#arne speaks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caninemotiff · 2 years

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SONG OF THE RAVEN; wip intro

"My Lady is not of feather and flight. She does not chirp pretty songs and float above it all untouched. My Lady howls. My Lady crawls. The Lady of Ravens watches coolly, the messenger of death, but My Lady? She wallows with the worms that tend the corpses. My Lady is the hidden places, the lonely places, the caverns, the depths, the wastes. Her song is the slow creep of the ocean upon the cliffs, the relentless trawl of time, the taking each year of all that is ripe and turning it to rot. My Lady is the Devourer and she needs to be fed."

ABOUT;

GENRE: high fantasy

POV: third person limited

STATUS: writing & planning

TRIGGER WARNINGS: fantasy typical violence / mass illness plotline / depersonalisation

TROPES & THEMES;

destructive nature of unchecked consumption / fantasy cityscape setting / domain based polytheism / isolation vs community / identity / socially naive protagonist / friendship / song based magic system / rigid tradition vs fluid change / archipelago world / magical illness / masks and presentation / queer romance subplot

BLURB;

THERE ARE THE priests, faces forever masked to those beyond the temples. There are the gods, the force behind all life, the singers of the great song. And there is a corruption in the song, an errant tune, and it is spreading.

ARN CHILD OF MIRIA, like most orphans on the Isle of Miria, knows very little of the outside world beyond the Temple District Walls. Since the day of their arrival, Arn has been trained in the ways of the sanctra, those who learn the language of the gods and use it to shape the world around them; the very song of life. Most find their talents lay in the domain of a specific god, their song suited to commanding the swells of the Ever Ocean in the Temple of the Tempest, or calling the crops to flourish in the Temple of the Lord of the Earth. Arn, whose curiosity and talent never waited long enough to settle, is newly initiated into the Temple of the Lady of Ravens; the divine messenger who knows all and goes where she must. When their mentor in the Temple is called beyond the Walls, Arn must don the mask of their Lady and follow into the dizzying cacophony of song and life, must use the knowledge they have of the song to command the very world around them to their will, shaping it in imitation of the great Chorus, sung a millenia ago when the gods called existence into being.

WHEN ARN AND their mentor are called into the home of a young nobleman suffering from a strange, discordant illness, Arn is forced to weave their lifesongs together to keep him alive; a discouraged, but not unheard of method in the field. The illness begins to spread, and the song of Miria, once in harmony, begins to howl with the cries of a long forgotten hunger intent on consuming all. But the sick and dying cannot be reached, not like that first time, not like Kirrin. Arn realises the tether between them may be the key to saving the people of Miria, if only they could understand why.

CHARACTERS; (intros coming soon)

Arn Child of Miria / the initiate

Luna of the Lady's Flock / the companion

Kirrin Child of Astari / the tethered

Marsi Child of Miria / the brave

Palla Child of Miria / the weaver

Eri Child of Jaya / the lost

Niko Child of Miria / the mentor

TAGLISTS; ask to be +/-

WIP TAGLIST: @chariklos / @writeblrfantasy / @wickerring / @thats-my-type-writer / @sunlightwriter / @teriwrites / @harinawa / @marimos / @uppoffringar / @diphthongsfordays

GENERAL TAGLIST; @stormharbors / @ladywithalamp / @philocalizt / @wildswrites / @darkgazer / @muddshadow / @ghostschemes / @lockejhaven / @froggywriter / @nightjarz / @moariin

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horrorslu7 · 1 year

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should I add the conjuring characters to my character list ooor?

#nat speaks #the conjuring #arne johnson #lorraine warren #ed warren #hate the real warrens tho #x reader

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jeysbvck · 2 years

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Hey shan,

You aren't stupid, everything you say has worth and you deserve to be treated as such. I think you are very smart and kind and that everything you say is awesome. I don't think bimbo is a negative word, like himbo. They are both positive words I think. Either way, if you don't like to be called it, then please don't let you or anyone else call you that, and if they do send them my way, I will fight them. Also shan, you are a very very beautiful soul, and I mean that in the purest way possible. I truly enjoy seeing you on my dash and chatting with you in the server 💜. I hope that your day gets better and you get treated nicer, personally I think you should wow whoever made you feel inadequate and also tell them to fuck off. They aren't worth your time if they make you feel like shit 💜

And here's a cute monkey family hug for you (I don't actually know what these are but they look like monkeys)

arne i love you so much😭😭 all the sweet messages and cute gifs in my inbox, thank you🥺💖💖

usually i wear bimbo like a badge, like it's me that started calling myself that lmaooo, but ugh, sometimes it just feels like im looked down on and like, nobody takes me at my word, like if i say i know something 100% without question, i have to fight and prove that i know it, and even then most of the time that isn't good enough either!

idk im just really struggling lately, it's why ive kinda been ia in the server even tho i miss u all😭

but i'll be okay, i always am, and thank you for being one of the sweetest people ever, im so lucky to be able to call you a friend❤️❤️

#shan speaks #arne tag<3 #this message and the other messages from arne made me tear up🥺🥺❤️❤️

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rafecameronsgun · 3 months

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heey so this is my very first post,i wanna knoww what you think,so please leave a comment 🙏🏻🤍

warnings: smoker!rafe,party, christian girl,dangerous rafe who ruinssss every part of reader

Always,always the bad boys…

Always, always, always, you hated boys like Rafe Cameron. The heartless bad boys. Always, always, always, it was the kind-hearted, devoted guys who swept you off your feet. The guys with the best grades in school, attending advanced math classes, constantly talking about science and how everything around us is a miraculous gift from God. The guys who ask if they can hold your hand. Always, always, always the good guys. The respectful, cute little nerds. Because you are exactly like that. You wear a bow in your hair like a little girl, if a skirt doesnt reach your knee, you put on tights... every day you read the Bible, go to church on Sundays... You only see the good in people, always helping everyone, and nothing irritates your nerves more than someone not appreciating education.

