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thoughtsandbones · 7 months

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Doth thy demons dwelleth in the darkness too, my belov'd Reaper?

🚨WARNINGS: Mention of mental health illness mention, profanity, scars, fluff, anxiety, medical inaccuracies, blood, gore and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

I do not consent to any AI or anyone taking my work!

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

Word count: 6043K

Song inspo: Summer High - AP Dhillon, Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Club, Sinner - The Last Dinner Party, The Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Legend soundtrack.

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

MASTERLIST

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15 I, PART 15 II and PART 16

Part 17

The tiny specs of dust floated amongst the surrounding atmosphere, highlighted in the beams of sunlight that penetrated your room. A few settled down on the frame still clutched in your hand, the gold frame sparkled from the light as you tilted it, staring deeper into the image of Simon. That mole on his jugular kept drawing you in, beneath the skin, the vein you thought for the past 13 years had been burnt to ash was actually flowing steadily. The deep crimson blood slithers from his brain back to his heart after all.

Could it honestly be that Ghost is Simon Riley... or Simon is Ghost... One in the same. You thought to yourself, you get up lay down on your bed, the framed photo at the tip of your round nose.

Time stood still for what felt like hours.

It would make total sense, he knew your old name. You recall the day you first met, when he said that name. The inscription of the former shell you shed. That person who you haven't been able to come to terms with. Unable to reclaim the innocence of not knowing the cruelty of mankind. The lust for war over land, oil, weapons or whatever it is people fight for nowadays...Unwilling to let go that guard you have down.

That mole drew you in again, displayed on the only available photo you have of him.

Did everyone else know...? Surely. Perhaps not... A supposed dead man displayed by a skull face was filled with irony. You couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Simon's smug face startling new and old people with this faux relic of his former self.

Checking your watch, you realise you spent perhaps too long wondering about the past. No time like the present to find out the answers to the questions that flushed through your synapses.

Gathering your selected files and papers, placing the gold frame on top, you put the lid back on the box and slide it back to its former spot. Placing the chosen contents in a spare tote bag, swinging it over your shoulder.

Glancing around your room you look at the knick knacks laying in their places. Collecting dust and time. The gemstones you once fiddled with when looking out the window laid dormant.

Heading back down, you meet Clarissa back in her car. Once back in the passenger seat, you feel a lightness overcome you.

If Ghost really is Simon Riley, then it means he had his own reasons to hide. After what brief knowledge you of have of his supposed death, a part of you understood. Yet there was a slight annoyance growing inside of you.

Clarissa noticed you pursing your lips and frowning as you lulled your head side to side with the smooth motion of the car. After contemplating whether or not to tell you about her encounter with Gaz, the cute sleauthe, to fill the quietness.

But she was reminded of your sudden snore coming from your mouth that you were a surgeon who dealt with an extremely serious injury, and then be ridiculed by the moronic Dr Jones.

As Clarissa drove up to the gate of base she called in a favour from a new friend, Kyle Garrick, to help with getting permission to drive up to the rear of building 2 so you could get back with ease to your quarters.

Clarissa was guided back to the emergency back entrance of Building 2, you woke suddenly with the familiar sound of a large tank thundering by. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and blinked several times, trying to focus them to know your exact location.

"Go get some sleep" Clarissa said as she gazed at you as your rubbed your temple.

"Been a long day" You scoff slightly and then yawn again.

"I'm gonna talk to your Captain about Jones and get something done" Clarissa said

You had heard what she said and nodded, unable to move your jaw to let the words escape.

Exiting the car you to wave Clarissa goodbye and then make your way back up to your room. As your reach your dear you look down the corridor and see the rough outline of Ghost's door...

Taking a deep breath you open your door, the tote bag carrying the gold frame and your documents swung as you strolled into your room. Closing the door behind you, placing the tote bag on one of the hooks and then stripping off your scrubs and crawl back into bed. Gathering the strewn duvet cover from when your were first paged nearly 2 hours ago.

As you cocooned yourself your mind went back to Ghost - or Simon Riley. How 3 hours ago he was shrouded in mystery. But now... You have an idea of who he really could be...

I hope it is you Simon you plead quietly within the emptiness of your room. Your aching bones and flesh beg into sink into the mattress, sleep came quickly this evening as the heaviness of your strung out body shut down.

...

Simon took another deep inhale, his tongue became even more drier as it touched the roof of his dry mouth. Trying to moisten his mouth with saliva, he swallowed the little that came out down. He looked up and realised he had fallen asleep in the shower. The white light of the bathroom pierced his still tired eyes. Simon adjusted his body and sat up straighter, his back bracing the cold white tiles.

With his left hand he touched the now dry bandage and sighed with relief. As he got up, the wound pulsated with pain across his abdomen. Finally, he was feeling the full physical effects of the mission. Simon examined his pale naked body in the mid sized mirror.

Bruises began to appear, especially on his stomach and right shoulder. He could make out the thick red imprint of his gun strap. Brushing his fingers across his shoulder, he felt grains of sand roll against his skin. Simon resorted into having to wash himself with a damp towel and small splashes of water. All in order to avoid the bandage and the wound you stitched together from getting wet.

After feeling far more fresher, Simon wore his comfiest black joggers and socks that had a little German shepherds embroidered on the cuff. Slowly he put on a black vest and then a grey zip up hoodie, but leaving it unzipped. He laid down on his bed and took in the calm silence.

The ringing in his ears came back suddenly; tinnitus. An ever so common issue for soldiers, especially given close contact with flash grenades. Simon tried to forget the images of a bloodied Soap out of his mind, but they, along with the many demons, echoed within his mind.

Suddenly, there was a sharp rapid knock on the door, Simon knew all too well that it was Price. Gently getting up he reached for a clean skull balaclava and put it on and sliding on his trainers.

Ghost opened the door and saw Price, also showered and refreshed, not with his signature boonie.

"Alrigh' Price?" he mumbled, as he leaned against his doorframe.

"Not bad, Soap is awake" Price said, giving a slight grin, which grew as he noticed Ghost's eyes widen.

"How is he?" Ghost says grabbing his keys and moving out of his room, zipping his hoodie as Price moved out the way.

"Alive and well. You can see him, Gaz is there right now" Price said as he watched Ghost lock his door and then turned to face him.

"Let's go"

"Have a good rest?" Price asked

"Somewhat" Ghost gruffed "Can Johnny walk?" He asked

Price chuckled and gave Ghost a light pat on his shoulder

"More than that, he's dishin' out gossip to anyone who would listen" Price huffed

"Really?" Ghost said confused. Hours ago Soap was near the edge of death, and now he is gossipping.

"You have to see it for yourself" Price said

Both Price and Ghost made their way to the ICU where Soap was recovering. And recovering well Ghost assumed as he heard the sergeants laugh fill his body with ease; finally safe and alive.

Ghost approached the edge of the bed, Soap and Gaz finished their conversation before turning their attention to him. Gaz gave him a brief nod.

"Lt! You finally came!" Soap exclaimed his arms reached out, both which had ECG cables coming out him. Ghost saw the biggest grin he had ever seen coming from Soap's bruised and grazed face.

"Johnny.." Ghost mumbled

"Can yer believe that I am alive?!" Soap said, spitting out a laugh, lightly clapping his hands together "For sure thought I was dead" Soap laughed again finally resting his arms from excessive movement on his stomach.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at Soap and crossed his arms. He was acting like he had just had a small tumble and not got shot in the back.

"How's the legs?" Ghost mumbled moving closer over to Soap.

Soap gripped the blue hospital blanket, pulling it up slightly and revealing his wiggling toes. Ghost felt another wave of relief ripple through him.

"Alright Soap, put your stinkers away" Gaz said poking at Soap's feet with his charts that he was looking through earlier.

"Pfft, wanna gimme a sponge bath Gaz?" Soap grinned at Gaz who looked back him disgustingly at the thought.

"Come off it Johnny" Ghost said shaking his head at Soap.

"I was only jokin' Lt!" Soap chuckled

Ghost took in Soap's face and the shared moment of relief and serenity with Price and Gaz. The team was safe, wounded and shocked in places but back in familiar territory.

Gaz sat back down and continued to chat about who would give Soap a sponge bath, asking Price how much or what would it take... Price huffed and said something along the lines of not even if my right leg was blown off.

The conversations between the three faded as Ghost grabbed a chair and sat down, observing his comrades.

