#fuck me this took forever
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I like the YammyxYamme collab a normal amount
#fuck me this took forever#finally got my designs for each boy#Diabolik lovers#dialovers#diabolik lovers more blood#diabolik lovers fanart#ayato sakamaki#kanato sakamaki#laito sakamaki#reiji sakamaki#shu sakamaki#ruki mukami#kou mukami#azusa mukami#yuma mukami#carla tsukinami#shin tsukinami#kino sakamaki#yammy yamme
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Led Zeppelin
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Characters: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Bonham, Peter Grant, Richard Cole, John Paul Jones, Carmen Plant, Karac Plant, Scarlet Page, Charlotte Martin, Maureen Wilson, Patricia Page, James Page Sr, Annie Plant, Robert Plant Sr, OC - Mr M, OC - Bast, OC - Owain, OC - Stryder, Lisa Robinson, OC - Percy, OC - Wallet, OC - Martin, OC - Derek Byrne
Additional Tags: 1977, Weddings, Cottagecore, page and plant genuinely like each other, Rock Stars in love, 1970s, gay relationships, wedding presents, Elvis - Freeform, Family, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, vibrator sex, Morocco - Freeform, Cats, Goats, cw for casual homophobia, Dogs, rock gods in love, rock gods getting married
Series: Part 24 of Farm Frolics
Summary:
And so, today my world it smiles
Your hand in mine, we walk the miles
Thanks to you, it will be done
For you to me are the only one.
#it's finally here#the wedding of the year of our lords 1977#farm frolics#welsh fuck cottage#jimbert#jimbert fanfic#jimmy page#robert plant#wfc#thank you#fuck me this took forever#our mutual child did grow#the dream finally realised#hope y'all like it!#fuck me think I'm gonna to to sleep for a week#bron and luxe - bringing the dream since 2021!#thank you so much everyone!
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her ba sing slay
#id in alt text#avatar the last airbender#atla#katara#art#mart#KATARA FASHIONISTA💗💗💗#IN HER QING DYNASTY CHANGYI#THAT TOOK ME FUCKING FOREVER TO DRAW………#anyone who has the patience to draw that much detail in one sitting is a god tbh#I literally drew this over a period of many months#so like. it BETTER be appreciated dammit#katara kataraaa most beautiful girl in the world#katararaaaaaa💗💗💗
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Deity
[IMG ID: A full body detailed drawing of Fierce Deity Link from Majora's Mask in finely detailed asymmetrical armor. He is holding his sword that is stuck in the ground with smoke swirling from it to the right. A sun shines behind him against a dark background. /END ID]
#good fucking lord this took forever#very happy with it though#legend of zelda#majoras mask#link#myart#some things i even lined twice! there is something wrong with me!#oh well
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this was meant for an ask my friend sent about what if stanley wasn't actually stanley's name but tumblr DELETED IT and now i am pissed take this comic from my hands NEOW
#the stanley parable#the stanley parable ultra deluxe#tspud#tsp#crows art#GUUUUUHHHHH#THE ASK WAS STILL THERE YESTERDAY WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!#<- not actually super angry but!!!!!! frustrating!!!!!!!#anyway it was a silly fun ask and i loved it a lot >:-( so i drew a comic#just took me forever to actually get to#but here it is. in the flesh#now i am gonna go angrily drink ginger beer
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Catty Noir !!!!
#this took me fucking forever#im happy with her though#digital art#monster high#fanart#monster high g3#catty noir#my art
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THIS THING IS SCUUUFFED AS HELL & ITS ALSO THE BEST THING I HAVE ANIMATED THUS FAR.
IM SO IN LOVE WITH EMIZEL. JUST WISH I GAVE HIM MORE STUPID TATTOOS. NEXT TIME THO. NEXT TIME. I ALSO LOVE VEX&VIV SOOOO MUCH. charlies flavor of Deranged is my FAVORITE!!
