mechanical eyes

And I Drove You Crazy (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One Shot ❤

A/N: hey y'all! This is most likely the most sinful thing I’ve ever written. I had to take some breaks while writing 😂 but this is dedicated to the lovely, super awesome @diving-down-to-wonderland for her birthday! (HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY HUN!) I hope you like it! ❤❤❤
- Delilah ❤

And I Drove You Crazy: Reader’s bike needs to be repaired asap, leading her to come across an insanely gorgeous mechanic whom she may or may not want to bang the second she lays eyes on him.

Warnings: SMUT! Semi-Public sex. Unprotected sex.

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Just think of how confusing cosmetics can be to other humans it would be worse with aliens. 

Alien: Your talons are bleeding. 

Human: Nope, just painted them red. 

Alien: For a ceremony, or is this to mate. 

Human: Neither I just thought I’d paint them. 

Alien: And your mouth is red for the same reason. 

Human: Yes just different paint in tube form. 

Alien: Your eye hairs are curled. 

Human: Yup, used this *shows them eyelash curler*

Alien: *cowers away from the eye torture mechanism.* 


I was surprised that only one person had done a rebel Kallus design, and I saw a post where someone was demanding one. So here it is. This was my coping mechanism post-Through Imperial Eyes. 

So, the full-body design is his default outfit. Then there’s Endor and Hoth, showcasing his Sabine-painted helmet and cuirass. And the side view is supposed to be Scarif. And yes, I have an idea about how he escaped. I’ll get around to writing it at some point. 

Since you asked


yea i was actually wondering about some of these breeds as im interested in getting a pigeon in the future and looking at some of these breeds…and wow why would people even find some of these to be even remotely acceptable let alone desirable

I have no problem with embellishments of color, fancy feathers, and little tweaks to posture, so long as the bird is still bird shaped and able to function comfortably.

But yeah! There are SO many breeds of pigeon so drastically misshapen that they can’t function as birds! Going down a list of pigeon breeds and looking at photos of each one, you would be amazed and disgusted by how low the ratio of bird shaped to detrimentally outlandish is.

You would probably be straight up sickened to know that there are over ten beakless breeds.

The African Owl, the Turbit, The Modern/Oriental frill (The COF is to those last two what the Retro Mop is to pugs, one more reason I SO enthusiastically support the breed.)

The American Fantail’s head is supported by its fan of tailfeathers. It’s neck curves back so drastically that its head LITERALLY sits on its ass.

The Short Faced Budapest has eyes bigger than its skull.

The Barb’s cere (the flesh around the eyes) is SO large and swollen that cocks usually don’t make it past three years because is grows completely over the eyes, mechanically blinding them and culturing bacteria in the moist crevices.

There are SO many… 

And if you talk to their breeders, what they are interested in is the challenge of breeding a bird into these shapes.

They are the equivalent to genetic modern art, and that is ALL they are.

Their breeders see themselves as sculptors, and see the consequences to the birds (ranging anywhere from being incapable of sitting eggs or feeding young to blindness to being basically unable to MOVE) as an exciting challenge. “Only the most advanced breeders can successfully rear these~”

anon requested adrinette with 35

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

And, because Marinette could be a thoroughly terrifying person sometimes, Adrien shucked his pants without further thought.

It wasn’t until he was standing around in his boxers in the middle of a crowded street that it occurred to him that maybe he should have put up more of a fight.

Marinette didn’t even seem to realize it, now sewing his loose button back on with a single-minded vengeance.

“Uh, Marinette?”

“Almost done…”


“There!” She held his newly fixed pants with pride. “What do you… ah.”

Adrien smiled weakly. “Could I have my pants back, please?”

“Uhh…” said Marinette, rapidly gaining color as her eyes stayed fixed on his boxers.

“Marinette?” he tried, more amused than he possibly should be. “My pants?”

She offered them up with a mechanical gesture, eyes not budging an inch.

Adrien bent down to retrieve his clothing, and found that someone seemed to have superglued it to her hands.


People were staring at them as they passed, and Adrien couldn’t blame them — he’d stare at the two teenagers playing tug-o-war with a pair of designer jeans in the middle of the street too.


Marinette, eyes wide and face nearing maroon, finally surrendered his pants.

Well. That would teach Adrien not to neglect his clothing.

anonymous asked:

Ok I'm trying to keep hope, so what if Kara is really only getting with Mon-El so that she can deny and push down her feelings for Lena? Bc if not the idek what to think just I really hope that's all it is.