"Hey Lt, you hear about Doc?" Soap said, turning his attention to him

"Eh?" Ghost grunted looking up at Johnny with narrowed eyes

"Well, I was laying here, recovering, just woke up from the coma" He starts

'Wasn't a coma mate" Gaz said, Soap ignored him

"I hear a conversation slowly drift into my ears as I lay here recoverin'" Soap continued

"Ah he's telling the long version" Gaz interrupted and quickly went silent as Soap shot him an evil look.

"That Jones fella apparently paged Doc 999 - ICU.. Bless her soul, she must've thought I was dyin' again" Soap said sympathetically towards Ghost, whose eyes were still narrowed at him.

"Runs down here, and Doc notices my intubattery is out"

"Intubation tube" Gaz corrected stifling a laugh with his hand.

"Spit out the short version Johnny, I ain't got all day listenin' to fairy tales" He said sighing

"Pfft thought yer'd be nicer to be me since I am recoverin'" Soap spitted, point to his back.

"Basically, Jones paged Hari on the basis of doing an unauthorised surgery and said to show him her qualifications" Gaz summarised

"Oi, I was tellin' a story here!" Soap shouted, and flung a piece of apple at Gaz from his tray.

"Cut it out Soap" Price said and Soap promptly had a guilty look on his face.

"Wait, what?" Ghost said, straightening up in the chair

"Jones think she committed medical fraud" Price said

"But she saved 'im" Ghost said, throwing his hand out to Johnny

"Aye she did, oh forgot to mention the part Jones said she went psychotic at Foxham"

"Soap.." Price said sternly

"I didn't say anthin'" Soap exclaimed

"You say a lot shit Johnny" Ghost said "What you mean psychotic?" He added

"She apparently had a mental-" Soap started

"Alright, that's enough" Price stepped in "It's all been sorted" he added

"Is she leavin'?" Ghost asked, worry began to tremble through him.

What if you left before he could tell you who he was?

"No, she's staying." Price said

"Good" Ghost said aloud, then realised he said that aloud.

"Takin' a likin' to her ey Lt?" Soap said, giving him a mischievous grin.

Ghost looked away from Soap, he could feel his cheeks and neck getting hot.

"Not the only one" Gaz said, leaning back in his chair looking at Ghost and Soap with a grin. Both looked at eachother.

"I said she was pretty, I'm not in love with her" Soap shouted back at Gaz

As Gaz continued to tease Soap, Ghost got up and put the chair back

"You going?" Price asked

"Yeah" Ghost said moving closer to Price "Might see Doc, see if she's alrigh'?" He added

"She's knocked out at the moment, give her a till tomorrow" Price said and Ghost nodded.

"You goin-" Price started

"Give me 5 days." Ghost said looking straight at Price, who nodded and smiled, he gave him a light pat on the shoulder and let him go.

During the walk back to his room, Ghost made a promise to himself, to you.. 5 days, Ghost checked his watched, it was the 8th of October, 5 days would make it October 13th... He soon realised what day that was; the day The Captain died.

...

Finally after a good sleep, you were feeling slightly better. Yet the inner itch of anxiety trickled down your nerves anytime you heard the words Jones said to you...

"Heard you went psychotic whilst on shift."

Everytime that sentenced pierced your grey matter, your body shuddered, an attempt to rid the thought.

The hot droplets of water scattered across your naked body, taking your bamboo loofah, scrubbing your apple soap, creating a nice lather. You watch the bubbles accumulate as you scrub clean the sweat, the gunk trapped in crevices and bringing new life to the skin.

The fresh apple scent uplifted you, in combination with the hot shower, you felt like you could melt away...

But the oncoming thoughts of the revelation made the previous day flooded your thoughts.

Why would he take so damn long? You thought as you scrubbed over your knee and then down your calf.

But in your mind, you reasoned with yourself.. If you had been betrayed and then supposedly burnt alive you would keep that a secret. Anonymity was literally his name. Ghost

There... But not there really.

Getting out the shower, the cold morning breeze drifted into the bathroom, hitting your fresh skin.

After getting ready you made your way to the mess hall. As you locked the door, you gazed down the corridor to Ghost's room. Checking your watch it was 9:36 am, he would most likely be doing paperwork or something...

Heading down to the mess hall, it was there in the near empty hall you saw Ghost sitting alone on a lunch bench, a cup in front of him. As you both locked eyes, your mouth instantly curved into the biggest grin as you stared at the man hiding beneath the mask.

Your mischievous big grin made Ghost wary of you suddenly as he saw you walk in the mess hall, grabbing breakfast.

Something is up he thought to himself

Watching as you grabbed some breakfast, he kept his eyes on you until you sat right in front of him.

"Morning Lieutenant" You said, trying to not say Simon... Another grin appears.

"Mornin' Doc" He said, puzzled still by your big grin.

He watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side, strands your long brown hair falling too, as if you were analysing his inner workings. Trying to figure him out

"Is it your turn now doin' the starin'?" Ghost huffed, folding his arms

"Hmm perhaps" You replied

Ghost grumbled and looked down at his near empty tea in his mug.

"How's your injury?" You added as he remained silent, now it was his turn to stare at you.

"Fine. Better" He said.

"Good" You said, sucking in some air. You could feel some tension rising between you.

"Heard about Jones" He said, breaking the silence

You look at him, shocked at the bluntness.

"How did you-" You started

"Soap" Ghost said

"Soap?" You questioned "He's awake?!" You exclaimed

"Yeah, he's all good, you did a great job" He said, his eyes softened as he met your curious brown eyes.

"Good..." You say, taking a sip of coffee "What did he say about Jones?"

"Something happened at your old hospital" Ghost said, studying your face for any reaction.

"Yes..." You whispered, dreading the conversation that will follow.

Ghost took a deep breathe in.

"Tomorrow, we need to resume trainin'. Assume you've been doin' some since we've been away" He said changing the subject.

Shocked that he wasn't going to question you, you smiled briefly at him.

"Yeah, definitely, and yes, been training with the martial arts team on base too" You replied

"We shall see how well you can spar tomorrow" Ghost said.

He picked up his mug and said his goodbyes. He knew not to pressure you into giving him information he desperately wanted to know.

Within your own darkness, you seem to be hidin' your own demons too Ghost thought as he walked out.

...

It had only been a 3 days since Ghost, aka Simon Riley, had his deep wound stitched up, and yet he was persistent on picking back up the training, especially hand to hand combat training.

It was no surprise, the Simon you remember was proficient in unarmed combat. Now added with his Ghost persona, daunting others in his stride.

Each time you greeted each other in front of the training room he booked out, you'd ask him how he was.

"Alrigh'" He gruffed

That was his usual response. You didn't want to annoy him any further so you bit your tongue.

Finally, on the fourth day of training, you pinched a nerve with Ghost when you kept repeatedly asking if he was okay and if his wound be able to handle a beating or two.

"So far, I've overthrown you... 7 out of 8 times past three days" He snapped at you, blue eyes narrowed at you.

"Pretty sure it's 6" You replied bluntly as you recall the time you were jumping repeatedly to try and pull him over.

"7" Ghost retorted crossing his arms and stepping closer to you

"You are twice the mass of any normal combatant" You say rolling your eyes edging over to the mat.

"Well if you could knock me over, then it'd be easier knocking normal people" Ghost said following you onto the mat, and got into his ready position as you did the same.

He watched as your face changed, the fire suddenly lit behind the eyes as you narrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for your move, because he knew you would lunge first with a kick. And you did, he used his right arm to swat it away as if the oncoming kick was a fly. He took in satisfaction from your frustration at his easy block.

"Too predictable" Ghost muttered as he circled you slowly.

Taking a deep inhale you let out a deep sigh

"I don't have the upper body strength to take you down" You hurled back at him

"Just try it" He calmly said

Pulling your arms closer to your chest and face, jolting forward and giving a right punch. Ghost dodges.

Ghost decides to up the game and throws a punch, you duck and attempt to trip him with your legs again. He sighs and raises his leg in an attempt to kick you but you block with your right arm and side of the body, with your left arm you grab his thigh but Ghost quickly uses his upper arm to push you back - you stumble with the amount of force he put with such ease.

"Good attempt" He groaned as he stretched his neck and arms. where the muscles laid too defined under his scarred pale skin.

Meanwhile you were panting for air like anything. Walking off the mats you grab your flask and take a quick swig from it. The water replenishes the dryness of your mouth.

"Ready for another round?" Ghost asks, and you swear you heard a glimmer of laughter

Turning around placing the flask down in its own spot, wiping away droplets of water from the edge of your mouth, walking back up to the mats and face Ghost, getting back in your stance.

