infamous treasure that would grant the mantle of King of the Pirates to whomever found it - but Adachi Storm, leader of the Thundercloud Pirates, took his mission one step further. Every action he took was another step towards what he saw as finding the One Piece and becoming who he was truly supposed to be - including tricking his daughter into eating a Devil Fruit when she was only ten years old, forcing unto her a great and terrible power for the purpose of creating his own little weapon against other pirates.

Granted the powers of the hokori hokori no mi - the ability to make any non-living thing crumble to dust, with nothing more than a solid touch and a moment of focus - Star had at first been thrilled with her new skill, wanting desperately to please her father and going through all the training to strengthen her power that he wanted her to. But when an action Storm forced her to take during a battle with another pirate crew resulted in almost that entire crew dead, Star had realized just how much the search for the One Piece had overtaken her father, how truly obsessed he had become and the creature, the monster he had made his daughter into as a result… and rather than trying to help him, to get through to him and make him realize just how much he was hurting those around him, she had run, just a scared thirteen-year-old unable to face the reality of what she had done or the fear that had crept into the eyes of her father’s crew when they looked at her.

For years now, Star has been running; going from village to village, never staying in one place for long, seeking out the best fighters around and getting lessons from them so that she can learn different ways to be destructive without using her terrible ability, and only using her power when absolutely necessary, too afraid of what could happen if she gave in to using it again. But after getting involved in a pub fight in Shells Town and the escape from the local Marine base that follows, she finds herself stepping onto a pirate ship once again (if one could even call it that), along with a dry-witted thief, a surly swordsman who might be the most annoying person Star has ever met, and an overly energetic boy with stretchy Devil Fruit powers who is determined to become King of the Pirates in a way that reminds Star uncomfortably, terribly, of her father.

As the motley crew of four first set out on their journey, each with their own secrets and intentions that they don’t plan on telling the others, Star’s only goal is to keep Luffy from going down the same obsessive path as her father, and hopefully knock Zoro down a few pegs while she’s at it. But as their little so-called “crew” delves into further adventures and truly unexpected relationships begin to form, she starts to find that maybe, perhaps, taking to the seas again will not be as awful as she feared… and that maybe, if this crazy newfound family cares about her as much as she cares about them, perhaps she’s not as much of a monster as she’s been thinking since she was only a child. ❞

One Piece Taglist: @auxiliarydetective, @starcrossedjedis, @xoteajays, @oneirataxia-girl, @supermarine-silvally.

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

#my ocs #introducing my ocs #ch: adachi star #oc: adachi star #fic: uncharted waters #queerocs #fyeahocsofcolor #ocapp #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #fyeahonepieceocs #fyeahoplaocs #one piece oc #opla oc

[a-s-illustrations]

A chance meeting at Lougetown sets the tone for the future of Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

“For too long, villains and miscreants have sown havoc across our seas. But the Marines, on behalf of your World Government, strive to keep you safe and protected. And today we’ve made a great stride in that effort. Gold Roger, the so-called King of the Pirates, has been captured."

Crocodile huffed, partly in annoyance at the bold claims and partly in disgust at the prisoner that knelt grinning down that crowd. The hot mid-day sun beat down the crowd but no one seemed to care. All eyes, his included, were fixed on the scene playing out before them. He was tucked away into a side alley; the darkness of the location providing both shade and a place away from the masses where he could watch unbothered. He hated crowds. Hated the press of bodies against his own; the smell that stuck in his nostrils and the cacophony of voices that rang in his ears. He would have never come to this place if it wasn’t for the fact that he simply had to see if the news was true. To his dismay and disappointment, it was. Gold D Roger, the Pirate King, was about to be executed.

His reign of terror ends this day. Peace shall be restored. Let this be a message to break the spirit of anyone foolish enough to follow in his footsteps. Gold Roger, you have been sentenced to death for the crimes of piracy, thievery, and conspiracy against the World Government.

“What a joke,” a deep rough voice spoke behind him. He snapped around; one hand on his rapier handle; the fingers of his other hand flexed and ready to turn the intruder into a dried husk in a matter of seconds.

A tall young man towered over him; oddly curved shades blocked his eyes but his gaze was transfixed on the podium. He didn’t even look in Crocodile’s direction. He didn’t know if to be wary or offended by the action. “They talk about his crimes when they commit even worse ones in the names of their so-called justice,” the young man continued, “Everyone here knows it.”

Crocodile gave a non-committal grunt and followed his gaze to the podium. “Even if they know it, they will do nothing about it. It is hard to push against the grain when you’ve been bred to follow all your life.” He felt the stranger’s gaze turn to look down at him but he didn’t look up to confirm.