Oh honey, the Swan Queen fandom has been doing this for years, and it is a beautiful and clever and necessary coping mechanism. Here. Enjoy.

Alex calls for an emergency Sisters’ Night. In fact, she demands it.

And Kara is excited, because Rao, does she need to talk to Alex. And Rao, does she need to hear Alex talk, because so much is going on with Maggie, and with her lab work to find Jeremiah, and with J’onn missing M’gann, and with just… everything.

But even more than talking, Kara just wants to snuggle on the couch with her big sister.

So when Alex lets herself into her apartment and Maggie trails in apologetically behind her, Kara bristles.

She adjusts her glasses and she forces a smile. “Hey Maggie,” she strains, reminding herself sternly that Maggie has been through so much, that Maggie was just retraumatized, that Maggie is probably going to be her sister-in-law one day, so might as well start attending Sisters’ Nights now, right?

But Alex is throwing up her hands and taking Kara by the shoulders, because she knows her sister, and she knows the war that’s raging in her head, in her heart.

“So, Kara, I lied. I want to do Sisters’ Night, just you and me. Because Sisters’ Night will always just be for us. But, tomorrow. Not tonight. I lied, and I’m sorry about that, but I was afraid you’d tell us not to come over if I told you…”

Kara backs away from Alex and furrows her brow.

“If you told me what?”

“We’re worried about you, Kara,” Maggie chimes, and holds out a bag of potstickers that Kara hadn’t noticed before, and Kara snatches them with narrowed eyes and a suspicious glare.

She sits down with a grunt and begrudgingly nods her sister and her sister’s girlfriend to do the same. Alex and Maggie exchange a glance, and it’s like they can read each other’s minds, they work together so seamlessly.

Kara feels a stab of something like jealousy, but she knows it’s not about Alex. She’s purely happy for Alex. It’s about something else, something different. Something that she hopes against hope that Alex an Maggie aren’t going to try to make her talk about, because Rao, she doesn’t know how she can handle it if they do.

She tears into the potstickers and blinks. “So, what are you worried about?”

Maggie and Alex exchange that glance again, and Alex leans forward and puts her hand on Kara’s knee.

“Kara, you know I respect you. And I respect your judgment, and I respect your heart. I love what a big heart you have. It’s what makes you a hero. But Kara, I…”

“You’re getting with Mon-El, Little Danvers, even though you really kind of seem to hate him, and that’s… we’re worried about you, Kara. Not because we don’t think you can handle yourself, or because we don’t respect your decisions, but because I… we… we know what it’s like to be with someone because you feel like you have to, not because you really want to.”

Kara nearly chokes on a potsticker, and Alex thumps her back mechanically, her eyes fixed on her sister’s face.

“That’s ridiculous,” she splutters when she finally swallows. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything, I’m Supergirl, I – ”

“Well, Mon-El doesn’t seem to respect that, and you don’t seem to think he does, either.”

“I’ve never told you anything like – what are you talking about, I – ”

“Kara,” Maggie says, her voice soft and her voice full of understanding pain, mixed with the beginnings of ironic humor. “The entire DEO heard you yelling at him. And lemme tell you, for secret agents, your people are pretty terrible at, you know. Keeping secrets.”

Alex mock-glares at Maggie before leveling Kara with a look of significant concern.

“Oh please, Detective, it’s not like any of that was a secret. Kara was shouting what a misogynist, unsupportive, manipulative, disrespectful, gaslighting, mansplaining – ”

“Nice new vocab, Danvers.”

“Thanks babe, I’m trying.”

“Alex, I – ”

“Oh, I’m sorry Kara, did you want me to stop that list?” Alex’s tone, the way she’s caressing Kara’s face, is much softer than her words. “Because I don’t have to. I have more, and they all seem to have come from your mouth in one way or another – ”

“Alex – ”

“And I love you, Kara. I love you, more than anything, more than life itself, so here’s the thing I can’t understand: why are you throwing yourself at this guy when he spends every waking minute trying to stomp all over the powerful woman that you are? It would be like me actually going for Max Lord or something – ”

“You and Maxwell Lord were a thing?”

“Ew, god, no, which is exactly why I can’t understand what you’re thinking, Kara.”

“And she’s not blaming you, Little Danvers, no one’s angry at you – ”

“No, Maggie’s right, I’m not, I just – ”

“We’re just worried, Kara. Your sister loves you, and I’m growing to love you, a lot, and hell, even J’onn asked us – and believe you me, it was as awkward as it sounds – if we could talk to you to make sure you’re really okay, because this is… we’re worried about you, Kara. So are you? Okay?”