Lunging first again, you manage to hit Ghost and block one of his oncoming punches. Using his thigh as a stool, you jump up and twist round to his back and wrap your legs around his shoulders hooking your feet against his lower back, trying to use your core to tip him over, but you just ended spinning yourself to his front, feeling you slip, Ghost instinctively grabbed hold of your waist, keeping you from falling and snapping your neck.

"Ain't ya gonna listen to me and not use your legs?" He said gruffly

A small groan come out from your mouth.

His calloused fingers of his right hand grazed the brown skin beyond the edge of the joggers you wore. His grip around your hips tightened as he felt you relaxing your upper body, yet the grip with your legs over his shoulders remained.

He heard you panting slightly as you hung below him. Your tank top rose, unveiling more of the warm smooth brown skin. Like magnets, his eyes took in the vulnerability of your position as you hung casually.

You're gonna pounce he thought, planting himself and engaging his core, his wound although padded and nearly healed (Ghost thought) throbbed dully.

Yet you lay still. Ghost peered down at you again, his eyes laid on your breasts, between them he quickly looked at your chin and then the edge of your round nose. For a moment, he let himself glance at your breasts and then trailed up from your ribs to the protruding skin, a bronze glow as a beam of light bathed that region... Within his chest a ripple formed that gave him ease. His eyes wandered back up to the legs wrapped around his shoulders.

Taking your vulnerability to his advantage; Ghost grabs you right arm with his left and pulls you up and then over him. He heard you yell in disbelief as you were flung over him.

His right hand was no longer securely on your waist but now grasping your right inner thigh, making you lose grip over his shoulder.

Falling on your back you groaned with growing agitation as he threw you down.

"Was that necessary?" You groaned

"I ain't a damn tree" He snapped back, surveying you as you sat crossed legged down on the mat. The black tank top was perfectly fitted, showing your toned arms as you leant back. Ghost looked away and turned his back slightly

"Built like one" You muttered to yourself quietly and get back up up, rubbing your sore back and shoulder.

"Look, come here" Ghost said, rubbing his the skin underneath his mask, then motioned with his hand.

You came closer, and he took hold of your right arm gently.

"Form a fist" He said still holding your arm as you tightened the muscles lying beneath the skin.

"Good" Ghost said, and you looked up at into eyes blue eyes. Simon's blue eyes. As your eyes meet you feel a sharp zing bolt across you, quickly glancing back down to your fist, the feeling spread down to where he held your arm.

"Now, hit me with your upper arm-" He began and proceeded to move that part closer to your body "close like this" he added, and look down at you, meeting your eyes once again.

"'Kay" You sighed, engaging your core.

"Use your arms this time" Ghost repeated and gave a nod for you to go ahead.

You aim for Ghost's chest, he dodges, you attempt again to hit him with your left hand and you hit his chiseled torso.

"Good" he said "Block and defen' now" he added, and he lunged forward suddenly, delivering quick and sharp punches.

You block two, and then grab his right arm, and attempt to hurl him over, but due to his large size he remained where stood.

Thrusting your backside into him to try and get a bit of momentum, but he stood still.

Ghost felt slightly awkward as you kept getting close to his front, he felt your back, especially your bum, hitting his cock. He took a step back and turned his waist to the side, yet you followed his move in attempt to try and bring him down. With his left hand, he wrapped around your waist and lifted you up over his head.

"Not again!" You yelled as Ghost you mid air. He chuckled slightly as he brought you down but you swung your left leg around the back of his waist to try and swivel yourself out of his hold.

"Stop!" He yelled as he lost his balance and you let go of his waist with your leg, but still held onto his right arm. The sudden change in weight and momentum made Ghost fall right on top of you. Your face slammed into the mat, and lips making contact with the grit on the mat, saliva sputtered out as you groaned with annoyance and tiredness.

Ghost lifted himself off of you, he noticed your bare shoulders, as your tank top had a strap in the middle, exposing the tattoo he saw briefly one time on your left shoulder.

As you panted on the mat, Ghost stood on one knee over you and examined the different four flowers coming out of what looked like a skull. He gazed at the black monochromatic skull; an odd reflection of the skull he wore over his own.

He moved back and up, watching as your back muscles flexing as you pushed yourself up from the mat.

"Last round?" You say, wiping your hands together to get rid of the grit from the mats.

"Until you knock me over then it'll be the last roun'" He said, standing in the centre of the mat. Stretching his arms over his head and gazing back at you.

You meet his blue eyes again. Part of you so badly wanted to run up, jump and take his mask off and be huzzah! But that would be a total invasion of personal space and you figured he'd just toss you back to the ground as soon as you made any move.

Best bet is to keep on the defensive mode... Wait for him to strike

After about a minute of circling one another, Ghost struck first, punches that struck you on the side, yet you began to dodge them, delivering punches in return.

"Finally" Ghost said aloud, as he looked at your delivery of punches, few which he blocked and few a he took. He looked deep into your brown eyes, full of focus and determination.

Throwing more punches, blocking and then attacking.

"Good" Ghost said again and he swung out his right leg, doing a high kick and you block it and try to toss him over. It didn't work. Instead you let go his leg, and he swiveled trying to kick you again, you blocked and then remembered a move... A sudden rush of adrenaline charged through your blood.

With his back turned, it was then with your right leg that as you quickly crouched, hooking it around Ghost's left leg causing him to stumble, allowing you the edge to push his back with your left hand.

As Ghost fell forward he felt your hand grip his right ankle flipping him over like a pancake onto his back. Before he could fight back, you lunged on top of him, pinning his left arm with your right leg and your right hand near his throat. Your left knee was placed just on his hip, just the right amount of pressure to prevent him from getting up.

It was one of his signature moves. The surprise attack he would often use from behind.

How could you.. But then he remembered... Simon...

Him

You learnt it from him.

You kept him pinned down in the same position, forcing your entire weight on the points you held him down by. Boring your eyes into his. You could see the remaining black painting creased as he squinted his eyes at you.

"Gonna get off me?" He growled, hoping that would intimidate you.

Yet you persisted. Keeping the same stern look you stared at him. Tightening the grip you had on his right arm.

Annoyance began to grow in Ghost. But then he figured if you knew, then this was the consequences of his own making.

Your fingers were splayed against his throat covered by his skull balaclava. There was a terrible temptation to how badly you wanted to slide your fingers underneath, revealing the mole on his skin that covered his jugular.

What colour was it?

Smooth and circular or rough like potato. What shape is the mole?

As you thought of the mole, your grip began to tighten slightly on Ghost's throat.

Ghost felt his anxiety building inside as she tightened her grip on his throat.

How could I be so fuckin' stupid Ghost thought to himself, he pushed himself up but you were exerting all your strength into keeping him where he is.

"Do you know?" he croaked

"I know a lot of things, to which are you referring to?" You retorted

"Hmm" Ghost groaned, he shifted again under you, yet you remained.

"The day we first met.." You started, thinking carefully of the way you were wording your thoughts. Ghost eyes widened, becoming more attentive.

"Go on.." He said

"You said my old name, how did you know?" You asked, eyes narrowing at Ghost, hoping to catch him

"Looked through a file" Ghost lied quickly. Unable to bring himself to tell the truth.

You smirked, eyes narrowing further.

"Nah, pretty sure the Captain redacted my name"

Ghost drew all of his strength, he managed to get his right leg up and with his knee shifted his weight so that you stumbled off of him as he turned over.

"What you gettin' at?" He said getting up off the mat, lending out his right hand to help you up. You take it, and Ghost helps pull you up.

You know.. Ghost thought to himself as he watched you study his face

"I think I know who you are.." You whispered

Ghost felt a cold tinge begin within him, he crossed his arms over his chest, partly to stop his shaking hands being in view.

"Who am I?" He asked, stepping a bit closer to you

You take a deep breath.

"Simon Riley"

At the moment, Ghost's entire body went cold. What felt like an electric shock bolted in his body.

He was lost for words.

"What makes you think that?" He asked

"You have a mole on your neck, and Simon also had a mole" You stated, wanting to be done with the mind games and for him to take his mask off.

"Had?" Simon asked "Must mean he's dead"

"Supposedly dead" You said slyly.

"How'd you know this Simon had a mole?" Ghost asked, fully relishing in the moment of teasing you. He could sense the gears working overtime in your brain.

"I have a photo" You snapped "And I'll show it to you" You said, walking off the mats.

You were tired of the running around the questions. Answers were needed. As you looked behind you, Ghost began to follow your footsteps as you lead the way.

...

Ghost followed you into your room and closed the door behind you.

You pulled out the gold from that had the photo of the five soldiers, staring at it one last time before handing it over to Ghost.