By the authority of the World Government… I declare your life forfeit…

Crocodile found his hand gripping the handle of his rapier tightly; his teeth clenched. Where was the Pirate King’s Crew? Where were his friends and comrades in arms? The men that sailed all of Grand Line with him? Did they abandon him in his time of need? Were they going to sit by and watch their Captain die? Was he really going to see another Empire crumble to dust because no one was loyal enough to stand with their leader?

Pirate King, where is your treasure?

A lone voice rang out. The question silenced the crowd like a gunshot. The atmosphere suddenly shifted; like the air before a storm. Charged and with the innate anticipation that something wonderful and terrible was coming.

Tell us where you hid it!

Another voice rang out. Then another and another. Pleas, demand, and begs filling the air and falling upon the ears of the world like raindrops on parched earth.

"You want my treasure?

Crocodile has expected his voice to sound frail but instead, it boomed from the podium, carrying easily over the waiting hearts below. He found himself holding his breath.

You can have it! I left everything I gathered together in one place. Now you just have to find it."

It was like a thunderclap from the clear blue sky. The crowd drew in a collective breath and exploded in cheers. The noise was like a tsunami; rushing in and destroying everything in its path. The crowd seemed to surge like a rouge tide; bodies swirling and then flooding towards to sea.

Crocodile jerked back almost instinctively to get out of the way; coming up short against a firm chest behind him. Large hands curled around his shoulders to steady him. He snapped his head up annoyed that the stranger didn’t get out of his way. A pair of cerulean blue eyes locked into his from behind those ridiculous pink shades.

“Not so hard to push against the grain when you have an incentive,” the man’s grin seemed to split his face in two. Crocodile frowned as his own observations were used to argue against him but before he could retort the man continued. “I’m going to do great things in the future. You should join me.”

Crocodile bristled. “How ironic that I am going to do the same, maybe you should join me?” He smiled wide, baring his teeth to the other man. The man’s smile grew impossibly wider and his eyes took on a look of cruel intent. Crocodile knew in his bones that he would never be able to work with someone like this. They were too much alike and any agreement would end in betrayal or worse.

“How about a wager then?” the stranger asked. Crocodile narrowed his eyes a bit.

“Continue.”

“Let’s see who builds something that lasts,” a long, pink tongue darted out to wet chapped, thin lips.

“I accept,” Crocodile replied, his lips twisting into an almost sensual smile, eyes half-lidded like the predator he was, “Now get your hands off me.”

The stranger cacked a low, deep fu fu fu before pulling away, long fingertips grazing the skin of Crocodile’s neck, causing his skin to goosebump in disgust at the unwelcome intimate gesture.

“I’m Donquixote Doflamingo,” the tall man finally introduced himself.

“Sir Crocodile,” Crocodile offered almost offhandedly.

Doflamingo sidestepped around him and stepped out of the alleyway into the blazing sun. His pale gold hair lit up like a halo of a corrupt god. He turned to look back at Crocodile.

“Till we meet again on sea or on sand.”

And with that he was gone; loping strides taking him through the crowd quickly and vanishing from view.

Only then did Crocodile allow himself to squirm; his body shuddering as if trying to shake off Doflamingo’s touch. Turning on his heel he headed towards the nearest tavern. He hoped that he never had to cross paths with that bastard again.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #sir crocodile one piece #crocodile one piece #crocodile and Doflamingo #one piece donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo one piece

[princeescaluswords]

This is more a comparison thought, but with the release of the X Men ‘97 trailer there’s been an increase in the “Wolverine is the real leader, Scott (Summers) is a dolt” sort of comments. Because I saw a text post about Scott (McCall)’s leadership skills I immediately made a, admittedly simplistic, comparison.

Fandom so often attaches themselves to the loud and angry characters, often the most reactionary, and declare them the most proactive and real leaders. I see it as a common thread in fandom, and one I worth a further discussion. How often characters with ideals, who consider the ramifications of actions, who attempt a steady hand are dismissed for the characters that meet our desire for action and violence.

I don’t believe I’ve fully formed thoughts on this, but it was an immediate consideration after seeing posts.

Before I tackle this question, I want to clarify that I only read Marvel Comics from 1984 to 1995 and then again from 2007 to 2013. I did read back issues during both periods, but those are the time periods where my opinion were set, and so there might be things from outside those time frames which do not impact my analysis.

The first time I stopped reading was due to two trends that simply uninterested me. During the 1980s, the X-Men comics had adventures but there was at least some degree of being grounded in everyday life. The 80s X-men worried about fitting in with the people around them and about having a life outside the spandex and fighting off the Brood and the Marauders, etc. When Riptide put Nightcrawler in a coma, it influence how other characters reacted to events. By about the summer of 1995, I didn't find that anymore in X-men.