#cw gore#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi suckening#jrwi suckening spoilers#ACTULY FINISHED THIS A WHILE AGO. kept going back n forth between trying to work on it more or call it done#in the end i chose DONE!! i worked on this for a full day n a half. NO idea what possesed me but it is NOT happenin again anytime soon#i shall do better NEXT TIME!! in the meantime tho OH MY GOOOOOD WHO WANTS TO SCREAM ABT THE SUCKENING WITH ME#THE FUCKINNN THE FUCKIN THING WITH VEX N VIV BEING THE SHADOW LEADERS OF THE FANGS/DEMONS#OH MMYY GOOOODDD THATS THEIR LIL MEAT GENERATOR... THTS SO FUCKED UP AND COOL UUUGHHH I LOVE THEM...#THEIR FLAVORE IS SO WONDERFUL. I LOOOVE HOW SILLY THEY ARE. MAKING PUNS WHILE PULLIN A SCREAMING VICTIM APART#vex n his lil fashiony art workshop and viv n her sterile n clean doctors office#i bet she doesnt even HAVE a medical liscense. it would be funny if vex did tho. could u imagine#they main MEDIC in tf2 together. viv is the battlemedic while vex only pocket medics for her. COULD U IMAGINE#guh i could go on abt these two forever n ever n ever i LOVE THEMM i gotta draw em more....#OH ALSO before i run outa room. i should say. i took inspiration from a tf2 animation called POOTIS ENGAGED#the animator. Ceno0. uses black bars in the action sequences in SUCH A COOL WAYYY everytime i watch that video i feel inspired#oneday ill make more complex fight scenes... one day....#in the meantime UGHHH I LOVE THE SUCKENING SO MUUUCH CAN I JUST FUCKIN SAAAYY THAT I THINK EMIZEL IS A SMART COOKIE!!#THESE PPL FUCKING FEAR HIM NOW!!! 'SHAMIA SHAMI' IS NOW THEIR MORTAL ENEMY!! POWERFUL ILLUSIONIST. CANT DIE.#THAT PART AT THE END THERE WHERE HE FUCKIN. KILLS HIMSELF INFRONTA THEM. THATS SO AWESOME. THATS SO METAL. AND THEN HE COMES BACK!!#I WATCHED EP 7 ASWELL BUT I WONT SPOIL IT HERE. BUT OMYGOD. EMIZEL IS SO COOL AND CAPABLE N SMART N FUNNY N UGHHHHHH I LOVE HIMMMMM#OKAY THATS MY RAMBLE FOR THE DAY THANKYOU FOR READING. I READ ALL TAGS SO YOU SHOULD RAMBLE TOO. IF YOU WANT. IF YOU CAN.
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and I still see it all in my head
in burning RED
taís' endeless list of favorite albums: RED (2012) - Taylor Swift
#fuck this took me forever#taylor swift#tatasfavalbums#tswiftedit#tswiftgif#tswiftdaily#dailymusicians#**#mine
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Happy Birthday, Hu Tao!
#genshin impact#genshin impact updates#genshin impact news#official#official art#birthday art#hu tao#took me fucking forever to find these BUT! SHE HAS A ROCK
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♫ TOP 5 FAVORITE HAZBIN HOTEL SONGS ♫
𝄞 2ɴᴅ place - More Than Anything
― So in the end, it's the view I had of you that showed me dreams can be worth fighting for... More than anything, more than anything, I need to save my people more than anything!
― ...I've been dying to find out who you are
― I've been waiting, wanting the same thing
― Looks like the apple doesn't fall far!
― Took you a while
― I've missed that smile
‹♪›
#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer#charlie morningstar#hazbin charlie#lucifer#charlie#song: more than anything#set: fave songs#my gifs#hazbin hotel edit#hazbin edit#good GOD this set took me fucking for EVER!! FOREVER!!!!#JUST GLAD IT'S OUT NOW#i think about this song a normal amount. just as normal as the top song coming up :3#song spotlight
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The zenith of monsterskind
#undertale yellow#undertale yellow martlet#uty#ut yellow#undertale fan game#undertale fangame#uty martlet#ut yellow martlet#martlet#zenith martlet#undertale yellow zenith martlet#uty zenith martlet#ut yellow zenith martlet#digital art#drawing#undertale#this took me fucking forever#first time in awhile I rendered too#uty fanart#undertale yellow fanart#tok1 draws
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A Weight Off His Shoulders
cw: Ghost x f!reader/f!oc, Ghost pov, m!oc, demon au, mild implications of self harm, interrogation techniques, exposition, Ghost grappling with his trauma, depersonalization, I'm holding Ghost at gun point and making him talk about his feelings
Summary: Ghost does not adjust to the few hours he spends without you hanging around. Actually it seems to make things worse.