Looking down at the image in the frame, Ghost recognised the Captain, you and a younger version of himself.

There he was. Simon Riley, before the betrayal, before the chaos and when he had a family. When he had a life outside the military.

Ghost looked up at you, your face still had the same stern look, he could tell that you wished it was the same Simon under this mask, the same Simon that was in the framed photo.

Standing in front of Ghost, he was leant back against the wall. The foreboding skull face whose eyes still protruded glared at you. Every now and then those blue eyes blink, replenishing the moisture of his lense covered in black paint ridden skin.

"I thought you were bacon"

"Bacon?" Ghost said in surprise

You tilt your head up, and watch as Ghost - no Simon - cock his head to the side, taking in an inhale as he shifts his weight about.

"Fried to a crisp" You muttered

"That ain't bacon love" He retaliated

You mouth curved when he said love... A cold pleasant feeling rippled through you.

"Is it you?" You ask, voice-breaking slightly, you could feel your eyes beginning ot sting as tears formed.

Ghost sighed, he placed the golden frame upright onto the set of drawers near him. He reached with his slightly trembling fingers, grasping the edge of his mask and took it off.

Your heart skipped a bit, mouth opening wide as the person finally revealed was alive.

"Simon" You murmured, stepping closer to him. It wasn't the same Simon in the photo. His blonde hair was not so blonde, dirtier blond-brown, and was messy and long on the sides. His jaw was covered in stubble, and as you stepped closer your could see scars scattered over his face; one over his nose that ran near his left eye, another across his cheek. His eyes looked tired, but the black paint didn't help.

Taking in every detail, you scan his face. Your mouth curved as you savoured this precious moment. Unable to stop the tears and the tightness in your chest as you got close to him. Simon.

Simon watched as the tears that fell from your eyes finally trickled down your cheek, dropping down to the floor that held them both in this moment of silence. He reached out for your hand and pulled you closer to him.

He took in your sorrow, guilt riddled him like an aching virus. He brought his hands up, his fingers tracing the bronze skin that glowed in the candlelight, trailing his forefinger and thumb against your skin, taking in the softness. Simon sighed and bowed his head slightly, he looked up and saw more tears coming from your eyes, wiping them away with his thumb. The rough palms grasped the nape of your neck, lulling your head back as he weaved his fingers through your brown hair. Simon gazed back, and closed his eyes placing his forehead against yours, his cold sharp nose tip pressing into your round nose.

"Ru" He whispered finally, his eyes still closed, yet he felt your wet lashes flicker against his.

"Simon" You croaked, and sighed deeply into him, Simon felt you relax and pulled in close to him, wrapping his warm strong arms tighter around you. Taking in the comfort as you melted into him.

Each inhale brought in a mix of cinnamon, musk, cigarettes and sweat. A perfect elixir that soothed your melancholy.

"Didn't mean to take so long" Simon gruffed

"I knew something was up" You said, sniffling as you pulled away, wiping the tears away with your wrist. Looking up at Simon, who still held you close to him.

"I just needed time" Simon said, his forehead touched yours has he took another inhale, a weight finally lifted off him.

Reaching around his waist, you wrap your arms tight.

"You took your time, then I took the shot" You said chuckling slightly into him. His grip on you tightened and you could feel him laugh a little too.

As Simon held you in his embrace, thankful that you were not mad, he finally felt his inner demons quell within the darkness that had put a hold on him for far too long.

#modern warfare fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x doctor #simon ghost riley x medic #cod fanfic #fan fic ideas #angst #cod mw soap #cod price #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #modern warfare #modern warfare ghost #thoughtsandbones #thoughtsandboneswrites

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movietrailer · 1 month

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some of us write abt lara crofts trauma to cope.. anyway enjoy some short disjointed lara croft angst fanfic... my first time stepping into her sick twisted mind.

enjoy !!

The cold light and the dark space. When she moves, there is the light, and when she shoots, there is the space. There are no words in the space, no thoughts. She learned very quickly that there is no time for thoughts in the dark space. Only movements, actions, survival.

Lara Croft is a lot of things: an archaeologist, a fighter, and a genius to a detrimental degree, but despite everything, she is just a person. A girl.

She has never felt more like just a girl than she does now, a dead man's eyes looking into her own as a bullet shatters his skull at point-blank range.

And she swims in the dark space again.

The aches, the burn under her skin as branches scrape and slice her arms to ribbons. Running. Her shaking breath reverberates in her ears as she moves, and the sound keeps her anchored to every moment. The sharp, horrid shift in her bones on the impact of a fall. The light. The heat. The sound of an explosion. The ricochet of a gun to a man’s head.

The image of a wound in the temple and her throwing off a grown man's form finds her in the dark spaces again. She’s shaking like her body; her weapon, her prison, can barely hold her together. Bones shifting and rattling in a soft, bruising fruit. She hates the way he feels when the cold light leaves, lifting up stiff limbs to crawl out from underneath dead weight.

A gunshot to the temple could really do that? The thought is clinical and disconnected; high-pitched and denying.

It really shouldn't, the trembling voice in the dark says before she leaves it.

God, why does she feel so small again?

#eppie talks #lara croft #lara croft tomb raider #tomb raider #fanfiction

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getvalentined · 1 month

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Yesterday I lamented a bit about people literally believing that sex is worse than violence, and I want to talk about that in more detail today.

Trigger warning for discussions of sexual assault, and somewhat detailed descriptions of body horror and violence.

One of my worst-kept secrets is that I'm into body horror. I try to keep it on the subtler side in my work, but it's probably still a bit extreme. I rarely get complaints about this—but I have been harassed for saying Yuffie could have a crush on anyone else in Avalanche. Not that she could or should have a relationship, or even implying that she does have a crush. Only that she could be attracted to another member of the party, because they are all extremely attractive, and teenage girls have crushes all the time.

I've drawn Vincent with his trachea exposed and written about Genesis' internal organs rotting away in fairly visceral detail, but the thing that makes me "sick" and unworthy of the air I breathe is that I think a teenage girl could find someone older than her attractive. This is the thing that has led people to tell me to kill myself.

Another terribly kept secret is that I was, at one point, a teenage girl myself. This didn't stop me from finding multiple adult celebrities attractive. For people who experience sexual attraction, this is normal. Me being fifteen years old didn't make Angelina Jolie any less attractive when playing Lara Croft.

This opinion is the one that's led folks to say they hope I get raped to death in prison. Not describing a character's skin being removed while the one removing it cackles in glee—that doesn't imply I'm a monster, because it's just violence. It's fiction. But I said teenagers can experience attraction, because I was one who did, and I'm inherently and undeniably evil.

This is what I mean when I say that people think sex is worse than violence. I'm not exaggerating, I'm referring to my actual experience—not just in fandom, but I'm not going to talk about my life in the cult because this is already too long. The point here is that I can portray the most gruesome torture, and everyone knows it's not real, but the instant human intimacy hits the scene it becomes some horrible, unforgivable concept that proves that I'm a monster who deserves to die.

I don't portray much sexual violence in my work, or engage with a lot of work that does, but—and this took me a long time to unpack—it's just another brand of violence in fiction. It can be gratuitous, sure, but so is my body horror. If I don't like it, I don't engage with it.

Before anyone brings up the topic of trauma processing and recovery, I need to add that I have personally experienced physical violence, medical violence, and sexual violence in my real life. I shouldn't have to explain that to keep people from attacking me for my work, and the fact that I've been through those things doesn't mean that my portrayal of these things is "valid" while portrayal by anyone who doesn't have the "correct" related trauma is "glorification." That's not how this works.

Some people experience sexual gratification from pain, or from engaging with portrayals thereof. For them, my work involving torture may inspire feelings of lust, my illustrations of body horror may be sexually arousing. Does this mean that I am sexualizing torture and abuse? Does this mean that I am encouraging skinning people alive? Of course not! No one has ever even implied such a thing!

Other people's reactions to my work, whether it's lust or disgust or anything in between, is not my responsibility. Likewise, my reaction to the work of others is not their responsibility. Sex is just sex, and fictional sex is just fiction—no matter how violent or inappropriate it may be.

You have every right to feel how you feel with regard to a creator's work. You can love it, hate it, it can be enticing or repulsive, you can find it exhilarating or triggering—all those responses are valid because you're a real person who feels things!

We attribute emotions to art, as well we should, but we should never attack the artist (operating in good faith) for creating something that caused an uncomfortable reaction in us. Those feelings are not a creator's responsibility to regulate for us.

