#I'm sorry for disappearing for so long

[mohntilyet]

okay this is actually just bias now so before you read what i have to say i did warn you. yes illario would never be able to beat lucanis at being a crow or an assassin but you know what he would beat him at. being a lord of fortune. hold my hand as i take you through my mind palace and introduce to you my ideal post-game vision for illario dellamorte

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

[tapiocasketches]

Rolan you silly lil nerdy grumpy man tehee uwu

[lothbats9000]

*que Sonic belting out the HTTYD soundtrack*

(also close ups and rambles bellow ;)

I am so ready for this game! I can't believe it's less then two months away now rahhhhhhh!!

[enchantress-of-words]

I am Back from my Bad, Horrible, No Good writer's block!! i wrote 260 words for touy last night after not touching it for two months. i might post some excerpts / character intros later :)

i am going to Finally work on my original wip so if i suddenly spam your dash with quotes or ramblings - that was me. i'm sorry

[acediaedeus]

he was a punk, she did ballet typa story with grimmichi, but both of them are punk, and both of them do ballet.

this one is an AU where they're just humans, but Ichigo is still a weirdo who sees ghosts, cause why the fuck not. also, long-haired Grimmjow.

in Ichigo's case, it's that he did ballet. why? let's imagine Masaki sending Yuzu to ballet classes when she's four because the girl is fascinated by the beautiful women dancing in white tutus on TV in one of her mum's shows. Masaki is afraid her small, gentle, and shy daughter will have a hard time making friends with all the new kids, so she tries to convince Karin to go with her sister, at least for the first few classes, but the girl is unwavering in her refusal. she would hate to pressure her children into anything, so accepts, and as a last resort goes to her older son. young and filled with the desire to protect his family and please his mother, Ichigo says he'll go with Yuzu.

and so on top of his karate, Ichigo also does ballet for a while, so his baby sister will have an easier time adjusting. he actually likes it too, but then mum dies, and the beautiful women dancing on TV she used to watch no longer bring fascination, only tears. so they no longer do ballet and that is that.

everything else after that is much the same: Ichigo gets bullied, puts the karate classes to use and becomes a delinquent. all is well until one day Yuzu comes to him, timid and unsure, putting Ichigo on high alert, fearing someone has hurt his sister (a big mistake they'll regret and learn not to repeat), but all she says is that she wants to try dancing again. he, of course, encourages her to try.

like the good older brother Ichigo is, he comes along for her first class as moral support. Yuzu is amazing, as expected, and he definitely feels some water in his eyes watching her dance, which no one needs to know that. BUT, there's this guy, who seems to be his age, training on the opposite side of the room. beautiful and mesmerizing, and so ethereal Ichigo can hardly look away. the way he moves is enchanting, his long blue hair swaying and spiralling into a snake with each spin. he leaves with a happy Yuzu for their little sibling celebration with Karin, filled to the brim with confusion.

time goes on, but he simply can't get the guy out of his head, and one evening he comes to walk Yuzu home (he is not about to let his baby sister walk alone in the darkness of winter). he's a little early, so the class is yet to finish, but oh wait, there's the guy standing outside. one thing leads to another aaaand... they're fighting. positively rolling on the ground like children. and like a child Grimmjow (cause that's his name apparently, which Ichigo doesn't even remember when he was told that) bites his hand, so like a child Ichigo tugs on his blue hair. it's soft and nice, and he's getting distracted. but then Yuzu is yelling at him, calling him a foolish boy (and he won't even argue, because he really is a fool).

so yes, turns out they both were punks and both did ballet.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[tirfpikachu]

i guess while you're studying the blade i shall protect dysphoric people in my humongous blanket full of secrets and treasures and awesome foreign snacks that i totally bought with real money

[crow-with-a-pencil]

So I've been kinda into rain world lately

[lakesparkles]

Thinking about... Goosepowers. As I don't really think we'll get a season 2, here are some headcanons:

- Something I love about them is how their relationship is actually... Very health lol. It's that thing about them canceling each other's negativity. Do you remember how soft Julie's smile is when she's around him? She doesn't do this with anybody else, I think. So, while they make everybody else's lives hell (for no reason), they're still quite sweet to each other, with all the pet names and stuff like this. It just makes everybody else hate them more.