You were perfect. Until Rafe Cameron ruined you.

Your friend, Sophie, is celebrating her 18th birthday today, and she invited you to her birthday party. You ring the doorbell of a huge, white house with a gift in your hand. Loud music is playing inside the house, and through the window, you see rapidly changing colorful LED lights. You don't have time to turn back when you realize that this is not the kind of party you're used to.

"Hi there!" your friend opens the door and invites you in. The gift in your hand is quickly replaced by a red party cup. The loud music is pounding in your body, it scares you because you've never heard such loud music before. With trembling legs, still in shock, you cautiously venture further inside, walking along the wall, trying not to bump into any drunk youngsters. You don't even want to get into their line of sight. You want to disappear, but you can't be so rude to your friend. You can't leave her, you can't be so impolite.

Sophie grabs your arm and pulls you down onto a couch.

Your legs pressed together, you clutch your cup. Your stomach tightens to the size of a fist, your lungs betray you by not supplying oxygen to your bloodstream. You grip the cup tighter to hide your trembling hand. You want to get out of here, as soon as possible.

"Truth or dare?" a guy speaks in a deep, hoarse voice. You didn't think it was meant for you until Sophie nudges you. Shyly, you look up from your lap, and your gaze meets a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes. The owner is Rafe Cameron, but you don't know that yet. All you know is that he is very attractive. His massive body stretches out on the couch, lean muscles tense under the royal blue fabric of his shirt as he lights a cigarette. "Wh-what?" you ask in a soft, trembling voice. You look at Sophie, she raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for you to respond.

"Umm... dare?" you say, or maybe ask, you're not sure anymore, you just want to leave. The guy smirks satisfactorily, lets out a dark laugh, and moves up on the opposite couch. Leaning forward, barely 20 centimeters separate you, and then he says, "Sit on my lap!"

His jaw tightens, and you’re sure you saw a little flame flickering in his eyes as he waits for your reaction. He takes a drag from the cigarette, and you are still frozen in place. Sophie looks at you, raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for me to respond.

"And what if I don't?" you ask, now a bit indignant.

"Then smoke this cigarette!" he holds the substance towards you. In the Bible, it says not to do drugs. And not to fornicate. You don't know which is the heavier sin in the eyes of God, but before you can decide, Sophie pushes you into his laps

"Have some fun, Sleeping Beauty!" she laughs at you.

You freeze. Your legs on either side of the guy, your eyes pop open, your hand accidentally lands on his chest. You feel his loud heartbeat under your palm, his warm muscles as he leans back. He casually tosses his arn onto the back of the couch, using one arm to lift the harmful substance to his mouth. And then, in the next moment, you feel something that's the cherry on top of the cake. Something hard, very hard, is trying to penetrate the gap between your legs through your pants. Your eyes almost pop out of your head, you pull your hips back, and somewhere on his thigh, you sit down. He takes a big drag of the cigarette, then blows it into your face.You cough, withdrawing. The smoke fills your face, and you try to move away. He grabs you with one arm, lifting you back to where you were. Then he looks at you with an intense, intimidating look, and you find yourself gazing at the bulge in his pants...

He chuckles softly as he pulls you forward with one hand. You let out a soft gasp when you recognize the shape beneath you, and you'd rather sink into the ground in shame for finding this appealing.

"What's wrong, scared of a dick?" he laughs loudly, and the way he looks at you... he finds you pathetic. And so do you find yourself pathetic. You'd leap off him, but then he lifts you up with one arm, standing up with you, there's a height difference of at least 40 centimeters between you. And he love it. Taking another drag from his cigarette, you remain frozen. He leans down, until his face is about two fingers away from yours. You can't move, and you certainly don't want to. Rafe Cameron fascinates you. The golden chain around his neck sways as he leans down, his ocean blue eyes and his buzzcut... perfectly fitting the "dangerous bad boy" vibe.

He raises his hand to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb. Placing his palm on your cheek, his thumb separates your two lips, and what happens next... every cell in your body trembles.

He exhales the smoke into your mouth, and now you also feel the foul, tobacco smell in your own mouth. You start to cough, and he smiles with a menacing look, causing your knees to almost buckle.

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, then secures his strong arms around your thin, toned waist.

"I... I..." you can't answer because, the next moment, he squeezes both sides of your waist, sending shivers through your veins. You find yourself looking at his pants. You need to know if he like this situation as much as you do. And yes, he ENORMOUSLY love it.

After this, you became Rafe Cameron's mission. Every time you meet, every time he follows you, and every time he sneaks through your window at 4am in the morning to finger you, he corrupts you a bit more. And you find yourself realizing that, in just a few weeks, you've committed more sins in his presence than in your entire life. He intoxicates you at parties, demands you to smoke from his cigarette... in just a few weeks, he completely ruined you. And you fucking love him for it.