It’s a strange feeling, Ghost’s shoulders feel weightless, eased of their infernal burden. Yet they’re still heavy. Guilty. He almost misses the pressure, the tightness. It’s like wearing a bulletproof vest, there was something almost comforting about having you weigh down his shadow, and it’s gone now. Ghost grits his teeth, coaxes his nerves away from the edge, hits the punching back in the gym harder than he intended to. He shakes the blow out of his knuckles, readjusts his wraps with a mumbled swear.
“Ghost,” Price calls behind him. Ghost shakes his head, he’s not in the mood for it. A lecture is the last thing he needs. Teamwork and all that bullshit means nothing when he’s- He clenches his hands tightly and throws another punch, he feels full to bursting with energy he doesn’t want to put a name to. Price calls his name again and he ignores it.
Right hook, left jab, right jab, left hook, uppercut. He switches his footing and throws a hard kick, catching the punching back with his shin. Textbook. Price catches the bag, his eyes hard. Ghost settles his foot back onto the matt floor and adjusts his wraps again.
“Know what you’re goin’ to say,” Ghost grumbles.
“Enlighten me,” Price sounds unamused, Ghost knows better than anyone how much he hates to be ignored.
“Team only works if we all do,” Ghost throws another jab, stopping short of the bag. Price doesn’t flinch. “Never needed to be friendly to do my job.”
“So I hear,” Price crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his shoulders back, watching the door. There’s something easy in the motion, unimpeded. Ghost’s eyes flick to the shadows on the wall, then back to Price. The gym is strangely empty, all the life filtered out and the shadows silent. He hadn’t noticed how alone they were until now.
“Where’s your dog?”
Price turns his attention back to him, there’s something sharp in his eyes, something warning. “Thankfully somewhere they can’t hear you call ‘em that.” Price’s tone is even, but dangerous. Ghost clenches his jaw, biting back the words he wants to say. He doesn’t know how Price can’t feel the same rolling disgust about their situation. He’s in the same boat, deemed too dangerous by Hell to exist without an escort. Monster enough to need another monster keeping him company. “They’re off with yours,” Price says finally, “looking over your contract.”
“Which one,” He knows which one, but Price still humors him.
“Not the one you’re hoping for, but if you really want a discharge-”
“I don’t.”
Ghost turns his attention back to the punching bag. He rolls his shoulders, the ease of motion doesn’t sit right. He ignores it. Price lets him wallow in silence, lighting a cigar while Ghost avoids the elephant in the room. Contract. He shouldn’t be beholden to something he never signed. He didn’t mean to summon a demon, he didn’t mean to attach himself to you, he didn’t mean for or want any of this. For God's sake he was barely holding on to his humanity as it was.
Maybe this is good, showing him what he still has to lose, how desperately he still clings to the hope that he could go back. Back to being Simon, to being human, to being something more than a machine part, the teeth on a meat grinder meant to rend flesh apart. He’d always hoped Ghost was just the shell, but maybe he’d spent too long hollowing himself out. Maybe Hell was right and there was nothing left to go back to.
Price lets out a long hard breath, waving his hand to clear the smoke so it doesn’t set off the alarm. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket while Ghost digs his nails into the wraps covering his palms. There’s a ringing in his ears that grows louder as Price smokes.
There’s something wrong with him, something dark and twisted that he was managing, plying with corpses to keep quiet. He was doing well, he was handling it. He was handling having a demon, it wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable. You were a useful tool, he could work with tools. He was a tool, and you were a tool. An unfortunately matching set. He squeezes his fists tighter.
You were so warm.
“So what’s wrong with ‘er?” Price’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
Ghost is quiet. There are a million ways he could explain it. Price would understand, he’d sympathize, maybe he’d even have some advice. There are a million ways he knows he could explain it, but he doesn’t have the words for any of them. He’s never had the words for anything. Probably why he didn’t finish his schooling.