- But do I think their relationship is perfect? Of course not. They're still Gideon and Julie, nothing would change that. And Julie truly, truly loves Gideon, but she would be lying if she said she could fully trust him. Gideon is unpredictable, and she pretty much dislikes how she's never sure if he's being nice because he cares about her or because he wants something *from her.*

(more below)

- Let's pretend for a second that the Glow exists in the anime. I imagine Gideon happily telling her about it. At first, Julie would be "yeah, that is very sexy of you, baby", a little proud of his mind. After thinking more about that, she would notice it was not good news. I mean, Gordon would never hurt her, she know this. He would never use that Glow thing on her, right? Most times, she believes on him. When she's upset about anything else, however, her mind goes back to the doubt stage. What if he already did it and her feelings and memories aren't her own? What if this dude sleeping next to her was never that nerd teen she once met in high school? She hates this feeling and how her stupid mind doesn't let her trust him.

- Gideon has his own issues to deal with, of course, and he's not good at this. Sometimes he feels bitter about the way Julie makes him different - in many ways. The fact he can never truly controls her is what makes her so interesting to him, but he's not used to that feeling at all. He's not used to even liking someone at all. Gideon realized things with Julie are very different from Ramona, but he always suspects the ending will be the same. That he'll wake up and she'll be gone. He doesn't only *think* that. He's sure. So he doesn't like when they fight. I can see him gently holding her arm, smiling while saying they should talk instead. The "okay, just don't leave" every single time that only ends up making Julie even more upset.

- Okay, now something more wholesome: after getting his money back - and fixing all the mess Matthew caused -, Gideon will be very excited to give Julie many gifts. He'll make sure that she knows she can get anything she wants at any store she wants. If it makes her happy, he'll give it, no matter what. Julie accepts it, why wouldn't she lol

- But she isn't dependent on Gideon, of course. She likes having her own space and her own better job. I still didn't decide what exactly she would work with, but it would be related to hosting parties or big events, I guess.

[sketchingdead]

A very late halloween post, but happy halloween everyone!

Pikmin crew...

Ocs by @suga-catt, @twobellsilence, @vivilovespink, @subzerossnowflake, @tetsukuzu1230, and @shadonut !

[jichanxo]

sunday six 🌼

tags: @passthroughtime @four-white-trees @overdevelopedglasses

poking at senseific with a stick. here's off hours kitakata

It was different to see Kitakata here, out of school, dressed down. He wore a brown leather jacket, jeans. A far cry from the usual white button up and slacks. More than that, he was smiling, his posture was relaxed and unguarded, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d acted on the roof during their smoke break, just more. Kitakata looked right at home here, and that was an odd thought to have when Yagami had mostly come to associate him with the school, rather than a cramped bar tucked away in a corner of the Champion District. On the roof, he’d looked unprofessional, vaping while surrounded by all the reminders of his vocation. Here, he was just another guy seeking a bit of indulgence, and nobody could fault him for that.

[michsmeesh]

*quietly crawls out of my pit*

ohhh hiii hello i'm alive by the way

[caruskiekk]

sugary spire characters playing Monopoly

[sameimageofsakieveryday]

WAKE UP

I'M SORT OF AWAKE

[jangmi-latte]

AIGHT THE BURNOUT'S OVER I'M BACK TIME TO ANSWER THOSE ROOK ASKS MAN I'M STARVING FOR HIM SO MUCH I MIGHT GO FERAL AND FOAM IN THE MOUTH THAT MAN GOT ME RIPPING MY PILLOWS