#outer banks #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron smut #smut #daddy's good girl #i love him #coquette #little tease

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therapycat21 · 5 months

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ARN One shot- The Grammys

Description: Y/n L/n gets the call she is being nominated for a Grammy. Will she win?

ARN Series Masterlist Regular Masterlist

I sit on the couch almost in tears waiting for Stacy to call me about the nominations. I can barely focus on anything even when Travis comes and sits beside me and holds my hand in his warm grasp. I jump as my phone starts to ring on the coffee table in front of me, I look at Travis frantic “Girl you better answer that phone!” he laughs before grabbing my phone and pushing it into my shaking hands. I press the accept button and put the phone on speaker. “Hey Stace” I greet her, my voice shaking a little “Hey, I can hear it in your voice, don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna look now and then I will tell you, alright?” she says, you can hear the nervousness in her voice as well.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I tried to say enthusiastically. I look over to Travis as we wait for her to log into everything and see him setting his phone up on record to capture this moment. I give him a small smile and he grabs my head into his hand and pulls my forehead towards his mouth “You got this! I know you do baby” he says before Stacy is back on the phone “Okay I am logged in, are you ready?” she asks “yep, let's do this”.

We sit in silence before Stacy gasps and you can hear her start to laugh and somewhat cry simultaneously. “Oh my god! You were nominated SEVEN TIMES!” She almost yells into the phone. I jump from the couch in joy “Ahh! Oh my god!! Are you serious?!” I ask as Travis is dancing around the room in joy and talking into the recording on his phone “SEVEN GRAMMYS BABY!! LET’S GO!” He fist bumps the air repeatedly before panning the camera towards me “You did it baby! I knew it!”.

“Oh god, thank you so much, Stace, seriously I couldn't have done it without you!” I tell her. We finish the phone call, still on a high from the news. I plop on the couch and rub my hands down my face “Ugh, I can’t believe this is happening” I tell Travis as he sits back on the couch next to me pulling my body towards him, and plastering my face in kisses and wringing my body from side-to-side in excitement “I did not doubt this baby” he says in my ear.

Grammys

Travis and I are seated at our table in the big award room talking and mingling with a few other celebrities as we are alerted the show is gonna be starting soon. Travis and I turn our attention to the opening monologue by comedian Tina Fey.

“Okay, so we have had a pretty crazy year, we went from assault at the Oscars to Y/n and Travis being married! Crazy right? ” The camera pans to me and I start to laugh while Travis is throwing his fist in the air twice. “Okay so we are now ready for the first award of the night,” Tina says while panning to the giant screen behind her and the Grammys narrator starts to speak and announce the singers nominated, including me “And now for the best album of the year, the winner is POSITIONS BY Y/N L/N!” Tina says before the camera pans once again to me, I cover my mouth before standing up with the help of Trav and throwing myself into his arms, he kisses the top of my head repeatedly and hugs me from side to side. Travis gently lets me go before ushering me to go toward the stage. I walk through the crowd and finally make my way to greet Tina as she hands me the award and congratulates me. I stand in front of the microphone, holding the awards, still slightly shaking.

“I can’t even fathom this happening, even just being nominated was special enough but to know I was capable of even being included in this category with the other amazing and talented women of this industry makes me thankful and I want to thank every single one of my fans for bringing me to where I am today, I want to thank my mom, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have pursued this career or thought myself capable if it wasn't for you encouraging me every day, and also to Stacy, thank you for sticking by me through it all, and last but not least, I would like to thank my husband, Travis I never thought I would have found someone so loving and appreciative and caring in my life and I am forever grateful every day I get to live life with you. Thank you, everyone, soo much!!”

The crowd claps and hoots loudly as I finish my speech, I can still hear Travis as he is loudly exclaiming his appreciation and love for me in the crowd. I give the crowd and camera one more smile before walking to the side and leaving the stage.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist:

@whitemanswhore3

@bxdbxtxh15

@cixrosie

@kkrenae

@the-untamed-soul

@calirindo

@armystay89

@hotwheels1108

@awatt31

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@goldenharrysworld

@chimchimmarie

@jmamas92

@itsdesiree86

@fanficfanatic15

@vir-tual

#travis kelce #travis x reader #allrightnowseries #famous!reader #kansas city chiefs

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lovearne · 1 year

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do you have any upcoming vigilmaker fics? the adrian x reader self shipper weirdos are only 60 fics ahead of us on ao3, we're so close to beating them! they were like a 100 fics ahead just a few weeks ago. we can win this we just need more fics!

i think there are still more adrian x reader fics than vigilmaker fics on tumblr (i report them whenever i see them but staff wont take them down) but we can still take back ao3!

I wasn't going to address this. But I've gotten several, and I do mean several different asks like this.

Hopefully this doesn't piss off my vigilmaker moots.

There is nothing wrong or weird about writing reader inserts. There is nothing cringe about writing reader inserts.

What is wrong and weird and cringe is the way you are reporting, shaming and shitting on people for writing and reading them. Just because it isn't your cup of tea doesn't mean shit.

You are making this Fandom toxic. And I for one hate that. This Fandom had such good structure in the beginning. You are helping to ruin that.

I hope you like Taylor swift because you are the problem. People that spread hate like this, like you do, you are the problem.

This is called fanfiction for a reason. It's fans making fiction of beloved characters. So instead of hating on people for things you don't like (ie x reader) then learn how to fucking filter out the tags that correlate with what you don't want to see.

I'm done with the hate in Fandom. Grow up or get out. Those are the options. Fandom belongs to everyone.