The early 90s also saw the rise of the antihero in Marvel and a greater emphasis on bombast. The Punisher became a hero. Wolverine stopped worrying about his body count. There was no slow build up in the comics to a pulse-pounding conclusion; instead, there were pulse-pounding conclusions every three months. The comics I read slowly pulled away from "people with powers" and into what I referred to as "powers with a name tag attached." It was most likely me aging out of my interests.

The second time, I picked up the comics out of nostalgia and I found that there was a new level of maturity to be found in the storytelling. Characters like Captain America and Charles Xavier were being pushed out of their roles; a new generation had to learn how to protect themselves and others. And then came "Time Runs Out." It did, but in this case it was the time running out was my interest in the comics. Marvel Comics, like Hollywood, decided to go for retreads of original characters than take a risk on something new.

Both times, nuanced visions of leadership were the first thing to go. The "best" leader became the character who ignored everything but resolving the immediate problem as quickly as possible. With that criteria, Wolverine and characters like him -- lets call them what they are, killers -- were the best choice. But just as importantly, leaders who attempted to address systemic problems in the comic's world, the things that created the immediate problem were portrayed as bootlickers too inured to suffering to even notice it (various leaders of the Avengers), anxious managers whose refusal to act decisively simply perpetuated the problems (Cyclops and Spider-man), or hide-bound egoists too infatuated with their own visions and status to want to actually solve the problem.

Yes, I'm talking about Charles Xavier.

Don't get me wrong, Deadly Genesis is rightfully praised, and the terrible errors that Xavier committed there are legitimate criticisms of the character and how he approached resolving mutant oppression. But Marvel, as it frequently does, saw a golden goose and then beat it to death. Xavier barely remained a hero, instead becoming a stand-in for every corrupted politician in the history of the world. The thoughtful recognition of Xavier's sacrifice, his nobility, and his ultimate belief in the necessity of finding common ground was obliterated for the next episode of "What Did Charlie Do Now?"

The X-men wouldn't have been what they were without Charles's vision. The present writers know that too, they just resent it. I feel that Cyclops, too, has been robbed of his principles in order to become a Wolverine with speeches. When you can't tell the difference between one of Cyclops' bubbles and one of Magneto's speech bubbles, something's gone wrong. (This is not a criticism of Magneto. I thoroughly enjoy his perspective as one among many.) As far as I can tell, there are only two types of leaders in Marvel Comics who aren't villains: manipulative old people who have lost touch with the people they're trying to protect and the Voices of Generational Violence Embodied. I'm sure that there are people who enjoy that, but I'm not one of them.

#Marvel critical #x-men comics #media criticism

[islandtarochips]

Call of Duty OC: Kanoa Toa 🇦🇸

The Captain of the US Marine Corps and the Leader of the Warriors Task Force. A man who has confidence for his team that they will protect and save the people from any threats. A funny guy to keep you smiling in any serious situations. And it questions everyone of how he became CAPTAIN with that kind of attitude.

UNIVERSE: Modern Warfare 2/Modern Warfare 3

General:

🇦🇸 Name: Kanoa Toa 🇦🇸 Alias(es): Noa, Alpha 6, Toa, Captain Funnypants (Only Tiala can call him that) 🇦🇸 Gender: Male 🇦🇸 Age: Early 30s 🇦🇸 Birthday: April 1st 🇦🇸 Nationality: United State National (American Samoa) 🇦🇸 Place of Birth: American Samoa 🇦🇸 Home: Kahaluu, Hawaii (Living with his sister) 🇦🇸 Spoken Languages: English, Samoan 🇦🇸 Sexuality: Heterosexual 🇦🇸 Occupation: Captain in the Marine Corps, Leader of the Warriors Task Force

Appearance:

🇦🇸 Eye Color: Dark Brown  🇦🇸 Hair Color: Black 🇦🇸 Height: 6’2”/187 cm 🇦🇸 Scars: Scar on his chest, back and on left side of his hips. 🇦🇸 Face Claim: Alex Tarrant

Favorites:

🇦🇸 Color: Any Shades of Green 🇦🇸 Food: Any Samoan Food 🇦🇸 Drink: Diet Coke 🇦🇸 Flower: Not into flowers but will get some for the pretty ladies 🇦🇸 Hairstyle: His hair are short so…don’t know what hairstyle he likes🤷

Personality:

🇦🇸 Myers Briggs Type: ESFP If you think that Kanoa is the kind of Captain who is VERY serious. You guessed wrong. First time meeting, when you salute him first and he’ll do it back. And give you a big HUG (He’s a hugger by the way). He will be the first responder without even THINKING. Like going into the battlefield not caring of other dangers but focusing on one main thing. Just like Tiala, he chooses his words carefully since he doesn’t want to upset or offend other people. He’s also an older brother figure for his comrades. Since he always bail them out from any troubles that they have caused. But he still needs to think of a punishment if they went TOO far. 🇦🇸 Hilarious: Kanoa is the most FUNNIEST guy you will ever met. He will always find a way to bring up some ridiculous story or jokes to his team. And they’ll laugh with him. And sometimes AT him too. 🇦🇸 Strong Common Sense: Even though Kanoa is the funniest and the nicest guy you’ve met. Don’t think that you can take him down so easily. He has good common sense. He trusts his own judgment but is open to other suggestions.