What’s wrong with you? You pushed him, you did something to him during sex that made him want to hurt you. No. He’d already wanted to hurt you, had those awful thoughts festering in the recesses of his brain where he knew they couldn’t hurt anyone, and he’d acted on it. He yelled at you, he slammed drawers and made a fuss. He wanted to hurt you. He did hurt you. You made him feel-
You made him feel like his father, like Roba, like none of the good he’d done meant anything. Hearing you beg- he’s heard those words from too many people: his mother, Tommy, himself. He thought he was better than that. He was kidding himself.
“S’like lookin’ in a mirror,” Ghost rumbles, his voice low enough he isn’t sure Price heard it.
“A mirror,” Price repeats with a disbelieving hum.
“Everything I- Christ-” Ghost drags a hand down his face, feels the friction of his hand wraps against the balaclava and frowns. “I see her and I can feel my old man putting his ideas in my head.”
“His ideas?”
“Wantin’ ta hurt ‘er, wantin’ ta-” It hits him quick, needles his brain. He knows this technique, knows it because he’s heard Price use it enough times before handing Ghost the pliers. He’s too trusting of Price. He’s being interrogated.
Ghost growls and rips the velcro on his wraps, tugging the canvas off his hands with quick motions. The gentle burn of it unraveling from between his fingers barely doing anything to ground him. Price watches him, his smoke filling the room, heavy where it touches his shadow. There’s something crawling in the air, something choking that Ghost can’t attribute to the cigar. The gym is empty, oppressively empty. Ghost’s skin crawls, Price’s stance hasn’t changed, but he’s different, his eyes are harder, challenging Ghost to make a wrong move. His shadow has grown horns.
“We’re not done,” Price tells him evenly. Fire licks at the ice of his irises, sparking anger in Ghost before he can stop it. Even the most docile dog bites its master when cornered.
Ghost cools his fury, fixes Price with a glare as he rolls his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension. Briefly he wonders if he’d feel the same stomach churning pressure with you hanging off of his shoulders. Your weight always seems to negate any other that tries to hold him down.
Price tips his head, and Ghost hears a softer voice tell him, “We’re done.” It bites into Ghost’s blood. He trusts Price, but this? This is pushing it. He’s always hoped to be doing enough good in the grand scheme of things to negate a fraction of the death and destruction. Was that wrong? Were they all being puppeteered by Hell? Was it all for nothing? Should he have felt it; that he’d become worse than his father?
“They got you on a short leash,” Ghost challenges, unable to stop the bite in his tone. Price’s eyes narrow, warning, but all Ghost can feel is the white hot burn of anger.
“I’m tryin’ to help you,” Price assures him, but it feels hollow. Something shifts in Price’s eyes, some twitch in his brow that feels too fleetingly soft. It’s the sort of look that tells Simon, “I got you into this mess, let me get you out of it.” It feels like his ribs could collapse in on themselves, like his lungs are suddenly too empty to fill again.
“You can’t,” Ghost assures him, shoving Simon back into the dark, “there’s nothin’ left to ‘elp.”
Price hums. “You’re a bad liar Simon, always have been,” He takes a drag from his cigar and waves away the smoke of his exhale, “Skip mess and be in my office by 1800.”
-
It’s not your weight in his shadow that alerts him to your presence. It’s your laughter. Bubbling and just slightly at the edge of raspy, watery, almost. It twists the knife in Ghost’s chest. You shouldn’t sound happier when you’re away from him. You shouldn’t- Actually you shouldn’t be out of your shadows. You never seemed eager to pull yourself out of the darkness before, but here you were loud and bright as ever. Ghost stops his stalk through the hall, parks himself at the corner to listen. Your ever present babble of speech makes his heart flip. He didn’t realize how quiet everything felt without you murmuring in his ear.
“Maybe it’d be best if you stayed with us for a while,” A newly familiar male voice says, the concern is evident in his tone, but it sparks in Ghost’s stomach. Annoyance, must be. The product of disregarding direct orders, not offering advice to someone that isn’t wanted. What a pair they must make.
“Dinnae ken if my back can take tha’,” Soap groans, “May as well have Gaz’s shoulder the way Ahm clickin’.”