Also, you sent this to an almost exclusively reader insert writer, so fuck you.

#arne speaks #vigilmaker #hbo peacemaker #peacemaker x reader

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joshualunacreations · 1 year

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In 2022, Corinne Tan was announced as the American Girl Doll of the Year and heavily promoted as a way of raising awareness about anti-Asian racism during COVID. But what message did her story send?

When Corinne Tan debuted, AsAms were offended by the synopsis and how it centered a white man in what's supposed to be a COVID racism story. Once I heard the book had been fast tracked for two live-action specials on HBO Max and Cartoon Network, I knew more harm was coming. In the rare instances Western media talks about anti-Asian racism, it's downplayed. Instead, narratives are used to reinforce the 1) Model Minority Myth, 2) Asian gender divide, and 3) "correct" levels of assimilation. Unsurprisingly, Corinne Tan’s story does all of these.

There's a place for stories about divorce and blended families, but this story isn't it. COVID racism is specifically about the threat of AAPI being verbally or physically assaulted by non-AAPI. The author's choice to emphasize conflict within an Asian family is inappropriate.

Instead of empathizing with David Tan's inability to work during the pandemic—a real problem that has devastated many AAPI families and businesses—it's the reason Judy divorces him. The story not only erases racism as a reason for AAPI pandemic joblessness, but victim-blames. It implies her parents have an antagonistic relationship because her dad isn't white and rich, and that makes him an inferior romantic partner. Despite referencing a slur meant for Asian men, the story never acknowledges that her dad experiences racism too.

Another appalling aspect is how Corinne, an 11-year-old girl, is responsible for teaching a grown white man to empathize with her experiences of racism—because her mom won't. Not only does Judy never talk to Arne about racism, she lets him gaslight Corinne in front of her. Judy seems fixated on wealth and achievement over her daughters' emotional safety. When the family lived with David, the walls were decorated with the daughters' artwork. In Arne's house, Judy is concerned with protecting the aesthetic chosen by Arne's professional decorator.

This is why the Eileen Gu poster becomes such a sticking point. While David encourages his daughters to embrace Chinese culture in everything, Judy seems to apply it only to her restaurant. Is it because Arne tells her he hoped marrying a chef would mean never buying takeout?

Meanwhile, Arne, a rich white businessman—who calls himself Goldilocks and whose behavior the author describes as "clueless" racism—gets sympathetic treatment. His fear of heights and dogs is equated to Corinne's fear of racists, as if it's a phobia to overcome via willpower.

Recall that the purpose of Corinne Tan's story is to educate about AAPI experiences with racism during COVID. Mattel, owner of American Girl, hired a panel of AsAm academics and consultants to tell her story with "authenticity and accuracy." So how did it turn out so harmful?

It's because the AsAm consultants for this project and many similar projects—like Dr. Jennifer Ho—are out-of-touch with our community. Insulated by wealth and/or whiteness they've chosen, they think they've acknowledged their privilege, but their work shows they're still reinforcing it.

The broader problem is that racist and misogynist white men control media. Regardless of gender, sexuality, or marital status, AAPI are given media power only when they internalize and repeat white men’s messaging. This isn't limited to fiction—it affects real-life activism too.

A picture says a thousand words, and it speaks volumes that Stop AAPI Hate chose to literally center white men in the photo accompanying their hate crime data report summarizing the past two years. Of those "thousands of voices," it isn't hard to guess who's prioritized. Stop AAPI Hate pushes the same message as Corinne Tan's story: racist white men deserve more humanity and sympathy than actual AAPI male victims. Hating and erasing AAPI men is required to show that you're a "safe" Asian deserving of resources and support. (see my data thread about how hate crime data is manipulated to erase AAPI men as victims)

It's bad enough that an entire gender is being cut out from resources and empathy, but what Corinne Tan’s story reveals is another disturbing trend: AAPI youth are being groomed into normalizing having racist white men in their lives, specifically in their families and homes.

Corinne Tan is a middle grade story (ages 8-12). For its consulting, Mattel partnered with AAPI Youth Rising, a non-profit led by AAPI middle schoolers. At the time, Dr. Ho was president of the Association for Asian American Studies, which helps shape AsAm studies in schools. It's not a stretch to think Corinne's mom Judy, who puts Corinne in harm's way by refusing to address her white husband’s "clueless” racism, is reflective of the behavior of AAPI adults involved in Stop AAPI Hate and other AsAm orgs—they gave the story their stamp of approval.

Anti-Asian hate crimes against AAPI should've brought the community closer together. Instead, we've been segregated further, and the AAPI who hurt the community the most have hoarded the empathy, media attention, and resources for themselves. How can any of us heal like this?

(Please don’t repost or edit my art. Reblogs are always appreciated.)

If you enjoy my comics, please pledge to my Patreon or donate to my Paypal.

https://twitter.com/Joshua_Luna/status/1134522555744866304 https://patreon.com/joshualuna https://www.paypal.com/paypalme2/JoshuaLunaComics

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paperpocalypse · 2 years

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case 254.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 1. There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader Word Count: 1,591 words Warnings: Swearing, violence

You are, by all accounts, married to your work.

And you are a loyal lover. The briefcase is your certificate, the bullets your vows. You keep them close wherever you go. Twenty-four years in the Commission is nothing to sneeze at, and you have never – not once – been unfaithful.

… Not in action, at least. Recent thoughts of retirement have begun tempting you to the point of an emotional affair.