Maybe it’s something in Maggie’s soft eyes, or maybe it’s the way Alex is stroking her hair, or maybe it’s the way they’re both going through so much of their own struggles right now, but they’re making it a point to check in with her. Or maybe it’s all of it, everything, the way his hands were too fast and his tongue too eager, the way he’s an okay guy, she supposes, but as a wayward brother or something, not as a lover, but she was so worn down and she’s just so tired and maybe it’s everything, all of it, because Kara breaks.

She breaks into her sister’s arms and immediately she feels the walls of Alex’s love rise up around her, protecting her from all her enemies, protecting her from herself.

Immediately she hears Maggie kneel down in front of the sisters, in front of her Danvers girls, a hand on Alex’s knee and a hand hovering over the small of Kara’s back until Kara nods through her sobbing that Maggie can touch her, of course Maggie can touch her, because god it feels good to be held by two women who love her for exactly who she is, not for what they imagine her to be, what they wish she were.

“I’m so…” She gasps wildly for breath and Alex kisses her forehead, smoothes her hair, rocks her, rocks her, rocks her. “I’m so scared, Alex,” she chokes through her gasping, through her tears.

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay. I’ve got you, Kara. I love you, I love you, shhhhh. Cry it out, Kara, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, always. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Tears bite at Alex’s eyes, and she glances down across Kara’s body to meet Maggie’s, and she’s almost surprised to see tears gleaming in Maggie’s eyes, as well, and she knows it’s not the time, but she also knows, beyond doubt, that she’s in love with her.

Kara grabs at the back of Alex’s sweater and is forcibly reminded of when Cat grabbed at the back of Supergirl’s suit – her suit – and it’s suddenly all too much, suddenly all needs to come out, no matter how scared she is.

Suddenly, she knows she needs to dive.

“I didn’t want to, Alex, I didn’t want to because you were just coming out and I’ve taken so much from you, so much attention, for so many years, I didn’t want to do it again – ”

“Kara, it’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m not angry, I’m not going to be angry, but what… what are you talking about?”

Alex’s face is a map of compassionate confusion and Maggie’s face is a map of compassionate realization, and she glances at Alex because here we go again.

“I was in love with James, so… so in love with him,” Kara gasps, and Maggie nods slowly, and Alex just tries to keep up as she wipes Kara’s running nose with the tissue Maggie passes her.

“And kissing him was nice, it was… he was lovely, he is lovely, and I love him, I do, but it… it didn’t feel… ka-pow.”

Alex smiles uncomprehendingly but supportively, and Maggie smiles knowingly, and they both rub soothing circles onto Kara’s skin as she gathers the courage to continue.

“And I didn’t understand it, I didn’t have to words for it, but then… but then you came out and I was doing research, for you, and I found… I found out that you can be in love, straight love, but not want to have sex with men, be asexual towards men, even though you can be in love with them… and that you can… you can also… at the same time…”

She glances down at Maggie, and Maggie nods slowly at her, a small smile on her lips, because like sister like sister.

“You can also like girls. Women. Romantically. And even sexually.”

Comprehension starts to dawn on Alex’s face now, too, and she gets flashes of Kara spending so many nights crying when Cat left National City, of her terror when Livewire got loose again, because Livewire had tried, so hard, to kill Cat.

Of Kara adjusting her glasses a bit extra whenever Lena came up in conversation.

Of Kara steadfastly refusing to lose faith in Lena, even when everything looked, well, grim.

Of Kara’s desperation to find her. Of her more-than-just-everyday-heroics willingness to die for her. Of her beautifully, passionately written article vindicating her.

“Kara,” is all Alex says, all Alex can say, as she pulls her little sister in closer, closer, closer.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Kara chokes, pushing back, pushing away, so she can look Alex in the face. “I don’t want to take attention away from your coming out, I don’t… I don’t even know what to label it all, I just know that I… I’m so scared that if I…”

“If you don’t throw yourself into the most easily available thing – if you don’t surrender to the guilt he’s putting you through – you’ll have to confront your feelings for Lena Luthor,” Maggie supplies softly, softly, because Kara is shaking so badly, and Maggie knows that look, knows when someone needs to hear the words before they can say them themselves, and sure enough, when Maggie says it, Kara stops trembling quite so much, and her tears become of the silent variety, and she nods, nods, nods.