Ghost closes his eyes, knocks his head against the concrete wall. Soap. Fine, count him off the list of people he could gripe to, if you’re riding his shadow there’s no reason to go seeking the man out.
“Should have his fuckin’ pelt the way he’s treating you,” Hush grumbles.
“Ghost’s alrigh’,” Soap defends, “just a li’l rough around the edges, dinnae let him get to ya.”
Another flip, his stomach this time. Ghost shakes his head, more than rough around the edges, he’s rough all the way down. No reason to defend a man who’s already proven himself to be demon enough for Hell to keep an eye on. Ghost pushes off the wall and tries not to glance down the hall as he continues his way past the junction. A difficult task when you’re at the other end of it made even worse with the way Hush touches you.
Just a hand on your shoulder, thumb stroking over the army green tee you’re wearing, but it boils in his blood, sings through his ribs like a howling wolf. It pisses him the fuck off seeing you smile at that man. Hush glances his way with a glare. You follow his gaze and your smile drops seeing Ghost staring.
Why does it feel so much like he’s caught you in the act? You’re just standing there, holding his gaze, daring him to look away first.
You’re cute in fatigues.
He tears his eyes off of you to glare at Hush. “Try to keep the insubordination to a minimum, yeah?”
“Ghost,” You sound concerned, on the edge of an explanation that doesn’t come. He doesn’t like it. He turns away, keeps walking.
“Coward,” Hush mumbles.
It stings, but the truth so often does.
-
You fill his thoughts. An unbidden, contagious, line of thinking that ruins his focus. He thinks of everything but fucking you. Thinks of the way you’d purred, and the way you’d laid against him. He thinks of your voice in his ear, the diagrams drawn in thin air, the weight of shadowed weapons. He thinks of the softness of your hips, the dig of his fingers into your thighs.
He thinks of the way his hands had wrapped around your neck in disgust. Thinks of the way you’d gasped and clawed at him. He thinks of how he’d felt doing it, the wash of guilt and shame that it brought. He’d liked it, and you’d done nothing to stop him.
He thinks of the way you’d smiled at him, the way you’d smiled at Hush. How could they feel so different? How could he feel so different?
He tapes his hands too tight when he goes to beat the bag in the gym for a second time. It hurts each time his fist collides with the stiff fabric. It’s good, deserved even. Men like him don’t get softness.
He remembers the way you’d pressed your lips to his jaw, and whispered for him to get some sleep.
He hadn’t slept so well in years.
-
Ghost doesn’t bother knocking on the door to Price’s office until he’s already got his hand on the handle. Barely waits to be told ‘enter’ before he’s opening the door. He shouldn’t be surprised to see you, can feel the weight of you starting to slip onto his shoulders just by proximity. It makes him tired, warmth seeps into his bones like a heavy quilt and
“There are three ways humans can acquire demons,” Price’s demon explains, “People like Price who summon them are more traditional by human standards.” Ghost’s eyes fix on Price, what do they mean summoned? Price catches his eye and nods once, short.
“Heard the rumors, figured as long as I was getting blood on my hands I’d do it properly,” Price sniffs, “we do what we have to, to make the world safer. Nothing else to think about.”
“But-” The demon interjects, obviously not happy about the interruption, Price shrugs, “Cases like yours aren’t that uncommon. Plenty of soldiers out there have to compartmentalize their humanity in order to do what’s necessary, you were just a little better at it.”
“Suppose’ to be a compliment?” Ghost narrows his eyes at the demon, they seem unphased.
“It’s a fact. You’ve compartmentalized the humanity most people wear publicly, you’re a dead-man-walking. No time for human emotion, no desire to share your secrets, no desire to learn anyone else’s. You only care about getting closer to the kill you’re tasked with, here to do one job and one job alone.” The demon takes a breath, lets it out and shakes their head. “You take pleasure in your work, some unknown force is paying for what happened to Simon with every enemy you kill. Well, this is what you get-” They gesture to you, “a weapon to help you keep exacting your revenge, with enough humanity to help you sleep at night.”
“Didn’t ask for your ‘elp.” Ghost growls, “was doin’ just fine wi’out ‘er.”