(You’d get married, maybe. To a person, not a job. Live in a one-story home with a pond in the backyard and not too far from the nearest Walmart, adopt a little dog that you and your spouse spoil to bits. You’d die peacefully in your sleep instead of bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere.)

“Shit.”

Coughing, you spit and wipe your mouth with the cuff of your sleeve. Damn Arnie made you bite your own tongue.

“The police will be here any minute!” he yells through the walls, and something clatters to the ground. “You can’t make me go back!”

“I’m not making you go back, Arn,” you call back, exasperated. “I got an order to kill you.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

You chuckle and stumble back to your feet.

Arnold had been a loyal employee of the Temps Commission for twenty years. He specializes in 18th century weaponry, his kill count is in the hundreds, and he relies on cigarettes in the same way you rely on coffee. He is also a friend of yours – or the closest thing a Temps assassin can have to a friend – and that’s probably why the Board sent you to kill him.

They had given you two days. You had promised one.

It’s been three.

“You shouldn’t have tried to sell your briefcase to the military, Arnie!”

Arnie doesn’t reply. The squeal and slam of a door grates on your ears, and you swear aloud, rushing to the bathroom.

You break the door open and don’t hesitate to fire in quick succession, just barely missing a shoe slipping from the windowsill.

Clicking your tongue, you pause.

“Dammit.”

Something small and cylindrical is lobbed through the window, bouncing and rolling to a stop at your feet.

“Dammit!”

You book it out of the bathroom, rounding a corner and diving to the ground just as the grenade explodes. The floor shivers. You cover your ears and hold your breath.

If people had ignored the ruckus beforehand, they certainly can’t now.

Panting, you scrape yourself off the floor, reaching back to pull your Glock out and heading back to the bathroom. “Son of a bitch …”

Smoke and burst pipes and rubble are all that remains of the bathroom. Your heart drops to your stomach when you recognize the guts of your Commission briefcase among the rubble. This has got to be the second-worst fumble of your career; you should’ve thrown the briefcase out first and then run out. Your rifle is a lost cause too.

Shaking your head, you approach the gaping hole in the wall and slowly clamber down the side of the building. Arnold couldn’t have gotten far, not with a concussion and the bullet in his leg. Thank goodness. You don’t have as much stamina for high-speed chases as you used to.

The same moment that you land on a patch of broken bricks and dirt, the sound of a gunshot resonates behind you.

You immediately whip around, firing a shot into Case 254’s head before you can even register that his back had been facing you.

Arnold collapses, dead, onto the ground a few meters away from you. Your lips part. You quickly look back up and keep your gun poised.

A man points his rifle back at you.

“Got him before you did,” he tells you, voice low and gruff.

There’s a briefcase at his feet.

“Did the Board think I couldn’t handle this one?” you ask, aiming between the man’s eyes. You like the way he speaks, even though it pisses you off. He’s confident. “Or do they think I defected too?”

“Did you?” he challenges.

Not in ways they can punish. “If I did, Arnie wouldn’t have tried to blow me up with an MK3.”

“… Humph.”

Sirens are getting ever louder. The two of you lower your weapons; you’re no longer wary of this fellow assassin, but the glare he’s fixing you with makes you want to rile him up.

“Tell me your name, hotshot,” you say, walking over to Arnold and rummaging through his clothes.

He grunts sourly. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“To make conversation.” You find some loose change and a coupon for a tanning salon – alright – but what you’re really interested in is the copy of the briefcase’s blueprints. You pocket everything. “It stimulates the mind. I think you might need that in your old age.”

When you face the man fully again, he rolls his eyes.

Then he literally disappears into thin air.

You blink. The dots connect as quickly as the flaring lights of police cars shine around the corners of the building, and a frenzied laugh escapes your lips.

“What a gentleman.”

Guess the rumors were right – the Commission’s new darling, Five, is a genius as well as an asshole.

On the other side of the apartment complex, the detective tells officers to surround the building. You quickly put your gun away and take off before they reach the back.

“I heard someone running! Over here!”

You run until you reach a chain-link fence, locating a spot where the mesh had peeled away from the post and slipping through with gritted teeth. The air inside your mask weighs on your skin, hot and thick from your heavy breathing. Your feet already hurt. You should’ve invested in those gel insoles Arnold told you about before he decided to defect.

“Stop! This is the police!”

You hold back a groan. You’re getting too old for this shit.

But you keep going anyways. You keep running, turn a corner and cut through back alleys, knock out the few people you pass who are unlucky enough to be out at two in the morning. And for some reason, they keep pursuing you, getting closer and closer –

You hear something like a muffled pop of air. A hand grips your arm and drags you into an alley.

You scramble for your Glock, but as soon as your fingers brush its handle, it disappears. Five pushes you down behind a dumpster and shoves a hand up your mask to cover your mouth. It takes everything in you to keep from gagging when you land on a trash bag way too wet-sounding for your liking.

“Quiet.”

You huff, tearing his hand away. Your arm is pinned against his sternum, your head much too close to his. His breathing is quiet, measured, and slow.

(He’s used to this. Used to running, used to hiding, just like you.)

Five runs warm. You like it in the same way that you like the way he speaks.

Footsteps hurry past your hiding place, then fade into the distance.

After waiting about ten more minutes, you let your head knock back against the wall. “Shit.” You chuckle. “I owe you one, Mr. Five.”