“Please don’t be mad,” she whispers to Alex, and Alex does nothing but shake her head and kiss her face, tears and snot and all.

“Kara, listen to me. I need you to really listen, and I need…” She glances down at Maggie as she cups Kara’s cheeks in her hands, and Maggie gives her a small smile. “I need you to really hear me. I would never, ever, ever be mad at you for loving whoever you love. However you love them. Because whoever you love, and whatever kind of love it is, whatever kind of intimacy you want with them? That’s absolutely fine. It’s absolutely perfect. You’re absolutely fine. You’re absolutely perfect. And I would never be angry at you, or disappointed in you, or resentful toward you, for being who you are. I promise. Alright?”

Kara shudders and smiles and reaches for the last of the potstickers.

Alex chuckles and Maggie laughs and Kara chews with a bashful smile.

“Will you help me break up with him? I still care about him, as a person – ”

“We both will, Kara. Whatever you need.”

“You got it, Little Danvers.”

“And then… then maybe you can help me talk to Lena?”

Alex groans with a smile and Maggie laughs and puts both hands on Kara’s thighs as she stands up to slip onto her girlfriend’s mock-traumatized lap.

“Of course we will, Little Danvers. Of course we will.”

anonymous asked:

“Is that my shirt?” prompt, reyder? (Blasto shirt)

Omg. I would love to know who prompted this one because I have my suspicions!

Honestly, Reyes could get used to this.

The Tempest is a haven for him nowadays. Scott’s bed is almost mountainous; piled high with thick blankets and white pillows, and Reyes doesn’t have a single bad feeling to associate with the place. The room smells like Scott, and the lights are perpetually dim. The stars beyond the window are brighter, though, hovering around Kadara like the planet’s pulling joy into its orbit.

Reyes groans softly - but it’s a sound of pleasure, not discomfort. His limbs are heavy and his muscles feel stretched, but it’s an exhaustion Reyes welcomes. It’s delicious instead of painful.

And it’s incredible, really, how he can still feel like this. Their romance isn’t new anymore - but Reyes is still head-over-heels.

He reaches out for Scott, but finds the other side of the bed empty. There’s a flicker of disappointment, but Reyes can hear water running. He must have gone for a shower. Reyes takes the opportunity to wriggle deeper under the blankets, closing his eyes. Maybe he’ll get a little more sleep before Scott comes back -

The water shuts off, and Reyes hears hurried footsteps in the corridor. He smiles to himself as the door mechanism whirs. His eyes drift open slowly, because even his eyelids feel heavy.

Scott’s wearing nothing but a towel. He can’t hold eye contact while Reyes’ eyes roam over him, because that’s just the kind of man Scott is. Shy. Lovely. Wonderful.

“Hi there,” Reyes purrs.

Scott’s still not looking at him, but Reyes can see him smiling. “Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” Reyes stretches languorously, groaning as relief rolls down his spine. “I missed you.”

That makes Scott’s smile wider. He usually pulls a face at the corny stuff, but Reyes always tries it on anyway - because it sometimes makes him blush. It sometimes makes him look like he’s going to cry. Other times, it makes him fall into Reyes’ arms like the ground’s fallen out from beneath him.

Scott pads across the floor on silent feet, letting the towel fall away as he joins Reyes on the bed. He kisses him hungrily, fingertips shivering when they brush Reyes’ cheeks. Reyes smiles into his lips, smoothing one palm down his back as Scott clambers over him. Scott’s skin is damp and his hair is wet, tracking droplets across Reyes’ face as he deepens the kiss. Scott winds up straddling him, fumbling blankets aside as he digs Reyes out from under his mountain. Finally, he manages to bare his chest -

And stops. “Is that my shirt?”

It takes Reyes a moment. He’d forgotten he was wearing it. “Yes,” he whispers into Scott’s mouth. “I didn’t think you’d mind -”

“My Blasto shirt?” Scott’s eyes are wide. The muscles under Reyes’ hand are rigid.

“Yes,” Reyes says slowly. “Is that a -”

“Oh my god.” Scott sits back on his heels, staring down at Reyes in something that looks a lot like horror.

Reyes isn’t sure what to do. “Scott?”

“You never told me.”


“I’ve looked like an asshole all this time!”


I have compiled a whole list of 10 theories that nobody has talked about (I think) for A Court of Wings and Ruin coming out on May 2!!!!!!!!!