“And humanity was doing just fine killing each other without the atomic bomb,” The demon shrugs, “You adapt, you find better ways to kill each other, and we update our recruitment tactics.”
“The contract sweet’eart,” Price rumbles.
“It’s Hell, the fine print has fine print,” The demon sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose, “If you were expecting a termination clause there isn’t one, the best we can do is revise it.”
“I actually-” Ghost’s head jerks at your voice, it sounds so much smaller than the last time he heard it, you seem smaller, it tugs at something he buried long ago, “-had a thought on that.”
“Let’s hear it,” Ghost prompts. You glance at him, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he can’t put a name to. He knows it well enough, felt it enough times to know when it’s staring him down. It chafes at him, he doesn’t want you to look at him like that. “Good for you to get away from me too, don’t wanna be around a woman that think’s I’m gonna hurt ‘er.” That only seems to make it worse, your smile is so forced that you may as well have a gun to your head.
“You could’ve told me, I wouldn’t have-”
“But I did,” hurt you, Ghost cuts himself off, forcing the correction, “you did.”
He couldn’t have told you. Wouldn’t have told you. What did you need to know about him that you couldn’t see? He was a machine made for slaughter, and you wanted to be the butcher’s knife. That was all you needed to be. He didn’t know why you tried so hard to get closer. He didn’t like-
“If the contract is to provide him some humanity, we just need to get him to a point where he doesn’t need me anymore.” You smile at the other demon. Their eye twitches, their expression impassable.
“If you were unable to fulfill the contract,” Price’s demon starts, before shaking their head, “No, revisions are the best bet.”
“Let ‘er try,” Price decides, “Simon can make adjustments in the meantime.”
-
“This is exciting,” You chirp, “like a really intense mandated therapy sort of thing.”
Ghost hums, does his best to ignore the way you stretch out on his bed. It’s been less than 48 hours without you and somehow it settles the squirming in his chest to see you making yourself comfortable. It also churns in his stomach. You smile to yourself, pleased. He doesn’t know how you can be happy with the way things are shaking out. Don’t you want to get away from him?
“I was thinking we could start with something really easy, and you could share some music or something,” You say, rolling onto your side, “you know you can really learn a lot about someone from the music they listen to. Me, I like all that techno stuff, the real bee-boop-y crap that you can feel in your chest.”
Ghost tries to focus on the damage he took in the gym earlier, the bruised knuckles, the split that’s broken his skin where the wraps cut too tight. Your voice is so nice to hear again, the softness of it cradles him in a way he can’t explain. Your weight in his shadow presses onto his shoulders, pressure points he didn’t know he could miss until they were gone.
“You look like a metal kind of guy,” You continue, “I don’t mind metal, maybe you we could listen to some of your favorite songs some time, like a date-”
Ghost flinches and you shut your mouth with an audible click. Ghost swallows, digs his blunt nail into the split skin on his knuckle until it bleeds. He needs something to ground him, to keep him from feeling the flush that spreads over his neck. You’d be better off- He’d be better off without you.
“Maybe favorite foods are better!” You try, your voice taking on too much excitement for him to cut out, “I bet you have something really sweet you like, did your mom bake? Mine did and I-”
“Would you stop being so damn cheerful?” Ghost snaps, you flinch to sit up straight and he lowers his voice, “I-” He stops himself, looking away. Silence lapses between you.
“What would you have me do Ghost?” You ask, shoving down the hurt until it cools in your stomach. He shakes his head, avoiding your eye. “You don’t like when I’m upset, you don’t like when I’m happy. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know,” He admits, the feeling sours in his throat like bile. He can’t swallow it down, can’t put it on a shelf like he always does. He feels the question he always wanted to ask but never had the courage to hear the answer to biting into him. “Aren’t you angry?”
You blink at him, your brows pulling down as your lips do. He doesn’t see where the confusion is coming from, if it’s confusion at all. Your mouth moves as you swallow, working through the words he’s sure you have bubbling in your throat. “No,” you say finally, “I might be later, but right now-” you shake your head, “I’m just drained.”