Five doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude. Instead, he pushes himself away from you and drops your Glock into your lap, then grabs his briefcase and stands up. Though you resent the loss of heat, you join him with a more appropriate amount of space between the two of you.

“I’ll take you back to headquarters,” Five states, sounding as if his teeth are about to be pulled.

“Thank you kindly,” you reply. “It must be my lucky day, getting my hide saved and escorted by the Commission’s rising star.”

“I’m sure.” His tone is dry.

Sirens wail as you tell him your name.

“I know,” Five mutters, unclipping the briefcase. “You were mentioned in the kill order for your pal back there.”

Ah. You nod, smiling a bit tightly, and put your hands on the briefcase as well. “Of course.”

A flash, and you’re both back in 1955, the sun too bright and the air too stale. You feel the beginnings of a headache.

“Still hate time travel after twenty plus years,” you comment, letting go. “Did using your powers have the same effect?”

Five regards you silently, lips pursed. “Hard to recall,” he finally says, snapping the briefcase shut.

“The lab’s developing some meds for the side effects. Apparently, they’re doing trial runs soon.”

“That so.”

“Yes.” You squint up at HQ, brush off your suit, and exhale loudly. “Anyway, I better get going. See you later, Mr. Five.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Just Five is fine.”

“See you later, Five,” you emphasize with a grin. “Maybe we’ll be able to team up in the future.”

All he does is cast you an unimpressed glance before disappearing through one of his teleportation portal things.

You stare at the now empty space and sigh, putting your hands on your hips. Well, the apocalypse doesn’t exactly make one a good conversationalist. (Either that, or he finds you insufferable.)

As you stroll into the Commission building to turn in the briefcase blueprint and procure another briefcase, you think of your life so far. You think of your marriage to your work, of the sleepless honeymoon stage and the bitter taste of the past ten years. You think of that dark alley, of that moment of companionship, one-sided though it was.

And maybe you find yourself just a little more unfaithful.

#cliché tropes and prompts #source: bucky-plums-barnes #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy #tua #five x reader #five imagine #tua fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #silververse #s3 coming out tomorrow babey !!#forgive me for the person i am about to become

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genji-bugboy · 3 months

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I would like to see arn hcs pls (arn as in the creature, not aran)

Maybe also drw him with beesechurger

~ fan-mans

Ah yes, our favorite lad with no arms… I gotchu

First, here’s the lovely lad with (well technically in) a lovely beesechurger.

vvvv

And Now for the delectable headcanons about this freak…

:He is usually found in the bottom of a box of Lucky charms, munching upon the delicious cardboard, NOT the cereal. THE BOX

: He only speaks in “Fek” and “Cheeseburger”

: Has a phobia of mustard (for certain reasons)

:His blood type is mayonnaise

:His favorite animals are Chinchillas and Ants

: eats raw eggs, including the shell

:His favorite activity is going to graveyards and step dancing on people’s graves whilst yelling foul language

Anyway that is all

#punch out #aran ryan #arn #art #headcanons #cheeseburger

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sochawrites · 5 months

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Can you please do an rimmer x fem reader fluff or the episode the gun men of the apocalypse where reader and rimmer are dating.

Sure I can! And why not kind of both?

I am so, so, so sorry it took me so long to write this, it has been a very weird year and I just could not manage to put aside some time to write. I can't promise 2024 will be better, but we all can hope, no?

I hope this is at least a bit satisfactory to you, dear anon, or any of you souls, still lurking around looking for some RD content.

What do you guys say on the news about Red Dwarf: Titan? I was there when they screened the teaser trailer, if one would call it that, and honestly? I'm pretty excited!

Also happy Holidays!

Adrenaline

Arnold Rimmer x Fem!reader

None of you could help but cheer as Starbug flew away from the burning moon, escaping certain doom once again. You were slowly getting used to these situations, but near-death experiences are still near-death experiences and while you tried to focus your mind on the fact that you were alive, your body and nerves were of a different idea.

You were shaking in your seat, gripping the handles and hardly holding back the maniacal laughter of survival. You had enough adrenaline for today, it would probably be better for you to go and calm down, maybe even lay down before you start to crash.

Pulling yourself up on your shaky knees, you excused yourself and stumbled to your room, almost falling on the way out of the control room. Fortunately out of the sight of others, or so you thought. You slowly made your way up the stairs to the sleeping quarters, painfully unaware of the pair of concerned eyes watching you.

Deciding the bed would be the best place to crash onto, you crashed into a much more closer chair, back turned to the door and closed your eyes shut. You were breathing heavily and the sound of the ship was being drowned out by the buzz and thuds in your ears.

A knock caught your attention, albeit barely. "Permission to enter?", you hummed in response, knowing fully well your hologram boyfriend would not take no for an answer and not having enough strength to speak. There was a pause before Rimmer went into the room, but as soon as he did, he cautiously made his way towards you. You could only imagine him looming over you as he tapped on your shoulder.

"I brought you some water," Rimmer announced to you nonchalantly, leaving the glass beside you. You thanked him as you reached for the liquid with both of your shaking hands, but you were positive he barely heard you.

"That was quite a ride, wasn't it? The adrenaline, the thrill!" Rimmer walked around as if giving you an inspirational speech, "Although I have a feeling that for some, it may have been a bit too much, wouldn't you say so, my dear Y/N?". He turned to you with the last sentence, a playful smirk on his lip, but sympathy in his eyes.

You just threw him a look, not amused by his remark, "Yeah, well, not everyone can be as brave as the great Dan McGrew, right, Arn?".