This may be Part 1


1- Cassian could be bisexual?
I know this may not be much of an importance to most people. But I was rereading the exclusive short story Wings and Embers when I came across this:
“ Cassian had been jealous of- Mor’s shy glances at Azriel in those first few weeks, the fact that his dearest friend and brother… was looking at someone else.“ Perhaps I’m over thinking it probably. I’m hoping the whole feud will all three of them result in happiness. 

2-Nesta could be Illyrian? Nesta appears has always been different from the others. For example even Tamlin’s glamour didn’t even work on her. In the scene of the cauldron when Nesta came out it was said that something was different about her she didn’t have the beauty and grace of Elain’s High fae form but power. Feyre describe her appearance and when talking about her ears she stoped at a ”-“. I think ”-“ are one of SJM best forms of foreshadowing because her ears are curved just like and ILLYRIAN!!!! (Hell yes!) A stupid thought but a possibly that Nesta’s mate could be from the Autumn Court considering the bloody drawer that Feyre painted had the flames on them. Actually scrap this possibility Nessian forever!!!!! 

Originally posted by alliefallie

 I think these are definite:

 3- The flipping Wall finally shatters opens the human realm to the immortal realm. 

 4- The scene with Feysand doing the 55 on a wall. (wink wink*) 

5- The unleashing of Amren who I believe is a Firedrake.

 6- We finally get to meet Drakon and Miryam 

 7- There will be some significance in Lucien’s mechanical eye.

8- Mor’s Mate?! So many of us ship Moriel and are complete trash for it. I’m assuming that they may not be mates. a) In most of the couples we have encountered their mate bond clicks almost instantly at first sight . For example Rhysand’s mother and father in the Illyrian war camp misted the guards holding her. Rhysand and Feyre when she became an immortal near the end there was a whole scene when the bond snapped in place ,because it became more pronounced now that she was high fae. And Lucien and Elain well, I don’t have to explain anything. So what I’m saying is that it is taking a really long time for there mating bond to click or that Azriel is really good at hiding it. b) Near the end of ACOMAF in Hybern Mor charges at King Hybern with a dagger planing to slaughter him and end it right there. But all the sudden she stops a foot away. In the first time reading it I assumed it was because of Azriel crying out. But now many readings later it could just be the fact that Hybern could be her mate.


 And when you think about it they both are extremely powerful and mighty.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

9- Baby on the way?! This one has been a speculation for a while. Whether it be the bitch Ianthe or Feyre darling. They both did the 55 on Calanmai (Chapter 55). 

a) The book never mentioned that Feyre took a tonic

b) Again foreshadow(ment) of pregnancy’s and children, are brought up so many times with in the book. 

c) The Bone Carver for some reason Feyre saw a little boy 8 years old with black hair blue eyes. Sound familiar? DORIAN HAVILLIARD  Feysands child? Remember Rhysand has black hair so black that it looks blue and his eyes are so blue that it looks violet and Feyre has bronze/brown hair and grey blue eyes. Are we going to have little Feysandlings???? It will just add to the drama. 

And for Ianthe and Tamlin its Calanmai - FIre Night we all know its the fae orgy festival. 

10- Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them. Here in Hybern! When the Book of Breathings two halves were joined together Amren said that the force would be so strong that it would ripple like a bell and all creatures will come to seek the source. Perhaps the weaver, the monstrosoties in the prison. 

So do we finally get to see where the multiverse cross over? 

Imagine Rowan in hawk form looking for Aelin just OKNJDUJOJ  AKJNDLKJKL  JABCIJXN IJIOX!!!!!


Originally posted by wolf-waffles


welcome h o m e

I’ll See You Tomorrow

(A/N: i played myself and I’ve also been listening to this for two days straight and honestly isn’t this just the mood for today)

Summary: Peter Parker has fallen for you so very hopelessly, emphasis on hopeless.  

Word Count: 3,158

Warnings: Minor cursing

Freshman Year

Both elevators open with a soft ding, the timing a little off. Peter Parker jumps at the echo, already halfway down the hall with the strap of his messenger bag tightly in his grip, eyebrows shot up as he looks behind him cautiously.

He sees someone rather familiar, with hunched shoulders and one foot out of the elevator doors. They’re frozen still, with wide eyes staring back at him, like he’s the one thing they’re most terrified of. Backpack hanging off one shoulder and mouth open, they look like they’re about to say something, but only a faint noise comes from their throat.

Keep reading

Officer Benny and Characterisation in Stealth

There’s a very special NPC in Thief II: The Metal Age. In the dimly-lit games room of the Truart Estate, surrounded by the discarded playing cards and abandoned dartboards of the recent party held by the Sheriff and his debaucherous toff friends, a lone drunken City Watch officer disconnectedly rambles to the barmaid on duty. His name is Officer Benny, and I love him.