It kills him. He knows the feeling, the way shutting the door to his room always seemed to take all the air out of him. Anger seemed like such a constant companion these days, he’d assumed it was just that, a constant. “Are you angry?” You ask, the softness in your voice cuts him too deeply. It makes him want to turn and run. Fuck he’s always run from these things, it’s in his nature. Run until he can figure out how to solve the problem. Run away and join the army until he can get his shit together. Run away when his family’s destroyed, run from his name and his face, bury the man that died in Mexico deep in his soul.
“No,” He admits, though that admission feels like iron against his teeth, he’d rather gut himself than put his emotions to words, but he has to start somewhere if he’s going to get rid of you, “I’m scared.”
“I know,” You hum, “can feel it.” You pat the bed next to you, and somehow it feels settling. Ghost takes the steps he needs and perches on the edge of the mattress next to you. The springs creak, dip under his weight, and you lean against his side.
“I’m sorry,” You tell him, “I don’t know how to be good for you.”
“Me neither,” Simon mumbles, feeling your head rest against his shoulder. Your fingers lace with his, thumb swiping over his bruised knuckles. He doesn’t know how to be good for you either. All he knows is you’re the one person he can’t run away from, and it scares the shit out of him.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#x oc#cod x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#john soap mactavish#captain john price#oc: hush#oc: price#oc: die#demon!darlings au#God this took forever because I could not for the life of me make Ghost say shit#like he would not fucking say that but I have to put him in a position where he's forced to#wow ghost that's so crazy so the way to get out of your demon contract is to open up to your universe assigned girlfriend#and maybe fall in love with her while you're at it#you fucking DUMBASS#Die you're the smartest bitch I know#Both Prices know exactly what you're doing you sly girl you
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did this manga edit of zoro's swords for a typeset i'm working on and the bestie said "whoa, that's tattoo material!" when i showed it to them so here you go fellow zoro fans. sharp things and smoke
#it took fucking forever by the way. oda and his speech bubbles covering everything and making me suffer through#constant redraws#still fun though. anyway#roronoa zoro#wado ichimonji#enma#sandai kitetsu#zoro#one piece
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NEW FIC :D
Ao3 link
Summary:
Scar can’t answer, too busy trying to control his breathing. It was Grian who had helped him build their home in the desert. It was Grian who had chosen to stay by his side, even after he didn’t have to anymore. It was Grian who had sat on the mountain with him, pointing out the stars and naming them.
It was Grian who had looked at him when they were the only two left, and had said there had to be a winner. It was Grian who had led him back to their mountain, hand in hand, and beat him to death in the shifting sands.
Grian remembered none of it.
OR,
The prize of the victor is to forget what they had to do to win. This causes problems for Scar, who has developed a fear of Grian and can’t bring himself to tell him why.
#goodtimeswithscar#grian#my writing#THIS TOOK FUCKING FOREVER AJKSJDHD FORGIVE ME#hopefully you enjoy it!!!#desert duo#third life smp#third life#3rd life#3rd life smp
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Doc is really, really, really tired of getting dragged into things.
That’s the problem with this server: he tries to do his own thing, but people cannot leave him alone. No matter what he does to deter them, whether that be harmless threat or psychological warfare, they always come back to dance on his metaphorical lawn. Or actual lawn. Or precious one-of-a-kind bush.
And at this point, he thought he had gotten used to all the shenanigans. He doesn’t want to be the grumpy old man amongst his friends and colleagues, so Doc tries to laugh it off, not take it so seriously. Occasionally, he’ll even join in on the jokes and put a little extra pizzazz into his mannerisms. Doc has his limits, of course, everyone does, but he’s been working on pushing those limits further for the past while.
So when Beef makes the joke about Big Salmon on day one, he joins in on it for the moment. It’s a good joke, really. It gets a hearty laugh out of him more than once. The joke is made, people laugh, Doc is included, he moves on and goes back to doing his own thing.
Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what he said. The joke should’ve been a one-and-done, forgotten after a week’s time. Whatever he said should’ve been inconsequential. Should be. Beef’s not one to drag out a bit for that long, usually, but here he is, dressed as a salmon and saying he got emails from a fish. Doc is utterly clueless throughout most of it- he doesn’t even understand what constituted him getting dragged in this time. And the way Beef and Skizz are talking is scaring him, just a little bit. Skizz is too aggressive, Beef is laying down the charmspeak, and both of their eyes are glossy and strange. There’s a hollow echo in the room.