He pouted, "Auch", and knelt down in front of you, reaching his palm to your cheeks, gently caressing. It was always a weird sensation to touch light, soft or hard, not really cold, not really warm. Leaning into his touch, you planted a kiss on his hand, a small smile tugging at the lips of both of you. "You're going to get used to all of this, eventually." Rimmer tried to reassure you, but you just shook your head.

"'Eventualy' isn't soon enough, starlight." the hologram traped your hand in his, squeezing. "It never is, but you'll be fine, I know it.".

You reached your still trembling hand to the one cradling your face, feeling the threat of tears from the stress and weariness. "How?" you whispered, "How are you so sure about this?".

"Love, have you ever seen yourself when we face the unknown? You always keep such a stone-cold face, looking so brave, so fearless! Adrenaline is a powerful muse, the tremble and tears, it's not you, it's just your body, nothing more." Rimmer was now cradling your face in both of his hands, semi-standing, looking directly into your eyes.

"It's only a matter of time until you get used to the rush and once you do…" he paused, maybe because he was searching for words, or maybe just to make his encouragement more meaningful, "You'll be braver than anyone we know."

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around the holographic body, "Even more than Ace?". You felt him hugging you tightly "Even more than him.".

#arnold rimmer #arnold rimmer x reader #arnold j rimmer #red dwarf #red dwarf x reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #request #anon request #really sorry for the almost a year long wait

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v-anrouge · 4 months

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All of pomefiore has a slight sweet tooth especially for fruit, epel has the worst

Pomefiore has some of the best apple centered dishes, it may not look like it but there are plenty of to be five star chefs in there

Ignihyde has a can room/wall of all the energy drinks and sodas they have consumed (its meticulously cleaned and organized) Sometimes they use some cans to make parts for robots

Ortho has a small panel on his arm that has a pop off cover and Idia makes decorative coverings for it (usually a trimmed can thats his favorite energy drink at the time) Sometimes Ortho requests a special made cover

If you are speaking with malleus he has a very intense look, he stares right into your soul. Its kind his way of showing hes paying attention (Wide eyes, arn behind his back, and leaning in a little)

1- YES SO CANON I feel like rook would be the least of them i feel like he wouldn't like things that are too sweet they make ur mouth taste sweet for a long time or that have a strong smell, vil loves sweets so much yet he deprives himself because of the industry he works in and body issues, thankfully, trey is always offering him sweet treats he picks up that vil is eyeing and manages to convince him to eat a bit, i have an hc that they have little scheduled tea times where he bakes sweets that have less sugar and other things that usually make vil avoid dessert for but still keeps it sweet enough to have the dessert effect and not the "want to eat unhealthy stuff?? just have will power and make a healthy version" which never works and never satisfies ur cravings...

2- ABSOLUTELY YES epel isn't the most skilled at baking but decorating??? god he is one of the best he always makes them so so beautiful you feel bad for eating it

3- oh absolutely they have it and it's all light up too 💀💀

4- THAT'S SO CUTE😭😭 OH IMAGINE IDIA DOODLING THE BOTH OF THEM AS CHILDREN FOR IT:((((

5- THE AUTISM STARE PLEAEE he's so ominous the first time but as u get used to it u just think it's cute and everybody else is wondering how ur laughing and smiling when malleus is staring at u like he wants u dead

#✎ ⇣‧₊˚ 【asks #ৎ୭ ⇣‧₊˚ 【stinks #u need a new tag #what do u like?#or would u like fo be a character's something

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badassbutterfly1987 · 16 days

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Shades of Magic: Hunger Games AU

(Technically a Catching Fire AU)

Lila Bard has always been a survivor. Scrappy and vicious and more durable than anyone else expected. So, once the initial bout of angry swearing is out of her system, she slumps back onto the couch. “They’re trying to kill us. We broke the rules and this is how they do it. One last spectacle for the districts.”

There was only ever supposed to be one victor, never two. They’d defied that with their pretend love story and holding knives to their own throats. Two victors, they had declared. You get two victors or none.

She had hoped this would be the end. One last performance, one last fight, and then finally return to Barron. Return to the Grey Districts.

Neither of them should be here, Alucard especially. Red District-born, only kicked down to her level because of political shenanigans.

“Not just us, Bard,” Alucard drawls. “Every victor. Take them out before they can be swayed by rebellion.”

She can, grudgingly, see the logic. Efficient and more entertaining for the masses. Before it had been children and barely adults in the arena, now it will be experienced killers from every district. “So we’re fucked.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Alucard fidgets with the coin in his hand. “On the bright side, you’ll get to see what the Red districts look like first.”

...

“No, no, this isn’t right,” Rhy insists. “You did your time, they can’t make you do this again!”

Kell doesn’t argue; they both know this is happening either way. Osaron wants the victors to fight and die in the Quarter Quells and that is what he will get.

It doesn’t matter that they belong to the highest family in Arnes, in the most successful Red District. It doesn’t matter that Rhy is treated as the beloved prince of his people. It hadn’t protected them when they were 14.

He volunteered in Rhy’s place back then, prepared to die for him. He can kill for him again.

“Maybe I won’t get picked,” Kell offers. “The Red Districts, Arnes especially, has produced dozens of victors. I like our odds.”

...

Holland is told of the plot before the others, one of the few benefits of being sponsored by the Danes; they know when to keep him in the loop. At least it gives him time to think up a plan.