“I can’t believe that s-some (hic) taffer went and spilled mead all over that rug!” he yells as you approach unseen, his model swaying unsteadily in a dramatic display of intoxication. The barmaid, clearly worn out by a harrowing work shift, sighs wearily.

“Benny… you spilled the mead on the rug,” she explains patiently. “Anyway, someone is on the way to clean it up already.”

“But you don’t understaaand!” Benny wails, now clearly, inexplicably on the verge of tears. “These (hic) taffers have no respect for such… b-beautiful things!

Around this point, it’s likely that you’ll start to tune out and skulk around in the gloom, looking for the telltale glint of loot to funnel into your pockets. Stacks of coins and rings litter the gaming tables, tempting you to sneak a hand under the hanging lamps. One of Karras’s Children—a hunchbacked steam-powered automaton with a head like a brass football —clanks around the room, mindlessly praising its creator to the heavens. It’s not much of a threat, but it’s certainly an annoying little contraption. One water arrow to the boiler grate usually does the trick.

“Benny, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?”

“Hah. So what if I am, huh?” he says, sounding more than a little defensive. “Anyways, I work mm-better when I’m drunk. It makes me fearless! If I see a bad guy, I’ll just point my sword at him, and saaaaaay… HEY, BAD GUY!”

You freeze, momentarily worried you’ve been spotted trying to snaffle the discarded goblet from beside the fireplace. Benny continues with his charade, utterly oblivious.

“You’re not s’posed to be here! G-go home or I’ll stick you with my sword ‘til you go ‘Ouch, I’m dead!’ Ah-hah-hah-hurgh!” He makes an indescribable sniffing, gurgling, chuckling noise, and momentarily falls silent. “See? Ain’t no one gonna be messin’ with ol’ Benny.”

“Whatever, Benny. I think you should sleep it off. No more mead for you.”

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a fairly trivial exchange: it doesn’t tie into some larger arc, it doesn’t impart any useful information about objectives or security system vulnerabilities, and neither Officer Benny nor the barmaid will ever be seen again. Benny’s emotional ping-ponging is unconvincing at best, and while his delivery certainly isn’t lacking in vigour, the only character in the room with exceptional voice acting is Garrett, the Master Thief; the one surreptitiously pocketing everyone’s gambling winnings during this exchange. And yet, Benny’s rambling accomplishes something very special. It’s the perfect, emblematic example of a quality present throughout the Thief games; one that shapes how we approach them, and in turn, the experiences they provide.

Thief II gives you a sword. Not a discreet little knife, fit for a slippery cutthroat, but a proper blade; the kind for lopping off soldiers’ limbs on a muddy, arrow-strewn embankment. It’s a silent acknowledgement that you may have to kill men, not in a surprise scuffle where you jump them from behind the bins, but in a full-on fight with multiple assailants. It’s the kind of thing you defend yourself with when things are rapidly going downhill and there’s nowhere to run; a tool for when the halls are filled with the sounds of alarm bells and clattering jackboots. In the right hands it can be quite effective, and it’s entirely possible to hack n’ slash your way through a legion of aggravated soldiers, provided they’re courteous enough to approach you in a narrow corridor or something.

Something doesn’t add up here, does it? Stealth needs reasons for you to stealth, so to speak. There have to be incentives to keep you in hiding, and those incentives usually start with some sort of punishment for being caught. You’re supposed to be outmatched and outgunned, or at the very least, have some higher-level motive for not wanting to be seen. If Garrett can accomplish his goals by going where he pleases and stabbing everyone who looks at him the wrong way, what’s stopping him, really?

Well, it’s kind of a dick thing to do, of course, but gamers have never been above murdering NPCs for slightly inconveniencing them. It’s also a flat-out fail state on many missions if you attempt them on a higher difficulty setting, but by the time you get around to them you’ve almost certainly put the idea out of your head long ago in any case. Dishonored, Thief’s darling modern protégé, would invisibly bump up the Chaos meter—a hidden metric that determines whether Corvo’s been naughty or nice—but Thief itself has no such system, and other than occasionally dropping remarks along the lines of “remember, murdering people is for poser scrublords”, does little to impress upon you the moral wrongness of your actions. A corpse is functionally identical to an unconscious body—indeed, were it not for a single line of HUD text, they’d be impossible to differentiate at all—and sure, people might be a bit more screamy if you clobber them over the head with a blade rather than a blackjack, but what does that matter if you’ve already established you’re not interested in being quiet?