Negative Traits:

🇦🇸 Kanoa always so prideful for his team and his own work. You can hear him bragging about the good thing about himself for HOURS. 🇦🇸 Good at hiding of his pain (mentally). He also has “Smiling Depression”. Smiling in front of everyone making them think that he’s alright but on the inside he’s just a stressful Captain. 🇦🇸 Kanoa is like Tiala when it comes to deal with an enemy who has family. 🇦🇸 Kanoa is another one of those TERRIBLE driver. He can drive perfectly in a very calm state but when you ask him to speed up. This man will just ZIG-ZAG left and right.

Skills and Abilities:

🇦🇸 Fighting Style: Hand-to-Hand Combat 🇦🇸 Weapons: M4A1, HK416 and M550 🇦🇸 Distinct Weapons: Fixed Blade Dagger 🇦🇸 Special Skills: Has a good sense of improvising last minute. Like, when a mission goes wrong and it doesn’t go as planned; Captain Kanoa Toa got your back by finding another way around  to finish it.

Family:

Nakoa Loe Toa (Father, Alive)

Elei Toa (Mother, Alive)

Hōne Toa (1st Older Brother, Deceased)

Sami Toa (2nd Older Brother, Alive)

Serah Toa (Sister-in-Law, Samis’s Wife, Alive)

Penny Toa (Niece, Sami’s Daughter, Alive)

Dinah Toa (Niece, Sam’s Baby Daughter, Alive)

Rangi Toa (3rd Older Brother, Alive)

Tiala Toa (6th Younger Sister, Alive)

Hemi Toa (5th Younger Brother, Alive)

Iosefa Toa (4th Younger Brother, Alive)

Tamah Toa (3rd Younger Brother, Alive)

Fetu Fetuao Toa (2nd Younger Brother, Alive)

Iona and Kiona Toa (Youngest Brothers, Twins, Alive)

Trivia:

🇦🇸 Kanoa is the only funny kind of siblings in his family. Always make a good joke to keep them laughing and make them forget all of the bad things that happened. 🇦🇸 He’s the 2nd brother that Tiala is really close to after his older brother, Hōne, had passed away 🇦🇸 Kanoa will give you dad jokes 24/7 and even gives you the most embarrassing story about his brothers and his sister. But NEVER about himself. 🇦🇸 He’s always the first one to ask his comrades of who wanted to arm wrestle with him. If they win, he’ll get them ice cream. 🇦🇸 Give good love relationship advice but never get one for himself. (He’s single as heck man and he’s in his 30s!)

Background Story:

Kanoa was proudly born and raised on the island. The funniest man you will ever meet. He joined the Military at the age of 17. Which means he signed up right after High School. Just to keep the family lines going. He was really inspired by his dad, Nakoa, hearing his stories of joining the military.

He signed up with Rangi, his 3rd eldest brother, for the Marine Corps and they both started working hard on reaching to the top. He had also met his other older brother, named Hōne. Who was a Lieutenant at that time. Always make good fun with him during their military times. Until he heard the news of Hōne being KIA from one of the missions. It really took a toll on him.

But he kept going as he worked even harder to pass up the ranks. Until he reached up to the rank of being a Corporal. That’s when he met his sister, Tiala, who is a Private. He was happy and proud to see his little sister working hard to honor their older brother’s name. Until 4 years later, he found out about Tiala volunteering. To go on a solo mission to find out about the intel of the next location; by being the pretend victim for one of the human trafficking.

He’s not very sure about this mission until he gives in to Tiala reasoning with him. But how much he wishes he could take his words back. Finding out that his little sister has been taken away by the enemies. He was devastated and angry to hear this news. So he asks permission from the General to let him and the team he chooses to find her. FAST.

He didn’t give up on searching for Tiala until 2 months later. He finally found her. From the location where no one even KNEW it was there. He raided into the enemies hide out and unalive almost everyone without hesitating.

He took her back and stayed with her in the medical bay. Kanoa was heartbroken to see her in this state and that’s when he decided to make his own special team. He named it “Warriors Task Force”. And started working under one of the Generals of the Marine Corps, Alana Kalani.

He promised himself to bring protection and justice to the people who were victims from the trafficking and being hostages. And that’s when he became Captain of the Marine Corps.

#kanoa toa #cod oc #cod ocs #call of duty #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #original character #character profile #original character profile #oc profile #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #captain kanoa toa #captain toa