Further, if you're a survivor of sexual assault who genuinely believes that murder is the kinder option, I am so sorry that your pain runs that deep. Truly. No matter what you've been through, the world is better for you being alive than it would be if your abuser had killed you. I'm sorry that it hurts so much that you can't see that yet. For a long time, I couldn't either. I understand the reaction, I understand seeing your own pain in every portrayal of sexual violence, I understand thinking it would be better to just be gone forever.

But that's not true, and if seeing it in fiction makes you wish violence and pain on-par with your own on other real people, you need to unpack it. You need to deconstruct that mindset. Hurt people hurt people, and you are hurting people.

But the world would be a darker, harder, sadder place without you in it. I'm glad you survived. I'm glad we both survived.

#fandom vent #fandom bullshit #tw sa #tw body horror #tw violence

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lopsidedtreetrunks · 3 months

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Here is my submission for @dribbonart 's amedot fusion competition! I like her a lot, although there are a couple of things I probably could have done a bit better lol

Steven is there for height comparison. All of the text on the page is in the alt text :)

I have A LOT of notes under the cut, which can get a bit stream-of-consciousness-y (because I can never just be chill about something bsdjaksjdlskd),, so I apologise in advance for how long it is 😭

Early research notes:

Mixing amethyst and peridot's skin colours together gets you a kind of sage green colour, so I researched to light green gems

Aventurine stuck out to me as it was the only one i found where it was actually described as sage green, so i thought 'that's perfect' lol

A lot of the healing properties of green aventurine I think resonate with both amethyst and peridot's personalities, from its promotion of friendship to its emission of positive energy

I liked that one of the sites i used to research aventurine mentioned ancient civilisations' usage of green aventurine and i wanted to incorporate that into the fusion's design/personality

It's important to me for her to have aspects of both amethyst and peridot shown in the design somewhere. Most of the time when i design fan fusions I do this in their hair, which is not different this time. I made her hair long, with a bushy tail on her braid representing amethyst, and her three skull braids representing peridot's triangle hair. Her hair is also in a braid bc when i hear the word adventure for some reason the first thing i think of is Lara Croft so,,, thats why i gave her a braid 😅

I wanted her body design to kind of resemble athleisure-wear since she loves relaxing but can get up and go at any point, ready for adventure! She also doesn't need to be complicated. I don't think she needs extra limbs etc since she has her vision power.

Obviously the crystal gems are very important to both amethyst and peridot, so I wanted to give her at least one star on her body. Her torso seemed like the most obvious place, but I'm not sure if she should have more elsewhere, too. The star on her torso can be like a tattoo.

I think she would be very intense in her love for her friends, which might make people uncomfortable. She will back off if she senses this, but she means well I promise!!

She can be spontaneous when it comes to her adventuring, sometimes dragging Steven and the other gems from their beds to go on a Cool Adventure (pearl is NOT a fan of this lmao)

When I say 'adventuring' I really mean just travelling and/or exploring new places, which could be anything from a new city to a deep jungle. Normally these adventures don't last longer than a couple of days... unless they get lost..........

A few amedot related rambles notes:

One of my favourite things about amedot is that they're sooo opposite. I'm such a big opposites-attract truther almost everything I ship there's one puppy dog and one wet cat there's nothing i love more than polar opposite pairings <3

With that said they also share a few things (cough being short asses cough) such as their love of their friends (even if they show it in different ways) and they can both be pretty headstrong. They both had their own journeys - amethyst with her self confidence and feeling inferior, and peridot with unlearning the system of homeworld and the traditions she was so used to. They both had to learn how to love themselves enough to be able to stand up for what they believe in and to let themselves be true to themselves (i hope that makes sense lol)

I think their opposing traits can be quite complementary. Peridot is quite intense; she gets excited about her favourite things and she gets embarrassed easily. Amethyst is more laid-back and tends to roll her own way. They complement each other well.

More refined notes:

Amethyst's personality: Mellow Lazy/messy (affectionate) Improved self-esteem Fiercely loyal

Peridot's personality: Self-confident Smart (robotics) Analytical Intense interests/personality Learned to enjoy life/appreciate Earth

Aventurine properties:

Quartz

Name comes from Italian for adventure

Known as a heart-healer for it's relation to the heart chakra

Said to bring prosperity in all facets of life

Emits a positive energy, slows overactive minds, guides lost spirits, promotes friendships

Ancients Tibetans used it in statues, believing it's glimmer gave them higher vision

Amazon tribes used it in jewellery, believing it gave their royalty and warriors guidance in battles

Aventurine personality:

Self-confident

Enjoys seeking adventure but really values her downtime

Adores her friends - loyal

Can take charge if needed

Can be spontaneous with adventuring

Emotional decision-maker

Although she is very smart, she tends to think with her heart rather than her head

She has a special power - higher vision grants her the ability to see for miles and can focus in any person/thing in the present

Similar to Sapphire's future vision but stays in the present

She gets her street smarts and go-with-the-flow attitude from Amethyst

She gets her intense love and confidence from Peridot

Hyper but content in life

#in which i discover i cant fucking draw steven universe himself 😭😭#amedot contest #amedot #su amethyst #su peridot #su oc #steven universe #aventurine

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candragloomblade · 5 months

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Sketchbook - Bloodrayne/Lara Croft/Gothic Girl (NSFW)

The girl from one of my old pictures, Lara Croft (in gothic skin) and Bloodrayne.

Commission sketch.

NSFW-version you can see on my Boosty and Patreon. Enjoy!

#candragloombladeart #artists on tumblr #sketchbook #sketch markers #markers #sketch #commissionsketch #commission #sexy content #art commisions #bloodrayne #lara croft #gothic girl

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rinkaywie · 1 year

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Warm

Jonah Maiava x Croft!reader (Gn)

Warnings: Fluff

An: big teddy bear need some lovin'

—————

Your eyes flutter open, Where am i? You thought. Damn, it's fucking freezing. You noticed a campfire next to you, and yet you're still freezing. Where's Jonah? Lara?

Footsteps can be heard. You quickly stood up and took your hunting knife out of your holster that was attached to your thigh.

A familiar voice ran through your ears. "Woah, little birdie. It's just me."

Little birdie...

"Jonah!" A smile planted on your face as you bolted towards Jonah and quickly wrapped your arms around him. He did the same.

"What's wrong with your arm?" You asked, after detaching yourself from him.

"Ah, some sort of parasite. I was looking for some wormwood but it doesn't grow here."

"Here, let me see." Good thing you still have your knife on your hands.

"Oh, hey!" He quickly stopped you before you can get your knife closer to his skin. "What are you doing?"

"If we leave it in there, It'll only get worse." You said. "Now sit."

"Yes, ma'am." He sighed and sat on a rock. You bent down to his eye level.

"You sure know what you're doing?" He asked.

"Are you really gonna ask me that?" You shoot him a glare. Did he forget that you're a medic?

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"I won't lie, though. It'll hurt like hell."

He groaned as the cold metal part of your knife touched his skin.

—

The parasite was finally out, you were holding it up in the air while the two of you were laughing.

"We should give him a name."

Jonah was always a goofball. That's one of the reasons why you have feelings for him.

"Okay."

"Eli?" He smiled. That cute darn smile. "My cousin. He was always trying to get under my skin."

"Goodbye, Eli." You giggled before dropping Eli. You took some bandage out of your bag and started covering Jonah's arm with it. His skin was so smooth, despite his job being so rough.

"Thanks." A grin planted on his face. "We should go look for your sister."

"That's a good idea, but not a good idea for you." You said as you tear the bandage with your mouth. "I need you to rest so i can see if that parasite did something to you. And I'm sure she'll find us, i have a flare gun."

"You're right."

"Go. Go sit down by the fire. You need some rest."

He just nodded and went to the fire. You took the flare gun out of your bag and shot it upwards.

You were still freezing. Jonah noticed you shaking. "Sit on my lap. I'll warm you up."

Did he just... Your cheeks lit up "I'm not sitting on your lap!"

"Trust me."

You took a deep breathe and turn your back against him. "No. Face me." You were hoping he wouldn't see your rosy cheeks right now. You did what he told you. You sat on his lap, facing him. Wrapping your legs around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, and you did the same. Your face is on his chest while his was at the top of your head.

God, he was so warm. You could just fall asleep right now. He was just so comfortable.

"You falling asleep on me?" He chuckled, making his chest vibrate.

You made a noise that sounded like a "mhm" as you smiled.