No, Thief II chooses instead to work with characterisation. Who, of the people you encounter throughout its missions, are your enemies? Not the tired watchmen trudging through the halls on a cold evening; not the harmless peasants, trying to prosper in an industrial revolution even as it crushes them between its wheels; not even the Mechanist underlings, suckered into a fad cult and set to work fulfilling Karras’s insane agenda. Your foes are far away, clinking glasses in rooms full of light and music, and most of them will never meet you face-to-face. What direct quarrel do you have with the guards who patrol the game’s moody locales, besides the fact that they’re between you and your goal?

Right. They’re not your enemies, so Thief doesn’t characterise them as enemies. Engendering sympathy to discourage murdering NPCs is hardly a novel concept, but Thief’s approach stands out, primarily because it’s less about pre-emptive guilting and more about subtle humanisation. While you creep around behind their backs, guards will hum, whistle, recite passages, moan about the cold, mumble to themselves, even wonder aloud when they’re getting dinner. You’ll find guards cracking jokes, trash-talking each other’s employers, discussing financial management, complaining about the weather, worrying about being replaced by the new-fangled mechanical eyes, and a thousand other ordinary things totally unrelated to the here-and-now of their work shift. They’re not goose-stepping around shouting “boy, I sure hope nobody stabs me in the back while I’m pacing back and forth, how would my wife and three children ever survive on the streets without a loving father like me?”; they’re just… well, bored, usually. Wouldn’t it be terrible to have to cut down a person like that, just because they made the mistake of investigating some footsteps a little too closely? Thief makes you want to stay unseen, not for your own sake, but for the sake of those who might see you.

And Officer Benny? He’s the epitome of this humanisation. Not only is he drunk, chatty, skiving off work and chewing the scenery with an unprecedented level of unhinged abandon, but through his babbling, he offers an insight into his attitude. There’s no black, tarry pit of hatred boiling away somewhere in him, fuelled by some personal vendetta, waiting to bubble over in fury at the sight of a wayward miscreant; he’s just doing what he’s supposed to. Benny sees himself as the cop in the proverbial cops and robbers: a figure of authority in a simplistic world, out to stop the scoundrels and ruffians in a game where everyone mutually agrees on the rules. His inebriated cry of “HEY, BAD GUY! You’re not s’posed to be here!” is born of this position, announcing what he sees as incontestable truths, spoken more out of convention than anything else. And what’s his ultimatum? Go home, or get stabbed. Go home. Even faced with someone absolutely, undeniably in the wrong, in his morally black-and-white world, his first thought is of telling them to scarper; to leave peacefully, without accountability or interrogation. He’s not smart, or nuanced, or even—if you catch his attention—particularly true to his word, but Officer Benny’s attitude is charming in its simplistic naivety, devoid of real malice or antagonistic ideals. For that, I could no more swing my sword at him than kick a puppy, and that’s why he holds Thief II’s formula together—along with countless other watchmen, guards and Mechanists.

Thanks, Benny. I hope your hangover wasn’t too rough.

anonymous asked:

ss finding an old piano and starts to play it (can you include maccready?) ♡

Cait: ”What’s with this sappy shite? We’ve got raiders to kill,” Cait huffs impatiently, crossing her arms. When Sole doesn’t respond, she sighs and leans on a wall. “Are you seriously gonna make me wait an’ listen to this?” Again, no response. Cait sighs and sits down on the ground, waiting for Sole to finish, and refusing to admit to herself that Sole’s song was rather lovely.

Codsworth: ”Oh mum/sir, I do remember this song. Really brings a tear to the old mechanical eye,” Codsworth said weepily. “I am so very glad that you remember, it was such a popular hobby of yours…” Codsworth drifted off into a nostalgic daze, smiling inwardly as he remembered the family he misses so.

Curie: ”This sounds beautiful, such a marvelous piece. Did you learn this before the war? It is a shame that so much art such as this has been lost,” Curie listens intently to the lovely music.

Danse: ”Must we stop?” Danse turns to look at Sole. When Sole begins to play, he sighs and decides to wait.. “This does sound very… soothing,” he says awkwardly, unsure how else to describe it. Nonetheless, he enjoys taking a break to appreciate music he rarely heard otherwise.

Deacon: ”You’re a pianist? Heh, pianist. Need me to drape myself over the piano and sing, boss? I’ll wear a sparkly dress, too,” Deacon jests, but peacefully (if a little awkwardly) enjoys the rest of the song.