“Nasi can’t go back to the arena,” Vortalis says as he moves an ost piece. “She was lucky last year; that won’t save her a second time.”

Vortalis had hunted down and killed half of the other tributes his year; Holland had managed to kill three; Nasi had spent most of the game hiding in the trees and killed one person.

She is still under her bed after hearing the news, refusing to speak or come out.

“Ojka has already agreed to volunteer in her place.” Holland knows he will hate this next part. “I will volunteer as well.”

“Holland-“

“You can’t fight the way you used to,” he interrupts, moving a piece. “I still can.”

Vor moves slower now, weakened by half-healed injuries and the passing decades. Holland can't sleep alone at night without having nightmares but violence comes easily to him now, both his sponsors and former mentor ensured that.

“Besides, you can sway our benefactors more if you’re working on the outside.”

They both know he isn’t speaking only of the Capitol’s elite. The whispers of rebellion have only grown louder over the years. This might be enough for something to change.

Vortalis gives a grim smile then, gripping his hand. “Then we’d best start on figuring out the competition.”

#shades of magic #fic ideas #might do more if i get ideas #dont worry they won't just all kill each other with one survivor

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violet-moonstone · 2 months

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Still working on a title for this - just wrote it spontaneously because if I didn't the ideas would evaporate. I'll probably post a more polished version on AO3 soon. TW for implied references to sexual assault:

When Dagur saw him in the marketplace, his heart stopped. He thought he was going to die. Then a moment later, his heart was racing. He fought for breath, and though he inhaled and exhaled at a rapid speed, he felt like he was suffocating. One moment, he was standing, and then next, he was on the ground, propped up against a stall while his sister spoke gently to him.

Was he alright? What happened? Who was that man?

Dagur couldn't speak. But the look in his eye was enough for Heather to understand. The pain, the shame, it was all clear as day. They'd spoken about this man before.

As soon as realization struck her, Heather was standing, hand on her weapon, knuckles white with fury.

No, Dagur pleaded, uncharacteristically shying away from conflict. He wanted to leave this behind, to forget.

The man was already disappearing into the crowd. He hadn't noticed them and whistled contentedly as he went about his errands. Heather seethed. The monster had ruined her brother's life and had the gall to walk around in the sunlight, enjoying a life he didn't deserve. But her brother's eyes called her back from her rage. He needed her now. The destroyer could wait...for the time being.

Arne was intrigued by the maiden with the raven hair the second their eyes met. The tavern was dark and loud, but through the shadows and above the din, something about her called to him. She didn't shy away from him the way other women and many of the younger men did. Perhaps she wasn't aware of his history, of his former occupation as a prison guard. All the better, he thought. When she approached him, he felt like a wolf being courted by a deer–for she was almost fawn-like, with slender limbs and an innocent face; by the end of the night, he would find that he was sorely mistaken.

By the time they arrived to his quarters, Arne was full of ale, boisterous and slurring. He didn't usually drink so much when looking for someone to take to his bed, but he found the maiden's constant urges to drink irresistible.

A little more? She'd ask with a small smile. Her lashes batted familiar green eyes as she poured him another tankard. Gods, you could beat Aegir at drinking couldn't you?

Hells yes, he thought. Though as he stumbled to his room above the tavern, he wondered if perhaps he'd had a little too much. Though it didn't seem to matter. This one clearly wanted him and wouldn't put up a fight.

When they collapsed onto his bed, the raven-haired maiden told him that she had a surprise for him. Close your eyes, she said softly. He chuckled and did as he was told, savouring the image of those enthralling green eyes. Some thing about them was so familiar...

And it didn't occur to him until it was too late.

By the time he opened his own eyes again to gaze into hers, she'd driven a needle of Speedstinger venom into his neck. She was out of reach as his hands made their last panicked movements in her direction. Then he was frozen still.

Arne, she crooned, head titled to the side, I've heard so much about you.

Arne tried to speak but could only moan. His strangled voice sounded alien to his own ears.

The raven-haired woman loomed over him, holding a knife in her hand. Some small part of him hoped that this was some sort of game: perhaps she was the type who enjoyed pain and pleasure as a pair...but in truth, he knew better.

What do you want with me? He tried to say, but the words stuck in the back of his sluggish mouth.

The woman seemed to understand.

I came to give you a little greeting from one of your former inmates.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised.

Dagur the Deranged...I'm sure you remember him?

Arne searched his memories, trying to recall...he'd seen so many...he'd taken so many. Had it been the angry young one with red hair and...yes. Those green eyes. The same ones staring back at him now. All the seduction had faded away. Her hatred brought out the resemblance.

My brother, the woman said through gritted teeth. I know what you did to him. She leaned closer and brought her mouth to his ear. She dragged her blade lightly down his abdomen and ended between his legs. I'm going to make sure you never do it to anyone again.

Arne tried to shake his head, to kick his legs, to scream. Nothing happened.

And honestly Arne, depending on my mood...The woman raised a brow. When I'm finished, there might not be enough of you left to do anything at all.

#dagur the deranged #dagur #heather #heather the unhinged #httyd fanfic #httyd fanfiction #rtte fanfic #rtte fanfiction #getting back into my heather fangirl era #i wanna see her raaaaage #im also very much into heather as a protector #shes been through so much and yes she needs support and love #but she also refuses to see anyone she loves get hurt #i might right about dagurs reaction to hearing what she did...we'll see #tw implied sa

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