#jonah maiava #jonah maiava x reader #i love this man so much like omfg #tomb raider

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kadebronson · 1 year

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#my first poll!#choose between my children!#'i love all my children equally'#earlier that day: makes tumblr followers choose betwern them in a poll #wtf i can only choose between 1 day and 1 week for poll time #that's stupid #slice of life

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notjustyourhealers · 1 year

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Hayley's 4 Games With Great Representation

My first experience playing a female character was Lara Croft. I felt, playing a female character as a little girl, that I could do that, too…or, at least, I could imagine because I am NOT fit enough to do any of those things.

I was open to a whole new world; I didn’t know you could play a woman! I guess that’s how it is with other forms of representation. I am a pansexual woman, and to me, it’s amazing to see more games include pronouns, body options, and love interests. I haven’t played a game that only has a straight cis male as the main character in a while. That’s not to say I hate male characters - most are badass, ahem Batman – but if I can, I will always choose to be a female. The option of your character being just a little bit more like you is so freeing.

So, I would like to point out some games with amazing representation!

Coral Island is currently in early access, has tons of romance options, and the pronouns/body types to fit your ideal gaming you!

Sims 4 has AMAZING representations. While the Sims franchise has always had amazing support for their LGBT+ community, Sims 4 added female and male categories for clothes that is removable so your character can wear both, you can also choose your sims pronouns, voice, and walk style.

Animal crossing New Horizons may not be the most overt in representation but you can choose skin tone and hair styles. I think it’s very easy to create a non-gendered or non-binary character. Especially since clothing isn’t gender based!

Error 143 is a visual novel with a very hot character named Micah. You can choose your pronouns. Jenny Vi Pham has worked very hard with the voice actor on the character to even voice some names which is amazing! There is even a $10 NSFW little DLC, which is also very hot. You can find this on Steam and Itch.io!

Well, this is my list of representative games. I only included the games I played, let me know if there are ones I missed, I’m certain I did! I would love to add more to my collection!

#gaming #video games #cozy games #lgbt #lgbt+#women in gaming #mod hayley

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jadegretz · 1 month

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Elisa Maza: Guardian of the City by Jade Gretz

Elisa perched precariously on the gargoyle of the clock tower, the wind whipping at her hair as she surveyed the scene below. Gothic spires, usually bathed in the comforting glow of streetlamps, seemed to writhe like skeletal fingers beneath the cold, pale moonlight. An unnatural mist clung to the cobblestone streets, obscuring the gargoyles who usually stood guard with Elisa. They were silent, their stone forms frozen in a tableau of terror.

From the heart of the mist, a monstrous figure emerged. It was Demona, yes, but not the Demona Elisa knew. Gone was the sleek, panther-like grace of the gargoyle clan leader. In its place stood a grotesque parody of a gargoyle, a creature seemingly stitched together from nightmares. Its wings, once powerful and elegant, were now tattered and dripping with a black ichor. Its eyes, once intelligent and calculating, glowed a sickly green, radiating a malevolent energy.

An inhuman shriek, a sound that crawled under Elisa's skin and gnawed at her sanity, split the air. Demona’s monstrous form unfolded, its limbs extending into impossibly long, whip-like appendages that slithered and pulsed with a grotesque life of their own. Those limbs, she realized with a surge of horror, were the stone forms of Demona's clan, twisted and warped by some dark magic.

"Elisa Maza," Demona's voice rasped, a distorted echo of its former self. "You have interfered for the last time." The monstrous form twitched, its elongated limbs snapping and snarling in a display of predatory anticipation.

Elisa knew this wasn't Demona – not entirely. Something dark, something ancient and evil had infected her former ally, twisting both her form and her mind. A wave of grief threatened to engulf her, but Elisa pushed it down. There would be time for mourning later. Now, there was only survival.

Drawing upon the years of training she received from Goliath and the other gargoyles, Elisa reached into her backpack, retrieving the weapons Goliath had insisted she carry – a length of climbing rope, a hefty grappling hook, and a pair of throwing daggers glinting silver in the moonl …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

#ai #aiart #digitalart #jadegretz #fantasyart #fanart #beautifulgirl #aiartwork #aiartcommunity #elisamaza #gargoyles #90scartoons #comicart

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latenightsimping · 17 days

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this came up on my news today and

in the first game you literally go to atlantis. you bamboozle a lara croft clone with no skin by making them fall into a lava pit. there's uzis on an invisible platform in an ancient egyptian tomb. tomb raider has been a silly, janky game from the start and that's what makes it loveable god damn it

#can you tell lara croft made me a raging homosexual #actually while we're on the subject FUCK the outside obstacle course in croft manor on the second game #(i've been dogshit at it since i was 6)

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mi6021miakillackey · 5 months

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Character Design - what can be said?

As I have my own personal interest in character design and potential desire to work within this field, I want to look deeper into this area of animation/ pre production aspect of film, game and thing making.

I have had some thought on what character designs, concepts and representations convey to a wider audience and how it can be used to shift a perception of a gender, race, culture etc of real people outside of media. One of these I wanted to look upon in this final project was the designs of female characters in juxtaposition to male characters - why there seems to be less range with designs of girls and women than there is with men and boys - for example how small the margin is for what is "acceptable" or "desirable" of a feminine concept of a character, with majority of them having a slim figure and a "pretty face".

The elements that make them seem to fit a very niche, westernised view of what a woman should look, talk, move and behave like - and we have a lot of characters, old and new that support this.

A good example would be Daphne and Velma from the children's television cartoon Scooby Doo - we have Velma, an intelligent, rigid character whose design has embodied her whit as well as a lack of concern with male attention by making her look "less attractive' by giving her freckles, squared man-like glasses, a frumpy sweater that conceals her less defined figure and no makeup.

Then Daphne who we know to have a romantic interest in Fred, a handsome dimwit. Her design is polar opposite to that of Velma's, she is slim and curvaceous, she wears heels and adorns makeup, a stylish vibrant head of curled locks and feminine aspects to her outfit like a headband and classy scarf. This is a deliberate choice of designs and representation for these two women - but also ingrains into viewers what a woman who is smart and self focused looks like, compared to what a woman who is more self centred and concerned with looks and romantic interest looks like.

Then we have a figure like Jessica Rabbit from the movie Who Framed Rodger Rabbit - all of the characters express their disbelief towards her marriage with Rodger, a significantly "less attractive" character than Jessica, depicted as a sultry, sensual woman much like that of Marilyn Monroe - the picture of sexual desire and lust - a teeny waist, long toned legs and small heeled feet, plump red lips, big prominent breasts, low and seductive "bedroom eyes", and a head of luxurious curled red hair. she is an icon of sex within everything she does, and knows it "I'm just drawn that way"

But why is the focus mostly pinned upon the woman figure to uphold these impossible body and beauty standards as well as how they should behind and present themselves?

In the gaming world - the same patten is presented.

Lara Croft has always been another sex symbol used for male satisfaction in the games - with her wildly inappropriate outfits for the life and environments she is placed in and her strangely unscarred skin on a swimsuit model body - it would make sense for her to be more clothed and covered in action and to have a muscular, perhaps less "feminine" body type indicating her great strength.

A character from a much more recent game, 2020, would be Abby Anderson from the game The Last Of Us part 2 - a strong, deeply complex character who while beautiful and feminine in her own way (as all women are) is designed to suit her environment and willingness to survive in the harsh reality in which there is no escape to. This design was rejected and criticised by a lot of fans and players of the game upon release and to this day nearly four years on - majority of these rejections came from male players who found her design "disgusting" and some going as far to call it an abomination.

But here we have two very strong female characters in all aspects of themselves and yet their designs couldn't be more different.

I have looked at a few studies done on this matter that I will be including in my dissertation to support my question and argument, but I want to use this to question if I fall into this category also, am I representing women in a diverse progressive way? what can I change about my approach to designs if not? does there need to be a change? why is it important to show a variety of forms and details within characters?

I decided to do a little sketch of a concept of Cordelia - thinking of more range with body proportions and colour palettes that could work. I will stick with my previous design of her however I think because I like how she looks and her shape/clothing is easier for me to keep consistent I would say.

but I like exploring more designs and coming up with a wider range of ideas for characters. representing different body types and styles really matters to me personally.

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journallingweeks · 1 year

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eventful weekend!

I had such a lovely weekend.

Thursday - went to a laser appt, my third, and she informed me she is positive the dry patch on my thigh is ringworm (...). So, grand, I got an anti-fungal cream and have been applying it every night since..