Dogmeat: Dogmeat loves it, he snuggles up by Sole and even joins in a little by howling with the song.

Hancock: ”Ooh, you’re full of surprises. I haven’t heard music this pretty since Magnolia. Yeah, this is nice,” Hancock comments, getting comfortable somewhere and closing his eyes. 

MacCready: ”Aw, you’re making me tear up over here,” MacCready comments snarkily, but quietly listening to the song anyways and blushing furiously when he actually begins to tear up.

Nick: ”This takes me back,” Nick smiles. “Good music is hard to come by nowadays.” He sits down and tilts his head back, relaxing as he enjoys the melody.

Piper: ”Aw, Blue. I’d never had pinned you for a pianist. This sounds… beautiful,” she smiled softly.

(I’m very sorry I had three more characters but I am extremely tired so I hope this will do)

You’re Silly Part 2

Josh Dun x reader

Read the rest: Part 1, Part 3

Summary: An old friend helps you with your car troubles. But is he really the old friend you remember?

Words: 853

Requested? Yup by @emmatrashfordanandphil. And, yes, @eyecandyucandy, you did mention wdbwot in the request. Glad you’re accepting my love for cliffhangers. Hope you enjoy this second part :)

A/N: Reminder that Y/N/N = Your Nickname. Also, if you figure out what the number that I mention corresponds to, let me know!

“Yeah, I am. Are you a fan?” The boy asked as he removed his sunglasses, folding them and hanging them off of the neckline of his shirt. You blinked a few times, surprised that he didn’t remember you.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Omg omg. Imagine after you and Cass get married and you guys return to work for the first time, and someone calls you like Mrs Andor or something since you and Cassian are both Captain Andor now, and Cassian turns round like excuse me my wife is still a captain and still above you

You swung yours and Cassian’s clasped hands between the pair of you as you walked towards the main hangar, giggling softly. You could see by the way his lips were pressed together that he was trying and failing to hide a grin.

Yesterday, you had gotten married. It was a tiny ceremony, with no one present but the Rogue One crew, and it had been perfect. Unfortunately you and Cassian had to return to work the next day, as there was a problem with his ship which apparently couldn’t wait a couple of days.

“I was thinking, we should get away for a few days,” Cassian said, running his thumb over the back of your hand as you entered the hangar and headed towards his ship. “We could just pack a bag, go exploring.”

You smiled softly, stepping in front of him and clasping your hands behind his neck. His hands went immediately to your waist.

“That sounds perfect,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. He stole a kiss quickly, grinning proudly as he pulled away and climbed the ramp into his ship.

“My ideas always do!” he called, his voice echoing from inside the ship. You rolled your eyes.

“No one told me I was marrying a smug bastard,” you teased, following him into the ship and rolling your sleeves up in preparation to work on the ship.

“Too late to go back now,” he grinned, sitting down on the step before the cockpit. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

You sat down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder and breathing in deeply.

“Thank the Maker.”

Cassian turned his head to bury his face in your hair, his hand moving to cup your cheek and hold you closer to him. He sighed in content, the thought that you were finally his wife still sinking in.

“Captain Andor?”

The pair of you jumped in surprise, chuckling as you accidentally bumped your head against Cassian’s. You got to your feet, pulling him up with you and going to stand at the top of the ramp to see one of the mechanics standing outside.

“Captain Andor, I was wondering if-,” The mechanic suddenly noticed you at Cassian’s side. “Oh hello, Captain (Y/L/N)-I mean Mrs Andor.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, your expression matching the unimpressed one on your husband’s face.

“(Y/N) didn’t stop being a Captain when she married me,” Cassian pointed out, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “She’s still your superior.”

The mechanic’s face turned bright red, and he immediately stammered out an apology.

“Very sorry, Captain Andor and, um, Captain Andor.”

You held back a laugh at his flustered state, and nodded in acknowledgment.

“What was it you were wondering?” you asked. The mechanic avoided your eyes.

“I was going to offer to fix that problem with your engine, Captain Andor,” he said. “Sir,” he added hastily, to make clear which of you he was addressing. Cassian winked at you.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, looking back at you. “(Y/N) knows the ship better, she’s going to show me how to fix it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying not to grin as the mechanic jogged away.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him, elbowing him lightly in the side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple gently.

“That’s why you love me,” he teased. “So, you going to show me how to fix that engine, Captain Andor?”