But Doc, absurd as this is, plays along. Watches as one of his villagers gets killed. Lets nervous laughter through as he’s given 10 salmon heads, and leaves. When he gets back to his base out in the middle of nowhere, he realizes that these aren’t normal salmon heads, they’re worse: deformed, many-eyed, slimy and reeking of rot. And while this isn’t the strangest thing Doc has seen, as far as he knows, Beef isn’t one for game-breaking like he is. The deformities on the heads don’t even look player made. Whatever this is, it’s bizaarre, and it’s not something Doc wants to be involved in.
Then the whispers start.
He doesn’t do what he’s asked—build a shrine for whatever Big Salmon is—initially. He lets it be for a bit, shrugs it off, and keeps building. But it’s hard to focus when you can’t sleep—in his dreams he’s drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, sea life surrounding him and screaming and he’s screaming too as a pair of eyes stare him down—and when you can’t get a moment of quiet. He keeps hearing that damn slapping sound and little nothings about shrine schematics, block pallets, glorious statues. The air starts reeking of rot, far more than a swamp should. Strange slime crawls up the scaffolding that he keeps slipping on.
And this is why Doc is tired: Big Salmon is not his first rodeo. This isn’t the first time something has grabbed hold of his soul and tried to puppeteer it to his own demise. This isn’t even the scariest thing he’s come across- he still dreams of watching himself rip his own arm off. He knows gods and entities like he knows redstone, all the intricacies of magic that weave through the universe. They want to be satisfied, satiated. Doc will not give whatever Big Salmon is that satisfaction, not for long.
So he puts up with the rot, the slime, the dreams. Keeps the salmon heads, perpetually grotesque, in a chest where he can see them. Gives them a minuscule in: blueprints are crafted of the shrine he is meant to build, dying leaves are placed and waterlogged, copper is bent and formed into a worthless statue. The sky is cloudy. The sky has been cloudy all week, swamp air thick with the smell of rotting fish. He gives Beef a call, tells him to bring Skizz along.
When what should be Doc’s friend arrives, he is more fish than man. The tinnitus-like whisper of the thing trying to get him reaches a roar as he gives Beef a look over- there is no telling where the suit ends and the skin begins, all scaled, slimy and opalescent. Skizz, on the contrary, is looking relatively normal; the only strange thing about him are his glazed over eyes. Something about that makes Doc queasy about his plan, but he swallows the bile rising in his throat and steels himself, forces himself to be calm. This is not his first rodeo.
Doc’s faked smile doesn’t fail him as he leads Beef and Skizz to the statue. It doesn’t fail him as he hands the last rotting head to Beef for him to place, on top of an over-polished button. His grin only widens as Skizz counts down his boss pressing the button.
With a single button press, the voices that have taken residence in Doc’s head are wiped out, as are Skizz and Beef: bloody…fish…bits fly high into the sky when they fall into the exploding trap. There is a deafening boom, and then there is Doc, unscathed, laughing wickedly, organic eye sparkling with mania. Gods never win against him. There is no winning against the goat.
And finally, with the threat of Big Salmon defeated, Doc can finally rest. After all, he is incredibly tired.
#woosh writes#oceans calling au#docm77#hermitcraft au#hermitcraft#FINALLY! ITS FUCKING DONE!!!!#HOLY FUCK THIS TOOK ME FOREVER#I am so sorry this took as long as it did- a bajillion irl things happened and that delayed my writing significantly#ANYWAYS. [SCREAMS]
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I bet there’s some insane foliage.
#CURSE ME FOR ONLY POSTING FINISHED PIECES AND NEVER WIPS BC FUCK MY LIFE THIS TOOK FOREVER#i’ll learn my lesson i’ll post wips i promise#woe! art be upon ye!#i haven’t posted any new art to my personal instagram for a whole year because i’ve been posting here instead#i much prefer it <333#thank you to casper for encouraging me to finish this#bc i was gonna abandon it lol#ofmd#fanart#our flag means death#ofmd fanart#jams scribbles#also this was drawn before the teaser so ed’s outfit is based on ep 7 (obviously)#and stede’s is episode 10#thank u for coming
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