On Friday, I went for a 3.04km run in 18 degrees heat during my lunch. Then, after work, me and my friend went shopping in Mahon, and I got SUCH a cute light grey t shirt. I literally love the fit of it. I also got a baby pink string top that is also so so cute. I bought some more immediately, all for only €6, as it'll be such a good staple for travelling.

On Saturday it was SO sunny, I woke up early with my sister and we walked to my favourite café, which sadly announced it's permanently closing at the end of June. I'm going to go there as often as I can now until then.

Between the sun, feeling skinny and tanned, clearer skin, completely bald from laser, I felt unreal. I then met my two friends after their pilates class and we all walked into town together, where I got a fresh set of nails. (short, square, nude.).

Then, I walked home, napped, showered and got ready for MTGM with my childhood friend. I walked to the marina, ready, and got sushi and an almond-flour cookie, with some cherry white claws.

We had such a laugh. Afterwards, my best friend found a *** in the bathroom cubicle of the bar!! So we were buzzing with the thrill of that for the night. I ended up in the gay bar afterwards and was home for around 3. It felt so summery.

I got lovely compliments when I was out - that I looked like Lara Croft and had lovely eyes!!! Nice!

The next day, Sunday, I met my dad for breakfast in a Spanish cafe, and we walked to the market for macaroons afterwards. I then walked home, cleared out my room pre-moving out (a bit), and then went to a BBQ at my boyfriend's family's house. I absolutely loved it. They are so kind and welcoming and they always make me feel so at home.

When I got home that evening, I went for a 3.34km run, my longest run yet. My knees are getting a little sore so I'm hoping if I do a bit of strength training and stretching that will ease off.

Happy!!!

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declaredmissing · 1 year

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wanting someone older and wiser to save me

There was a night I fell asleep crying and heard my sister’s voice in my head, “it’ll be okay, little moon.” I realized how much I missed the best friend I used to have in my sister. That relationship is lost, and I don’t know how to recover it or where to go from there. When I find myself missing ‘my sister’, I wonder if I’m really longing for an older figure to reassure me that everything would be alright. I don’t know how to be that person for myself. There’s a person I’m afraid of becoming, and I don’t know why.

I dreamed last summer of a human rights lawyer walking into the house with the broken refugee family, taking the little girl away and saving her when the girl was about to jump. How explicitly my subconscious was telling me I long for a mother, for a hero, for some magic person to provide me unconditional love and protection and kindness. A dream showing me how I wanted to rescue others before myself. I wanted someone else to rescue me, because I didn’t trust myself to be there for me.

There’s a little girl, standing at the edge of a window, about to jump in the pool, and she wants someone older and wiser and kind to sweep in and save her. She’s my daughter, and she’s me, and she’s the little girl inside my mother too, inside probably every woman I’ve ever known.

Self-destruction used to be the only language I knew when I needed help. In times I felt the most rage, I felt driven to prove I was more willing to destroy myself and go further than anyone else would. Dumping my journals and writing in the trash can, letter opener to my skin, to my paintings. Ending friendships, cutting my ties to the world. Erasing myself was the only way I felt I could exert control in a life where I otherwise felt helpless. It was my attempt to speak, to beg people to see that I wasn’t okay, to ask them to care, but in a manifested in a cry for help that didn’t speak at all. I wanted someone to stop me. To tell me I was too valuable to be lost. But there’s no wiser or older figure who’s going to sweep in and reassure me of my value. Realizing that left me with a deep and aching loneliness, but instead of turning others, I decided to contain the pain, and this reduced me to being isolated and weaker. I searched for security by deciding to enter a ‘men’s world’; safety in self control and self restraint.

In response to my own fear, I decided to develop a tough skin to protect myself. I found myself looking up to fictional figures with traditional masculine traits – self control, determination, cool, emotional discipline, and mastery. Self-sufficient, independent women, who are fucked over in many ways but refused to be helpless. Alienated with no support system, but plenty of rage to fuel them. Aimee, Lisbeth Salander, Aomame, Lara Croft. They had a voice, and they had power, even if it was in a sense dressing over deeper wounds, to protect the softer parts of their underbelly. I thought rescuing myself meant being untouchable. Being able to defend myself. To not be scared anymore. I wanted to be both weapon and armor itself. The kind of girl who could walk home alone at night and have nothing to be afraid of.

Emma Berquist in her article True Crime Is Rotting Our Brains observed, “So many true crime shows advise women to trust their instincts, but how can we trust instincts that have been hijacked by induced anxiety?” She worried that being primed to read danger in innocent situations “are not sensible reactions, they are the thoughts of someone who has been deeply traumatized.” I wonder how much of my instincts for survival are led by misreading the world. Defaulting to believing this world is a dangerous place, and in my body, I am not safe here. I often think of the police officer I dated, who was alert and guarded and could sense in every gesture or open space, the potential for danger. I related to him. I understood him. I wanted to become what he did in his response to fear.

Much of the criticism against women’s self-defense are objecting to how women must prime themselves to signals of danger. How we must be the ones to train and protect ourselves, instead of questioning society and demanding that society as a whole must become a safer place. It skews our perception of danger.

We are primed with our hands holding our keys in the the way that alert, vulnerable women do walking alone at night.

Many of my heroines are driven by anger, of experiencing women in their lives being abducted or murdered. Who they become is from the effect of these stories on their psyche.

Our very culture skews crime and violence to embed fear within us. I’ve been thinking of other insiduous ways it does this, encouraging us to mistrust each other, read danger into each other, in the name of encouraging safety, being alert. As a smokescreen to distract us from the deeper causes of violence. Heightened fear became the underlying landscape driving me to muay thai, combat sports, self defense. When I walk alone at night, every stranger could potentially whip out a knife. They warn of this in kali, demonstrating how casually one could stab you, as if it were a normal thing to expect. If, according to Berquist, “crime stories are a fundamentally conservative way of looking at the world,” what would a radical way of looking be? What would be the opposite of ‘fear-stoking propaganda’? What would it mean to practice self-defense as a way of truly finding power in oneself, rather than it being a reactive way of seeking power, like a man buying a gun?

I’ve been thinking about it what it means to take agency for my own life. There are days I feel like I’m just barely threading myself together; that I’m only just holding on to the strands that bind me. I think of how I’ve grown, since I first commuted to Brooklyn to learn Muay Thai, wrapping my hands on the train. Looking for courage. Looking for armor. Combat sports has become my lifeline when I don’t know what else to do with myself. It’s hard earned confidence. Focusing on the bag is a way of channeling my anxiety to a certain outcome–I know how to practice. I know that this isn’t wasted effort. The concentration and energy feel productive. There’s no confusion. Each strike is its own reward.

I found some kind of fulfillment and reward through the repetition of kicking a bag. Driven to perfect my roundhouse kick, fueled by the thrill of a perfectly executed kick. I learned to build habits and structure through long term persistence and self-forgiveness. It was the best thing I did for myself at that time in my life where I was going through a personal crisis.

I found survival in the drive to keep working, with a laser-like intensity, on something even after I’ve lost immediate interest. Learning what rules I do want to form for myself. Reward in my tenacity in itself; not to be recognized or to feel safer, but in the sheer joy of seeing myself improve. Survival in discovering my ability to stick with something even when it was hard.

Turning to martial arts and starting to fully grasp just how powerful I can be – how overwhelming it is to lean into something new, to be bad, to persist–and then to be truly whole-heartedly empowered by the results. Training myself to not be disappointed so easily by my failure or clumsiness, at how my body simply did not know yet. To not feel frustrated that I was getting it wrong, or that it wasn’t coming together or feeling easy yet. Enduring hardships and learning the grace to bear them well.

Finding agency through martial arts hasn’t solved my life problems, and it doesn’t make the world objectively less dangerous.

Now, I just want to live from joy and wonder; to run towards, not from.

But with tenderness and infinite patience, I’ve learned, along the way, that no one else is going to do it for me. It’s a hard lesson to accept. I grew armor as a kid, learning to rely on myself, but at heart, hoping someday someone would care for me. I held on to that fantasy, and my anger came from the injustice of feeling that was withheld from me. I struggle to accept that no one else is going to tell me the words that I want to hear, but it’s hard for me to feel like it’s okay to say those things to myself. But I hope to let go, to accept with grace that my belief in myself should not be dependent on others believing in me. There will be people who love me, who treat me kindly, generously, but if I’m able to unfailingly protect myself–be sacred to myself, treat myself like I would be my own daughter–then I’ll never be breakable.

focus on the evolution in my perception of/relationship to martial arts.

The moment I decided to box was when I watched Tomb Raider, and Vikander, the underdog, was hurling herself at her opponent and refusing to give up. And I thought, maybe I could have it in me too. Croft, or the way Vikander played her – was vulnerable but also tough. She was someone who chose the hard path. Scrappy and resourceful and uncertain. And I identified with her. There is something triumphant and hopeful to be found in a character who, at the end, discovers just how truly powerful she is after emerging through crisis.

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westshellos · 1 year

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cyborgs, magical girls, girlboss capitalism and temp-scapes: a review of bee and puppycat

[ preface: this is in reference to the original youtube series, not the netflix lazy in space re-release. i liked the original’s subtle storytelling and worldbuilding techniques (ye old adage, “show not tell”), which, in my opinion, was carelessly done away with in the re-release. the netflix version feels more “tell” than “show”, and its in-your-face expositions completely remove the ambiguity and complexity that made the original so enjoyable. so yeah, i’m a little disappointed with the direction of the netflix version, but because i love the concept of the series so much, i’ll be following it to see if it gets any better.

also, spoilers ahead, of course. ]

the first time i watched bee and puppycat 4 years ago, i couldn’t help but see parallels between bee’s damaged arm in the final episode and major kusanagi’s mangled cyborg body in the iconic tank scene of ghost in the shell (1995). i couldn’t find any sources linking the two, and i don’t know if natasha allegri drew from mamoru oshii specifically, but let me outline their similarity: in their respective scenes, both of them exert themselves to the point of bodily destruction, exposing their bodies as mechanically-constituted—beneath the appearance of skin, both bee and kusanagi are shown to be amalgamations of wires, nuts and bolts.

immediately i was reminded of donna haraway’s cyborg manifesto, which suggested that examining the figure of the cyborg was productive for feminism because it represented a rejection of established boundaries—such as that of human/animal, human/machine, nature/nurture, man/woman and so on and so forth—that have structured our ways of knowing thus far (gross oversimplification but you get the point).

ghost in the shell captures this sense of productive transgression more directly: kusanagi is portrayed to be simultaneously masculine in her strength and behavior yet feminine in her physical appearance; she’s also a mechanical body with an (albeit questionable) “organic” implanted soul or “ghost”. the movie in turn asks questions about life—how we classify something as living and why others don’t fall under the same category. it complicates our assumptions about biology, humanity and gender. in line with haraway’s project, ghost in the shell highlights new possibilities of thinking about the human. maybe if we abandon our narrow-minded assumptions, they both posit, we can also leave behind the pointless bickering over who can or cannot go to which bathrooms or why men shouldn’t be allowed to wear dresses and focus on other things that might actually contribute to improving lives.

bee and puppycat doesn’t quite interrogate the same things, or if it does it isn’t presented as overtly. starring an unemployed woman named bee and her part-puppy part-cat pet-partner, the series revolves around the eponymous pair traversing strange landscapes in an alternate dimension named “fishbowl space”, completing absurd “temp jobs” and hanging out with bee’s friend and aspiring-chef deckard. on the surface, it’s easy to look at its pastel color palette and cutesy aesthetic and dismiss its seriousness. but a closer look at allegri’s history and the series itself proves that it’s far from shallow. having worked on adventure time (like her contemporary rebecca sugar) prior to bee and puppycat, allegri’s show has been compared to both adventure time and steven universe, which have each gained attention for the depth and solemnity of their narratives when contrasted against their cartoon visuals. combine that with the parallels between bee and kusanagi, and you get me wondering what the significance of the cyborg is in the show. i don’t have an answer quite yet, but i do have thoughts.

one thing that caught my attention was the character bee herself. unlike your usual girlboss (think amy dunne, furiosa, lara croft, or even major kusanagi), bee is unemployed, unmotivated, lazy (hence the tagline: lazy in space), lives alone with her pet and does nothing but eat and watch tv all day. under the lens of contemporary girlbossery, bee is a catastrophic failure.

but girlbossery, as we already know, is a capitalist scam. not only does it perpetuate the idea that gender equality is contingent on economic productivity, it repackages consumerism as feminism—“if you want to be the perfect girlboss like me, you need to have this thing!” or “if you want to support a girlboss, please buy this!” worst of all, girlbossery sells you the lie of an ideal woman who is, more often than not, just a reinforcement of the status quo: she’s usually thin (coded as “healthy”) and conventionally attractive (read: european-looking), smart and always financially successful (by her own merit, of course). at its core, the girlboss is an exclusionary construct that ignores the intersections of race and class in favor of a flimsy promise of meritocratic justice.

bee, then, signals a “willingness to move beyond the ‘girl power’ rhetoric...and offer a range of nuanced female characters”, as mihaela mihailova writes. sometimes, this just means someone who’s relatable. bee might not be a girlboss, but she is one of us. allegri herself was surprised at “[h]ow many girls [watched the show and] were like, ‘oh, that’s me.’” having relatable female characters means having realistic depictions of women that might not conform to societal norms or expectations; it means representing women as we are rather than putting forth abstract ideas of women that are fundamentally unattainable.

what has the cyborg have to do with all of this? to be honest, and like i said, i’m not sure. but allegri has cited sailor moon as a major inspiration for the series, and that gives me some sort of insight: maybe it’s an update of the mahou shoujo (literally magical girl) genre. instead of a young girl who transforms into a cute costume via the power of magic and defeats evil (often older, powerful women), you have a cyborg who’s essentially your average millenial/older gen-z woman fighting a mysterious, abstract dark force from an alternate dimension that coincidentally is a realm where precarious (and not to mention absurd) work is found. while classic mahou shoujo tropes arose in the 1990s and are aligned with notions of feminine power and innocence, bee and puppycat’s incorporation of the cyborg seems to be a 2010/2020s rejection of these ideas. for the cyborg, as haraway says, “is resolutely committed to partiality, irony, intimacy, and perversity. It is oppositional, utopian, and completely without innocence.”

bee’s cyborg ontology firstly highlights that femininity is a construct that is fluid, malleable and therefore imitable—when we find out that she’s actually a cyborg at the end of the series, it doesn’t stop us from perceiving her as a girl. she looks like a girl, dresses and behaves like one, so why would we think any different? what that unveiling does is say that anyone can be a girl, as long as they adhere to enough social norms. in doing so, bee and puppycat suggests that there is no magical feminine power because there is no inherent feminine essence to draw from. bee doesn’t channel the magical power of femininity like her magical girl counterparts; she relies on her mechanically-constituted body. her attempt at saving moully in the final scene wasn’t done with magic but by harnessing her mechanical strength as a cyborg.

that is not to say that older mahou shoujo depictions are “bad”—what does that mean, anyway?—rather, bee and puppycat conveys a shift in female representation that is more inclusive and relevant in the present. which brings me to my next point: temp jobs and precarious work.

while deciding on the primary text for my ht i stumbled upon temporary, a book by hilary leichter with a premise that’s supiciously similar to bee and puppycat’s concept of fishbowl space (albeit published after the web series aired): a young woman floats through different worlds, fulfilling various duties under a myriad of temporary positions with no prospect of stable, permanent employment. similarly, bee is fired from her job at deckard’s family restaurant and earns a living with puppycat by going to strange places in “fishbowl space” to complete whimsical, absurd tasks. in one of the first episodes, bee and puppycat go to jellycube planet (pictured below) to complete the task of feeding a sugared cherry on one side of the planet so food will grow for the animals on the other side of the planet, all of which are owned by an unnamed alien farmer (also pictured below).

if leichter’s temporary is about the precarity of work in the age of late capitalism, then bee and puppy cat is undoubtedly on the same page. not only do the disparate planets and unnamed clients in the show parallel the fractured, contract-based and short-term nature of jobs in our real world, bee almost always encounters danger within fishbowl space. whether it’s the aforementioned cherry being a soul-eating monster that tries to eat bee or the shadowy black hands that end up capturing moully, these landscapes of temporary work (or temp-scapes, as i deem them) are often treacherous and difficult to navigate. with precarious jobs taking up an increasingly larger proportion of the job market, and with the pandemic exacerbating this trend, bee and puppycat sees the magical girl grow into a woman whose freedoms and safety are threatened by the demands of the economy. bee’s cyborg body, then, is also symbolic of the effects of capitalism as it continues to figure humans as productive machines.

nevertheless, i think bee and puppycat is trying to construct something positive. about femininity, capitalism and about the future of humanity. and with a cyborg at the heart of the show, i don’t doubt that they will. or maybe i’m just overthinking all of this. either way, the web series was really fascinating and engaging and, if fate allows, i might write all of these ideas out in full detail in the future. until then, i rate the bee and puppycat series a 9/10.

#rambles

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